Page 98 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
“She’s here?” I ask, my voice sharp.
“Unfortunately,” he confirms. “They’ve got her working on Zebulon production. That drug.”
My mind is a total mess. That Srebat is my worst enemy. Not only did he run the largest slave trafficking network in the entire Eastern Quadrant, but he’s also responsible for Logan’s death. I hate him with every fiber of my being.
And yet… he genuinely seems protective of Sam. That’s exactly what the doctor back in Gekkar Creek had already told us. I don’t know what kind of relationship they have, but there’s this bitter knot twisting in my gut, something that feels an awful lot like jealousy.
Still, Sam’s safety comes first. If Noviosk can protect her, then I’ll have to deal with him. Even if the thought makes me sick.
One thing’s for sure: it’ll take both of us to keep her safe.
And the Srebat seems to have come to the same conclusion.
“Listen, Human… You and I are never gonna be friends. But I’m offering a temporary alliance. One guy already tried to get to her last night. I took care of it, but I’m not sure I can protect her every single minute. I’ll need to sleep too.”
“The corpse… that was you?”
He nods, eyes shifting toward the other inmates in the hangar. Now that our confrontation has turned into a regular conversation, they’ve gone back to their training routines.
He’s offering an alliance, but I know exactly who I’m dealing with. Someone as powerful as he is ruthless.
“Is this a trap?” I ask, testing him.
“You’re wondering if you can trust me? You can’t. Whether you live or die makes no difference to me. The only thing I want is to reclaim my place in the organization.”
“And what does Sam have to do with that?”
“She saved me. If I can repay the favor, I will. But it won’t be my top priority,” he states with brutal honesty. “She’s already mentioned you. I know you were close to her brother. Will you protect her?”
A direct question. I know without a doubt he’s using those strange, innate abilities of his kind to gauge the truth in my answer.
“Sam IS my priority! I’ll do whatever it takes to get her out of here safe and sound.”
“True,” he says, nodding with quiet satisfaction.
“But I’ll also swear this: once it’s over, once Sam is far from this hellhole and safe, I’ll come back for you. And when I find you again, you’ll answer for what you’ve done.”
“You’ll try. And you’ll fail,” he replies with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“We’ll see about that.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon sitting close to each other without exchanging a word.
I assess the other fighters, watching them train, strike, fall, and get back up. Each of them seems completely focused on this training, as if their survival—or their death—depends on it. And it probably does.
Meanwhile, Noviosk watches me in silence, unmoving, unreadable. He doesn’t warm up. He doesn’t need to. He’s way above everyone else, even the Penubian, whose venomous fangs are a serious threat.
Once again, I find myself wondering how they plan to assign the matches. I’m not arrogant enough to think I’m stronger than everyone here. I believe I can beat most of them—especially the other Humans—but some species are naturally tougher, faster, stronger than mine.
I keep observing in silence. The training goes on, everyone working separately, without coordination, without supervision. There’s no sign of a trainer, a referee, or even any posted rules. Everything feels either improvised… or deliberately unclear.
I wonder how the fights will be structured. Random draw? Skill level? Species?
And most of all… will we be given weapons?
Will we be thrown into the arena to fend for ourselves? Will the matches be one-on-one? Or will it be small group combat? Or worse… a free-for-all with no rules, no mercy, and only one survivor left standing?
None of my training really prepared me for this. I’m fast, disciplined, determined. But against a Srebat, a Penubian, or even a raging Varnak, my chances drop significantly.
