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

by Killian Carter

  Water dripped from the ceiling into shallow pools on the dirty chamber floor. If one thing was clear, it was that they were somewhere under the streets, possibly in an unused waste overflow tank. Across the room, Zora was in much the same position, the table restraints partially covering her nakedness.

  Randai was still confused as to why she was in her doctor’s uniform when she’d arrived at the compound. Speaking to her wasn’t possible since even the slightest sound resulted in a bony Varg fist to the jaw, as Randai had learned the hard way. The urge to rub at his swollen cheek was almost too much, but he was strapped in so tight he could barely breathe let alone move his arms. The straps cut into his naked flesh, preventing proper blood supply to his extremities.

  A rusty door handle turned, and Mr. Darcy entered, followed by a retinue that included Cho. Randai also recognized the old man bringing up the rear. There was no mistaking the ancient, gray Shanti. The doctor’s boots trailed through murky water as he drew near. “Ah, Mr. Kahn. How good it is to see you again.”

  “Here to work on your bedside manners, Doctor Warsax? Hope you didn’t forget your teeth this time.”

  Randai realized his mistake just in time to tighten his jaw muscles. A rough fist sent stars through his eyes.

  “Now, now.” The tattered old man reached for a sickle on the table and held it to the inside of Randai’s thigh. “In this profession, doctor-patient etiquette dictates that you should only speak once spoken to. Understand?”

  Randai nodded weakly, and the dusty old Shanti returned to his workbench. Something scraped repeatedly like two pieces of metal being rubbed together, and Randai figured the torturer was sharpening his tools.

  “So, you thought you could hide your secrets from me, Randai.” Mr. Darcy flicked his inch-long cigar ash on the wet floor. “Not very clever, eh?”

  Randai raised an eyebrow at Zora, and she shook her head in denial. Mr. Darcy picked up on it.

  “Ah, you think the good Doctor Kira ratted you out. Truth be told, we haven’t been able to get anything out of her yet, but then again we’re just getting started.” He shot a golden smile at them both. “My good friend Jacek Volron tipped us off. You’ll remember the shopkeeper near the Forecourts. He did some digging and found out who you were.”

  “I knew there was something off about that guy.” Randai pressed against the restraints, but they only bit further into his flesh.

  “There’s no use in struggling, Randai,” Darcy boasted. “It’s a good thing we got you out of that TEK. You weren’t kidding when you said you’ve got skills.” He blew a ring of smoke into the air. “But I should have known you were a snake. I had a feeling you wouldn’t take the shot. Getting a message to your agent friend without us knowing, though. Very clever.”

  “Whoever that was on the platform, they were no friend of mine.” He was careful not to look at Zora. The nearby Varg didn’t like his tone, and he braced as the warrior-class raised a fist, but Mr. Darcy put up a hand, and the brute backed away.

  “Then who was this person who attacked Cho?” Mr. Darcy hummed. “Ah, it matters not. I’m sure Cho would like his revenge, even if he is just a Shanti. You can have your turn questioning this snake when we’re done.”

  The kid shrank under Darcy’s derisive gaze.

  “The boy tells me you hesitated before the attacker showed up?”

  “You forgot to mention that the target was Minister Straiya. Killing a run-of-the-mill politician or businessman is one thing. But one of the most powerful people in the galaxy? They would have hunted me into the afterlife.”

  “Yet here you are.” The White Dragons boss waved his fat cigar about the room. “You aren’t as stupid as you pretend to be. But you know what they say. You can’t get anywhere without ambition. One must aim for the moon if he wishes to land among the stars. Isn’t that how that Terran saying goes? How do you think I got to where I am today?”

  “My guess is being a conniving son-of-a-bitch had something to do with it.”

  Mr. Darcy leaned close and puffed smoke in Randai’s face. “It’s why I had to take you out. I don’t know what changed, but the Randai who originally wagered with me and the Randai who barged into The Raven’s Wings were two very different people. You got ambitious all of a sudden. I could see it in your eyes. And when ambitious men taste power, they want more. It’s the natural order of things.”

  The bloated Varg pulled something from his white coat’s deep pockets. Randai instantly recognized the silken black cloth.

  “You see, I think this is a lot more important than you’re telling me. I’ve had it tested, and I’m told by some very clever people that they have never seen anything like it. Something to do with a material that shouldn’t even exist. Defies the laws of physics, I’m told. They wanted to buy it from me, but I don’t think you can put a price on something quite so rare.” The Varg weighed the black cloth and the artifact it concealed in his hand. “I suspect it can make a person very powerful if he knows what to do with it. Am I on the right track?”

  Randai smirked. “Couldn’t be colder.”

  “Fine by me.” He bit down on his cigar. “That’s why the good Doctor Warsax is here. You saw his surgery. He’s quite the professional interviewer.”

  The doctor sharpened his implements louder as if to highlight the point. Randai wondered why he needed to sharpen a tool meant for torture since it was bound to cause more pain when blunt.

  “One last chance?” Mr. Darcy offered.

  “The same as I told you before. It’s an old family heirloom.”

  Darcy raised his hand, and Warsax crossed the room, boots squelching. He ran the tip of a mean-looking knife across Randai’s nipple and down to his groin, like a sculptor trying to decide where to begin carving.

  “I’d love to stay and watch the show, but I’d rather not stain my good clothes.” Darcy chuckled hoarsely as he threw open his fancy coat. “I mean, I just got it back from the cleaners.”

  A blast sounded, and something warm splattered on Randai’s eyes. He blinked the wet out of the way to find Mr. Darcy staring at him wide-eyed, a gaping red hole in his chest. The boss’s cigar dropped into a puddle, and his hefty body followed. Cho stood behind him, his energy blaster smoking. The weapon made a raising high-pitched noise as it charged.

  The Varg guards looked around the chamber confused, but Doctor Warsax didn’t hesitate. He ran at the young Shanti, his twisted knife held high. The doctor moved surprisingly fast for someone so old. Before Cho could ready his weapon, the elderly man’s hand thrust out. Another energy blast followed, blowing a wide hole through the old man’s back, peppering Randai with sizzling bits of flesh. Both Shanti slumped to the floor together.

  The Vargs grunted and milled about, lost without their leader. Randai’s heart sank for the kid. Cho had been annoying as hell, but he didn’t deserve to die, at least not in a cesspit like the torture chamber.

  Doctor Warsax shifted suddenly and fell sideways into the brown water. Cho climbed to his feet, holding his recharging blaster in one hand and clutching a knife hilt jutting from his shoulder with the other.

  The Vargs raised their weapons. Despite his injury, Cho drew his shoulders and puffed out his chest. “I’ve defeated your clan leader.”

  The guards didn’t seem too sure.

  “I command you to kneel!” The words thundered off the stone walls and through the hollow chamber. As per the Varg warrior code, they obeyed their new master and lowered their weapons before kneeling in the filth.

  “Now unstrap these two and get them out of my sight.”

  They did as Cho instructed, and Randai was relieved to feel the blood flow back into his arms and legs. His feet sank into the mud below the water’s surface. He stretched and shook his limbs to bring them back to life. His muscles still ached from the venom. He bent down to pry the black cloth free of Mr. Darcy’s hands. “I don’t mean to sound unappreciative, but what’s going on?”

  “I gave what you said some thou
ght, about being more ambitious. And I think you were onto something.” He pointed to Mr. Darcy’s lifeless form. “I figure becoming the boss is fairly ambitious.”

  “You’ve certainly raised the bar.” It wasn’t exactly what Randai had in mind at the time. “But why let us go?”

  “Consider it a long-term investment. You’re a strange man, Randai. I don’t understand what you’re about, but I’m smart enough to know something big is going on, and I don’t doubt we’ll meet again. When that happens, I’d rather have you as an ally.”

  “You’re a lot wiser than you let on, Cho.”

  “Only a fool shows his cards. Your stuff is next door. Best not stick around for too long. Not everyone will agree with this new development, and things are bound to get a little complicated.” He gave Randai one of his fanged grins.

  “How do we get out of here?”

  “Turn right at the junction then take the next left. The tunnel will go on for a few miles, but it’ll eventually take you to a ladder leading to the Bometown waterworks. You’ll want your gear first, of course. It’s in the adjoining chamber.”

  “Thanks, kid.”

  “Just helping out an old man. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

  Randai didn’t need to be told twice and nodded as he passed the new White Dragons leader. He tried to avoid running his eyes over Zora’s lean figure as he crossed the chamber to meet her. They hurried out of the room together in search of their gear. It had turned out to be an exciting day, but Randai wasn’t keen on sticking around to find out just how much wilder things would get. He’d already had his fill of drama and then some.

  45

  Project Zero

  Gunfire echoed outside as the last Marines made their way onto Project Zero. Clio’s leg was useless, but she was glad to be away from enemy fire. A quick scan by a medic showed a femur shaft fracture. She was fortunate that the tank tendril hadn’t ruptured any major vessels. The injury would require serious attention, but the Marine addressed the bleeding, supplied a blood pack, and applied a pressurized brace as a temporary solution. He recommended time in the ship’s regen chamber, but Clio didn’t have time for that. She had a ship full of people to get off the ground.

  O’Donovan appeared by her side. “The last of the Marines and colonists are on board. Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, trying to get up on her own.

  “Easy, sport,” O’Donovan said, grabbing her arm and throwing it over his neck. “Your mind’s going to blow when you see the bridge.”

  O’Donovan had gone to find the command deck while the medic attended to Clio. She was eager to get at the flight controls, but a dead pilot was a useless pilot and she had lost a lot of blood.

  They left the storage area and entered the ship proper. Project Zero’s exterior had impressed Clio, but the inside was something else. The walkways seemed fairly standard, but the walls were fashioned from a white alloy that emanated warmth. A translucent material, she had never seen before, formed the ceiling. Bright lights inside the ceiling made the corridors appear more spacious than the Bakura’s. They turned a corner and arrived outside sickbay.

  A line had formed outside, and several medics moved among the Marines and colonists, administering treatments. Those most severely injured were admitted entry.

  O’Donovan brought Clio to one of the medics. He finished giving a pain relief medshot to a colonist teenage girl and handed her a small box. The medic’s hair was matted with sweat, and someone’s blood was smeared across his right cheek. He looked no older than the girl he was treating but spoke with authority. “Give that box to your father and tell him to follow the instructions.”

  The teenager nodded and sped back toward the cargo hold.

  “Ensign Evans, requesting assistance.”

  He gawked at Clio’s leg. “Looks bad, Ensign. We’ll have to admit you.” He raised a hand to call over a colleague.

  “Not for me, Officer.” She swung her bag off her shoulder and checked on Booster. His breathing had improved a little since coming on board, and a medic had administered him pain relief at Clio’s insistence, but he was still in bad shape. “I need you to take care of my friend here.”

  She passed the officer her field pack, and bewilderment crossed his face as he looked inside. “I don’t even know what this is. I—”

  “His name’s Booster,” she asserted. “Treat him as you would a child. And know that if not for him, we’d all be stranded on this hell hole.”

  “Very well,” the medic said, seeming unsure of himself. His eyes went back to Clio’s leg. “Your leg also needs seeing to, Ensign.”

  “It’ll have to wait. I need to get this ship up and running. Just take care of Booster,” she told him with a warning glare.

  The medical officer looked around, seeking support from his colleagues. None was forthcoming. “I’ll do what I can,” he sighed.

  She tapped O’Donovan’s shoulder and he assisted her through the clogged corridors. They entered an elevator and ascended onto the command deck.

  O’Donovan helped Clio limp onto the bridge, and her jaw dropped. Almost every surface had been built from a sturdy material that was soft to the touch, even the terminals. As far as she could tell, every terminal sported a holoform interface and display: a luxury usually reserved for senior officers on Confederation Fleet vessels. It seemed like every inch of the bridge glowed and sparkled with life.

  Riley helped Clio into what they assumed was the pilot’s chair. Grimshaw arrived on the bridge not long after them, Officer Martin close by his side, concern on his face.

  “I’m fine, Martin, really,” Commander Grimshaw said, refusing Martin’s offer to help. The grizzly old man clenched his teeth as he climbed into the Captain’s command hub.

  “Good to see you sir,” Clio said.

  He waved without a word, looking worse for wear. Clio wondered if it wouldn’t have been better for him to stay in sickbay then she remembered how she’d reacted regarding her leg.

  “Medic requested on the bridge,” Martin said on an open channel. He noticed Clio’s surprised look and shrugged. “Vox works inside the ship. We’re shielded.”

  “Negative on the medic request,” a voice Clio didn’t recognize said on the vox.

  “What do you mean negative?” Martin shouted. “Get your ass over here now. The Commander and pilot are badly injured and need someone on standby. Or would you rather stay on this planet and wait for those Chits to make their way on board?”

  A moment’s silence filled the channel.

  “Copy. On my way.”

  Clio tried to access flight controls, but her terminal wouldn’t respond. She punched the display and a panel next to the controls opened, revealing a flight helmet. Clio fastened the device, and it granted her access to everything she needed and more. Volumes of data rolled over her eyes. As she searched for the correct menus, streams of code coalesced into the face of a woman half human, half Shanti.

  “Welcome, Ensign Evans,” the woman said, her voice rich and full of certainty. “My name is Ascari. Welcome aboard temporary designation Project Zero.”

  “Are you the ship’s AI?”

  “That is correct. I am the ship’s computer. I will assist you in navigating ship operations.”

  It was the most convincing artificial intelligence Clio had ever seen. She was amazed by Ascari’s ability to modulate her tone and cadence. Had Clio not been watching Ascari’s virtual personification inside her helmet, she would have thought the AI a real person.

  “How do you know my name?”

  “I’ve been programmed to accept the genetic signature of seventeen possible pilots. Your DNA matches Ensign Clio Evans on my contingency registry. Is there a problem, Ensign?” Ascari seemed confused by Clio’s lack of understanding.

  “I don’t…Never mind. We’ll work it out later. Right now, I need access to full flight systems.” A green light flashed in the corner of Clio’s visor
.

  “Access granted,” Ascari said in her sultry tone.

  “What about weapons?”

  “Only Captain Grimshaw is authorized to grant access to designated systems at this time.”

  “Ascari,” Grimshaw said. “It’s Commander Grimshaw, not Captain. Grant all systems access to Ensign Evans.”

  “Yes, Captain. Access granted.”

  Clio suspected the ship had been designed to synchronize with their SIGs and had retrieved their Confederation profiles. Something must have gone wrong with the sync if the AI thought Grimshaw was the Captain. Typically, such a synchronization had to be completed manually, but if the vessel was half as advanced as the claims suggested, it made sense. And given how incomplete Project Zero was, some bugs were to be expected.

  The visuals in Clio’s flight visor switched to Grimshaw’s command hub. She was glad to see the medic had arrived and was administering help. The Commander’s levels were all over the place and he didn’t seem entirely lucid.

  “You’ll have to take care of things until I’ve recovered, Evans,” Grimshaw said, his speech slurred.

  “Understood, sir. Ascari, can you fire on the Chits in the hangar?” Clio asked the AI.

  “By Chits, do you mean the Aphnai?”

  “Just kill any creatures that aren’t human or Galactic Alliance.”

  “Two hundred and thirteen hostiles detected. Please confirm firing order.”

  The list sped by in Clio’s visor VD. “Confirming firing order.”

  Project Zero’s surroundings appeared in Clio’s visor, and she sensed the same scene had appeared on multiple VDs around the bridge. The ship’s weapons fired and eliminated the remaining Chits in under a minute.

  Pity we couldn’t access her remotely earlier.

  “Open dock doors,” Clio ordered.

  “Dock doors opening,” Ascari confirmed.

  Clio lifted her finger to retract the helmet’s visor and it opened unbidden as though reading her intentions. The bridge screens merged to form a single large display that showed the hangar gates parting.