Chapter Two: Into the Void

Axel leaned back in his seat as the ship hurtled through space, the faint hum of its engines vibrating beneath him. The view out the porthole was dizzying—vast blackness, broken only by the occasional smear of distant stars. Space was supposed to be empty, silent, a void where nothing lived. But as the ship sped farther from Earth, he could feel the sheer, untamed wildness of the cosmos pressing in on him.

"Enjoying the view?" The captain's gruff voice cut through his thoughts, and Axel turned to see her standing at the entrance of the cockpit, leaning against the doorframe. She had a mug of something steaming in one hand, though the way her cybernetic eye glowed made it clear she didn't need caffeine to stay alert.

"I've seen better," Axel replied with a smirk, though it was a lie. He had never seen anything like this. Back on Earth, he'd spent hours staring up at the night sky, dreaming about leaving the planet's poisoned surface behind. But nothing prepared him for the real thing—being out here, a tiny speck in an infinite black ocean.

The captain snorted. "You're greener than I thought."

"Maybe," Axel shrugged. "But I'm not stupid."

"Could've fooled me, booking passage on this old bucket."

He glanced around the cockpit, noticing for the first time just how battered everything was. The ship, the Renegade Dawn, wasn't exactly a first-class cruiser. It was held together with mismatched parts, rusted metal, and what looked like more duct tape than engineering. The control panels flickered sporadically, and half the buttons were worn down from years of use. It had seen better days, but then again, so had everything from Earth.

The captain took a sip from her mug, eyeing him over the rim. "You've got guts, kid, I'll give you that. Most people these days won't even leave orbit. You? You're running straight into the unknown."

"Yeah, well, I've got a good reason," Axel said, leaning forward.

She raised an eyebrow. "This about your old man? The famous Dr. Walker?"

Axel stiffened. Of course she knew. Everyone out here had a price, and his name carried weight. His father's death was more than just a personal mystery; it had rippled across the galaxy, whispered about in dark corners of the universe. Most didn't care, but some… some were curious.

"Something like that," Axel muttered, avoiding her gaze.

The captain chuckled. "Kid, I've seen your type before. You think you're gonna find answers out here, some big revelation that explains everything. But let me give you some advice—space doesn't care about your reasons. It doesn't care about revenge, or justice, or truth. Out here, the only thing that matters is survival."

Axel met her eyes, unflinching. "I'm not just some kid on a wild goose chase."

Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "They all say that."

Before he could reply, the ship lurched violently to one side, throwing him against the wall. His breath caught as alarms blared, and red lights flooded the cockpit. The captain cursed under her breath, her mug clattering to the floor as she rushed to the controls.

"What the hell was that?" Axel shouted, trying to steady himself.

"We've got company!" she barked, her hands flying over the controls. The flickering screen in front of her lit up with a blinking red dot—something fast, heading straight for them.

Axel's stomach twisted. "What kind of company?"

The captain's expression hardened. "The kind that wants to blow us out of the sky."

She slammed a fist against the intercom. "Heads up, crew! Strap in—we've got incoming fire!"

Axel barely had time to process the words before the ship jolted again, the shriek of metal-on-metal echoing through the corridors. His heart raced as he stumbled to the nearest seat and buckled himself in, gripping the armrests until his knuckles turned white.

The captain's voice cut through the chaos. "They're locking on! Some kind of old mining drone—it's been repurposed. Automated weapons system."

"So it's not a person?" Axel asked, trying to make sense of it.

"Doesn't matter!" the captain snapped. "It'll kill us just the same."

The ship shuddered violently as another impact rocked them. Axel's mind raced. This can't be happening. I just left Earth. I haven't even made it past the Outer Rim, and I'm already getting blown up by some rogue robot?

He looked over at the captain, who was barking orders into the intercom and frantically pressing buttons on the console. Her face was calm, focused, but her movements were fast—desperate.

"What can I do?" Axel asked, struggling to keep his voice steady.

"Pray we make it out of this in one piece," she growled. Then she shot him a glance. "Unless you've got some tech expertise I don't know about?"

Axel's heart skipped. Tech. His wristband—the one his father had left him. It had always been more than just a gadget, but he hadn't figured out what it was fully capable of yet. Still, he had a gut feeling this was its moment. It's now or never, he thought.

"I've got something," Axel said, his voice shaking but determined.

He fumbled with the device on his wrist, his fingers moving faster than his brain could keep up. His father had designed it, but Axel had barely scratched the surface of its abilities. With a deep breath, he tapped a sequence of buttons, feeling a pulse of energy run through his arm.

"What the hell are you doing?" the captain barked, her eyes flicking between the controls and Axel.

"Trust me," Axel muttered, not entirely sure if he trusted himself. The wristband's display blinked to life, projecting a stream of data that filled the air around him, cascading like a waterfall of code.

Come on, come on, come on…

Suddenly, the data stream shifted, and a blueprint of the attacking drone appeared in front of him—an old mining bot, just like the captain had said. But its weapons had been repurposed, upgraded into something far deadlier. Axel's mind raced as he sifted through the information, his fingers flying over the holographic display. There—a weak point in its targeting system.

"I can jam it," Axel said, his voice tight with concentration. "I think."

"You think?" The captain's voice was laced with disbelief. "You'd better be damn sure, kid."

Axel ignored her, tapping the final sequence. The wristband pulsed again, sending out a signal that rippled through the ship's systems and beyond, cutting through the void.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, the alarms stopped. The red lights flickered once, twice, then dimmed. The ship's violent shaking stilled, leaving only a low hum.

The captain blinked, staring at the controls. "It… stopped."

Axel slumped back in his seat, exhaling a shaky breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with the adrenaline of what had just happened. He glanced down at his wristband, still glowing softly, as if it were just another day in the cosmos.

"You did it," the captain said, her voice full of grudging respect. "You actually did it."

Axel forced a grin, though his insides felt like jelly. "Told you. Not just some kid."

The captain shook her head, but a flicker of a smile crossed her lips. "Alright, Walker. Maybe you're worth the trouble after all."

As she turned back to the controls, Axel couldn't help but glance out the porthole again, the vast emptiness of space stretching out before them.

They weren't safe—not by a long shot. This was just the beginning. But if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that the journey ahead was going to be even more dangerous—and a lot more complicated—than he'd ever imagined.

But somehow, deep down, he couldn't wait.