Page 19 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
They rush to Logan, Jason, Xenon. Checking vitals. Administering injections. Stabilizing them.
I sink into the nearest chair, muscles trembling with fatigue and relief.
“Well done, all of you,” says a tall guy with a shock of red hair. “You held the line. Now let us take it from here.”
“Thanks. Just... make sure they’re okay,” I say, voice rough.
“They will be. You’ve done your part.”
I close my eyes. The air’s fresh now. The systems are humming. My friends are in good hands.
For the first time all day... I breathe easy.
Later that day, the verdict drops: aside from those who died in Sector 6, the rest of the base got off with minor injuries. Nothing life-threatening. Not enough to qualify for the regeneration sarcophagi—those cycles are limited, so it’s bruises and broken bones the old-fashioned way.
As for the saboteur? One of the bodies. His fingerprints were everywhere. And he’d left behind a video—full of hopeless ramblings about isolation and space madness.
That night, the six of us are back in our quarters, finally relaxing with a well-earned drink.
“I’m telling you,” Jason grins, tracing the long blue scar on his temple, “this is gonna add serious charm points.”
“Maybe... but for now it just looks like someone painted you with bathroom disinfectant,” Logan smirks.
“You’re one to talk,” Jason fires back. “At least I don’t have a cast on my arm and need help to take a leak.”
“Hell no—I am not helping with that,” I jump in immediately.
“Oh, come on, some binomial solidarity?” Xenon laughs. “We are crewmates.”
“Sure,” I shrug, “but I draw the line at bathroom duty.”
Logan lets out a theatrical sigh. “What am I supposed to do? I’m one hand short here.”
“Find a girl,” Jason suggests, laughing so hard he nearly spills his drink.
Yep. Jason’s never been the sharpest in the pack—but we’re not exactly a squad of philosophers, either.
“Speaking of loyalty,” Igor says, rifling through a drawer, “anyone seen the last chocolate bar?”
“Sorry, I stress-ate it after today’s madness,” Vlad shrugs unapologetically.
“You what? Man, those things are practically sacred!”
“Exactly. That’s why I ate it.”
“You’re a terrible partner,” Igor groans.
“Eh, silver lining—you won’t gain any weight,” Vlad grins. “Anyway, I’m off. I’ve got a date with Melissa.”
I’m not surprised. The blonde bombshell showed up during Logan’s bandaging, and Vlad poured on the charm like engine coolant. He was in full flirt mode.
I might’ve done the same with the nurse patching up Logan’s head if I hadn’t been so on edge the whole time.
“Xenon and I are shipping out tomorrow,” Jason announces. “That nutjob almost took us down with him. We’re patched up enough—it’s time to hit the stars again.”
“I think Vlad’s gonna hang around another day or two to pursue his medical interest,” Igor smirks. “Then we’ll follow.”
I glance at Logan, his cast cradled in a sling. He’s not going anywhere fast.
