Page 33 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
And business is booming.
Morons desperate to get their hands on those poor animals’ horns are everywhere now.
It still makes me furious that Ayden injured himself trying to scan and document those creatures, hoping to protect them.
Apparently, his superiors weren’t moved.
Not surprising. Just... disappointing, especially for Logan, who still worships the Confederation like it’s some benevolent galactic force.
They chart lifeforms, terraform planets, and step in to stop criminal activity—sure.
But my Nalgous? Not important enough, I guess.
I’m flying over the dry lands north of the aquaponic greenhouses on my way to the Creek when I spot a group gathered below.
Strange. I rarely see anyone this far from the agricultural zones.
I tilt the aeropod slightly and land a few steps away.
The scene is weird.
It takes me a second to realize it’s my dad slumped on the ground. The men around him aren’t helping.
Is he hurt?
I rush to kneel beside him.
“Dad?” I ask, checking his face and arms.
He’s bruised—arms, head...
Did he fall?
“Well, well, his daughter! That makes things easier,” says a greasy-looking man with a nasty grin.
“You see, kiddo, your old man’s being stubborn about hearing us out...”
Of course. I knew it—his stupid powder racket is behind this.
“Listen, sir… I’m sorry if ‘Albert’s Vitality Dust’ didn’t meet expectations. Maybe it doesn’t work the same on everyone? But please, leave my father alone. He’ll pay you back.”
“You don’t get it, sweet girl. I don’t give a damn if the powder works or not. What I care about is how far it’s spreading. I wantmore of it. Convince your daddy to ramp up production—or I’ll get upset.”
Sweet girl? Did he seriously just call me that?
Only Ayden gets to say something like that—and definitely not this sleazy, beer-bellied loser.
“I think you’re misunderstanding. My father mutilates peaceful animals to harvest their horns. That powder has no proven effect—” I try to explain.
“Are you deaf? I said I don’t care! It’s supply and demand. It sells. And that means I want more of it. So you and daddy better figure it out.”
“But... couldn’t you just make a different powder? Why keep hurting those animals for something pointless?”
“What do you take us for, amateurs? You think we didn’t already scan the formula? You can’t fake that stuff. It’s about my reputation!”
His reputation? As if this whole thing had any honor to it...
I glance at my dad—his eyes are glazed, unfocused.
