Page 68 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol. 1
He looks distracted, running a nervous hand through the mane between his ears.
I haven’t seen many Sadjim before, but I have to admit—he’s attractive. He looks mostly human, maybe six feet tall, with gray fur streaked with darker lines. Hisface is unmistakably feline, with black hair that falls down his neck. Long, pointed ears sit on either side of his head, and his golden eyes are striking.
“Look, Ileana, I’m sorry. It’s been a rough season. We usually smuggle small stuff, not… this. But lately, with all the Confed patrols and sweeps, things have gotten complicated. When we saw your single-seater flying alone, unprotected, Bully got interested. He thought we could strike a deal with a Confed officer—get a good price. It could’ve worked, even if it was a little unusual.”
He pauses, then adds, “Bully shot you in a way that disabled your ship’s processor. We towed you for a while, just long enough for the cold to knock you out. Then we checked what we’d actually caught. We were surprised to find you instead of some officer. You’re young, healthy, and human. Not exactly ideal for us. But Bully realized right away that you were valuable.”
“How lucky for you,” I snap. “And it never crossed your mind that I might have the right to live my life without being owned by someone else? Seems like that’s a recurring theme for me.”
A servant interrupts, placing a large towel on the empty seat beside him.
Prax shifts uncomfortably under my words. If I believe what he’s saying, it was Bully who made the call. But Prax didn’t stop him. He could have. Before I ended up in a cage on Vagantu.
I scrub myself hard with the exfoliating cloth, rinse my hair thoroughly, and try to untangle it with my fingers. Then I climb out of the water.
When I look up, Prax is staring at me. He’s clearly not indifferent—but it’s not the same as what I felt with Pherebos. With my Asgarnien, his gaze felt like a warm embrace. Prax’s is more… admiring. Not romantic.
I rush to the towel and wrap it tightly around myself, trying to hide my body from him.
“I’m sorry,” he says at last. “This is the first time I’ve been involved in something like this. And honestly, I’m not comfortable with it. But there’s nothing I can do now. Since we landed, we’re under Vagantu law. They’re taking half our profit from the sale. That’s just how it works.”
“Don’t you have the right to change your mind?”
“No. Even if I wanted to—and Bully definitely wouldn’t agree—I’d still have to pay Noviosk, the head of Vagantu, his cut. And your estimate is already high, and it’s not even auction day yet.”
“How wonderful,” I say bitterly. “What a noble way to make a living—off other people’s freedom.”
Prax presses his lips together and turns away. His discomfort seems real. But if what he’s saying is true, it doesn’t change anything for me.
He stands as a servant enters, carrying a tray with several dishes. The smell hits me instantly—warm, savory, comforting. My mouth waters before I even realize it.
He hands me a large bowl filled with a mix of boiled vegetables. It’s delicious—so much better than thosedry nutrition bars. Then there’s a dish of toasted cereal, rich with sweet vegetable fat. It’s calling my name.
“Where are you from?” Prax asks.
“I’d just escaped from a Confederation base when you intercepted me,” I say, giving him a quick summary and skipping the details.
“Ouch. That’s rough,” he replies.
“As you say,” I mutter, shoveling in a big spoonful of vegetables. “And you?”
“Well, as you might guess, I’m from Sadjim. My parents were smugglers, so I guess the path was kind of laid out for me. I’ve never really had the same drive for it as others, though. That’s why I eventually left my family and my planet. I teamed up with Bully—he’s more into rare metals and rocks. It’s less harmful, more in line with what I can live with.”
“Metals and rocks,” I repeat, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think I qualify as either. And I’m pretty sure you already know I’m not a rock. Besides, stripping a planet of its resources doesn’t exactly sound noble, even if you’ve found a way to justify it to yourself.”
He looks at me with those golden eyes, but there’s no anger in them.
“You’re judging me without knowing where I come from. We all get shaped by our origins. It’s not always easy to break away from that,” he says, shrugging.
I keep eating, thinking about what he said. Prax doesn’t seem like a bad guy—just someone who followed the path laid out for him and never questioned it too much. But maybe he could. Maybe I could be the one to make him see things differently. If there’s anychance of getting out of this, it might be through him. I need to convince him to help me.
We keep talking while we eat, and honestly, he’s not bad company. I can tell he’s not fully at peace with the life he’s living. There’s hesitation in him, like he’s stuck in something he doesn’t quite believe in.
We finish the vegetables, and then it’s time for the sweet cereal dish. It’s surprisingly good—crispy on the outside, soft on the inside. If I weren’t in such a terrifying situation, I might actually enjoy this moment. Even Prax’s company. He keeps glancing at me with something that feels like admiration. I’m no expert, but I don’t think he’s indifferent. Not at all.
If he hadn’t chosen this path, I might even call him attractive—charming, clever, charismatic. Why do men always seem to come with some hidden side you wish you didn’t have to discover?
After I finish eating, a servant returns with my freshly laundered tunic. I slip it on and take a better look around. There’s nowhere to run. Even the sea access points are blocked off. And I have no idea what’s out there. What’s the point of swimming away if there’s nowhere to go?
