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 - Mask of Silence
Ascandas's patrol cycle had changed.
Kairen confirmed it last night. Six hours. Now four. No reason. But the window was shrinking.
Move. Now or never.
F-3 sector. Power reactor chamber. Cyan light fills the spherical space. The phase-reaction core pulses. Three years of watching that light. Kairen sat before the control panel. Opened the data.
Cooling cycle. Three days until the next one. When the reactor enters cooling mode, output drops to minimum. Power to the defense system falls. Six hours, twenty-three minutes. That window. Use it.
——It works.
Kairen closed the terminal. Stood. Time to call Elina and Orius.
---
The three gathered right after the noon patrol ended.
Dead zone in the reactor chamber. Three surveillance cameras couldn't reach it. Three meters in diameter. Silent space. Kairen looked at them both. Elina's platinum blonde caught the cyan light. Silver. Orius's green eyes were serious.
"Operation in three days,"
Short. Flat.
"Twelve minutes after cooling cycle starts. Defense power drops thirty percent. I enter through the backdoor. Kill the surveillance network. Ninety seconds. Cameras. Sensors. All down,"
Elina crossed her arms. Her left ring finger. Unconsciously rubbing it with her thumb.
"My assignment,"
"E-7 sector. Medical bay. Eight minutes after cooling starts, trigger the poison gas alarm. Crew evacuates to safe zones. That chaos is our window,"
"The formula's complete. Irritant gas. Minimal crew exposure,"
Clinical voice. Just confirming. Already prepared. Evidence of it.
Kairen turned to Orius.
"Secure the Falcon in the hangar. Final route confirmation,"
Orius nodded.
"Startup codes verified. Three route patterns ready. If the main's blocked, backup routes get us in,"
"Understood,"
Short silence fell between them. The reactor hummed low. Wave-like sound.
"Disperse. No direct contact. Use the designated channels if anything comes up,"
They left separately. Different timing. Different routes.
Kairen stayed alone.
Looked at the panel. Final backdoor test remained.
Work piled up.
---
Same day. Afternoon.
Orius walked through the mid-level crew quarters. Patrol duty to the hangar. Checking sectors accessible by vice-commander authority——and confirming the Falcon's storage position.
Turned a corner. Feet stopped.
A door hung half-open. Voice inside. Laughter. And——something hitting the floor.
Orius stepped back. Almost. But stopped. Saw it.
A prisoner.
Early twenties. Sprawled on the floor. Blood on his face. Three junior members stood around him. One laughed. Kicked. The prisoner groaned.
Void Crusader code. Article nineteen. Private use of war spoils prohibited. "Punishment" for violators. Command ignored it. Daily sight on this ship.
Orius knew. Knew and couldn't move.
Vice-commander status bound him. Interfering with another officer's prisoner management meant overstepping. Problems. He'd looked away like this before. Many times.
But.
Today felt different.
Three days. Then out. Off this ship. Off this organization.
Still——why did looking away feel so heavy now?
The prisoner looked up. Eyes met Orius's.
Something in those eyes. Not begging for help. Just——confirmation that someone was watching. That someone saw.
Orius looked away. Kept walking.
Footsteps sounded too loud.
---
That night, Orius came to the medical bay.
"State your business,"
Elina didn't look up. Operating the treatment terminal. Her bangs half-covered her right eye. Pale blue pupils tracking text.
Orius closed the door. That alone made Elina stop.
"Today I saw a prisoner being beaten,"
Voice trembled slightly. He noticed.
"I didn't stop it,"
Elina set down the terminal. Looked at him.
"Why tell me this,"
"…I don't know. Just——had to tell someone or——,"
Words stopped.
Elina paused. Rubbed her left ring finger. Once.
"Emotion is an obstacle to survival,"
"Huh,"
"What you're feeling now is guilt. Guilt dulls judgment. If guilt clouds your decision during the operation in three days, we all die,"
Cold voice. No emotion. A doctor delivering diagnosis.
Orius said nothing.
Elina continued.
"Focus on the task in front of you,"
A beat.
"……Three more days. Then we're out of here,"
Only that last sentence changed tone. Slightly. Barely noticeable. But Orius heard it.
Something mixed into the clinical words.
Orius watched Elina for a moment. She returned her gaze to the terminal.
"…Thank you,"
"It's work,"
Immediate.
Orius left the medical bay. Stepped into the corridor. Something in his chest lightened. Not the emotion disappearing. Just——organized.
Three days.
That's all he needed to think about.
---
Deep night.
F-3 sector. Power reactor chamber.
Kairen was alone. Facing the control terminal. Final backdoor adjustment. Send a pulse at a specific frequency. The entire surveillance network drops for ninety seconds——completing that setup tonight.
Fingers moved. Quiet. Precise.
Code flowed. Logs stacked.
Three years of accumulated data. Disguised as maintenance work. Analyzed this ship's interior bit by bit. Without Ascandas noticing. Smiling. Following orders.
Something caught in the depths of memory.
Hands stopped.
——Tezeran.
The word surfaced. No reason. Then an image. A large facility. White walls. Data arranged. Someone speaking. Voice distant. Face invisible.
The Revelation Tower——Tezeran. A research station Tezeran Prosperity Territory placed on the frontier. The name floated up. Like he'd been there. But no memory existed. Couldn't exist.
Ascandas's voice. The tactical AI behind the artificial eye calculating something.
——Why does that man obsess over me so much?
Three years of thinking. No answer.
Still none.
Fingers moved to input code. Stopped for a moment in the air. Just a moment.
"……,"
Kairen shook his head.
Not relevant now. Past memories. Ascandas's motives——tonight, only complete the backdoor. Think of nothing else.
Fingers moved again.
Then.
Footsteps behind him. Heavy. Rhythmic. Patrol walk.
Kairen didn't stop. Switched the terminal screen to normal work logs. Less than a second. Three years of practiced motion.
"What are you doing,"
Low voice. Middle-aged man. Energy rifle at his hip. Eyes on Kairen's hands.
Kairen turned. Expression unchanged.
"Final reactor adjustment,"
"Middle of the night?"
"Routine before cooling cycle. Commander ordered me to maintain reactor stability. Records exist,"
The man's eyes flicked to the terminal logs. Normal operations. Nothing unusual.
He stared at Kairen for seconds. Kairen returned the gaze. Unmoved. Three years of passing everyone with this look. Three years building trust and obedience performance.
"……Continue,"
The man walked on. Footsteps faded. Down the corridor. Gone.
Kairen exhaled.
Didn't show it outside. Inside only. From the bottom of his lungs. Slowly.
Restored the terminal to the previous screen. Backdoor code reappeared.
Resumed work.
---
Same night. E-7 sector. Medical bay.
Elina was alone.
Reagent bottles lined the desk. Three types. Formula decided. Sensor-reactive concentration. Minimal human impact——calculated numbers. No error margin.
But her hands stopped.
Left ring finger. Rubbing it. How many times now.
Orius's face in her mind.
(Emotion is an obstacle to survival——I said that.)
True words. Not a lie. From experience cutting through multiple crises as a doctor. Judgment clouded by emotion kills patients. She knew.
So she'd learned to cut emotion away.
But.
Orius's eyes wouldn't leave her head.
Looking away while walking. That's what he'd said. The weight in those words. Twenty-two years old. Holding justice in an organization. Suffocating it for three years. That weight.
——She could understand it.
Didn't want to. But could.
Elina's hand unconsciously touched her neck. A thin scar there. Energy weapon. Who fired it, why——that memory remained sharp.
And the patient she couldn't save after.
(This time——)
Didn't voice it.
Just reached for the reagent bottles.
Kairen's plan was precise. Elina acknowledged that. As data, not emotion. Success rate near eighty percent. Acceptable for surgery.
Orius's justice was hard for Elina to grasp. But that boy's seriousness was clear. Could trust him in combat.
Three people. Electronic warfare. Medicine. Close combat. Complementary skills.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
That's how it should be.
But Elina knew. Tonight, when she told Orius "three more days and we're out," it wasn't just calculation.
That awareness felt slightly uncomfortable.
Started measuring reagents. Precisely. Without error.
Ankaras's corridors held the usual tension and violence. Someone shouting somewhere. Metal sounds distant. This ship's daily life.
But in three days, that daily life ends.
For all three.
Everyone.
Elina continued measuring. Cyan reactor light leaked through corridor gaps. Thin on the medical bay floor.
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