The Galactic Sentinel: Ultimate Edition: 4 Books with 2000+ Pages of Highly Entertaining Sci-Fi Space Adventure

by Killian Carter

  “I’m on duty, sir.” He didn’t point out that she shouldn’t have been drinking either. Their relationship was anything but formal, but in the company of guests Captain Desmond expected him to observe rank.

  “Excuse my poor manners. I haven’t introduced you, have I?” She gestured to the Aegi with her glass, and the yellow goo looked like it was going to jump free. She flicked her wrist, and it slid back into the glass, sagging in defeat. “This is Commander Grimshaw, the great hero of the Battle of Gorthore. Grimshaw, these illustrious ladies are Aegis Inx and Aegis Eline. The handsome fellow is Aegis Nakamura.”

  “It’s an honor to have you on board the Bakura.” Grimshaw nodded respectfully.

  The human, Aegis Nakamura, returned the gesture. Despite her graceful appearance, Aegis Inx looked upon Grimshaw with what he could only describe as disdain. The Shanti’s tall, furry ears fluttered above her long, brown hair, and her upturned nose twitched as though irritated. Her much younger colleague, on the other hand, beamed at him with large yellow eyes, the end of her tail gently tapping the couch. Grimshaw never understood why, but he always felt insignificant under the gaze of the cat-like race.

  “To what do we owe the pleasure?” Captain Desmond smiled, her tone soft yet demanding.

  “I’m here regarding our guests, sir.”

  “Of course. It explains why you’re in such a fluster.”

  “Fluster? I—”

  “You’ll have to forgive the Commander.” Captain Desmond tipped her glass in his direction, and the yellow goo made another vain attempt at escape. “Sometimes he takes his job a little too seriously.”

  “Is this how all Confederation personnel behave in the presence of their superiors?” The undercurrent of sultry purrs, characteristic of Shanti, flavored Aegis Inx’s words with contempt. “When friends on Shantalla told me that Terrans were more animal than sentient, I didn’t believe them. After meeting this one, however, I’m no longer so certain.” She turned away as though looking at Grimshaw pained her.

  The younger Shanti, evidently amused, flashed Grimshaw a fanged smile that told him not to put too much stock in Aegis Inx’s words. How a mere smile could convey so much, he had no idea, but the combined nuanced movements in her facial muscles couldn’t have made the implication any clearer.

  Captain Desmond had set him up, of course. Once again, Grimshaw found himself a helpless pawn in one of her schemes. He attempted to salvage some dignity, turning to the Aegi and bowing deeply. “My apologies for the intrusion.”

  Inx snorted, and Eline cocked her head sideways like a bird would before devouring a worm. Nakamura simply smiled.

  “With all due respect, sir,” Grimshaw addressed the Captain. “It would have been useful had I been informed about our guests earlier.”

  “And how would you justify this need to know, Jason?” she said, clearly enjoying her little game.

  “As second-in-command, I’m responsible for the welfare of everyone on board the Bakura, sir. I cannot fulfill that duty when passengers are missing from my registry.”

  “I don’t disagree with you, Jason, but my hands were tied. My orders came directly from Admiral Thatcher.” She took a sip of her drink. “Until this morning, no one was to know but me.”

  “I understand that Aegi prefer to travel…” Grimshaw searched for the right word “…subtly. But why such secrecy, sir?” He offered the Aegi a semi-apologetic side-glance.

  Captain Desmond rose to her feet and crossed the room to meet Grimshaw. “I’m glad you asked.” She smiled up at him. “Had you waited a little longer, you would have found out in the briefing room with the other officers.”

  “Sir, the other officers aren’t responsible for all personnel on the ship.”

  “Pah! Your uptightness can be so tiring sometimes, Jason.” Captain Desmond spoke to him as a mother would an ignorant child, and she took great delight in every second. “As I’m sure you suspected from the Goliath’s presence, this isn’t our usual exercise.”

  “The thought had crossed my mind.” He trod carefully. To Grimshaw’s mild relief, the Aegi had lost interest in him and conversed among themselves, but there was no telling what curious ears might pick up and include in their reports.

  “Our Aegi friends are on a mission to investigate a classified project at Xerocorp Labs in Targos City. It is believed that other unsavory parties are trying to track their movements. Therefore, it was imperative to keep their presence secret until we entered S-Gate Horizon.” She checked her SIG for the time. “It’s why they’re not on the Goliath. It would have been too difficult to keep them hidden there. The SS Goliath might be more than ten times the size of the Bakura, but it also has more than ten times the personnel.”

  The Captain’s eyes flicked to the Aegi then back again, and for a brief moment, Grimshaw thought he read worry in them.

  “You know the secret would have been safe with me,” he whispered. “What if we encountered trouble on our way here?”

  “Jason, outside of pirate raids, there hasn’t been a hostile encounter in the Fringe since the Kragak War. Besides, the Goliath is escorting us.”

  The cabin lights flickered, and a familiar tingling sensation washed over Grimshaw as the Bakura exited paraspace, signaling that they had entered the Fringe.

  Captain Desmond’s SIG bleeped. She raised her left arm, and Lieutenant Commander Gargan appeared in holoform. “What is it, Garland?” Her light-hearted disposition suddenly fled.

  “You’re needed on the bridge, Captain.” Gargan tried not to sound overly alarmed, but the man had always been a poor liar. “Immediately, sir.”

  Captain Desmond puffed. “What’s going on, Garland?”

  “It’s an unidentified vessel, sir. Dreadnought class. Biggest I’ve ever seen.”

  4

  Low Roller

  He scrunched his eyes shut and brought up a hand to shield his face from the blinding lights above. Moving took more effort than it should have and set the room spinning in opposite directions.

  Like a damn blender inside a blender.

  Randai Kahn would have patted himself on the back for being so witty if the thought of moving didn’t make him want to throw up. His ears rang, and a slick metallic sweetness clung to his tongue: signs of a good night…or a bad night, depending on how one looked at it.

  Randai wasn’t entirely sure where he was or how he’d gotten there, but given the noxious smell of disinfectant, he guessed he was laid up in Doctor Kira’s clinic again.

  That quack needs to mind her own goddamn business.

  “What the hell am I doing here?” The words barely made it past his cracked lips. Randai suspected that licking them would result in a wave of vomit.

  “You’re waiting.”

  The voice that answered was a lot deeper than Randai expected: possibly male, but that depended on what species. It felt strange that the sound should come from a source that didn’t spin around with the rest of the room.

  In an attempt to forget the whirlwind sensation, Randai thought a little about the voice and decided that he vaguely recognized it, like some long-forgotten item half-buried in the sediment of a deep lake. Randai tried to put his finger on the thought, but it swirled in unison with everything else.

  Turning his head without emptying his guts took everything he had. His nostrils flared, grasping at the air in long bursts. Breathing through his mouth intensified the sickly-sweet aftertaste of whatever liquid had caused him to pass out. He tentatively opened his eyes a fraction: just enough to focus on whoever was there.

  A few feet from where he lay, a warrior-class Varg squatted in a tattered leather chair that seemed too small for his girth and far too flimsy to bear his significant weight. Yet, despite his bulk, the seat’s legs held.

  Powerful fibers pulsed under every inch of the Varg’s thick, gray skin. The mere thought of a Varg set all kinds of alarms off in Randai’s mind, but no matter how loudly they rang, the warnings didn’t quite pierce the thick fo
g. He had the feeling he was in trouble, but the details evaded him. Not that there was anything he could do about it in his condition.

  Randai eyed the blaster and ritual blade hanging from the creature’s broad hips. He had encountered many such Vargs on his travels and usually not under the best of circumstances. Getting into trouble had become something of a theme since retreating to the Sentinel’s lower-level slums. Randai once believed the Underways would provide escape, but life had other ideas.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Brutus,” he said, unable to remember the warrior’s real name. “I don’t get many visitors these days.”

  A deep guttural sound was the Varg’s only response.

  “You’re lucky Varkal brought you in, Randai.” Doctor Kira appeared next to the Varg, and he wondered if she’d been nearby the entire time. “You had a serious case of alcohol poisoning and overdosed on nagesh. It was a close call.”

  “We meet again, Doctor.” Sick gurgled in Randai’s stomach as he made to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.

  The doctor raced to the bedside and caught him before he rolled onto the floor. “Take it easy, Randai. The medication hasn’t worn off yet, and you’ve still got substance residuals in your system.”

  She tried to press him back onto the bed, but he shrugged her off. “I’m fine. I just need a minute.”

  And some anti-sickness meds and painkillers. And while you’re at it, something to knock Brutus out wouldn’t go amiss.

  “I’ll get something for the pain,” she said as if reading his mind. She disappeared behind a partition leaving him alone with the Varg.

  Save for his heavy breathing, the warrior Varg watched Randai in silence, his piercing black eyes staring out from under a slab of bone-rimmed brow.

  “A rough night, huh?”

  Another growl gurgled in the warrior’s throat and Randai decided it best to stay quiet for the time being.

  Doctor Kira eventually returned, carrying a syringe filled with an unpleasant looking blue liquid. She pressed the needle into a vein on Randai’s left arm, and a hot sensation flowed along his shoulder and quickly spread through his chest.

  The fog in his head began to lift. “What the hell is that?”

  “Compound Eleven. It’ll counteract the narcotics.”

  “Isn’t that illegal on the Sentinel?” Randai said.

  Brutus released a low growl, and his beady eyes followed Kira as she set the empty syringe aside.

  She looked at the warrior then back to Randai. “It’s poisonous to some races, including Vargs. But don’t worry, there are no reported cases of it hurting us humans,” she added quickly.

  “You’re full of surprises, Doctor. You never struck me as the kind to dabble in illegal substances.”

  “I wouldn’t need to if the damn Council would stop holding up medical supplies bound for the Underways.” The doctor’s SIG vibrated, and her eyes flicked from side to side as she read something.

  “Nice unit you’ve got there. Not bad for someone on a doctor’s salary.”

  “Compliments of a certain patron,” she said, with poorly concealed worry.

  The medical unit was much bigger than most standard SIGs Randai had seen, stretching the entire length of Kira’s forearm. Randai held up his own in comparison and found it was half the size.

  “Looks cumbersome,” he said.

  “Can’t be helped with all the diagnosis and treatment tools, but it’s lighter than it looks.”

  Randai hadn’t seen a SIG so big on someone not wearing a TEK. “Even still, you must have some arm on you.”

  Kira gestured to the room. “Comes with the job.” She typed something into the device and smiled as she caught Randai watching her. The doctor moved to a cupboard, and after rummaging produced a vial of clear fluid. She walked to Randai’s bedside, opened the glass bottle, and lifted it to his lips.

  He tried to push her hand away, and she stumbled onto him.

  “Sorry,” she said, righting herself in a fluster. Red colored the doctor’s high cheeks as she smoothed out her white coat. “I’ve been working non-stop and have barely eaten.”

  “What are you trying to force down my throat this time?”

  “Just drink it, Randai. It’ll make you feel better.”

  He gave her a sideways glance, then took the bottle from her and knocked it back. The medicine was so astringent Randai’s mouth tried to swallow his face. “Holy shit. It’s bad.” He wiped his tongue with the bed covers. “You should give Brutus some.” He pointed at the warrior and gagged.

  “You should be grateful. Dra’kaz urine distillate is very rare.”

  “You made me drink alien wolf piss?” Either he was hallucinating, or the doctor had gone insane.

  “The best hangover cure in the galaxy. Straight from Claracia’s second moon. Consider yourself lucky. I’ve been saving what little I have left.”

  Randai was about to object when he realized he no longer fought to keep his stomach contents down. The drumming in his head had also subsided.

  In his bewildered state, Kira took the opportunity to lean in and peck Randai on the cheek before he could react.

  “Because that’s professional,” Randai said, wiping the moisture from his face. He knew she only did it to annoy him. He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. “Why’s the Varg still here?”

  “He wouldn’t say.” She looked a little worried again but turned away. “Something tells me you’ll know soon enough.”

  “Pay.” The word was deep and punctuated with a loud click.

  “I’ve got other patients to attend to.” Doctor Kira shot him a look that said ‘I told you so’ before disappearing beyond the partition.

  Randai regarded the Varg, the after-taste of piss strong on the back of his tongue. “What do you mean pay?”

  “Boss wants pay.” The Varg’s words came out in hisses.

  Varg warrior-class weren’t exactly the most eloquent speakers in the galaxy, and Randai knew that was as much information as he was going to get. Shards of memory cut into his mind like serrated glass through mud: a gambling table and dice, empty bottles, wagers, and the White Dragons boss. It took him a minute to fit the pieces together. Even then, parts were missing, but he got the gist of it.

  Shit.

  “You’re here to collect the wager I made with Mr. Darcy.”

  “Yes,” the Varg grunted.

  The memories came flooding back, and Randai fought down panic. He had lost a bet with the White Dragons boss and used a gift from an old friend—the only thing of value he still owned—as the wager. Randai preferred not to part with the item. He looked around the room, considering his options. Eventually, he realized he didn’t have any. Fighting a Varg warrior would only get him killed. Randai would have made a good match for the giant in his youth, but he hadn’t been kind to his body in recent years, not to mention that he was still worse for wear and couldn’t afford to make an enemy of the gang leader who ran Bometown.

  Randai gingerly stood erect and took a step on wobbly knees. “Okay, Brutus.” He reached out and leaned on the warrior’s shoulder. “Let’s go get Mr. Darcy’s payment. But first, I need you to help me to the toilet.”

  5

  Critical Alert

  Grimshaw followed Captain Desmond and the three Aegi onto the bridge.

  “Any progress on reaching the Goliath, Gargan?” Captain Desmond took her chair, and Grimshaw buckled himself into the terminal on her right.

  “Comms still haven’t connected, Captain,” Lieutenant Commander Gargan said. “Some kind of advanced scrambling algorithm is interfering with the EM spectrum.”

  “What about scanners?”

  “The unidentified vessel isn’t registered in the Confederation’s databases. We’ve also cross-checked the Galactic Alliance archives. So far, nothing.”

  Lights blinked and instruments whirred as the crew hurried about their duties. The air tasted dense and made Grimshaw’s nose itch. It took him a
moment to realize the bridge reeked of fear. Most of the crew were too young to remember the Kragak War let alone to have fought in it. Grimshaw counted those with battle experience on one hand and that included the three Aegi. For everyone else—Captain Desmond included—the current threat was a first.

  The Aegi clustered together at unoccupied comms terminals in the command hub next to Lieutenant Commander Gargan. Had the Bakura been running fully staffed, the stations would have been in use. But since being recommissioned as a training vessel, the Bakura never had more than a dozen on the bridge. Even the command hub, on a raised platform to the rear of the deck, rarely had more than three of its five seats filled.

  A curved wall at the head of the bridge doubled as the primary visual display. It zoomed in on the vast bulk of the Goliath drifting in the distance. Just beyond the heavy Confederation Fleet cruiser hovered what could only be described as an immense shadow. The Goliath was one of the Confederation’s largest vessels, but it was less than a third of the size of the looming black shape, the curves of which suggested something more organic than machine. It was difficult to make out the vessel’s edges against the blackness of space, but with multiple appendages radiating from a triangular body, it resembled an alien-like squid or arachnid. The strange ship had positioned itself between them and the white-green marbled planet, Colony 115.

  “Why didn’t we pick it up before entering the gate network?” Grimshaw said.

  “Our scanners are having trouble reading it this close, sir,” Gargan said. “There isn’t a hope we could’ve detected it at long-range.”

  “Stealth technology then. It must be Tal’ri.” Captain Desmond didn’t sound too sure of herself, and Grimshaw couldn’t blame her.

  Being the eldest Galactic Alliance race and dominating the Galactic Council, much about the Tal’ri was shrouded in mystery. Few had seen a Tal’ri in the flesh let alone one of their war vessels.