Defending the Galaxy: The Sentinels of the Galaxy

by Maria V. Snyder

  “I’ve read through your responses.” She scrolls through them on her portable. “The nightmares are concerning and might be an indication of PTSD, but since your abduction was so recent, they’re also normal for what you’ve been through.” Bharathi sets the portable down on her lap and meets my gaze. “Let’s talk about the Q-net. When’s the first time it spoke to you?”

  I suppress a groan. “I was following Jarren through the Q-net when I lost him. And I was just like, ‘Where did he go?’ not expecting an answer. But Q answered. It said, ‘here,’ and showed me where he’d been hiding.” On the opposite side of Yulin! Talk about scary.

  “And were you entangled at this time?”

  “No. I was asleep and flying through the Q-net.” And then she asks me to explain. “After I fell asleep while entangled in the Q-net, I started dreaming of being in the Q-net at night. It only happened when I was worried about something. I thought they were just dreams until I found out that what I did while asleep actually happened. I left a dream message for Chief Vasily that he received.”

  “Why didn’t you tell someone about this right away?”

  Seriously? “Uh, I was in the Q-net without tangs and without a terminal nearby.” I point to the two of us. “I didn’t want this to happen. Besides, I got a killer migraine and convinced myself it was all a dream.”

  “And the next time it happened?”

  “Much harder to deny. And then when I accessed the Q-net via a portable while I was in the middle of the desert, I knew I had to fess up.” Plus Niall made me promise.

  “Did you think the Q-net was sentient then?”

  “No. Just super helpful.”

  “What about when Niall woke up from his coma?”

  “I thought the missile exploding above the base did it. It was so loud and everything shook so hard. It wasn’t until Q told me it healed Niall that I knew what really happened.”

  “The Q-net told you it is sentient?”

  I think back to our conversation. “I was trying to find information on the sensors in our heads and to see if anyone else could access the Q-net without tangs and a terminal. I thought, ‘I can’t be that special,’ and Q replied.” I detail the exchange as best as I can remember.

  She absorbs the information before asking, “Did the Q-net ever say it was sentient?”

  Huh. “No. It claimed to be the Milky Way Galaxy and didn’t correct me when I said it was an alien consciousness. Also Q used ‘I’.”

  Bharathi jumps on that. “You said?”

  How to explain? “There were…pictures and thoughts spoken that weren’t mine.” Wow, that sounded super crazy. I hurry to cover it up. “Look, I never ever in a million years would have thought the Q-net was anything but pure science and technology, invented by humans. But those visions were all from Q.”

  “And this conversation happened a couple days after you were rescued from Jarren?”

  “Yes.”

  A pause. “I can understand how having the Q-net be so…attuned to your thoughts would be comforting during a stressful situation. Could you have created this all-powerful persona as a way to not feel so alone when you were clinging to the shuttle with your life literally in your hands?”

  It’s a valid question. At the time I was terrified and desperate. And I did call out for the Q-net to help me when Jarren was about to shoot at Niall, Rance, and Zaim. It shut off the power. Could that have actually been me? Or maybe one of the security team knocked it out! I never considered that.

  “I’m willing to go with your theory, Dr. Bharathi. Except this all-powerful persona didn’t reveal itself to me until two days later. Why wait? It’s not comforting me now.” Quite the opposite.

  “The idea of a savior germinated in your subconscious during the incident. Once you had time to recover, your consciousness had a conversation with the Q-net to legitimize what happened. Your own abilities scare you so you invented a sentient Q-net.”

  Huh. The woman does make sense. Unease rolls through me. Was I having conversations with myself? “I am freaked over this…” I spin a finger around the side of my head. “Ability to connect with Q with a thought. And perhaps you’re right, it’s my way of coping.” I lean forward. “But how do you explain my new abilities?”

  She consults her portable before saying, “This all started after you were shot with an energy wave gun and almost died. The concussion you experienced must have been more severe than we realized and the damage didn’t show up on any of our scans. The ensuing stress and trauma has exacerbated your condition. It may seem like a super power to you Ara, but it is a misfiring of the brain’s synapses.”

  Another valid point. I dig my fingernails into the fabric of the chair to keep from screaming. “Say you’re right. I’m willing to accept the Q-net might not be sentient. So what’s the problem? Why can’t I continue using my screwed-up brain to help? We’ve murdering looters living on our planet. They have missiles and shuttles and who knows what else—oh, wait, I can probably find out with enough time to worm through their security. Thing is, we’re wasting time with this evaluation.”

  “The problem is you might damage your brain beyond repair. You could go into a coma and never wake up.”

  I jump to my feet. “I’m willing to risk it.”

  “But it’s not your decision.”

  “Oh come on! My eighteenth birthday is in sixty-six days. We could all be dead by then!”

  “Still not your decision.”

  Which means none of the adults are going to break the rules. Flopping back into the chair, I mutter every single curse word I know—and I’ve learned quite a number of new ones from the other security officers. When I’ve regained my control, I ask, “So what’s the cure, Doc?”

  She smiles. “If that is the cause, then it’s letting your brain heal by not interacting with the Q-net.”

  I don’t like where this is heading. “How long?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  And I make the mistake of remembering what Dr. Edwards said earlier about it taking years for full recovery. I sink lower in my chair.

  “You’ve taken on such a huge burden, Ara,” Bharathi says. “The fate of the base and all the lives inside it are not on your shoulders. We have a security team.”

  Which I’m a part of. While I don’t want to sound egotistical, I was a vital part of that team. Was—how can one word hurt so much?

  No. I am. I tap into my inner guardian lion. “You said if that is the cause. What if it isn’t?”

  “Then there will be other treatment options. The first step is to rule out all other causes. Tomorrow we’re going to do a full physical and mental evaluation. In the meantime you must be hungry.”

  Now that she mentions it, my stomach rumbles its displeasure over being ignored for so long. “I am.” Although eating alone in my cell—pardon me, my room—holds no appeal. I can’t believe I’m admitting to missing Radcliff, then I remember I hate him and alter my statement. I miss his cooking. It’s Radcliff’s only redeeming quality. Well…there was his plan for Operation Looter Attack—a work of genius. Bah. I can’t even hold a grudge.

  Bharathi stands. “Come along, then.”

  Curious, I follow her to the medical lab. A number of techs, nurses, and Dr. Edwards are gathered in small groups, talking.

  Edwards spots me. “Are you all settled in?”

  Seriously? “Like a bug in a rug.” No, I’ve no idea where that simile comes from. It’s one of Beau’s archaic expressions.

  He gives me a quizzical look. “Um…glad to hear it.”

  “Everyone’s here, let’s go,” Bharathi says.

  “Go where?” I ask as everyone moves to the exit.

  “The cafeteria.” She smiles and I decide she has a soothing smile. “You’ve been cooped up in security for so long I thought you might like a change of scenery.”

  I could grow to like this woman. After all, it’s not her fault I’m here. It’s my parents’ and Radcliff’s and, if I�
��m being honest, yeah, I know denial is usually my go-to, it’s also my fault. I should have kept my mouth shut on the entire the Q-net is sentient thing.

  The cafeteria is about half full. It’s a little early for dinner. The scent of cabbage is an unfortunately familiar aroma. As we join the line, I scan the tables, searching for anyone I recognize. Officer Rance is eating with his family. His two sons are miniaturized versions of their dad—too cute. But there’s something not quite right.

  It hits me as I grab a tray from the stack. There’s no buzz. No bursts of laughter. Conversation is muted and expressions are strained. There’s no smiles from the workers standing behind the counter handing out plates. Also they’re only giving out a single slice of mystery meat and a scoop of mashed potatoes. Odd.

  When it’s my turn, Bharathi says, “She’s a security officer,” to the lady filling plates.

  The woman looks up and meets my gaze. She grins at me. “Thank you, lass, for saving us.”

  Suddenly uncomfortable, it’s an effort to return her smile. “Uh…you’re welcome.”

  Adding another slice and two scoops of potatoes to the plate, she hands it to me. And it clicks. Everyone’s been getting half portions because we’re now sharing our food with sixty-eight prisoners. With Interstellar Class space ships only coming once every two to four A-years, food supplies on a research base are carefully calculated to last until the next delivery.

  I give the plate back. “I don’t need all this. I’m not—”

  She waves it away. “Sure you do. Extra rations for the security team. Or else how are you going to keep up your strength? Off you go, lass.”

  Except now my appetite is ruined. I’d no idea what’s been going on in the base. Bharathi’s right, I’ve been spending too much time in security.

  Joining the medical personnel, I claim there is no way I can eat everything—I can’t—and share my extra portions with a few grateful nurses. Even Dr. Edwards takes half a scoop of potatoes.

  An image of the doctor passing out during surgery because he’s malnourished flashes in my mind.

  He sees my slightly horrified expression. “Not to worry, Miss Lawrence. Everyone is getting their daily requirement of calories.” He pats his stomach. “And some of us can stand to lose a few kilograms.”

  The nurse who escorted me earlier leans in and says in a conspiratorial whisper, “We’re still having ice cream night once a week. We’re not sharing that with the prisoners.”

  I smile my thanks and find I have an appetite after all. In fact, I’m one of the first to finish. Leaning back in my chair, I scan the room. More people have arrived, but the buzz is still missing. A few spot me and come over to express their thanks. The desire to turn invisible pumps through my veins. Why are they thanking me? They’re still in danger. As Niall said, we may have won the battle, but the war is still on going. If the looters launch another missile, we can’t stop it. Jarren destroyed the satellite with our defensive weapons.

  Bharathi must sense my discomfort because she offers to escort me back. When I don’t say a word, she asks me what’s wrong. “I thought you’d enjoy getting out.”

  “I did. It’s just…”

  “Truth, remember?”

  “It’s just seeing what’s at stake. Rance’s two sons, the scientists and techs, the sweet lady serving the mystery meat, you, Dr. Edwards, and the nurses.”

  She stops. “It’s not up to you to keep us safe.”

  “I know. It’s up to Officer Radcliff and my parents. But they rely on a team of people. They need me. I’m not bragging, Dr. Bharathi. If I hadn’t helped them, Operation Looter Attack would never have worked.” And that’s what really hurt. I’m talking deep level pain. That the four of us didn’t have a discussion before they ambushed me.

  “That’s a great deal of pressure, Ara. You’re young. You should be attending soch-time and not worrying about saving everyone’s life.”

  Horrified, I ask, “You’re not going to make me go to soch-time, are you?”

  She laughs. It’s a light sound that’s almost a giggle. “No.”

  Whew.

  Then she sobers. “Do you understand the point I’m making?”

  “Yes. And I agree, it’s a ton of pressure. But guess what?” I don’t wait for an answer. “I didn’t fall apart. I fought HoLFs, and escaped from Jarren. I didn’t crack under the pressure.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  I open my mouth, but her comments from earlier replay in my mind—that a sentient Q-net is a survival mechanism that I created to help me get through the trauma. “I guess that’s what I’m here to find out.”

  She grabs a portable from her office before we go to my room. Once there, she says, “I hope everything is comfortable.”

  It’s a polite comment and doesn’t require a response, but she said she wanted honesty. “Actually, it’s not very comfortable.”

  “Oh?”

  “Is the camera necessary?”

  Her polite demeanor drops. “You’re not supposed to access the Q-net while you’re here.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Then how did you find it?” she demands.

  “I inspected the room. I’m training to be a security officer. If I didn’t find it, my instructor would have made me run a hundred laps.”

  Her stiff posture relaxes. “It’s for your own safety.”

  “Do you think I’m suicidal?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think someone will come in and attack me?”

  “Of course not!”

  I wait.

  “I’ll check about turning it off.”

  “Thank you.”

  Bharathi hands me the portable. “There’s a series of tests that you’ll recognize. I need you to go through and answer them.”

  I glance at the screen. It’s the program to measure the effects of a concussion. Everyone on the base is required to take the test before they have a concussion, then if you have one (or they suspect you might have one), you take it again and the program compares your replies. I’ve done it a million times since I was shot by the looters. Once your pre- and post-concussion responses match, you’re technically healed.

  “Someone will be back later to pick it up. Good night, Ara.” She leaves.

  I try not to think about Niall and how we snuggle on the couch after dinner every night. Instead, I go into the washroom to change into my pajamas—might as well be comfortable—and freshen up. Then I place my backpack in a certain location that may or may not be blocking the camera. Before hopping on the bed, I take out Niall’s picture and set it on the night table. Miss you, King Toad.

  Then I go through the series of questions and play the games that test my reflexes. I’d rather be playing Mutant Zombies on Planet Nine with Niall. I hope we all live long enough so he can take me on another proper date. I might just let Niall win the game this time. Just kidding! He’s going down. Hard.

  A nurse arrives when I finally finish the test an hour later. Guess they’re worried about leaving a portable with me for too long. Which is just silly. She hands me a small white cup with two brown pills and a glass of water.

  I raise an eyebrow at her, inviting her to explain.

  “Your sleeping pills.”

  How could I forget? Anger simmers in my guts and I set them on the table. “I’ll take them later.”

  “No. I need to watch you take them now.”

  Watch me? That’s just inviting me to figure out a way not to swallow them.

  She gives me an annoyed huff. “I’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell if you don’t swallow.”

  A challenge! But then I relent. It would only cause more trouble and my goal is to get out of here as fast as possible. I down the two pills and hand her back the empty cup and glass. She uncovers the camera by moving my backpack, then turns out the lights before she leaves. A night light shines like I’m two years old and afraid of the dark. Sheesh. I wiggle under the covers and try not t
o think about Q.

  It hovers nearby. If I focus on Q, it will help me worm into my tests results. I resist the temptation and also don’t cover the camera again. I’ve never had sleeping pills and might have an adverse reaction.

  I don’t even know I’m asleep until I wake up. Wow. No nightmares. No midnight visits to the washroom. No flying with the Q-net. Nothing.

  The overhead lights are on and there’s another nurse in my room—I should probably learn their names—and he’s talking to me, but it takes me a moment to comprehend.

  “…busy day. You should wait until later to shower. Breakfast will be here soon. Did you sleep well?”

  I’m smart enough to keep my first response—I slept like the dead—to myself. Instead, I croak out a yes. Satisfied, he nods and hustles out.

  When I finish eating and drinking, the cobwebs in my mind are gone. It’s kind of amazing how energized and refreshed I am. No, the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet. That had to be my first solid night’s sleep in… Obviously the pills didn’t improve my math skills. At least since before the looters attacked the first time.

  When Dr. Bharathi said I was going to have a full physical and mental evaluation, she wasn’t exaggerating. The medical technicians measure everything. I run on a treadmill with sensors plastered all over my body, including places I’m not gonna name. I enjoy the running, though. I miss the physical activity. They take samples of all the fluids in my body. Yes, they even collect the mucus in my nostrils and my stomach acid. I hope I never have to experience having a thin tube go up my nose, down my throat, and into my stomach again. It’s not painful, just really really weird, and hours later I still have a tickle at the back of my throat.

  An alphabet of scans commences next. Various machines hum and buzz and clang around my prone body. Then I have another heart-to-heart with Dr. Bharathi and we talk about everything except the Q-net. Kind of fun until the subject turns to Jarren, then not so much.