Defending the Galaxy: The Sentinels of the Galaxy

by Maria V. Snyder

  “But…that’s…” He sputters.

  He’s cute when he’s all indignant on my behalf. “Let’s just call it temporary insanity.”

  “I wouldn’t be that quick to forgive.”

  “Are you sure? I remember a certain boy who was supernova angry at his father for—”

  “Okay, okay. I get it.”

  “Niall,” Radcliff says from the doorway. “Time to go.”

  He tightens his hold for a second before letting go. “Later, Mouse.”

  “Later, Toad.”

  “Oh-eight-hundred, Junior Officer Lawrence,” Radcliff says, almost gleeful.

  But I’m grinning. Because since I’ve been grounded that’s sleeping in. I’ll have plenty of time to eat breakfast.

  At least, that’s the plan. But in the middle of the night, a strident warning jerks me from a sound sleep.

  INTRUDERS!

  Ten

  2522:266

  I tumble off my bed as Q’s warning sinks in. The looters have attacked. Did you warn Radcliff and the others? I ask Q while shucking my pajamas and pulling on my security jumpsuit.

  YES.

  Where are the intruders?

  OUTSIDE. PORT. SECURITY. CHEMISTRY LAB. BIOLOGY LAB.

  A surge of adrenaline floods my body. How did they spread throughout the base so fast?

  MULTI POINT ATTACK.

  I curse an impressive variety of words as I shove my feet into my boots. What’s the security team doing?

  FIGHTING INTRUDERS AT MULTIPLE LOCATIONS.

  Show me, please. A map of the base appears in my mind. There are clumps of red dots verses purple dots in various places. Is the purple security officers? There seems to be way more than eleven.

  YES. AND ARMED SCIENTISTS.

  Ah. Good for them. Are the looters heading for detention?

  YES.

  There’s a yellow dot there. Must be for Jarren.

  CORRECT. HE IS A YELLOW-BELLIED COWARD.

  Despite the dire situation, I have to laugh at Q remembering Beau’s unique description for Jarren. Clipping on my weapon belt, I tuck my gun into its holster, put the extra power cartridges into another slot, and head out. My parents are already gone. I hope there’s a protocol that they’re all following.

  CORRECT.

  What is it?

  Instead of telling me, Q shows me the counterattack strategy. Only those involved are sent the call to action, which is why there’s not a siren wailing. Everyone else is supposed to shelter in place. There are a couple officers already enroute to back up the guards in detention. Teams of scientists are assigned to cover labs, protect the housing area, and the entrance to the pits. Plus there’s a number of officers in the port. Looks like Radcliff has everything covered. Since I don’t have a task, I ask Q for the area that has the most looters.

  SECURITY.

  How many looters total?

  THIRTY.

  Huh. Not as many as I expected. I reach the group of armed techs guarding the housing area. There are six of them all holding pulse guns and looking terrified.

  “Go back to bed. The situation is under control,” Dr. Lyn-Sue says.

  I point to my jumpsuit and weapon belt. “I’m on the security team, you dolt.” Okay, I shouldn’t have added the dolt comment, but really, what did he think I was doing?

  “We were instructed not to let anyone pass either way.”

  “Good. I need to help my team.” I muscle through the group. If they try to shoot me, it shouldn’t work. The guns are programmed not to fire at friendlies. And if it works, then it’ll hurt like a thousand needles pricking my skin. Not fun. I don’t breathe until I’m out of sight. Then I run through the empty corridors toward security. The map is still in my head, showing red dots concentrated in the port and near detention. I’d thought there would be more looters near the pits.

  Then I skid to a stop as a horrible scenario occurs to me. How many looters are in the pits?

  FIFTY-EIGHT.

  Not the ones we captured. New ones.

  UNKNOWN.

  Please show me the camera feeds from the pits. The lights are dim for nighttime and a cloud of dust obscures the view. Stars. I reverse direction and race to the archeology lab. But I stop at one of the weapon lockers Radcliff had installed throughout the base. Need the code, please!

  FOUR. TWO. SEVEN. NINE.

  I love you! A strange flush of warmth sweeps through me.

  BE CAREFUL.

  Was that Q’s equivalent of concern? I’ll figure it out later. Punching in the code, I open the locker and grab four energy wave guns. I close the door and run toward the stairwell that goes down to the lab. Show me the video feeds of the lab, please.

  The cameras show my parents, along with Rance and Morgan, crouched in front of the entrance to the pits. They’re exchanging fire with a half-dozen looters who are at the bottom of the stairs and are using the doors to the archeology lab as cover. Two forms are lying on the ground. I can’t tell if their friends or foes, but hope they’re only stunned.

  I slow when I near the stairway. The sizzles of pulses grow louder as I inch closer. I peer through the doors, but no one is on the top steps. Their focus is on the lab and their backs are to me. They’re all wearing jumpsuits. Probably made of the same special black material we use for ours. Which means, they’re resistant to pulses. A hit from my gun will sting, but won’t knock them unconscious. Which means, I have to hit them in the head—a much smaller target than their torso.

  Tucking the energy wave guns into my belt, I draw my pulse gun and hope my sessions with Mr. Orange Light were enough to improve my aim. I creep down a few steps to get a better shot. Then I sit down and extend both hands like Elese taught me, squaring my shoulders to the target. My heart is doing laps around my chest, but I steady my breathing and press the trigger. A sizzle crackles and the looter I aimed at jerks and slumps to the ground. Yes!

  There’s so much noise that none of the looters realize that particular sizzle came from behind. I miss the next two. I hit another man and a woman before they figure it out. The three remaining looters turn and aim at me. I scramble up the steps, but one clips me and fire races up my legs. I keep moving despite the pain and dive to the landing at the top, rolling over so I’m facing the stairway. But after an excruciating minute, both literally and figuratively, no one appears.

  It’s another thirty seconds before Morgan arrives at the top of the stairs. “Good work distracting them, Lawrence.”

  “Are they secured?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  I stagger to my feet. Pins and needles stab my calves.

  “Are you hurt?” she asks.

  “Just pulsed. Here.” I hand her an energy wave gun.

  “What’s this for?”

  I hurry down the stairs. “Come on!”

  My parents and Rance are waiting for us at the bottom of the steps. I hand Rance another gun. They’re all confused, but I’ve no time to explain.

  “Follow me.” I go into the pits and pause.

  Elese and all the prisoners are in Pit 1 along with a couple dozen reconstructed Warriors. The prisoners are sitting on their cots under her watchful gaze. One wrong move on their part, and she’ll trigger the pulse generator that’s been installed on the ceiling—one of Radcliff’s defensive weapons. All she has to do is bark a command, and it’ll blast everyone below, knocking them all unconscious while alerting security. The captured looters are tense and some look hopeful, while others appear scared. A haze of sand clouds the air and a high-pitched whine pierces the gloom.

  “What’s that noise?” Morgan asks Elese when she joins us.

  “Digging machines,” I say. “They’re coming in through the other pits.” I thrust an energy wave gun at Elese. “Mom and Dad guard the prisoners, please.”

  Morgan is the first to understand. “Let’s go.” She takes point.

  Rance, Elese, and I follow her. There’s no one in Pit 2. No surprise as the rift is still there. By
the time we reach Pit 3, machines are just breaking through the walls. We stop at the entrance to Pit 4. They’re already inside. Looters are streaming out of the digging machines. I’ve seen this before. It’s the same set up from when they first attacked and destroyed all those Warriors, letting in the shadow-blobs.

  “There’s too many,” Rance says. “We need to retreat.”

  “We can target the machines so they can’t leave,” Elese suggests.

  “Then they’ll just swarm the base. There’s too many of them. Let them take the prisoners and leave the way they came.” Rance again.

  “They’re not going to leave,” Elese says.

  If the looters get by us, all the people in the base will be in danger. That can’t happen. I search for another solution. There’s plenty of rubble from the destroyed Warriors. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought this pit had— Stars! I dismiss my idea—it’s horrifying. Come on, Ara, think! But there’s no other way to stop them. I touch Morgan’s arm.

  She turns and meets my gaze. “Make it quick, Lawrence.”

  “Target the support beams.” Bile churns up my throat.

  Understanding lightens her ice blue eyes, and she asks, “What about us?”

  I swallow. “We should be fine as long as we stay outside the pit.”

  “That’ll work?” she asks.

  “Yes.” I’ve worked in the pits almost my entire life.

  She puts her hand on my shoulder. “This is my decision. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” But I’m still sick to my stomach.

  Morgan gives the order and we aim our energy wave guns at the columns of sandstone that support the ceiling in Pit 4. The explosions are deafening and the thick pillars shatter into fist-sized chunks. The looters catch on quick and the ones who haven’t been knocked over by flying debris run to their machines. I hope they make it. That they all survive.

  We race to the border between Pit 2 and 3 and destroy the support beams in Pit 3. At least, these looters haven’t left their machines yet.

  A horribly loud groan rumbles through the floor. A cracking sound follows like thunder after lightning.

  “Time to go,” Morgan orders as the ceiling in Pit 4 breaks apart and strikes the ground. Hard.

  We run toward Pit 1. The roar of the collapsing pits behind us rattles my bones. But it’s the gush of sand and air that sweeps me off my feet. Large chunks of sandstone rain down around me. Coughing, I curl into a protective ball on the ground. The dense yellow cloud obscures everything. Another dangerous rumble and a sharp crack sounds directly overhead. I close my eyes, lace my fingers behind my neck, and coil tighter.

  Thuds shake the ground. I’m pelted with hard lumps and blasted with sand. A heavy weight slams down on my legs. Pain blooms in my right ankle. Then my right bicep throbs. Breathing the thick, sand-laden air is difficult, triggering bouts of coughing.

  After an eternity, the noise stops and the debris around me settles. I open my eyes. My eyelashes are heavy with grit and there’s nothing to see except blackness. Heavy pieces of the ceiling press down on me. Everyone who works in a Warrior pit trains for this exact situation. If we’re caught in a cave-in and survive being buried, we should stay very still and wait for rescue. If we try to move, we might kill ourselves by dislodging a big rock or enough sand to cut off our air supply.

  The fact that I have air, even though it’s dusty, and I can wiggle my toes, are good signs. And while there’s weight on me, it’s not crushing me. I hope Morgan, Rance, and Elese got clear. I think I’m in Pit 2. For some reason that ceiling came down as well even though we didn’t destroy the supports. Did the rift weaken the pit? Or was it too much of a strain when the other two pits collapsed? Or could it be fate?

  Despite Morgan’s claim, it was my idea to target those beams and people died. Perhaps this is the universe’s punishment for causing all those deaths. How many will be revealed in time. I do hope the digging machines are able to grind their way free. And I’m still not safe. This pocket of air could just be temporary. Pulling my thoughts away from a useless spiral of dire possible fates, I consider what I can do. I reach out to Q. What’s going on in the pits?

  CANNOT SEE.

  Stupid question. How about in the rest of the base?

  I’m shown video from various areas. It appears our people have the upper hand in all the areas except detention. The officers there are outnumbered and more looters are on the way. I peer closer. Oh no. Niall is there, along with Radcliff! I need to help them. Remembering there was a communicator in Morgan’s ear, I ask, Can you please tell the other officers to go help our people at detention?

  There’s a long pause. Maybe that’s too much interference for Q. I wormed into Jarren’s communicator, I remind Q.

  SPEAK.

  “The team at detention needs help,” I say aloud.

  And then in my head, Ara? What’s your status? Morgan’s matter-of-fact response calms me.

  “I’m fine. Go help Radcliff. Take as many people as you can spare.”

  Where are you?

  “Worry about me later! Go to detention! Now! They won’t hold out much longer.”

  On it.

  I watch the camera feeds and warn Morgan when she’s about to run into looters. Rance and Elese are with her—thank the universe. I must have been the only one to get caught in the cave-in. They pick up Beau and Tora. And I see Bendix and Zaim leaving the port. Ho remains behind to ensure no more looters try to break through. Bodies litter the floor of the port and there’s a new shuttle parked inside. It must not be connected to the Q-net. Or we would have been alerted as soon as they left their forest base.

  CORRECT.

  I turn my attention back to detention. Why didn’t Radcliff call for help? Did his communicator get fried? Knowing Radcliff, he probably didn’t want to leave any of the other areas of the base unprotected.

  The looters force Radcliff, Niall, and a couple techs back. While half of them keep the pressure on my team, the others break into detention and—

  Encounter a nasty surprise! Vedann’s in the duct to nowhere and she’s shooting down at the looters. Radcliff is a genius.

  The looters retreat and run right into Morgan and her team. Boo yah! It takes them a while to stun everyone and get organized. Once I know everyone is okay, my aches and pains clamor for attention. My ankle throbs louder. My shoulders ache from the weight. And various muscles complain about the abuse.

  I long to stretch from my cramped position, but know it’s too dangerous. Instead, I flex and relax my muscles. Even that small movement causes an avalanche of sound. All small stuff, I hope.

  Ara? Morgan’s voice sounds in my head. How are you doing?

  “I’ve been better.”

  We’re coming. Do you know where you are?

  “I think I’m near the edge of the collapse in Pit 2. I was only a couple steps behind you.”

  Any injuries?

  “I think my ankle is broken.”

  Dr. Edwards is enroute. Hold on.

  After a few minutes, my dad calls my name. It’s muffled and sounds far away.

  “I’m here,” I yell with relief. If anyone can extract a person from a pile of debris, it’s my dad. He understands cave-ins.

  “Keep calling, Li-Li, so we can locate your position.”

  I repeat “here” a few more times.

  “I think I found you.” His voice is much louder than before. “Can you see the spotlight?”

  I open my eyes. A white light shines through the narrow spaces between the rocks. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He practically sighs the word.

  My poor parents. They’re never going to let me leave my room after this. And maybe I shouldn’t have left. Those people buried in Pits 3 and 4 would be alive right now.

  “It doesn’t look too bad, Li-Li. Give us some time to shore a few things up and remove a few obstacles. If anything shifts and presses harder on you, let me know right away. Okay?”

  “Ok
ay.”

  Some time ends up being hours. Yes, hours. They are being extremely careful not to kill me, so I’m not going to complain. I spend the time in painful contemplation. And while the guilt for causing those deaths still drags on me, I understand that the looters’ intent had been to harm us.

  Q keeps me updated on the clean-up in other parts of the base. All of the looters were armed with pulse guns. No deaths were reported. A relief, but I wonder why. The looters want us gone so they can have access to all the pits without interference. I must be missing an important clue.

  Finally the weight lifts off my shoulders. I squint in the brightness as I take in my first deep breath in hours. My dad peers down at me. His face is streaked with dirt. His torn clothes are filthy and bloodstained, but he’s grinning like a madman.

  “One more block, Li-Li, and we’ll have you free.” He points at the massive chunk resting on my legs.

  They rig a pulley system above my spot. After securing the block with ropes, they lift it using the pulley and move it aside. Blood rushes back into my legs and I cry out as pain wakes from its numb slumber.

  “What’s wrong?” Dad asks.

  “Ankle hurts.”

  “Dr. Edwards, your turn. Don’t move, Li-Li.” Dad disappears.

  I bite down on the urge to call him back. But soon Dr. Edwards crouches over me. There’s still a ring of debris around my location. Almost like I was nestled in a mouse burrow and they’ve just pried off the ceiling.

  “Where does it hurt?” he asks.

  I describe my various injuries and degree of pain. Dr. Edwards examines my pupils with his pocket light, tenderly probes my head for contusions, and decides that I can be moved without risking further injury. But there’s the small matter of my ankle. Okay, not small, and my muscles are all stiff and unwilling to help with my efforts to stand. Much to my extreme embarrassment, Rance is called in to lift me from my burrow.

  He is as dirty and dusty as my dad and I suspect he’s been here helping.

  “Typical rookie,” he says as he slides his arms under my shoulders and knees. “Trying to shirk training with some weak excuse about your ankle.” His teasing tone smooths the awkwardness.