Page 76 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
Figures. Stupid Confederation tech.
“Pull up the Eastern Quadrant.”
It takes me ten minutes to spot my system and mark my home world.
“Here,” I say. “Now calculate the route.”
“Estimated travel time: eighteen Polar Days.”
Perfect. I’ll need more supplies. Which means... Gekkar Creek.
I ignore the slight wave of relief that hits me at that thought. Dropping Sam off with the doctor isn’t noble—it’s efficient. With her stable, I can get what I need and leave.
I return to the aeropod. Sam’s still sprawled in the back. Pale. Sweating. Her body’s clearly trying to purge the poison.
I punch in the new destination. Outside, the lush forests fade into cracked plains. I tense up as we reach the settlement and land as close to the entrance as possible.
Time is ticking.
I hoist Sam onto my right shoulder. She’s limp. Sam—the one always buzzing with life—is disturbingly quiet now.
My leg screams in agony. I grab my cane with my left hand. Unsteady but upright, I push forward.
Each step is a war. My arms tremble, and my cane sinks into the parched earth.
I walk the main street, scanning for someone, anyone, who might know where the doctor is.
Then it hits me—I look like a murderer carrying his victim’s body through town.
“Help me!” I bark, hating every syllable.
Somewhere in the galaxy, a legend is dying—reduced to begging in a backwater town.
The locals scurry away, slamming doors, terrified of me—even with my cane. I guess I still project “danger.” A twisted sort of comfort, that.
Finally, one coward points toward a building with a green façade. Then vanishes. Of course he doesn’t offer help.
I hobble to the doctor’s office and bang my cane against the door.
“Doctor! Open up! She’s dying!”
The man appears, eyes wide. He sees me—sweaty, limping—and Sam, lifeless over my shoulder. He gets it.
“Inside! Lay her there, quickly!”
I ease her onto the table. My right arm’s numb. I collapse into a chair, panting.
“What happened?” he asks, already rummaging for vials.
“She got splashed with something toxic. Said she’d die without a counteragent.”
“Did she name the poison? I need to know which antitoxin to use.”
Think, Nov. Rewind.
We were walking. The Gekkari brats staring. One fell. I caught her. Then Sam collapsed.
“She said... Mouerta lotion, I think.”
