Page 20 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
He looks at me with a huge grin. I already know what’s coming, but I ask anyway.
“So... what’s the plan?”
“Well, given my charming condition... I’m thinking: Gekkaria,” he says brightly. “Some home-cooked convalescence. And you could really use a break, bro. You’ve been tense.”
Tense? He has no idea.
How can I relax when I know exactly who’s waiting on Gekkaria?
That blonde. That girl who’s been messing with my head since the day we met.
She was eleven when we first landed—sharp, fearless, intense. I’ve watched her grow up through annual visits and holo-messages she sent to her brother. Each time, she somehow managed to throw my equilibrium out of whack.
Now she’s seventeen. And stunning. Gravity-defying curves, bright eyes, that wild grin—and the same piercing blue stare as Logan. Being around her is like walking through a minefield barefoot. And I see Logan every damn day.
Her fire, her charisma, her laugh... it all sticks in my brain like a song I can’t get out of my head. I can already see the woman she’s becoming—strong, brave, relentless. It scares me how much I see it.
And the worst part?
She’s the only one I can’t want.
She’s Logan’s little sister.
If he ever suspected what’s going on in my head, he’d kill me. No hesitation. He wouldn’t even ask questions.
So I fight it. Hard. Every single day. But it’s a battle I’m not winning.
Why her? Of all people—why the one person I can’t have?
It’s insane. It’s unfair. It’s maddening.
And now Logan wants us to spend weeks with his family?
I look at him—his wide smile, his hopefulness—and I give up.
“Fine,” I say, barely hiding the dread. “Gekkaria it is.”
6-Samantha
I’m completely distracted. Ever since we got Logan’s holographic message announcing his imminent arrival, I haven’t been able to focus. Well, “imminent” is a relative term when it comes to space travel. First, his messages take hours to reach us, and then it takes him days—depending on where he is in the galaxy—to get back to Gekkaria. According to the calculationsMom and I made, he should be arriving today or within the next couple of days.
That’s why we came back to the colony last night, to stay in the little house we keep here, just Mom and me. Every time Logan and Ayden visit, we spend a few days at Gekkar Creek before heading back to our Gekkari home.
We handed the store over to Rebecca a few years ago. Mom and I just couldn’t live under the same roof as a man who was constantly drunk anymore. And it had become painfully clear that he had no intention of getting up in the morning to run the shop.
Since then, we’ve spent most of our time with the Gekkaris, making balms and ointments. Once a week, we bring our goods to Rebecca, and she trades them for whatever supplies we need. Our products have genuine medicinal value, and space travelers always need creams for scrapes, bruises, or burns.
Whenever Logan’s here, Dad is less aggressive, especially now that my brother is taller than him and built like a tank. The days of our father taking his frustrations out on him are long gone. Now the old man spends most of his time alone in his studio. The rest of the time, he hangs around the saloon, the colony’s local spot where people go to relax and grab a drink.
At first, the drinks were mostly fresh-pressed juices or herbal infusions. But Dad, in what seems to be his one ambition in life, figured out how to distill dates and has been selling date liquor for the past few years. That’s all he does—if you can even call that work. Funny how his only real contribution is producing more of the very thing that ruins him.
Unfortunately, a few months ago, my father found a new business opportunity on Gekkaria. He realized that some gullible folks were willing to pay good money for a guaranteed boost in "performance." Just like the snake-oil salesmen backon old Earth, my father now sells powdered Nalgou horn—taken from a sweet, gentle herbivore native to the northern plains. Without a hint of shame, he describes these peaceful creatures as ferocious predators over ten feet tall. Supposedly, ground-up horn powder is the miracle cure for erectile dysfunction. And this is coming from a drunk who hasn’t touched a woman in years.
The real problem is that removing these horns does the animals serious harm. They’re not decorative; they’re essential. They use them to dig for food and survive. Without them, they’re vulnerable and far less self-sufficient. The process of cutting the horns is also incredibly stressful and painful, often causing infections. Stripping them of their horns means stripping them of their dignity and their ability to live fully. But Dad doesn’t care. I’ve lost count of the arguments we’ve had about this.
“You’re distracted,” Mom says, snapping me out of my gloomy thoughts.
“Yeah? Sorry. Let’s go get the house ready before Logan gets here.”
