Page 53 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
Vlad’s a lot like me in many ways. Dark-haired, unlike Logan, and with eyes the opposite of my old partner’s. That helps me not think about her too much.
While Vlad rummages in the back looking for something to cover his assets, I finish prepping the soup-like dinner.
We both sit around the table and wrap our hands around the steaming mugs.
“Impala, play the message from Logan,” I command.
The music cuts off, and a hologram lights up above the table. Logan’s face appears.
“Hey Ayden. I’m on my way to Gekkaria. Just wanted to let you know Albert passed away. Sam’s all alone there now. I’m planning to bring her to BN-22. She might feel safe with her little gecko friends, but the rest of the planet’s falling under the control of traffickers. Igor’s staying at base while I go get her. Just keeping you in the loop.”
The message ends. The holo vanishes. I sit there, stunned.
Holo-messages are a one-way deal. No instant reply. The distances are too vast. No guarantee on delivery time either. I only get a timestamp based on Polaris, the Polarian homeworld. This one was sent several days ago. I’ve got no idea whether Logan’s reached his sister yet—or if they’re already back on BN-22.
“Well, that’s an interesting little update,” Vlad comments.
I glance at him, waiting for the follow-up.
“If I recall,” he says, “you’ve been burning up for Logan’s little sister. That’s why you ended up here with me. And she’s grown quite a bit since then—at least based on those recent pics Logan showed us. If she does move to BN-22… that opens some new doors, doesn’t it?”
“I’m not burning up for anyone,” I say flatly. “There was just… a situation. And I chose to walk away so things wouldn’t get messy with Logan. That was a long time ago. She’s moved on. So have I.”
“Who are you trying to fool, exactly? Not me, I hope. You were brutally honest with us five years ago when you asked to switch partners. Don’t insult my intelligence pretending you’re over her now.”
Before I can respond, our ship’s AI interrupts at just the right moment.
“Incoming message,” it chirps in its usual metallic voice.
This time it’s not a holo—it’s a mission update displayed on the wall screen. A list of current ops and which teams are assigned. Akifumi manages a lot of agents. Some work alone. Others in pairs. All of us share the same objectives: Catalog lifeforms across the galaxy.
Identify terraformable worlds—those that could support life but haven’t sparked yet.
Combat slavery and planetary looting by the Smuggler Coalition.
Akifumi regularly updates us on mission progress and everyone’s current location. That way, we can coordinate and avoid overlapping.
“Things are heating up in the Eastern quadrant,” Vlad notes, studying the map.
I know what he’s getting at. That’s where Gekkaria is. That’s also where Logan’s location is flagged. Vlad’s giving me an out—a chance to ditch our current mission and head East.
“There’s already plenty of boots on the ground,” I point out, highlighting the units in that zone.
He gives me a nod of respect. He floated the option without really believing it was smart. And he’s right. Even if everyinstinct is screaming for me to go check on HER, my duty lies elsewhere.
“Akifumi says the team’s tracking a major slave market in that quadrant,” Vlad adds. “But it looks like it’s still far from Gekkaria.”
“Logan won’t risk anything when it comes to his sister’s safety. And I can tell you—Gekkaria is one of the chillest planets I’ve ever seen.”
“Hey, look who’s on that slave-trade case,” Vlad says, zooming in. “Pherebos! Remember him?”
“The long-haired guy with the violet eyes? Yeah… wasn’t even Human, right?”
I remember that intense stare, totally unsettling. We crossed paths at one of Akifumi’s training camps. A lone agent, if I recall.
“Yeah, from some unknown world—I forget the name. Anyway, he’s on it. So no reason for us to drop everything and go East.”
“Perfect. Then we stay the course. Besides, Jason and Xenon are also headed South. Might be a chance for the four of us to meet up,” Vlad says enthusiastically.
