The Sperm Whale departed the neutral station Oasis and, after several hours of travel, arrived at its destination.
Spreading out before our eyes was the Xeno-Mist, a nebula where psychedelic gases swirled in a chaotic dance. Visibility was nonexistent. Static crawled across the sensors, and the deeper we ventured, the more likely we were to lose all contact with the outside world.
It was a true "Space Jungle," a demon’s domain where leviathans prowled with impunity.
"Ugh... I can't see anything out the viewport. I feel like I've been tossed into the deep sector of some contaminated bio-plant..."
In a corner of the bridge, Emulgand sat trembling, his face a pale shade of green.
I couldn't blame him. Beyond that mist, monsters the size of battleships were likely lurking in the shadows.
"Don't lose your nerve, Assistant. This is where the real work begins."
I ran my fingers across the console, inputting minute thruster adjustments as the corners of my mouth curled into a grin.
An unknown sea, unknown ingredients—there was no situation more exhilarating than this.
"Master. Incoming transmission from Mina in the engine room," Lucia reported. "She says, 'Everything’s ready. We can go whenever you're set.'"
I nodded. During our stay at Oasis, Mina had stayed up all night assembling a "secret weapon" for this specific operation. It was time for its grand debut.
"Alright. Switch the main screen to the ship’s belly camera."
The monitor flickered, displaying the oddly shaped, modified turret on the underside of the Sperm Whale’s hull. The base was the ship’s original Multi-purpose Mass Driver. Normally, it was a utilitarian piece of equipment used for crushing debris or launching cargo containers, but now it had been modified beyond recognition.
Thick cables were wrapped around the barrel like pulsing veins, and a unit salvaged from the Interdictor had been crudely grafted onto the base. It looked like a war relic reclaimed by parasitic vines.
"What on earth is that hideous patchwork?" Professor Stein muttered, looking exasperated.
"It’s Mina’s custom-built 'fishing rod,'" I explained. "We’ve reinforced the mass driver’s electromagnetic acceleration rails and loaded a Gravity Anchor into the warhead."
"A Gravity Anchor? There is no way you can control that kind of output with such a flimsy barrel..."
"Oh, it’s not being controlled. That’s why the system needs to cool down and Mina has to perform manual maintenance after every single shot."
I shrugged. Rapid fire was out of the question, and its true power was still an unknown factor. Honestly, there was even a risk of the whole thing blowing up in our faces. But to land a giant fish in this mist, we needed a weapon with some "bite."
"Let’s do a test run. Fire a shot at that piece of debris over there."
THRRRUMMM...!!
The sound wasn't a blast so much as a low-frequency groan that set the very fabric of space on edge—an eerie vibration that rattled my internal organs. A warhead resembling a black stake launched from the mass driver.
It struck its mark perfectly, piercing an asteroid about ten meters wide located several hundred meters away. Immediately after impact, the space surrounding the warhead began to warp.
It was a gravity wave.
The asteroid twitched violently and began to be hauled toward the Sperm Whale.
"Success. Gravity Anchor is locked on," Mina’s calm voice echoed over the comms. She sounded detached, but I could hear the distinct pride in her tone.
At the same time, however, a warning siren blared.
"Warning. 3rd Multi-purpose Mass Driver Turret Base temperature rising. Cooling system has reached critical limits."
"Whoops, looks like the heat exhaust can't keep up after all. Boss, sorry, but you’ll have to wait fifteen minutes before we can fire again. Also..." Mina added with a slightly sheepish tone. "I ended up using the core we were supposed to sell to Varna. But don't worry! I just bypassed the connection. It’ll come out clean once we’re done... probably."
"Probably? Well, fine. As long as it doesn't break, I won't complain."
The setup was definitely unstable, but the power was the real deal. It was reeling in a massive chunk of rock like a hooked trout.
"Hmm. I understand the principle," the Professor noted. "But Captain, while this might allow you to 'catch' the prey, how do you intend to bring it aboard?"
It was a fair point. The Star Tuna was rumored to reach lengths of over a hundred meters. Even as large as the Sperm Whale was, if we tried to shove a live one into the cargo hold, it would just go on a rampage and tear the ship apart.
"Catch it alive? Not a chance. We don't have the room for that."
I stared at the rock being dragged toward us on the monitor and began my cold calculations.
"If we used the Hunting Drones you provided, Professor, we could physically neutralize it, but the meat would end up as hole-riddled mince. That wouldn't just ruin the Space SASHIMI; the market value would plummet."
The Professor wanted biological samples, and I wanted the ultimate ingredients. In terms of wanting the catch to remain undamaged, our interests were perfectly aligned.
"That’s why we use the anchor to stop it in its tracks and reel it in. Once it’s close enough, we hit its 'vital spot' with everything we’ve got to end it in a single blow."
"...I see. Barbaric, yet effective."
"The anchor keeps the damage to a minimum. It’ll make for an excellent research specimen, don't you think? And, of course, a top-tier ingredient."
Dispatching the catch instantly to preserve freshness—this wasn't combat. This was "fishing."
"Very well. I am constantly impressed by your gluttonous commitment to logic." The Professor smirked and settled back into his seat. "Now, proceed. The ultimate sample is waiting for us beyond the mist."
I slammed the throttle forward.
The Sperm Whale plunged deep into the heavy, suffocating mist.
Just you wait, Star Tuna. I’m going to cook you—literally.
Any game that lets you fish is a good game. That’s just a fact of life.