The Galactic Sentinel: Ultimate Edition: 4 Books with 2000+ Pages of Highly Entertaining Sci-Fi Space Adventure

by Killian Carter

  Footsteps hurried from behind, and two medics arrived. “Excuse me, sir.”

  One medic took Eline from him and gently lay her on the ground. The other dragged Grimshaw away before joining his colleague.

  Grimshaw’s helmet retracted into his collar, and he stared at the shallow puddle pooling around Eline’s twisted body. He wondered how she was still alive at all.

  “She’s flatlining,” one of the medics leaning over her said calmly.

  “We have to put her out,” the second medic said.

  “Are you sure? There’s no going back, and we don’t have the facilities—”

  “As if we have a choice. We can’t have her falling into the wrong hands.”

  “Okay, go for it,” the more senior of the two said.

  Grimshaw approached. “What the hell are you doing?”

  The closest medic climbed to his feet and held out his palm. “I’m going to have to ask you to stand back, sir.”

  “Bullshit.” Grimshaw shoved the medic to the ground in time to see the other attach a sinister-looking device to Eline's injection-port.

  Grimshaw’s heart raced, and the thumping sounds of the battle of Gorthore echoed in his ears.

  “Commander!”

  Grimshaw ignored him, the word seeming distant and meaningless.

  “What are you doing?” Grimshaw growled, reaching for the other medic, hands shaking. “Get the hell off her!”

  A force struck from behind, snapping his head into darkness.

  26

  Poker Face

  The shuttle screeched to a stop outside the interport station, sending waves of blinding agony through Randai’s head. He gripped the rail tight and pressed another medshot into his SIG’s injection-port to ease the pain.

  He decided he would never let Dr. Warsax or anyone else inside his head again. Not that the doctor had done a bad job. The procedure had been a success, and Randai’s eyesight had already enhanced dramatically by the time he’d come around. Sensitivity made every light a knife plunge and every sound a deafening chorus. Randai knew he would adjust, however, Cho taking great delight in mocking his new headgear didn’t help matters. Not only had the doctor shaved Randai bald, he had also wrapped what must have been a mile of bandage around his head. The old Shanti had instructed him not to remove the dressing for at least three days. It complicated things when it came to his TEK helmet, but it was what it was.

  Randai and Cho stepped off the shuttle and wove a path through the crowds.

  “That’s one big-ass wall.” Cho gawked at the grimy mile-high barrier that ran the length of the complex. The kid suddenly remembered himself, and his air of indifference returned.

  “It’s a bit extreme, but the asshole politicians and their supporters like to keep the people in the Underways under.”

  “I once knew a guy,” Cho boasted. “Pretty desperate. Said he was going to climb the old service shafts.”

  “That network’s a maze and hundreds of miles long. Even if someone managed that climb, station security would be waiting for them on the other side.” Randai didn’t mention that he’d made the climb in his youth.

  “Probably why I never heard from him again.” Cho shrugged and continued walking.

  “There are other ways if you have enough money and know the right people,” Randai said.

  “I suppose you think that makes you and I better than those who can’t afford the luxury,” Cho grunted defensively.

  “I think it makes us more alive than them.” Randai watched the young Shanti’s face as they walked. “Just because I used to live up top doesn’t mean I’m an Overling, kid.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Remember what I said. Don’t do anything stupid, and don’t draw attention. Keep your head down going through security. SenSec immigration officers have been known to shoot first and ask questions later. Once we’re on the other side of that wall, it should be plain sailing.”

  “If anything draws attention, it’ll be your turban.” Cho’s nostrils flared as he chuckled. “And a cornered knolra wouldn't be so jumpy or smell half as bad.”

  “Just get going,” Randai spat.

  They entered the nearest sorting depot at the foot of the wall where SenSec immigration guards shoved them into separate lines like cattle in a slaughterhouse.

  Randai eventually reached a turnstile barred by a stone-faced female Rivarian dressed in a dark-red Sentinel border guard uniform. One hand rested on her hip holster and the other held a scanner. “Identification and ticket,” she croaked.

  Randai handed over his documents and held his breath.

  Mr. Darcy had assured him that the fake ID was indistinguishable from the real thing. He had used false identification before, but it had always been provided by the Sentinel Intelligence Agency.

  “Name and date of birth,” the border guard growled, revealing rows of sharp teeth.

  “Harris Fordon. Twenty-five-nineteen GSR.”

  “Harrrissss Forrrrdoooohn.” She squinted suspiciously at his ID. “What kinda name’s that?”

  He fought the urge to crack a joke. “It’s a popular Terran name.”

  Shouting broke out behind, and Randai spun on his heel.

  A young Yalore in tattered clothes wrestled with two guards, bringing them to the ground. The SenSec officers struggled to keep a hold of the wiry kid and he broke free, sprinting for a turnstile.

  The Shanti border guard at the next station raised his gun and fired a plasma blast. The Yalore youth tumbled to the ground, a smoking hole in his chest. The would-be traveler’s limbs twitched as a pair of Vargs in maintenance uniforms dragged him by the feet, elbowing people out of the way. One Varg held open a wall-hatch as the other lifted the Yalore’s body into the chute. The hatch slammed closed, and the Vargs laughed as they returned to their stations. A cleaning droid appeared from a recess and set about mopping the bloody streak on the walkway.

  “That one got more than twenty feet, Bargey.” The Rivarian at Randai’s station snorted, pointing at the droid. “You owe me seventy credits.”

  “Dammit. I’m supposed to be taking Garna out to Tedro’s Bar tonight,” the Shanti complained.

  “Better put a rain check on that one, buddy.” The Rivarian chuckled.

  “Another seventy says the next one doesn’t make it ten feet.”

  “You’re on. But I hope you can put your money where your mouth is, or you’re in trouble.” She looked at Randai and shook her head. “When will those dumb illegals learn, eh?”

  “Yeah, damn illegals.” Randai grinned.

  Her amusement suddenly turned to a penetrating glare, and Randai cursed himself for attempting humor with border control. Always such grumpy bastards.

  He would have cut them some slack considering their job. Processing meat in the lower levels could hardly be considered a gratifying experience. However, border control guards were the same no matter where in the galaxy one found them: irritable, rude, and dull.

  “Bags in the scanner,” she demanded.

  “Just this one.” He placed the pack containing his essentials into the tray next to the turnstile, and it slid into the scanning machine. He had paid several bribes, from Mr. Darcy’s advance, for his exoframe armor and weapons to be transported by other means. Legally getting his TEK through border control would have taken weeks and applying for a weapons permit would have roused too much suspicion.

  The bag scanner pinged and spat his belongings into a box on the other side of the barrier.

  The guard mumbled something and swiped the identification card.

  Nothing happened.

  Her eyes bored into Randai’s as though accusing him of some heinous crime. The Rivarian tried the card again and a light above the turnstile flashed green. She looked at him with disdain and handed him his identification back.

  “Carry on,” she croaked.

  Randai nodded and passed through the gate, relieved to be on the other side.

  It wasn’t long b
efore Cho joined him, looking as sullen as ever.

  “Don’t you ever smile? You’re as bad as those fucking guards.”

  “You told me to blend in.” The kid smirked.

  “Smart-ass. Let’s get a move on. Our platform’s leaving soon.”

  They navigated the over-crowded passageways. Footsteps and rustling bags aggravated Randai’s headache, but the pain had faded significantly. He fought the urge to pump another shot of pain relief. Getting addicted to expensive medication was the last thing he needed. He was glad for the dim lighting, however. The Galactic Council wasn’t the kind to squander power on the poor.

  After what felt like an entire day of pushing and shoving among milling throngs of stench, they arrived at their platform gate. Half a dozen heavily armed Vargs paced the walkway, while two Shanti occupied the admissions desk.

  “I see Mr. Darcy isn’t the only one fond of Varg guards,” Randai said under his breath.

  “Mr. Darcy is a Varg. It makes sense that he would hire his own kind.” Cho looked at Randai as if he was stupid. “Besides, they’re one of the strongest races.”

  “The interport has changed a lot since the last time I came through. The Council didn’t like Vargs too much back then. They’re big, but they’re often overly aggressive and unpredictable, and if the powers-that-be don’t like one thing, it’s uncertainty. The station used to only hire enough Vargs to keep the Equality Commission quiet. Now they’re all over the place.”

  “They get the job done.” Cho smirked again. “Just make sure you do the same, so I don’t have to put a hole in your back.”

  Randai shook his head. “Be careful who you threaten, kid.”

  They approached the desk, and on producing their cards again, were admitted to a narrow tunnel.

  “If Mr. Darcy is so interested in his own, then why has he got a runt like you running errands for him?”

  “Mr. Darcy’s a smart man. He knows he needs brains and muscle, and he knows I’ve got brains.” Cho tapped his furry head. “It’s why I’m watching you, isn’t it?”

  “You like being a White Dragon?”

  “I like not starving to death or having to suck cock to get by. Now shut the hell up and stop asking so many damn questions.”

  Randai chuckled as they reached the end of the tunnel.

  The transport system consisted of an aluminum cuboid with a rough-cut hole for an entrance. Bubbling rust and patches of peeling paint covered most of the box’s surface. Two slim rails ran up the wall behind the box, extending into the murk above. The rails didn’t look robust enough to hold such a large vehicle, but Randai knew they worked.

  They boarded the transport, and another Rivarian guard showed them to their seats. She resembled Peenna from Dr. Warsax’s clinic, though the guard’s demeanor told Randai she might shoot him if he so much as looked at her the wrong way.

  The transport’s interior was as unimpressive as its shell. Dim light strips cast a faint glow throughout the compartment. Tight rows of uncomfortable plastic seats had been crammed between two narrow aisles. The transport was already nearing capacity, its occupants chattering, whispering, and snoring. Randai was happy to find they had been assigned two spaces near the aisle. He had no desire to climb over the grumpy people who had already been seated.

  Randai plugged himself in, and Cho sat in the aisle seat. “So, do you always see yourself working for your boss?” Randai winked.

  “Hold on a second,” the kid said, exasperated.

  Cho leaned over and spoke to a Varg across the aisle. They muttered to one another in hushed tones, and things got a little lively. Randai heard talk about seating arrangements and saw credits exchange hands.

  The next thing he knew, Cho and the Varg were swapping seats, the towering beast shouldering into him as it twisted into a seat barely wide enough for its hips.

  Randai waved to get Cho’s attention and feigned incredulity.

  The young Shanti gave Randai a smug grin before activating his music buds and closing his eyes, evidently gratified by his own clever ploy.

  Getting the kid to move had proven much easier than Randai expected. For a boy who thinks he has brains, he sure isn’t too bright. But with the right encouragement…

  Randai dismissed the idea. He had enough on his hands. He activated his SIG and accessed the Sentinel’s blueprints. He still had a lot of work to do and was glad not to have Cho looking over his shoulder. Given half a chance, the kid could be somebody, but the Shanti overestimated his own abilities, and Randai knew all too well where that led.

  He scrutinized his SIGs VD as it ran simulations of the shot he had to take. The calculations ended with a sixty-three percent success rate. Randai had never gone into a job with less than ninety percent. He adjusted the parameters for windspeed and ran another test.

  Mr. Darcy had specified a target but hadn’t provided a name. Randai wondered who the poor sucker was and what he’d done to earn Mr. Darcy’s anger. He watched the VD as a virtual bullet penetrated the target’s forehead.

  27

  The Tank

  Distant shots popped from the direction of the city center. It reminded Grimshaw that they weren’t the only people still fighting. Despite their losses at the wall, he sensed a slight increase in morale after news about the other survivors had spread.

  Grimshaw rubbed the back of his head, where Sergeant Wallace had struck him with the butt of his rifle, as he examined the tank’s steaming remains. He pulled free a piece of broken black armor and lifted it to his face. Tilting the chitinous mass back and forth, he noticed a faint-purple iridescent pattern…a tight-knit hexagonal lattice. Grimshaw broke a smaller piece of the armor off and transferred it to a sample container in his TEK’s utility belt.

  The flesh underneath the creature’s fractured shell had already bubbled into a dark green soup. Accelerated decomposition had kicked in as soon as a Chit died—just like the elite carcass Eline had examined in the hills beyond Targos City.

  Grimshaw’s chest burned at the thought of the Aegis.

  At least the others made it through the fight, he told himself. Martin had been wounded but not seriously. A splash of plasma had melted O’Donovan’s visor, inflicting superficial burns to the side of his face. By some miracle Briggs and Stone had made it through unscathed. Grimshaw’s TEK had taken a pounding but had protected him from harm.

  Sergeant Wallace’s men hadn’t been so fortunate. Of the twenty-seven Marines who had taken Gate Six, only fourteen remained, and several had been severely injured.

  Grimshaw turned to the sound of approaching footsteps.

  “We’re almost ready to head out, Commander.” Wallace rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

  “Have we been able to get Evans back on the line?” Grimshaw asked.

  “Afraid not, Commander. Whatever your friend did, got rid of the interference, but our gear still isn’t cooperating entirely. Briggs says the original EMP attack fried a lot of Gate Six’s hardware. Same reason the turrets lost full range of motion.”

  Grimshaw absently stared at the steaming mound of tank bits. “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before Briggs works something out.”

  Wallace cleared his throat and looked at Grimshaw with worry in his eyes. “Listen, sir, about hitting you…”

  “Forget about it, Sergeant. I would have done the same in your position. If anything, I’m grateful you snapped me out of it. Sometimes the memories of Gorthore…” Grimshaw’s thoughts trailed off.

  “I mean if we make it off this planet,” Wallace said. “The Confederation has protocols.”

  “Like I said, water under the bridge, Wallace. As far as I’m concerned, it never happened.”

  The Sergeant’s shoulders relaxed. “Understood, Commander. I appreciate it.”

  He couldn’t blame the Sergeant for being worried. The Confederation treated assaulting a senior officer seriously, but as far as Grimshaw was concerned, Wallace had done him a solid. There was no telling what he
might have done if he had completely lost it.

  “Good news about Aegis Eline,” Wallace said, clearly eager to change the subject. “The medics reached her in the nick of time. Her vitals are stable, but she needs to stay in stasis until we can get her to a cryo-regen chamber. They say that medshot you gave her probably saved her life.”

  Grimshaw’s spirits lifted a fraction. “How long will she hold out for?”

  “According to the medics, her Aegi TEK is designed to keep her in suspension indefinitely. The exoframe is an incredible piece of engineering.”

  Grimshaw nodded in agreement. “Where’s the nearest facility?”

  “The guys at Xerocorp Labs should be able to help. Failing that, we’ll have to get her off the planet. Either way, we need to reach those labs.”

  “How do you suggest that we bring an unconscious Aegis with us, Sergeant?” Grimshaw tried not to let his irritation show.

  “The boys are rigging up a mobile stretcher as we speak, Commander.”

  Grimshaw rubbed his stubble. “I’d hate to lose her.”

  “She’s an incredible warrior. I know I saw it with my own eyes, but I can still hardly believe she took that thing down.” The Sergeant stared blankly at the dead behemoth. “That stunt she pulled off inspired the men.”

  Grimshaw considered the damaged gate. The Marines had closed it as soon as the tank came through. The setting sun briefly shone through a crack in the clouds, and a faint beam cut through a gap in the gate’s warped panels.

  The Chits had retreated soon after the turrets came online. The automatic guns still fired every now and then as stragglers appeared, but things had quietened soon after Eline fell.

  A Marine appeared on the steps leading to the battlements. “We got Captain Kobol on the radio, Sarge.”

  “The bastard’s still alive!” Wallace said, his mood shifting.

  Grimshaw climbed to his feet, gently touching the bruise on the back of his head. “Let’s hope he has good news for us.”