Chapter 3 part 1

###Fishing for Complimets... In Literal Nothingness

Today marked the birth of something new—something crafted just for me.

I’d first heard about it yesterday during gamma shift. I was hauling a fresh plasma injector mold to the guild’s fabrication bay, the kind of mundane errand that barely registered in my daily grind. But as I dropped the mold off, the old tech stationed there gave me a rare update.

"Hey, Narwhal. Your order? Should be wrapping up today. I’ll hand it over next cycle."

It was a shock, honestly. That was the moment I realized this fabricator wasn’t just some half-drunk spacer tinkering in the void. Turns out, he remembered an order I’d placed so long ago I’d nearly forgotten about it myself. I couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it.

The thought of finally getting my hands on it had me practically vibrating with anticipation. That cycle, I went straight back to my quarters and flopped onto my bunk, passing out without needing the usual synthetic stims. First natural sleep I’d had in... well, longer than I cared to admit. I was *that* excited for what tomorrow would bring.

"Mmm... oh, Narwhal? Yeah, yeah, I’m powering up the bay now." The old tech’s voice crackled over the comms as I arrived. "It’s your order, don’t worry. Just got it calibrated."

And there it was, waiting for me in the fabrication bay.

"Geez," he grumbled, handing it over. "What do you even use a component like this for?"

My eyes scanned the device eagerly. The smooth ring, the faint shimmer of quantum stability fields—it was perfect. "As expected," I muttered, running a gloved hand over its surface. "Perfect molecular alignment... this’ll work like a charm."

What I'd ordered was a **quantum tether guide** - it's just a fancy ring for my space fishing rod, the kind that helps the line flow smoothly through. Most folks see it as just another boring part, but for me? This was the final piece I needed to complete my custom void-fishing rod.

"You’re using it for void fishing, right?" the old man asked, crossing his arms.

"Yeah," I said, barely paying attention as I admired the craftsmanship. "Needed it for my new setup. Thanks, old timer."

He snorted. "Don’t thank me. I barely touched the thing. My daughter made most of it during her downtime. She handled the quantum casting, too."

"What? You didn’t make it yourself, old man?"

"The hell I didn’t. All I make is combat gear—plasma rifles, charge blades, that kind of thing. Ain’t got time for fancy fishing toys. Should’ve taken it to a proper tech specialist, you know."

Geez. Typical stubborn old-timer mentality. If it’s not a gun, it’s not worth their effort.

"You’ll see," I said with a grin, holding up the tether guide. "One day, this’ll revolutionize the void fishing industry. Don’t come crying when you regret brushing me off."

The old man scoffed. "Revolutionize, huh? I’ll wait for a fleet-sized order before I buy into your dreams, Narwhal. Bahaha! Don’t expect me to hold my breath."

"Just you watch," I shot back as I tucked the component into my satchel.

He waved me off, shaking his head as he tested a new pair of grav-boots—recently released on the market. They were simple inertial dampeners with an added bonus: emergency thrusters for stabilizing in zero-g. Apparently, they were becoming popular across all kinds of industries after Commander Havoc spread the design. If they’re cutting down on zero-g accidents, I’m sure Commander Havoc would be happy.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel weird about seeing them treated as just work boots with a bit of flair. They deserved better than that.

“So, this is the ice fishing rig you cobbled together in just two cycles?”

“Yup. Originally wanted it collapsible, but turns out maintaining structural integrity on the ice is a nightmare.”

“Why even bother making it collapsible?”

“Thought it’d be compact. But, well, I realized it wasn’t worth the effort and scrapped the idea.”

I was trudging across the icy expanse of a frozen lake on the moon with Aioi, heading toward a spot near the Calyx Rift—an area famous for its deep glacial fissures and rare catches. It was the same place where we’d hauled in some void shrimp during our last expedition.

This time, though, I’d brought my new rig, outfitted with quantum tether guides. These guides were cutting-edge, seamlessly directing the energy lines as they passed through. Instead of regular fishing line, mine was spun from nebula spider silk - harvested from creatures that live in distant star nurseries. Sure, it cost me a fortune, but you need something special to fish in the void of space.

The guild had to special-order it for me, and let’s just say it burned through my credit reserves. But when it comes to xenotech, especially quantum-grade, there’s no room for compromise.

The reel? I’d fabricated it myself using heavy-duty durasteel, with an extra-long handle for more power. Can't use gravity-assisted spinning mechanisms out here in space, so it's all manual cranking - just like the old-timers used to do back on Earth, except this one's built for catching void-fish. And yes, this contraption ended up looking like the regular modern fishing rod from Old Earth, but I digress.

“You know, you don’t need something this complicated to catch void shrimp,” Aioi said, giving the rig a skeptical glance.

“True. But I’m planning to go after void fish, too. Though... the mature cycle for shrimp might already be over. If that’s the case, they’re probably not in this glacial region anymore.”

“They changed, huh?”

“Yep. We’ll give this spot a try anyway. If there’s no shrimp, we’ll switch gears and try for void fish with the new rig.”

“Wonder what kind of void fish we’ll catch.”

“No clue,” I admitted.

“You really don’t know anything, do you?”

I just shrugged with a grin. Some things you only learn by trying.

By the time we reached the Calyx Rift, the moon’s ion winds howled around us, scattering charged particles across the lake’s shimmering surface. The glacial ice beneath our boots was a crystalline blue, so clear in places you could see the faint glow of bioluminescent creatures far below.

I activated the micro-thermal drill on my rig, boring a clean hole through the thick sheet of ice. Then, I deployed the micro-gravity field generator to simulate the natural flow of water, drawing in the moon plankton that void shrimp feed on.

“Mr. Narwhal, what’s that thing on the end of your line?”

“This? It’s a holo-lure. Basically, artificial bait custom-made for this rig. Here, watch how it works.”

I cast the gravitic-weighted lure into the icy depths, the quantum line unraveling smoothly. The weight helped it sink far enough to reach the deeper currents where the larger catches usually lingered.

“Ohhh…”

Aioi watched with fascination as the shimmering line descended, the holo-lure pulsing faintly like a tiny, glowing fish. To me, though, the cast wasn’t perfect. The quantum reel still needed better calibration—it wouldn’t perform well without pre-releasing some line. But it would do for now.

The lure drifted down, reflecting the dim light on the moon. This was where the real magic began. Unlike traditional bait fishing, where you let your line sit and wait, lure fishing kept you engaged, constantly moving the bait to mimic live prey.

“You reel it in slowly, making the lure swim back toward you,” I explained, turning the handle.

“Huh. You throw it out there just to reel it back?”

“Exactly. By pulsing and moving the lure irregularly, it mimics the behavior of actual void fish. That’s what makes it effective.”

“Ohhh, I get it now.”

After reeling the lure back to my hand, I reset the rig. Since pheromones don’t work in the icy vacuum of a moon’s atmosphere, the key to attracting bites was movement—steady, unpredictable movement that tricked predators into thinking they’d found easy prey.

“Well, we’ll just keep repeating this,” I said.

“The lure’s shaped like a void fish, so you’re aiming for something bigger than it, right?”

“Right. The quantum hook’s reinforced for that, too.”

“...”

“Wanna give it a try, Aioi?”

“Yes!”

She looked genuinely eager, and I couldn’t help but grin. There’s nothing better than sharing a hobby with someone who’s curious.

“Here, hold it like this,” I said, guiding her hands. “Keep the line taut, and position the rig like so.”

“L-Like this? Uh, how am I supposed to hold it? Feels awkward.”

“No, grip it like this instead.”

“Ohhh, I see.”

The rig wasn’t exactly user-friendly—it was more of a prototype than a polished tool. Still, after a bit of hands-on guidance, Aioi managed to cast the lure herself.

“It flew!” she exclaimed.

“Nice cast,” I thought, but I kept my praise to myself. Better to let her figure it out on her own.

“So now you reel it in. Oh, and keep an eye on the shrimp line while you’re at it.”

“Got it. Wait—whoa! It’s tugging, it’s tugging!”

“Seriously? Reel it in!”

After a brief struggle with the regular shrimp rig, she managed to pull up…

“A void crab, huh.”

“Eh!?”

Author’s Note: The One Where Narwhal Spends All His Credits on Space Fishing Nonsense

Ah, yes. The glorious birth of Narwhal’s latest obsession: void fishing. Because when you live in the cold, uncaring vacuum of space, the obvious solution is to… checks notes… dangle shiny things into the abyss and hope something with too many teeth bites.

Let’s recap:

Narwhal, our resident space gremlin, has been vibrating with excitement over a fishing rod component. Not a gun. Not a ship upgrade. A fancy ring for his space fishing line. Truly, we are witnessing peak spacer priorities.

The old tech, who clearly has better things to do (like, y’know, making actual weapons), barely tolerates this nonsense. His daughter, meanwhile, is the real MVP—handling quantum casting for a glorified fishing reel while her dad grumbles about "proper tech."

Aioi, bless her, is just along for the ride, watching this man throw money at nebula spider silk like it’s a reasonable life choice. (Spoiler: It’s not.)

And after all that? They catch a void crab. Not a legendary void leviathan. Not even a decent-sized shrimp. A crab.

Moral of the story? Space fishing is a scam. Narwhal is broke. And we all know this rig is going to get yeeted into a black hole by the third chapter.

Stay tuned for the next thrilling installment: "Narwhal vs. The Void Crab: Revenge of the Pinchy Boi."

(Also, yes, I did spend an unreasonable amount of time researching space fishing mechanics for this. No, I don’t regret it. Fight me.)