Page 7 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol. 1
She sinks deeper into her chair, and we dive into this wild, end-of-the-world story where a virus turns people into zombies. It’s kind of funny, in a dark way—how people back then imagined the fall of civilization. They blamed it on some made-up virus instead of facing the truth: their own reckless destruction.
They weren’t totally wrong. Humanity did almost vanish from the planet. Just… not because of zombies.
Our session is suddenly cut short when Mom bursts into our cabin, her face pale and tight with worry.
“There’s been an accident at the administrator’s quarters. A solar cell malfunctioned. Mourad and his son… they didn’t make it.”
Rayan… Rayan is dead? No. No way.
I never told Prianka everything. I’d been seeing Rayan a little more than I let on. Not much more—after all, I spend nearly every moment with her—but still. Rayan had a way of showing up exactly where I’d be. Like clockwork, he’d appear at the base pharmacy every ten days, right when I went to pick up Prianka’s painkillers and bisphosphonate bags. Or at the cafeteria, when we grabbed our afternoon infusions.
He was always there. Smiling. We’d chat for a few minutes—never long enough—but he was patient, kind. And he made me feel… different.
But now he’s gone.
My teenage heart shatters into a thousand pieces. My first real feelings—cut short by something so brutal, so final.
I’d already imagined us, a few years from now, taking care of sweet Prianka together. I thought we had time. I thought we had a future.
But that dream is gone.
Rayan is dead. Life is so unfair.
How am I supposed to go on without his calm, caring presence? How do I even begin to fill the space he’s left behind?
Chapter 3.
Pherebos, 5126 Polaris year.
I scan the surroundings carefully, the low hum of the SIL’s engines a steady reminder that we’re still moving forward. We’re threading our way through a dense asteroid field—fragments of all sizes drifting in slow, silent chaos. Some are no bigger than a fist. Others could crush us in an instant.
I’ve already forwarded Rick’s intel to my contact at the Confederation, along with the full disk I recovered from Farid’s ship. The copy I left behind is corrupted—intentionally. When Farid loads it, his system will crash the disk, flagging it as unreadable. He’ll stare at the screen, confused, watching helplessly as the data dissolves. He won’t understand what went wrong. He’ll be frustrated, scrambling for answers, but he won’t find any. All he’ll know is that the list—the one detailing Coalition infiltration sites—is gone. And he’ll have to go back to the source to get it again.
Akifumi, my superior at the Confederation, has already been briefed about the slave market. He’s dispatching another agent, one closer to the coordinates.
So why am I here, ignoring SILMAR’s repeated warnings and diving into this debris field, the only shortcut that’ll get me to the meeting on time?
According to SILMAR, a small planet was struck by a massive asteroid nearly two years ago. The impact shattered it, leaving behind this unstable mess. Navigation through this sector is strongly discouraged.
But I go anyway.
The debris looms ahead, jagged rock and twisted metal drifting in unpredictable patterns. The silence of space is broken only by the occasional thud of a fragment glancing off the hull. Every second in here is a risk. One wrong move, and we’re done.
So why do it?
Because of the slave traders. Because of Silmarwen. Because of Taranis.
Because of the pain.
Taranis’s final moments still haunt me. It was one of those cursed markets that led to their capture over four years ago. Silmarwen managed to escape. Taranis didn’t. He was my best friend. And he died in chains.
I already find it revolting when people strip planets of their natural resources. But when it comes to living beings, it’s beyond unforgivable
The AI’s voice suddenly echoes through the cabin, slicing through my bitter thoughts.
“Pherebos, the debris density is increasing rapidly. According to my analysis, a large asteroid must have collided with another very recently, and all the debris iscurrently in motion. In short, the activity in this sector is extremely high-risk.”
My heart skips a beat.
