Page 52 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
Logan gives me a look that’s both proud and relieved. Maybe he thought it would take more convincing. But the truth is, I’d already made up my mind.
To show him I mean it, I rise to my feet and turn toward my Gekkari friends.
I raise a hand to call their attention, then point firmly to myself. I open my right palm and extend it toward the horizon in a bold gesture of departure. Then I draw a swift, wide arc with my hand—symbolizing travel beyond the stars.
“Tomorrow, I’m leaving with Logan. Far beyond the stars!”
Mila rises too, her skin pulsing as she translates.
“You… gum bag sumday?” she asks.
“Yes. I’ll come back to visit,” I reassure her with a soft smile.
In an instant, I’m surrounded by glowing yellow hues—joy and hope radiating from every Gekkari.
My dearest friends…
Oh, how I’ll miss them.
13-Ayden
The Intergalactic Confederation AI database is loaded with every piece of art ever recorded, regardless of who produced it.That means we’ve got access to every movie, documentary, and music track from our Old World. Handy, right?
Right now, it’s a Metallica track blasting through the ship. Vlad’s a big fan of metal—a genre that dates back to Earth’s late 20th century. I’ve gotta say, it suits me just fine… which is a good thing, because I don’t think my partner would’ve agreed to ditch it anyway. With Logan, it was more classical music—also cool, just a different vibe.
“You’ve got a holo-message from Logan,” Vlad announces, leaning over the console.
“Urgent?” I ask while pulling on my shirt after a quick shower.
“Low priority,” he confirms. “Take your time getting ready.”
Inside the Impala, our two-seater flyer, space is tight and efficiently used. It’s got bare-minimum comforts—a round cabin with a two-person cockpit at the front. At the back, there’s a door leading to the hygiene zone: a toilet, a mini shower, and a sink barely big enough to wash your hands and brush your teeth. In between, there’s maybe twelve square meters for everything else—meals, briefings, and whatever else we manage to squeeze in. On either side, we’ve got slide-out sleep pods, just over two meters long and a meter wide. I tap the starboard panel and my bed unfolds. I’m feeling wiped out—time to crash after that short but relaxing rinse.
“Want me to wait before opening the message?” I ask as Vlad starts stripping down for his turn in the shower.
“Up to you. I’ll be quick,” he chuckles.
It’s an old running joke—on all Confederation ships, showers are capped at three minutes. Just enough time to wash off properly without wasting precious water, the most valuable resource out here in space.
As Lavoisier, some brainiac from old Earth, used to say: “Nothing is lost, nothing is created, everything is transformed.”
Out here, water’s rare. Thankfully, all our ships are equipped with ultra-advanced recycling systems that purify every kind of liquid into drinkable water. The system’s also got a strict timer—three minutes per person, per day.
I start heating some water and set two mugs on the table along with a couple of freeze-dried meal packs—our gourmet dinner for the evening. Vlad strolls back in—completely stark naked.
“What the hell, man?!” I shout. “I don’t need to see your junk! I’ve told you before.”
“Relax, babe. I’m out of clean nightwear,” he shrugs.
Vlad’s a fun guy to travel with—witty, a bit snarky, which I honestly appreciate. But he’s also the king of procrastination, especially when it comes to boring chores. No surprise he’s behind on laundry—he always waits till the last possible second.
“That’s no excuse! No way I’m eating dinner with your package flapping in my face. Grab a towel, for Stars’ sake.”
“I didn’t realize you were so turned on by me,” he says dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “But I’m afraid you do nothing for me, babe.”
Vlad and I have been partners for five Polar years. We know each other’s quirks inside out. Vlad likes women. All kinds of women. Me? I’ve been stuck on one in particular—even after all this time. Since she’s off-limits, I settle now and then for someone else. Brunettes, preferably.
From the start, I laid it all out for Vlad and Igor. Told them about Sam. About Logan. About the impossible mess I’d gotten myself into. Igor immediately suggested switching partners. We’d all trained together and got along well. The reassignment wasn’t a big deal—especially since Haruki had floated theidea himself. So Igor joined Logan, and I became Vlad’s new teammate.
