What Do You Mean I'm The Captain Of A Yandere Mercenary Company? Chapter 5 First Stop

I approached the Orbital Mining Station right when the alert chimed, signaling an incoming hail from someone.

Activating my comms link, a display appeared before me, revealing a stern-faced elderly man with a beard and glasses.

"Hey, you! If you're planning to loot us, know this: we've got zilch of value! This is merely a mining outpost harvesting gases from the giant planet beneath us!!"

I gestured a casual wave in response, "Uh… Hello? I'm no pirate and not here to plunder. Actually, I just handled some pirates and spotted your station, so I figured I'd drop by to restock?"

He stared for a second, "Darn... You're a merc? What brings you to this remote spot? Got turned around or what?"

I winced slightly, "I… Might be somewhat disoriented, to be honest. Hit an anomaly, and my vessel lost all navigation charts… Yeah, I'm pretty much adrift."

"Oof, tough break there. Anyway, dock on in; we ain't got a ton, but we can sort out that mapping issue for you."

"Appreciate it, thanks."

"No sweat. I'm Marten, by the way—the head of this mining outpost."

Oh… Crap… What name should I give him? Using my previous one felt off, especially now that I recalled this wasn't my original form anymore.

Hold on! I could just go with the name I picked for my game avatar!

I dipped my head toward him, "Good to meet you, Marten. Call me Tera."

"Likewise. Feel free to take any open berth; we've got space aplenty."

"Got it."

I cut the comms feed and focused back on the ship's controls, easing my path toward the station's landing bay.

The outpost resembled a towering spire adrift in the void, topped by a round structure with four cross-like extensions jutting outward.

Those extensions functioned as berths for bigger vessels that couldn't squeeze into the main hangar.

Since my craft could enter directly, I opted for the hangar and passed through the shimmering force field. It shielded the interior from space's emptiness while permitting ships and solids to enter—a common feature on such installations.

Spotting a vacant slot without hassle, I guided my ship there, settling it down with the captured pirate vessel still attached.

My frame handled the routine touchdown steps automatically: deploying struts, shutting off thrusters, and securing the pilot's area.

This final step proved crucial in the game's online mode, as skipping it let others sneak aboard and hijack your ride.

If you're curious, yep, I discovered that through painful experience. Though I'd pulled the same trick on fellow players, so I had little ground to gripe.

After wrapping up the procedures and exiting the cockpit, I buckled on a sidearm sheath holding my plasma pistol for safety. Venturing into unknown turf, I couldn't be sure if these folks were genuine.

Heading to the exit ramp, I glanced at a nearby monitor that mirrored my image, pausing briefly.

Upon first arriving here, I'd only given myself a quick once-over, but with a moment now… Nothing about my appearance struck me as unappealing, truthfully.

Gazing downward, my view met a pair of ample curves rather than the deck, which I viewed as a bonus, not a drawback. An impulse urged me to cup them gently, and I complied.

Hm… Perhaps I'd investigate further in private soon.

The sole change I'd desire was the absence down below between my thighs.

Was there a method to acquire that in this place?

Shoving those notions away temporarily, I proceeded to the ramp and stepped into the bay, where Marten waited with a group of others observing my emergence.

"Greetings. Tera, right?" Marten inquired, one brow arched.

"Correct. And you're Marten, the outpost chief?"

"Spot on," he verified, then glanced up the ramp I'd used. "Anyone else joining you?"

His query put me on guard, and I scanned the folks trailing him. They tried acting casual around me, but their tension and wariness were plain to see.

I angled my stance slightly, "Hmm… A couple of crewmates are aboard. Why do you ask?"

"Understood… So, can I confirm you're truly a mercenary, not some raider?"

"Absolutely a merc. If I were a pirate, would I dock with a trophy ship in tow and stroll out solo like this?"

He squinted a bit, "Fair enough. Then proving your mercenary credentials shouldn't be an issue, right?"

"Credentials?" I echoed.

That furrowed his brow, "You lack a mercenary license?"

Huh, so I caught that right… He wants to see my mercenary license.

Wait… Mercs require licensing in this world? Nothing like that existed in the game, so what's the deal?

"I don't possess a mercenary license," I admitted plainly, positioning myself to conceal my palm on the pistol grip, primed for any threat.

Marten's gaze sharpened, "Claiming merc status without one? You registered with the Mercenary Guild or what?"

A guild for mercs exists too?

Already, the group behind him shot me hostile glances, and I sensed they figured me for a pirate slipping in undercover.

Gradually lifting my palms to signal peace, "Alright, I get the suspicion, but I'm unregistered due to certain events, though I've worked as a merc for a while. An anomaly stranded me here with wiped nav data, and those pirates targeted me."

"So they invaded your ship, and you wiped them out?"

I affirmed with a nod, "Power failed on my end while I repaired it, so they assumed it abandoned and boarded, unprepared for resistance. I dealt with them and wound up here."

Marten's eyes tightened further, "From which sector exactly?"

Um… Uh… Earth should work? It might be part of this cosmos too?

"The Sol system," I replied.

This revelation stunned them; they exchanged murmurs and glances. Marten alone kept eyeing me, his expression like I'd claimed descent from the stars themselves.

"That anomaly… You pass through a wormhole and lose consciousness, perhaps?" he probed.

That's remarkably precise… But I did fade out at the game's launch, so I nodded along.

Now everyone eased up, and even Marten regarded me with sympathy.

"Ah… Sorry, miss… Hate to break it, but your mind seems scrambled… You aware of your location?"

I scowled, "Not really? Hence needing a map?"

"Yeah… You're not alone in this, and I'm direct, so here's the truth… That wormhole jumbled your recollections."

…

Um… Pardon?

The idea that such an effect was possible surprised me more than it applying to me, since I knew it didn't.

Even so, my astonishment showed clearly, prompting Marten's sorrowful nod. "At least you're no pirate. Forgive the wariness; raiders have been spotted nearby lately… Why not bring your team inside? I'll fill you in and such.

We lack luxuries, but if you've got Credits, supplies are available for trade."

I simply nodded in silence and left the ramp, pondering the mess I'd stumbled into.