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Chapter 1 part 7
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Void Emperor Tera Havoc
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“Uwhahahaha! I am the Void Emperor Tera Havoc! Tremble before my cosmic might, young cadets of Freyja Station!”
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“Kyaa!”
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“Woaah!”
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Inside the station's recreation dome, the children shrieked in terror, their tiny forms scattering like stardust before a towering figure clad in a helmet adorned with the massive, coiled visage of a Space Hydra.
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Yes, it was I, Narwhal—no! Void Emperor Tera Havoc! None shall oppose me!
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“Kishaaa!”
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“Kyaa! So scary!”
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“Th-this!”
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“Uwhahaha! Foolish cadets! Your plasma weapons are but embers in the vast expanse of my power!”
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“Take this! And this! Damn you!”
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“Ah! Striking at the joints of my battle suit, are you? A cunning trait for young spacers! But behold, the privilege of all true villains—destroying the tools of my enemies!”
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With a triumphant snap, I broke the training baton wielded by a particularly brave child.
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“Ah! You broke it!”
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“Uwhahahaha! Only one thing can defeat the Void Emperor Tera Havoc—the stellar energy stored within cosmic wheat! Unite, gather the drifting grain particles, or this weapon’s seal shall never be undone!”
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Brandishing a small laser pistol toy, I held it high like a beacon of destiny.
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“A blaster!”
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“What’s that!?”
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“Uwhahaha! Fill this container to the brim with grain particles, and this prize shall be yours! But only if you dare challenge me, Tera Havoc!”
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“Let’s gather them!”
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“Me too!”
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“I’ll search the hydroponics bay!”
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Enticed by the toy blaster’s gleaming promise, the children scattered with a determination that could rival a fleet in pursuit of a star system’s last resource cache. Truly, their boundless energy—even after taking whacks from training batons—made them little terrors of the cosmos.
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“You’re quite skilled at managing children, Mr. Narwhal.”
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I turned to see Dr. Healer, his medical bag slung over his shoulder, his weariness from endless duties etched upon his face.
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“Ah, Dr. Healer! Have you completed the morning medical scans?”
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I asked as I shed the elaborate Void Emperor costume. The good doctor, clad in his pristine med-tech suit, emerged from the bustling station plaza, his weariness betrayed by the faint dimming of his neural visor. The relentless use of healing nanites had clearly drained him more than usual today.
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Wiping the sweat from my forehead. “The cosmic wheat fields are nearly harvested,” I continued, “and tonight’s celebration looms large before we set sail tomorrow, doesn’t it?”
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“That’s correct. Thankfully, we’ve avoided any decompression accidents during the harvest.”
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“Not without your efforts, Doctor. You’ve been tireless. Are you managing to get proper rest?”
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“The endless hum of the station’s recycling processors... I’m not accustomed to such clamor. The void is quieter near the core-world hubs.”
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“You’re not wrong about that. Well, do take it easy while you can.”
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It was our final day on station security duty—a brief but mercifully uneventful assignment. There had been no rogue asteroid miners or space pirate raids to contend with, only the usual mishaps: malfunctioning droids, minor radiation breaches, and the occasional vermin infiltrating the hydroponic bays. Troublesome, yes, but mundane.
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The more dangerous sectors remained beyond our jurisdiction, patrolled by others in the endless expanse of transit lanes and far-flung asteroid belts.
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“How are the station’s inhabitants faring? Any severe radiation cases or suit failures?”
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“Mostly cases of joint strain and spinal misalignment. Zero-gravity work is a merciless toll on the body, especially for those without access to medical-grade exosuits.”
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"Yeah, with no med-bays out here, zero-G work is hard on the body, huh."
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“That explains why the long-handled harvesting mechs are favored here. But no amount of tech can halt the inevitable—age takes its toll.”
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“Distance. Lack of credits. But more than that, it’s resignation. They’ve grown to accept their lot in life... and seeing that is disheartening.”
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Nearby, the station’s children scrambled about, joyfully collecting floating grains of cosmic wheat into their containers. Watching them, Dr. Healer spoke again, his voice tinged with sorrow.
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“They say station workers like these only survive about fifty standard years, far fewer than the seventy or more enjoyed by core-worlders. Without proper care, their health deteriorates. Eventually, they simply... give out. But to the station’s overseers, that’s nothing unusual. Just another cycle.”
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“Is it a lack of education?”
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“Partly. But tread carefully, Mr. Narwhal—don’t speak too boldly of reform. Many among them fear the unknown, even the promise of change.”
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"Oof..."
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I didn't know. There are really places like that, huh. Though I had glimpsed such struggles from afar, hearing it laid bare struck a chord.
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“There’s always a shortage of medical officers, especially in the Rim. It’s the same across the void, even on the capital stations. ‘Priority treatment’ for the wealthy aside, resources are stretched beyond reason. Even with all the advanced technology, it's the personnel that are lacking”
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“If it’s not a life-or-death emergency, you’ll wait cycles,” I added grimly.
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“Precisely. I try to save as many as I can with the tools I have—nanites, cellular regeneration. But there’s only so much one person can do. That’s why we must cultivate the next generation. Still...”
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His gaze drifted back to the children, their laughter echoing softly in the hydroponic bay.
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“It’s a specialist’s path. Healing nanite engineering is far more intricate than combat tech. Training new medical officers takes time and resources these children will never have. Born into this life, expected to toil as their parents did... they’re trapped. Better off than the miners, perhaps, but not by much.”
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“If medical officers like me can't reach them, I can at least pray they live longer, healthier lives than they do now. That’s all I hope for.”
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The harvest celebration was a charmingly humble affair, full of synthetic delicacies and cheerful Havoc as the station’s night cycle deepened. I’d hoped to enjoy it from the sidelines—observing the traditions of these hardy spacers—but alas, no such luck. Young spacers like me are apparently prime targets for the affectionate (and insistent) hospitality of veteran uncles and aunts.
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Before I knew it, I was swept into the whirlwind of zero-G dancing (a mix of spins and flails I doubt had any coherent choreography), space shanty sing-alongs (the lyrics made absolutely no sense), and an unending buffet of lab-grown “delights.”
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Seconds? More like infinite servings!
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By the end, my stomach had filed an official protest against the meal. I deeply respect the effort that went into crafting those unique dishes, but let’s just say my taste buds were not on board. Still, I smiled through the culinary ordeal.
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"Thank you, uncle!"
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"Thank you for the blaster toy! Come back soon, uncle!"
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“For the last time, not Uncle! I’m your *big brother*!”
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I called back, waving as I handed over a toy laser pistol that had been cluttering my storage for years. The kids squealed with glee and promptly began aiming it at everything in sight. "Just—don’t shoot anyone with that!"
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The journey back was mostly uneventful, though we did have a minor detour when team leader Odinson managed to strain his back while hauling space wheat. He spent the trip back as an honorary piece of cargo on the transport. Apart from that, it was a quiet return—no pirates, no major catastrophes. I could breathe easy.
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Every year, I dread this assignment, but somehow, it always turns out fine. I even got to try out a harvesting mech, which was surprisingly fun. The camaraderie with Baldr Station’s Security Team 3 was a highlight, too. They’re a good bunch—grizzled spacers who’ve seen it all. If we ever team up again, I know I can count on them. Though, given the unforgiving realities of station life, I wonder how many will still be around next time.
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“A person’s life shines brightest in the void while they’re alive,” I murmured to myself later, back in my quarters. I turned to my nano-engineering project, a welcome distraction from those somber thoughts.
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With precision, I dripped quantum chromatic solutions onto a dish of stabilized plasma. The colorful films floated and swirled, forming vibrant nebula-like patterns—cosmic beauty in miniature. I dipped a tiny data chip into the shimmering pool, coating it in those mesmerizing patterns. Once the chip was fully infused, I carefully encrypted the data and sealed it with my quantum signature.
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“There we go,” I said to myself. The chip gets coated in the quantum film and takes on the nebula pattern. The thin colors allow the encoded data to transmit clearly. Next, encrypt this, package the chip, and seal it with my original quantum signature.
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"...Well, I want to repay them at least before I return to the void."
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It was a message from Commander Havoc, not Narwhal. It had been a while, so the timing was good.
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Slipping into my enviro-suit, I stepped into the station’s shadowy night sector.
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The next morning, the medical bay was buzzing with excitement.
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“Dr. Healer! You have to see this!” Asisu, a junior medical officer, nearly tripped over himself in his haste to shove a comm tablet into Healer’s hands.
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“What’s got you so worked up, Asisu?” Healer asked, amused.
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“It’s a quantum-encrypted message—from Commander Havoc! And it’s real! The quantum signature matches perfectly! He sent the same message to other stations, too!”
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"Oh? Commander Havoc is an inventor if I remember correctly."
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"Yes! I don't know why it was sent here, but the quantum signature patterns match! It must be real! We have to make use of it quickly before other med-bays copy it!"
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Healer activated the data chip and skimmed the contents.
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“Let’s see… Hmm. An emergency hydration formula recipe?”
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Indeed, the message contained instructions for a solution of filtered water, electrolytes, and glucose (or synthetic honey). The ingredients were simple, almost laughably so, yet the message claimed the formula was a cure-all for radiation sickness, zero-G nausea, and dehydration.
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“If this is genuine…” Healer murmured, his voice trailing off as he processed the implications.
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"...If this were true, it could save an unbelievable number of lives."
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“Asisu, we’ll need to test this immediately. If it works, we’ll distribute it across the stars.”
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“What?! You’re just giving away the recipe? We could profit from this!”
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“The message explicitly says, ‘I wish for this knowledge to spread widely across the stars.’ It’s not ours to hoard.”
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"Oh... I see..."
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"It seems to have been sent to multiple stations already, and the ingredients themselves are ordinary. We can't monopolize this."
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“I thought we’d get rich…”
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Asisu was still a vulgar youth as a novice medical officer.
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“Asisu,” Healer said with a small smile, “do you really prefer credits over saving lives?”
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“N-No, sir!” Asisu stammered, turning beet red.
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“Good. Then let’s get to work. If this formula is real, it’ll revolutionize patient care.”
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“Yes, sir!” Asisu saluted, his enthusiasm rekindled.
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And so began another busy day in the medical bay. The recycled station air felt a little less stale, the promise of hope carried on invisible currents. Dr. Healer smiled to himself. Perhaps today, more lives would shine a little brighter in the void.
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Author's note : wanna read future chapters earlier? visit :227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhytRNdv0W3
galaxianarwhal.blogspot.com227Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn5wU2hmXNp
