Page 81 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
“What happened to our colleague, Booril?”
“Fulord executed him. He brought the Human in. Made a mistake. So he fixed it—before the Human could bring the whole thing down.”
Even though I expected it, the confirmation knocks the wind out of me. If Logan hadn’t contacted us, it was either because he was captured—or dead. I had hoped so hard for the first option.
I lift my eyes to Igor. He looks as shattered as I feel. This news cuts deep.
“We’ll take over,” Jason says as he enters with Xenon.
I nod, slowly, numbly, and step out of the room steeped in death. I’m grateful they’re taking over. Booril’s ready to spill everything now. We’d be fools not to squeeze every last drop of intel out of him. But not me. Not right now.
Igor stands beside me, frozen, shell-shocked.
Suddenly, Vlad pulls me into a hard, almost brutal hug—but somehow, it helps. Without a word, he extends an arm, inviting Igor in. We hold each other in silence, as if we could keep from falling apart by sheer force of will.
I feel Vlad’s breath, quick and unsteady, on my temple. Igor’s hands are clenched against his back. None of us speaks. We don’t need to.
This pain is raw, silent. The kind that doesn’t scream—it just burns. It grabs your throat and leaves you hollow, unable to think about anything except the friend you’ve lost, the goodbye you never got to say.
I shut my eyes. In the darkness, I see Logan—his eyes, his laugh, his sarcasm, his wild joy that reminds me so much of Sam. And now… he’s gone. Leaving behind a cold, endless hole.
When Vlad finally loosens his grip, it feels like the world breathes again. Igor steps back too, red-eyed but dry. He hasn’t cried yet. Neither have I. But we will. Later. When there’s nothing left to do.
For now, we move forward. For him. Because he would’ve done the same for us. And I have to tell Sam.
We turn toward the one-way glass. Jason and Xenon are working Booril over for details. We leave him to them. We’ll need to report this to Akifumi. And I’ll be requesting leave. I need to go to Gekkaria. She can’t hear it from anyone but me.
I clear the main viewport of our ship, and Gekkaria appears—small, vibrant, and weirdly beautiful. A planet with hues that shift between ochre, purple, and violet. Its density’s a little off compared to Confederation bases, but our AI’s been gradually adjusting us for days now.
“Where are we going?” Igor asks, leaning forward in his seat. “"To the colony or straight into the forest where she lives?”
“Nice,” Vlad comments, squinting at the multicolored terrain. “I forgot how unique the colors are here. But Igor’s right—where do we have the best shot at finding our little blonde?”
My little blonde, I repeat silently.
“She’s probably with those Gekkaris she lives with,” I say, already typing coordinates. “Let’s head there directly.”
“A two-seater ship is currently stationed in the target zone,” the AI announces in her usual robotic monotone.
“Who’s it registered to?” Vlad asks.
“It was assigned to Agent Logan during his last mission to Gekkaria,” she replies.
“I stayed behind on BN-22 while he went to get his sister," Igor explains. "I remember that two-seater. Sam’s message said that after she was freed from Vagantu, she recovered the ship and flew back home. If it’s still parked there, that’s a good sign.”
Relief hits me like a fist to the chest. She’s here. Safe. Probably. But then again… I’m the one bringing the storm.
The two-seater comes into view, tucked between a rocky ridge and a patch of glowing moss. We land beside it without wasting time.
I jump out before the others can even unstrap. No need to alarm the shy Gekkaris by barging in as a group. Let the diplomatic guy go first.
I pass a few of them along the trail and greet them the way Sam taught me—open hands, slight bow. Their skin flickers to shimmering shades of green. According to Sam, colors matter. They don’t use sign language naturally; they adopted it just to communicate with her. Green probably means something like “hi, friendly alien coming through,” right?
Soon, two Gekkaris approach me. One of them, slightly bulkier and bright-eyed, steps forward.
"He’lo Ah’den!" he greets me, and I’m guessing this must be Goulou, Sam’s buddy.
“Hello, Goulou! I came to see Sam!”
