Page 80 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
Booril swallows. His throat makes a clicking sound—a reflex of his species. He hesitates.
“I didn’t see anything,” he mutters. “There was so much movement down there. After a while, you just stop noticing.”
I stand up slowly and walk around the table. His breathing quickens. I lean in close to his ear. His long whiskers twitch.
“Wrong answer.”
Igor raises a calming hand.
“Booril, we know you’re afraid of talking about your old crew. A lot of the guys from Vagantu ended up right here in Station Nine. But we can protect you from them,” Igor explains.
“If you don’t talk now, those guys you’re so afraid of? They won’t even get the chance to deal with you. Because I’ll get there first,” I growl.
He can’t know that I won’t actually hurt him. Not inside a Confed facility. The rules are clear: prisoners must be treated with empathy. Even the scumbags who traded in living beings. I’m not sure I always agree with our noble principles. Eye for an eye seems more effective to me.
I glare at him, letting him see the fury behind my eyes. It works. He folds. His shoulders slump, his fur bristling in patches.
“He… he was there. Came in with a shipment of slaves. Fulord—the guy who brought him—thought something was off and said he wanted to see Noviosk.”
“Noviosk?” I repeat, recognizing the name we’ve heard before.
“The boss of Vagantu. A Srebat.”
I straighten up. My heart pounds. Igor gives me a tense look. We both know what that means. Srebats are infamous in the Confed. Powerful, ruthless, with a freakish talent for detecting lies. If Logan had to face this Noviosk directly… I dread what might’ve come next.
“What happened?” I ask.
Booril shakes his head, tears already welling in his eyes, dripping into the fur on his cheeks.
I crouch down in front of him, locking eyes.
“Talk.”
“They’ll k-k-kill me if I t-t-talk about N-N-Noviosk!” he stammers.
Igor gives me a subtle signal. He’s going to ease the tension.
“Booril, your file says you didn’t join the Coalition by choice, right? I can push for your transfer—to a rehabilitation center instead of staying here. Those are for people who weren’t truly evil. Not like this Noviosk guy.”
“Yes! That’s right! I didn’t have a choice!” Booril blurts out.
“We always have a choice,” I mutter, not hiding my contempt.
“I was a slave under the old boss—Xhor. When Noviosk took over, he sorted through us. The weak or broken ones didn’t make it. The rest… he gave them an ultimatum: die, or join his new operation. He needed staff for the changes he wanted. So he recruited desperate people—turned them into cooks, guards, maintenance crew.”
I pause, begrudgingly impressed. That was smart. Noviosk built a loyal workforce for cheap. Ruthless, but clever.
“As Igor said,” I press, “we can transfer you out. It’s clear you didn’t choose to support that disgusting trade, right?”
“N-No, I swear!” Booril whimpers.
“Then prove it. Give us everything,” I order, my voice snapping like a whip. He flinches.
He’s done fighting. He slumps in his chair. We’re finally going to find out what happened to Logan.
“Noviosk came to question the Human—your colleague. He figured out he was with the Confed. That he was a threat to the whole operation.”
My chest tightens. Every cell in my body braces for what I already suspect. No smart boss who built an empire like Vagantu would let a Confed agent slip through. I want to ask the question—but I can’t. My stomach’s twisted. Igor sees it and steps in.
