Chapter 3 part 4

###Yesterday I Was Quitting Tomorrow I'm Fighting

One cycle, as I drifted through the monotonous routine of patching up the station’s inner hull, the station’s silence was pierced by a familiar voice cutting through the comms.

"Hey, Narwhal! Still welding away at the station’s skin, huh?"

"Oh, Burger. Long time no see... What in the stars happened to your exosuit? Looks like it’s been through a cosmic grinder."

I turned my gaze through my welding helmet to see Burger standing there, his exosuit a patchwork of scars and dents, as if it had weathered a thousand solar storms. It was the kind of wear you’d expect on a spacer who’d just survived the star wars.

He had just returned from a mission, a massive cargo container magnetized to his back. In his hand, he clutched an ionic spear, its energy core sputtering and flickering like a dying star. The weapon was barely holding together, its once-pristine surface now a jagged mess of melted alloy and scorch marks.

"What in the void happened? Run into a pack of Void Wraiths?"

"Still breathing, Narwhal. Honestly, it’s a miracle I’m not floating in the black right now."

"Whoa."

With a grim pride, he gestured to his quantum shield generator, its surface pockmarked with burn scars and impact craters. Some of the damage had nearly breached the containment field—a hair’s breadth from explosive decompression or worse.

"Was running a convoy protection job with the Blade of the Void crew. Took a detour to investigate some anomalous readings on Thor-9, one of those dwarf planets near the Lunatran-Solflare border. Turned out to be a total disaster."

"Illegal mining operation? Resource thieves?"

"Wish it were that simple. Thought it might be some desperate pirates trying to scrape by, but no... it was a Stellar Mantis."

"Woah."

A Stellar Mantis. The name alone sent a chill through my spine. A bio-mechanical predator nearly 12 meters long, lurking in the shadows of small planetary bodies in the Lunatran-Solflare neutral zone. Its mono-molecular scythe-arms could slice through ship hulls like they were paper, and its maw-mounted plasma cutters could carve through reinforced durasteel as if it were butter.

Though it couldn’t achieve escape velocity, the rapid pulsing of its crystalline energy wings could shred nearby vessels and warp local gravity fields in low-gravity environments.

I glanced at the countless scoring marks on Burger’s shield and exosuit. "I see. That explains the damage."

"Barely took it down with a squad of ten... but we lost two crew."

"Two!?"

I was stunned.

"Just two is lucky!?"

"Right? Lucky it didn’t turn into a prolonged surface battle. If Jace hadn’t made that suicide run to breach its core chamber while it was still half-buried, we’d all be space dust."

"I see..."

Stellar Mantises were nightmares. Their scythe strikes were nearly impossible to dodge, and their wing pulses could disrupt even the most advanced gravitic stabilizers. Their sensor arrays had no blind spots. The kind of enemy that required multiple elite squadrons to take down. Standard protocol was to jump out of the planet the moment one was detected.

With just two casualties... those Blade of the Void were something else.

"Got a hefty hazard bonus from their guild outpost. And the maximum death benefits."

"As it should be. Pirates are one thing, but a Stellar Mantis? They better pay full compensation."

"Word is the crew that accepted the initial survey is getting hit with major penalties too. Doesn’t bring back the dead, though."

Burger had been a guild member for many cycles. Disasters like this weren’t his first rodeo. But losing crewmates you’d flown with for so long... that had to weigh heavy on him.

"...Might be the last charge for this ionic spear, too."

He stared at the flickering power core, his voice distant, as if lost in the void.

"What, you thinking of leaving the guild?"

"Well, it’s not strange at my age, right? Learned this time that my reaction speed isn’t what it used to be. Won’t quit outright yet, but maybe..."

"...Retirement, huh."

"Better to retire now than after a major suit breach leaves me grounded for good."

"True enough. There’s always the Baldr security force, Burger. System patrol work would be less demanding."

"Hrmm, considered it... but I’ve got some loyalty to the Blade of the Void, y’know."

"Loyalty, huh."

Loyalty. That was something you couldn’t put a price on.

"Well, not something to decide in a cycle. See you, Narwhal. Gonna be tied up for a while. Probably won’t hit the station lounges for a few days."

"Shame. Well, ping me whenever."

And with that, Burger walked away, his battered shield generator magnetized to his cargo. Watching him go, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of melancholy. The man I’d once looked up to as a senior spacer now carried the weight of time on his shoulders.

Rise and fall. Even the mightiest stars flicker before they fade.

Burger had always been a quiet presence, drifting through the bustling ports and crowded colonies with little fanfare. But even he couldn’t outmaneuver the slow march of time. His face still carried the youthful sharpness he was known for, but the reality was clear—forty cycles had come and gone. These days, keeping pace with younger teammates felt like chasing a ship just out of reach, his energy slipping faster with each job.

It stung more than he cared to admit when people started making offhand comments about retirement. A jab here, a suggestion there—it all piled up. And truthfully, I couldn’t shake the thought that his situation might mirror my own, just a little further down the line.

**What to do after retirement?**

I kept asking myself. When the credits stop coming, and the body refuses to cooperate, what then?

The thought of running a small café somewhere felt like the perfect answer. I could see it now: spending quiet days behind the counter, wiping down glasses, serving warm drinks to tired travelers. Of course, I’d hire someone else to deal with the actual hassle—cooking, serving food, tallying up bills. Those were chores for someone more eager.

The hardest part would be finding coffee beans. Real ones, not the rehydrated junk most outposts settled for. They’d be rare, scattered across forgotten corners of the galaxy. It might take decades of searching, but that wasn’t so bad—if anything, the hunt would be half the fun.

The more I thought about it, the more it felt like the perfect future. A café by day, cozy and welcoming. A bar by night, dimly lit and buzzing with conversation. A small corner of the stars that I could call my own.

But no, not yet. I wasn’t ready to trade this life for that one. I was still young enough to enjoy greasy synth-burgers and the occasional thrill of danger. Retirement could wait. For now, I knew where the credits were.

"Alright," I muttered, adjusting my gloves and looking around. "Tomorrow, we’ll do it all over again."

With that, I finished polishing the interior hull, the hum of distant engines reminding me there was still work to do. The dream of a café could wait—just a little while longer.

"Check it out, Narwhal! Feast your eyes on this—an Astruth spearpoint!"

The next morning, as I strolled into the guild’s docking bay, I was greeted by an unusually chipper Burger.

"...You could at least *try* to act more serious. Why are you so worked up over a piece of gear?"

Julio, who was leaning against the console, answered for him. "Apparently, Burger bought a high-end short spear and beam shield that just landed at the armory. That’s why he’s so hyped."

Ah. That explained it. According to Julio, it wasn’t just any ordinary set—it was an expensive acquisition, even by guild standards.

Astruth steel had a reputation that stretched across systems, leagues ahead of Solflare alloys. It was forged from the deep veins of planets swallowed by collapsing stars, its integrity unmatched in combat.

"And check this out!" Burger beamed, hoisting a sleek, compact shield. It gleamed faintly under the guild's artificial lighting, its crest etched with fine, almost ethereal patterns. "This baby? They say it can deflect Solflare morning stars—right in the center, no damage at all! How’s that for craftsmanship?"

He looked like a rookie fresh out of training, starry-eyed and buzzing with excitement. Still, no way it could actually deflect a Solflare morning star. Those things pulverized armor like cheap plastex.

"Burger, are you really sure this gear is worth the hype? Didn’t you say your next upgrade would be your last before retiring? Astruth steel’s durability is legendary, but..."

"It *is* worth it!" he cut in enthusiastically. "This is the first time I’ve been able to afford something this high-quality. Got a nice windfall from that penalty bounty last cycle and couldn’t resist. Just look at these beauties!" He practically shoved the spear and beam shield into my face.

"See?"

"See what? Looks like you just locked yourself into another decade of work."

"Right!? Hahaha!"

"...Don’t *hahaha* me," I said, shaking my head.

"With a set like this," he continued, "I can stick around longer than I thought. Got to show these young hotshots what experience really means! Can’t let them take all the glory!"

This guy. So inconsistent. And I was one to talk.

Honestly, I missed yesterday’s version of him—the one who was quietly reflective, if a bit mopey. This hyper version of Burger was starting to make me wonder if I was the only adult in the room.

"...You do realize saying things like ‘can’t lose to the youngsters’ makes you sound like a total old-timer, right?"

"Haah!?" Burger shot back, offended.

Julio snickered beside me. "Stop, the truth can sting," I said, cutting him off before he added more fuel to the fire.

Still, it looked like Burger wouldn’t be retiring anytime soon. The new gear might even extend his career longer than he’d anticipated. I couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of relief—maybe he’d stick around just long enough for me to catch up to his level.

...But older guys like him had a tendency to overestimate themselves. They’d take on harder missions, ignore their limits, and wind up limping back to base—or worse, not coming back at all.

I just hoped he had the sense to know when it was really time to dock his ship for good.

Author’s Note: 

This chapter was all about the quiet tug-of-war between burning out and burning bright a little longer. Burger's back-and-forth on retirement isn't just about age—it's about pride, inertia, and that stubborn spark spacers can't seem to snuff out, even when the cracks start showing in their exosuits.

I wanted the Stellar Mantis to represent more than just a monster-of-the-week—it’s a reminder that the universe doesn’t slow down for anyone. And yet, against that chaos, spacers like Burger still lace up, patch their gear, and keep going. Sometimes out of duty, sometimes out of habit. Sometimes just because they’ve got a new toy they’re dying to try out.

Narwhal’s café daydream is starting to take shape too—not as an end, but as a future that might exist if they can ever stop running toward the next job. The fantasy of coffee beans as a galactic treasure hunt felt like a fun counterbalance to the usual “space adventure = violence” formula.