For some reason I ended up signing onto a joint contract with Diana.

 

The arrangement was simple: prove I have the combat chops to keep Aioi safe if I plan on dragging her into the deeper sectors again. Can’t really call it overprotective—no one wants to leave a young crew member alone with some scruffy, half-reliable spacer like me.

 

And yeah, I get it. I’m self-aware enough to know I come across as a weird, grizzled relic from the void lanes. This kind of evaluation was bound to happen eventually. Not my first rodeo being tested, either.

 

The mission to gauge my skills? A two-cycle sweep of a debris field.

 

It’s one of those dull but critical jobs: searching for rookie pilots who’ve vanished into the asteroid belt, dismantling illegal salvage beacons set up by reckless fools hoping to make a quick credit, and generally cleaning up messes only desperate spacers bother with.

 

Those who disappear into the void don’t usually come back. They’re either dead, pirating under new aliases, or have quietly jumped home. Whatever the case, they’re a pain to deal with.

 

But we weren’t just wandering aimlessly. The flight path was a set route to a maintenance station buried deep in the field, with a hard deadline to make it back before a looming radiation storm rolled in.

 

The station, if unoccupied, could serve as a quick pit stop. The route itself? Relatively secure, but secure in the void means little.

 

Void creatures, grav-traps, or worse could spring on us any moment.

 

In my experience, runs like this are *never* uneventful.

 

This wasn’t just a cleanup. It was a full evaluation of my worth as a spacer.

 

 

 

**"Kept you waiting, huh?"**

 

The Diana crew had already assembled by the eastern airlock when I arrived early station cycle.

 

"Oh, not the full Diana crew today?"

 

"Of course not," Lunar replied. "This isn’t a major op, and the rest are tied up with contracts. We distribute missions, remember?"

 

"Got it. Looks like I’m the last to show. Don’t recognize everyone here, so let’s make it official. I’m Narwhal, gunner. Rank: Bronze-3."

 

Five Diana members stood gathered:

 

Commander Lunar, junior Aioi, Goressa (who I’d embarrassingly mistaken for a man before), and two others I’d only seen in passing.

 

"Heya, I’m Yunikon," said one with light red hair and a bright grin. "Plasma marksman, Silver-2. I’ve seen you around the station bars, but we’ve never chatted, right?"

 

She seemed cheerful and approachable—a big-sister type, especially compared to Aioi.

 

"Moona," the other introduced herself curtly. "Ion Psionicist. Rank: Gold-1. I’m here to assess your skill—nothing more, nothing less."

 

Oh, this one seems real strict.

 

Her long blue hair and steely gaze gave her an air of unapproachable authority. Strict and no-nonsense, definitely the kind who’d make me sweat during this job.

 

She's often with Lunar, but I don't think I’ve ever seen them talking. So that’s her voice.

 

"..."

 

This one... more than the ethereal grace of Diana, she carries the rugged aura of a Hercules Mercenary. A gorilla? No, Miss Goressa. A towering figure I must crane my neck to behold. Her frame is a fortress of muscle and power, unyielding and formidable. Undeniably... a woman. Thank you very much.

 

"Come now, Goressa, you could at least offer a greeting. It’s his first time working with us, after all."

 

"R-right. Mr. Narwhal seems to regret his earlier misstep, so he can’t be all bad. No need to be so wary."

 

Prodded by Lunar and Aioi, Goressa reluctantly steps forward, her massive plasma cannon bayonet glinting ominously on her back. For some reason, my mind fixates on the lethal reach of that weapon.

 

"Um... I’m Goressa... Silver II Heavy Weapons Specialist... pleased to work with you today..."

 

"Oh, uh, likewise. Pleased to work with you."

 

For someone with such an imposing presence, her voice is surprisingly timid. It’s very surprising.

 

Well, I suppose my disastrous first impression might have rattled her. But with that deep, resonant tone, I'm forgiven for making a mistake, right? It’s a complete blindside.

 

Regardless, let’s put this misunderstanding behind us. Yes. The last thing I need is an enemy who looks like she could crush asteroids with her bare hands.

 

"We don’t need an elaborate mission briefing, do we?"

 

"Not at all. The priority is clear—reach the maintenance station before that radiation storm overtakes us. Let’s launch without delay."

 

"Hold on, are you taking command here? With more of the Diana crew aboard, it might be smoother if you let us lead."

 

"Fair point. I don’t mind following orders. But this mission’s about proving my mettle, isn’t it? Letting me take the reins for a bit could be valuable."

 

"Oh, I wouldn’t mind seeing a fresh approach for once. I’m far too used to the Diana protocols."

 

"You get it, Yunikon. I’m counting on you for support."

 

"Yes, sir!"

 

Lunar hesitated, her doubt plain on her face, but she couldn’t argue with my reasoning.

 

If I’m to prove my worth to the Diana crew, they’ll need to see me in action. For now, they’ve granted me provisional command, allowing me to make tactical decisions. Today is my chance to show them how I lead.

 

We enter the debris field, navigating a well-charted route through this expanse of shattered rock and forgotten wreckage.

 

The entry zone is a familiar corridor—void creatures rarely drift this close to the fringes of civilization.

 

For now, it feels like a routine cruise.

 

Still, no one takes chances out here. We move in formation, wary of ambushes.

 

Each of us piloted our own personalized ship—small, efficient, and tailored to our unique skills and combat preferences. In the tight corridors of the asteroid belt, large, crewed vessels were out of the question. Here, it was all about maneuverability and precision, not brute force.

 

My ship was a compact, heavily customized piece of engineering, designed for a lone operator. It was fast, versatile, and packed enough firepower to handle most threats. Aioi’s craft was sleek and agile, built for speed and recon, while Goressa piloted a heavily armored behemoth, perfect for absorbing damage and dishing out punishment with her plasma cannon.

 

Yunikon’s spacecraft reflected her sharpshooter style, optimized for precision and long-range engagements, while Moona’s was an intimidating, no-nonsense design equipped with advanced ion-based weaponry. Each of us brought something unique to the table, and our individual ships emphasized our personal strengths.

 

We moved through the debris field in a loose but coordinated formation, each craft complementing the others. The route might’ve been well-charted, but in terrain like this, coordination was critical.

 

This formation balances our defenses, ensuring smooth communication between the plasma gunners and myself.

 

"Ohh, so *that’s* why Narwhal has the credits to fly solo.

 

You’re the kind of spacer who takes contracts meant for entire squadrons, aren’t you? Triple hazard pay, right?"

 

Yunikon’s voice cuts through the comms, lively and unfiltered. While her energy is a welcome distraction, I wish she’d keep her eyes on the sensor array instead of chatting away.

 

"But I never would’ve guessed you were wealthy, Narwhal. You always make such… *unique* purchases."

 

"Rude. I only buy what’s necessary."

 

"Teehee."

 

"Well, since it’s a joint Diana mission, I hope you brought one of those famous secret weapons you’re always hoarding."

 

"Huh?! Mr Narwhal, are you saying you can wield *plasma weapons*!?"

 

"For real? Now that you mention it, you brought something weird… Wait, that looks… *questionable*."

 

"Oh, you want to see it? Picked it up for a steal at a Black Market station."

 

The formation halts briefly for what has apparently become an impromptu gear showcase. Annoying, but I know better than to fight curiosity. Lunar and Moona exchange exasperated looks, but I ignore them. Once they see what I’ve got, they’ll understand.

 

"Behold—the *Plasma Lance!*"

 

I power it up, and the weapon hums to life, its design a marvel of engineering. A plasma lightning arcs emitter is fused seamlessly to the end of the weapon.

 

This isn’t just a weapon—it’s a symbol of ingenuity. At range, it fires devastating plasma lightning arcs. But when enemies close the gap, the beam emitter transforms it into a lethal plasma spear, ready for close-quarters combat.

 

"Whoa… you *actually* spent credits on something like this *again*?"

 

"Haha…"

 

Their reactions are underwhelming. They don’t seem to grasp the weapon’s potential. It has excellent range, and the plasma lightning arcs it generates could fry smaller targets in a single shot.

 

Sure, the lightning arcs emitter is a bit bulky, but that’s a minor tradeoff.

 

"Narwhal, I have to ask—can you even *use* that thing properly?"

 

"Of course! I even brought one plasma charge to demonstrate."

 

"…Only one charge?"

 

"Plasma charges aren’t cheap, okay? Bulk orders are out of the question right now. But I can hit that asteroid over there from here."

 

"That’s practically torpedo range!"

 

"It’s fine. If I miss, I’ll just eject myself and use the lance for close combat. That’s where I shine anyway."

 

"More importantly, why are you attaching a lance to a spaceship?"

 

The comms crackled with their worried voices. Adjusting my helmet, I sighed.

 

Adding a unique weapon to my arsenal doesn’t make me weaker, does it?

 

Granted, I’m not delusional—I don’t expect the plasma lightning arc to hit every time. If it does, I’ll call it a miracle.

 

Still, I’d like to buy a few more charges someday and get some real practice.

 

"All right, the debris field’s getting denser. Let’s proceed with caution."

 

"Y-yeah…"

 

"…Hey, Aioi. Is he always like this?"

 

"Oh, absolutely. This is just normal for him."

 

"You know I can hear you on comms, right?"

 

If you’re going to talk behind my back, at least use encrypted channels where I’m not linked in.