Genius engineer Kairen Veras has been enslaved by the space pirate organization 'Void Crusader' for three years, his exceptional technical skills exploited only to maintain their flagship's reactor system. But even as a captive, Kairen carefully watches for his chance to rebel.
That chance arrives in the medical bay. When a pirate commander falls critically ill, the arrival of Elina, a cold and pragmatic physician, shifts everything. Simultaneously, Orius, a young, idealistic vice-commander wou
The Galactic Fugitive: An Engineer's Rebellion - The Encounter Between a Cold-hearted Doctor and a Young Vice Commander
Lower levels of Ankalas. Prisoner detention sector E-7.
White walls. Old medical equipment lined up. Narrow space. Medical room. Fluorescent lights. White. No windows. Artificial. Suffocating.
A woman stood there. 32 years old. Black hair tied back at the shoulders. White coat. Not clean. Washed too many times. Fabric worn thin. Disinfectant stains on the cuffs.
Erina. Doctor. Drifted into a pirate organization with nothing. Hired as a physician.
Her expression was frozen. Ice-cold. Impossible to read. Those pale blue eyes—transparent, mechanical. Like instruments measuring something precisely.
The door opened.
"Hurry! The vice-captain!"
Two pirates carried a stretcher. A young man lay on it.
Orius. 22 years old. Short blonde hair. Bedhead. Face twisted in pain. Deep wound on his abdomen. Fresh. Blood seeping.
"Vice-captain." That rank created urgency. Important person. Power structure visible in their movements.
Erina said nothing.
She had them move the stretcher to the medical bed. Quick. Efficient.
"Leave."
One word. They left. Weight in that command.
Erina cut his clothes. Scissors. No hesitation. No emotion.
"It hurts..."
Orius whispered.
"Endure it. Anesthetic is limited."
Her voice was clinical. Dry as medical terminology. Emotionless.
Her left ring finger twitched. Slight. Unconscious. A habit under extreme tension. That was all. No other trace of feeling.
Examination began.
Her fingers probed his wound. Precise. Ruthless. Minimizing patient pain. But without hesitation.
"Abdominal laceration. Possible internal damage. Depth is..."
She murmured. Not to herself. Voicing her analysis. Organizing thought.
"Organs intact. Lucky."
Judgment. Not speculation. Doctor's analysis. Cold assessment.
She poured disinfectant. Orius's face contorted.
"Doctor..."
He tried to speak.
"Be silent. Conserve your strength."
She didn't allow response.
Suturing began. Her hands were precise. Stitch by stitch. Rhythmic. No hesitation. In life-or-death moments, her judgment sharpened. Her sense of responsibility supported that coldness.
Silent work continued.
Orius's breathing steadied. Anesthetic taking effect. Consciousness fading slightly.
"Doctor..."
He spoke again.
"Better not to talk."
Still clinical.
"But... this organization..."
His words were thin. Almost a whisper.
"...isn't it wrong?"
That moment.
Her hands stopped.
One second. In that second, something in her wavered. Her face didn't change. Expression unchanged. But that pause said everything.
His words had touched the ice wall.
"..."
She didn't answer. Just resumed suturing. Same pace. Same precision.
But her left ring finger moved slightly.
Anxiety. Disturbance. Resistance to emotional involvement.
All compressed into that small movement.
40 minutes later.
"Treatment is complete. Rest for three days. Movement will reopen the wound."
She finished wrapping the bandage.
"Thank you."
Orius smiled weakly. Grateful smile.
When she saw that smile.
Her eyes flickered. Something touched them. Emotion—barely, barely—shook that ice shell.
Then it vanished.
"You're supposed to be vice-captain. Why engage in combat training?"
She deliberately looked away. Began organizing instruments. Creating distance.
"I want to become stronger."
Pain seeped into his voice.
"But this organization's methods... I have doubts. What's right? What's wrong? I can't judge. I keep growing stronger, but my heart can't keep up."
His words were true. Born into a pirate family, but driven by justice. That conflict smoldered inside him constantly.
Erina looked at him. Long. Those pale blue eyes studied him.
Evaluating. Measuring.
"Telling me means nothing. I'm just a doctor."
Her voice was cold.
But it trembled slightly.
"But... you don't really want to be here either, do you?"
Orius pointed it out. A direct hit.
"Be silent. Don't think unnecessary thoughts. Rest. Risk of infection."
She ended the conversation. Medical instruction.
Orius started to speak. Stopped.
When Erina left the medical room, she looked back once. In her eyes, something flickered. Empathy. Disturbance. Responsibility.
A faint flame leaking through cracks in the ice.
---
Same time.
Ankalas flagship. Engine room.
The power reactor glowed pale blue. Its pulse was the ship's lifeblood.
Kairen Velas operated the control panel terminal.
Hacking. Infiltrating the medical room surveillance network. Askandas watched everywhere. Kairen turned those eyes against him.
Kairen Velas heard everything. Orius and Erina's entire conversation.
Through monitors. Audio intercepted.
His expression didn't change. Flat. Expressionless.
But internally, precise calculation occurred.
Orius's conflict.
Erina's disturbance.
Both had utility.
Orius held the vice-captain position. Access to ship information. Combat skills. Command ability.
Erina had medical expertise. After escape, if wounded, that skill would be necessary. Life-support knowledge. Emergency treatment ability.
And more importantly—
Both doubted this organization.
Kairen Velas didn't need trust. Only aligned interests.
Orius and Erina both questioned this organization for different reasons.
Perhaps they could be connected by a shared goal: escape.
Kairen Velas finished hacking.
Erased traces. Askandas wouldn't notice.
He began planning next steps.
Approaching Orius. Timing. Method. Risk.
Approaching Erina. Using the medical room environment. Gaining trust.
All arranged like pieces on a board in his mind.
Three years. Every day in this reactor room. Thinking through calculation and strategy.
Now was the time to use that power.
Kairen Velas looked at his left hand's scar.
Pale blue. Faintly pulsing.
His old pain was carved there.
But he no longer felt that pain.
Not because he lost emotion. He transcended pain.
Now he moved.
Began moving pieces.
The path to escape was still distant.
But it drew closer. Certainly. One step nearer.
Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.