Chapter 3 part 2

###Fishing For Companionship... Instead Of Void Shrimp

The catch was a void crab—a bit larger than your standard glacier crab, maybe 30 centimeters across. Its translucent shell shimmered faintly, catching the pale light of the twin stars.

“Well, looks like the void shrimp migration is over,” I said with a sigh.

“Don’t like void crab?”

“Oh, I love them plasma-grilled. But I was hoping for shrimp today…” I muttered as I cranked the quantum reel. Its grating mechanical protests echoed across the ice, a reminder of how much work this rig still needed.

“I told Diana about the last time we caught void shrimp,” Aioi said, her voice cutting through the cold.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Turns out some of the crew have never had it before. Miss Lunar and Miss Moona mentioned eating some giant variety ages ago, but others haven’t even tried it. I thought it’d be nice to catch enough for everyone this time, but…”

What a good kid. I hope she never loses that sincerity of hers.

“Well, you never know until you try fishing,” I said with a shrug, watching Aioi focus on the line.

“Yeah, but… oh?”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“It feels… heavy somehow. Wait—the array’s bending near the end!”

“Whoa, did you get a bite? A hit!?”

“Really!?”

Aioi’s hands tightened on the grip as the array arched sharply under the strain.

“Uh, Mr. Narwhal, I think it’s really big…”

“Careful, keep the array steady! Slowly, reel it in… nice and easy,” I coached, stepping closer.

Seeing the tension in the line and the array trembling under the pull, I moved behind her, steadying her hands with mine to help guide the motion. But as the line stayed still—utterly vibrationless, with a dull, lifeless resistance—it became painfully obvious.

Yeah. That’s not a void fish.

“Looks like you snagged… some space debris.”

“Oh no… did I do that? Is it my fault?” Aioi’s shoulders sagged as she glanced back at me, guilt etched on her face.

“Well, if you say you did it, then sure, you did it,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “But really, this happens all the time. Especially to beginners.”

Trying to put a positive spin on things, I added, “Think of it this way—you just hooked a derelict satellite!”

She didn’t laugh. Can’t blame her. The line wasn’t going anywhere, and with the relatively small hole in the frozen lake, navigating to dislodge it was out of the question.

“Good thing I always come prepared.” I pulled out my plasma cutter with a dramatic flourish.

The only option was to snap the line and retire it. Sure, the lure might turn up again if the debris shifted, but realistically? It was as good as lost.

“Ugh… Mr. Narwhal, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it. Void fishing’s tricky. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t lost a few lines to space junk myself.”

Still, I glanced at the frayed end of the snapped quantum line, wincing a little. Holo-lures and quantum filaments don’t come cheap. If snags like this became a recurring issue, this whole rig might end up being more of a credit sink than a casual hobby.

...Wait. Does that mean my fancy new array was pointless? No, no—too early to think that. Maybe there’s just a learning curve…

“Oh! Aioi! The shrimp array’s tugging!” I called, spotting movement on the secondary rig.

"Yes! Oh!"

Her face brightened immediately as she ran over and activated the retrieval mechanism. The line reeled in smoothly, revealing the catch: another void crab, about the same size as the last one—30 centimeters across, with a translucent shell faintly glowing under the  stars.

“…Looks like the void shrimp are already gone,” I sighed.

“Maybe so…” Aioi murmured, her excitement deflating.

Between the space debris snag and the shrimp array yielding nothing but void crabs, the day wasn’t exactly going as planned.

The final haul? Twenty-three void crabs. A decent catch, sure, but Aioi didn’t seem thrilled. She poked at one of the crabs with her glove, her disappointment obvious. She doesn’t like void crab much, huh?

“Well,” I said to myself, already running calculations in my head, “time to cheer her up.” I’d program the synthesizer with the best void crab recipe in the database. If I could purge the cosmic radiation from the crabs in time, she’d be grinning over a feast by the next cycle. I’d protect that smile—no matter what it took.

“For now… that’s how today went,” I said aloud, packing up the rig.

“Ugggghhh…” Aioi groaned, flopping down on the icy surface like a deflated comet.

“Chin up, Aioi. Void fishing’s like this sometimes.”

“I’m so sorry, mister…”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“It suuucks…”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. For someone so earnest and responsible, even minor failures hit her like an asteroid strike.

“Don’t let it get to you too much,” I said, patting her on the shoulder. “Old spacers like me are surprisingly tolerant of rookie mistakes.”

Her pout softened just a little. She’d be okay. Eventually.

After fishing with Aioi, I retreated to the Gift of Nebula Cantina, hoping to salvage the cycle with a drink. The rig’s failure gnawed at me—twenty-three void crabs, a snapped quantum line, and Aioi’s guilt weren’t the stellar haul I’d envisioned. Still, the crabs held potential. I pulled up a holographic recipe matrix, cross-referencing purification protocols, when a voice cut through the cantina’s hum.

"Oh, hey! You’re here too?"

"Oh, Yunikon, huh."

"Heard you dragged Aioi into another voidfishing disaster.”

I glanced up to see **Yunikon**, one of Diana Crew’s gunners, settling into the seat next to me. A casual young... individual. Honestly, I still couldn’t tell at a glance. Enhancements were common in this sector, and Yunikon wore it effortlessly.

“Aioi’s sulking in the galley. Says she owes you a new lure.”

I grunted. “Kid’s too hard on herself. Debris snags happen.”

“So does innovation.” Yunikon tossed me a pouch of crystallized sodium from his belt—a spacer’s seasoning staple. “Heard you’re cooking up something with those crabs. This’ll help.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about xenogastronomy?”

“Since someone needs a taste tester.” Yunikon grin turned sly. “Besides, Aioi’s crew now. We look out for our own. Also you should’ve joined our after-mission party that time!"

"Don’t you get tired of just hanging out with the girls?"

"Not at all! Everyone’s super nice. Oh, auto-chef, ale and **synth-rabbit soup**! And... add charged plasma beans, please!"

"Order confirmed," chimed the auto-chef.

"I see. Crew bonds seem strong. And Aioi looks treasured; I feel relieved."

"...You're kind, Narwhal-san."

What's with those eyes? That warm, caring gaze. I’ll say it straight—only girls can get away with that kinda look. Yunikon’s energy was contagious. It was good to know Diana Crew looked after Aioi like family.

"Take care of Aioi," I said, raising my ale. "She’s still getting used to station life."

"Of course!" Yunikon’s expression softened. "She’s a promising addition. I’ll treasure her dearly."

"Good to hear... Mind sharing some of those plasma beans?"

"Huh? Fine, I guess. Here."

I slid over a **synth-rabbit skewer** in return. "Fair trade."

"Thanks!"

The cantina was running a **synth-rabbit special** that night. It wasn’t bad, but it didn’t quite pair with synthetic ale the way I’d hoped. The protein content satisfied, sure, but the taste? Eh.

"Luxury stations have their perks," Yunikon said, sipping their ale. "But spots like this? They’ve got charm."

"Come to think, Diana doesn't really come here. The other girls do a fair bit, though."

"Yeah. Lunar-san and Moona-san frequent some other place. Too cramped here, small hovering tables."

"Their favorite place... probably costs more credits, huh."

"Basic tastes suit you, huh?"

"Basic?! What’s *that* supposed to mean?"

I chuckled. "Auto-chef programming here leans simple and bold. Fits your vibe."

"...Narwhal, you don’t ask much, do you?"

"Hm?"

"Like, about my appearance. Or mannerisms. Stuff like that."

Ah, that. Well.

"I’ll listen if you want to talk about it," I said. "But I won’t pry. Doesn’t bother me."

Truth be told, I wasn’t entirely free of bias. My old world—before the dimensional shift—had its fair share of prejudices. But living in a society rife with bio-modifications and enhancements had forced me to adapt. I’d made a conscious effort to set aside my discomfort, though I couldn’t claim it was entirely gone.

"That makes me happy," Yunikon said softly.

"Hey, Yunikon."

"Yeah?"

I met their drowsy gaze, a side effect of the synthetic ale.

"Could I get more plasma beans?"

"...Order it yourself!"

"Aw, c’mon. Just a small side portion? Pretty please?"

"Auto-chef, plasma beans and two synthetic ales!" Yunikon huffed. "There. Satisfied?"

"Thanks. You’re the best."

"Geez..."

That cycle, we sampled the cantina’s simple menu and drank late into the night. Somewhere in the easy camaraderie, I felt relief. Yunikon wasn’t angling for my **airlock codes** or anything nefarious. Just a drinking buddy. Super glad... I’d been worried about that the whole time.

Author’s Note: The One Where Narwhal’s Fishing Trip Becomes a Therapy Session

Ah, the grand sequel to "Narwhal Wastes All His Credits on Space Fishing"—"Narwhal Fails to Catch Anything Useful and Ends Up in a Bar." Truly, a tale as old as time.

Let’s break down this tragicomedy, shall we?

The Void Crab Debacle: After all that hype, the quantum fishing rig’s grand debut ends with… checks notes… twenty-three void crabs and a snapped line. Not exactly the legendary void leviathan Narwhal was hoping for. But hey, at least Aioi got to experience the universal fishing rite of passage: snagging space junk. Welcome to the club, kid. Your membership card (and crippling disappointment) are in the mail.

Narwhal’s Desperate Attempt at Redemption: Realizing he’s just traumatized a child with his failed hobby, our man immediately shifts into "I must feed her to make up for this" mode. Synthesizer recipes? Radiation purging? This man is one step away from opening a void crab food truck just to salvage Aioi’s faith in him.

Yunikon, the Unexpected Wingman: Just when Narwhal’s brooding hits peak levels, in strolls Yunikon—Diana Crew’s resident enigma, snack enthusiast, and emotional support gunner. They proceed to:

Call Narwhal out on his fishing disaster (as they should).

Provide crystallized sodium (because nothing says "I care" like space-seasoning).

Casually bond over synth-rabbit skewers and existential acceptance.

Refuse to share extra plasma beans (rude, but fair).

Truly, a friendship forged in ale and mild passive-aggression.

The Real Catch Was Friendship All Along: Despite the fishing fail, Narwhal walks away with something far more valuable—proof that Aioi has a found family looking out for her. And also a slight hangover.

Final Thoughts:

Void fishing remains a scam.

Space debris is the real apex predator.

Yunikon is the chaotic neutral bartender we all need.

Next time, Narwhal should just buy shrimp from the market like a normal person.