Page 51 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
“I thought it was Haruki?” I ask, surprised.
“Haruki was our weapons master, the one who trained us. Once we’re officially active, we fall under Akifumi’s command. They’re both Polarian, if you were wondering.”
“That clears things up. Come on—let’s keep talking somewhere else,” I say, scooping up Gooz, still curled up asleep in the corner. “Did you run into anyone on your way in?”
“You mean those weird little naked guys in the purple forests?” he chuckles. “Sure did. I greeted them like you taught me—hands, ritual and all. Just… don’t ask me to tell them apart.”
I burst out laughing. He’s not wrong—it takes time to recognize individual Gekkaris unless you’re around them constantly.
I know they’re already aware Logan is here. Some of them even know him a little from his last visit, but not well enough to have learned the intricacies of their gestures. Few Gekkaris even use signs themselves.
Outside, under the gray, threatening sky, I meet up with Mila, Flea, and Goulou. Ever since my father died, they’ve spent a lot of time by my side. Not because I grieved him more than I grieved Mom—but because they could sense how lost I felt.
What a strange feeling, being surrounded by those I’ve known my whole life and still feeling so out of place. My joy is still there, but it’s as if my inner light has dimmed a little.
“My friends, Logan is here,” I say, signing quickly as I speak.
“Lo’gan! He’lo!” they exclaim in unison, wearing what I like to call their happiness smiles.
Logan waves back, giving me a playful look that says, So… which one’s which?
I smirk and ignore him, following my Gekkari companions to the large clearing where the evening meal is held. Gekkaris snack all day—mostly on little bugs that pass by—but at sunset, they come together for a very different kind of feast: fresh flowers and fruits.
It’s a unique moment of connection. The gathering is lively, but takes place in near-total silence, broken only by the rustling leaves and soft chuckles here and there.
Gekkari communication is almost entirely visual. Their skin bursts into vivid colors, pulsing in rippling lines that reflect their feelings and thoughts. The quick flicks of their tongues as they snag fruit, the shimmer of light on their scaly skin, the meaningful glances exchanged—it’s a dazzling scene.
And despite the lack of human voices, the mood is warm, even tender. A strange and beautiful blend of energy and serenity that’s nearly impossible to describe.
As we arrive, the Gekkaris recognize Logan and greet him with glowing displays of shifting skin tones—an intricate and mesmerizing visual language. Lina holds out a bright red fruit, offering it to him with a kind nod. Logan accepts it with a polite tilt of his head. They lock eyes, sharing a respectful moment the way I taught him. Lina’s silver scales change color to signal her acceptance of him among them.
We all sit cross-legged around the wide, low table.
“Are we allowed to talk?” Logan whispers, clearly unsure of the rules here.
“Quietly, if you’re talking to me,” I reply. “If you’re talking to them, go slow and keep it simple. Only a handful understand our sounds. Mila will translate anything important.”
“But… will us talking bother them?”
“Not more than two people deep in conversation would be bothered by a buzzing insect nearby.”
"So you’re calling your big brother a buzzing bug now?” he grumbles playfully. “May I remind you I’m part of an elite unit and deserve respect at all times?”
“Oh no! You raised your voice. You’ve probably offended them!” I say, eyes wide with fake panic, hand to my mouth.
He freezes, guilt washing over him as he imagines he just caused a diplomatic disaster.
And I burst out laughing.
Everyone turns to stare. I can’t stop giggling, clutching my stomach, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. All around me, Gekkaris begin to flash bright, joyful patterns, reflecting my mood. The entire table sparkles in unison.
Logan catches my eye, utterly confused, which only makes me laugh harder.
Eventually, the meal continues. The Gekkari conversations are silent but vibrant. Zalim tells a story using skin patterns that flicker in golden shapes. Others join in, creating a dance of color and movement.
“I get it now”, Logan says. “I see what you love here. But you know there’s another life waiting for you. Other Humans to connect with, to teach and learn from. It’s different, sure—but no less meaningful.”
“I know. And I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. You’re right—it’s time. This safe little world has been my cocoon, butI’m ready to break out of it. I’ll come back here from time to time, and I know I’ll always be welcome. But I want more now. I’m ready to leave—with you.”
