Page 60 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
I process that quickly. No one must ever see the leader of the Coalition like this. If Felone wants to rise in the ranks, killing me now would be the easiest promotion of his life.
“You did the right thing,” I mutter, begrudgingly.
Or did she? I’m now stuck high in a tree, completely immobilized. What the hell was she thinking?
“This is the safest spot,” she adds with a bright smile. “I live in the tree next door! If you need anything, just yell. I’ll climb over—there’s a rope ladder.”
Over my dead body will I ask this female for help doing… anything. Does she know who I am? Is this some twisted revenge? If so, she’s nailed it. Humiliation is the worst torture for a Srebat.
“I don’t want to stay here. In this tree,” I growl, making myself clear.
“Oh. I… Look, I’m sorry, but it’s actually safer up here. Even the Gekkaris sleep in the treetops. Down on the ground, there are these huge centipede things that crawl out at night. Pretty venomous. Trust me, the best place to heal is up high.”
Truth.
The Stars must seriously hate me.
“For your… bodily needs,” she says awkwardly, “call Goulou. He’ll help you.”
“Goulou?”
“Yeah, Goulou.”
What is she babbling about now?
“Goulooooou!” she calls.
A Gekkari appears in the pod. Its lipless, toothless mouth opens wide.
“Nov?” he asks in a muffled voice, using strange hand gestures.
“Gekkaris don’t usually talk,” Sam explains with an apologetic grin. “They communicate by changing their skin colors. A few have learned some words to interact with other species, but you’ll have to speak slowly, use signs, and cut out anything unnecessary.”
Perfect. I’m stuck on a backwater planet with a former prisoner of mine, a town nearby run by some two-bitthug, dependent on a giant lizard for bathroom breaks, and surrounded by a people who don’t even talk.
What’s the point of being the most powerful Srebat in the galaxy—able to detect every lie—if I’m stranded with creatures who don’t lie because they don’t speak?
And of course, my thoughts drift back to him. The bastard who put me in this mess. That Asgarnian…
Pherebos. He duped me. He came to Vagantu, dangled the promise of a new world to conquer—then brought the Intergalactic Confederation right to my doorstep. It had to be him!
I was so consumed with rage chasing after him that I let my guard down… and got mauled by that damn Krakelodon. If it weren’t for my aeropod’s hull, I’d be dead. Instead, I’m here. Broken.
Sam’s gone. Goulou, too.
I examine myself carefully.
My arms are scabbed where my short, dark fur should be. Sam said she had to shave me to remove the flesh-eating slugs. I bare my teeth in disgust. I’m not even sure the fur will grow back in those spots.
I touch my bandaged head. The pain’s still sharp, but I can tell the swelling’s gone down.
When I probe my torso, I’m pretty sure a few ribs are cracked. Nothing fatal.
Then I finally check the worst of it—my right leg. Sam splinted it to stabilize the fractures. I hesitate, but start unwrapping the bandages anyway. The smell underneath is revolting.
When I expose the flesh, I instinctively jerk back. It’s rotting in spots. The stench is unbearable.
This little Human is trying to cripple me!
