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

by Killian Carter

  The lattice consisted of various crystalline metals built around a carbon base. His medical equipment didn’t recognize several elements, yet the armor’s structure appeared organic. Under the thick shell, ropes of muscle twisted around Marigoth’s limbs. Beyond that, the readings were vague. The Kragak seemed to have a cluster of hearts and its throat seemed to contain a complex network of tubes and valves.

  But none of that told Artax how to inflict the most pain. Lack of success in obtaining meaningful brain scans concerned him most. He would need to cut the armor open to learn more.

  He was almost as excited as he was the first time he’d dissected a knolra as a child. Nothing had ever felt quite like his first.

  Until now.

  He couldn’t help but smile.

  His eyes darted to the vibrating instruments on the table as Marigoth’s hideous laughter shook the chamber again.

  I doubt those knives are going to be of any use.

  He lifted the sharpest—one of his favorites, even if it had been forged by the Shanti. Their blade-work was among the best in the galaxy.

  He took another tentative step toward the Kragak, feeling more excitement than fear, wondering what the creature was thinking as it laughed.

  Marigoth stopped and regarded him with a blank expression, his beady black eyes as unreadable as ever.

  "I don’t suppose you’ll reconsider your decision not to cooperate?" Artax ventured.

  Marigoth’s eyes flicked to Gorde. "When I break free, I will tear off the little one’s head and use it to smash in your brains."

  Even Marigoth’s voice sounded horrifically twisted, like several people struggling to speak at once.

  A chill crept across Artax’s shoulders. He shrugged it off, telling himself the anticipation was getting the better of him.

  He considered psi-delving straight into Marigoth’s brain, but penetration didn’t feel as good without a bit of foreplay. Rushing things with this prized beast would sully the experience, especially after all the trouble they’d been through in securing it.

  I wouldn’t want to waste such potential. He licked his lips. "Let’s find out what you’re hiding on the inside."

  Gorde let out a little shriek.

  I warned the idiot not to wear his fear like a cloak.

  As Artax got within arm’s reach, Marigoth puffed out his chest, offering it to him.

  "Dig as deep as you please, tiny creature."

  Artax accepted the invitation, pressing the tip of the blade against the Kragak’s midriff. The metal slid across the surface, not so much as leaving mark. He drew it back and struck with enough force to split a Varg’s bone plating.

  The blade pinged off the charcoal-colored material. Artax leaned in to check for damage. He wouldn’t have noticed the tiny chip if he hadn’t squinted.

  "Impressive," he muttered. "More resilient than I thought."

  It may as well have been solid tridarium.

  Artax tested the groin joint. Despite being the thinnest patch, according to his scanners, it appeared more compact and sturdy. Yet, somehow, it remained flexible enough to allow the Kragak full range of motion.

  Surely it should be weaker.

  He stabbed with even more force than before and clenched his teeth as the impact jarred his TEK’s arm.

  "Incredible,” he said under his breath, not masking his amazement.

  A low droning noise sounded in Marigoth’s throat.

  Artax took it for amusement. "Not so fast, big guy. I’m only getting started. Besides, you aren’t the first to withstand my knives."

  "You’re in trouble now," Gorde added, his words like smoke in the wind.

  Artax shot the squat Rivarian a glare that told him to keep his mouth shut, and the officer cowered back a step.

  Artax called maintenance on his SIG. "Varis, bring me those plasma cutters you’ve been working on."

  "Right away, sir," the engineer’s voice crackled.

  Marigoth regarded him indifferently.

  Artax sighed and took several steps back. "It’ll take maintenance time to get here, but I can’t wait to see what you’ve got under the hood. Maybe I should go for a dive after all…help us get acquainted."

  He forced his will into a point sharper than any blade and projected it into Marigoth’s mind, sweeping the animalistic torrent aside. Winds of color rushed by as his astral-self raced toward the shimmering aura beyond the vortex. The chromatic clouds shifted and parted, offering Artax a clear view of the beast’s mind. It was more vast than most others Artax had probed, but was otherwise the same. A shifting layer of mist floated above a sea of domed nodes. He pressed forward expecting to be met with resistance but emerged from the mist unchallenged. Given the wild storms above the surface, Marigoth’s awareness seemed unusually calm.

  A charade to conceal the weakness below.

  Artax sailed smoothly toward the nearest glowing dome. He had no intention of damaging the nodes inside the domes or inflicting pain…at least not right away. That could wait until after the plasma cutters, for then he would bathe in the creature’s agony. For now, Artax was merely curious.

  I only want to take a peek. See what’s inside.

  The dome barrier hummed so quietly he almost couldn’t hear it. It seemed so unimposing…so unthreatening. For all of Marigoth’s physical strength, his mind was brittle as glass.

  Artax willed the point of his awareness against the dome. An opposing force punched him hard, causing his astral vision to swim. He shook himself out of the daze, eyes searching for the solid wall he’d run into. The glowing white dome was gone, replaced with a surging wall of fire. His awareness reeled and he retreated, his mind simmering with confusion.

  What is this? Can the Kragak psi-drift? Is it a facade?

  As he reached for the mists above, inaudible whispers washed through Marigoth’s mind. Artax spun in midair, but no one was there. The alien sounds brushed by his ear again, but their source remained hidden.

  "What is happening?" he called, his words echoing discordantly, the mists overhead rolling in response. "Who’s there?"

  The whispering words converged into gusts of wind, whipping Artax as they drove toward the mists above, tearing the white clouds apart to reveal a sky of countless beastly mouths and eyes.

  The monstrosity pulsed and surged, like a sea descending to meet him.

  A tumultuous rush hammered Artax as a multitude of clashing voices whispered, laughed, and mocked.

  Artax realized in horror that the mist had all but evaporated. A defense mechanism? No! A trap!

  One small shrinking cloud remained. He forced his astral awareness towards it as fast as he could. Icy fingers clutched at his ankle, stabbing like phantasmal knives. He looked down to find nothing there, yet some invisible force held him with a steel grip he couldn’t shake no matter how hard he tried. A blast of cold raked his astral body, causing consciousness to slip through his fingers like sand.

  He watched the shrinking cloud as the eye monster dove to meet him.

  One of the eyes, larger than the others, reflected a pale face, offering a glimpse of something horribly familiar. In a wave of panic, he realized that his astral eyes had that look his victims got before breathing their final breath…a glimpse of what lay beyond life…absolute zero.

  Panic tore at his chest, filling his limbs with a final surge of warmth. With every bit of will Artax could muster, he kicked his foot free, full control of his astral form returning. He lunged for the mist, unsure if it was still big enough for him to pass through. Seeing he’d escaped the clutches of whatever had held him, the eye-thing fell with renewed urgency, its howls so tangible they threatened to drive him back. As he slowed, he looked back to find ghostly tendrils reaching up to grab him. He pushed harder, both arms reaching for the vanishing wisp.

  Artax crashed into his body. He tumbled back and hit the ground, heart thumping hard, blood rushing in his ears.

  "Is everything okay, sir?" Gorde asked, appearing ab
ove him.

  "Everything’s fine!" Artax snapped, though he felt anything but fine. He brushed Gorde’s hand away as he climbed onto wobbly knees, wiping the cold sweat from his temples. His stomach heaved and he lurched, hugging his abdomen in an effort not to throw up.

  "Enjoy what you found under the hood, Thandrall?" Marigoth inquired, suddenly sounding a lot more intelligent and self-aware than before. The Kragak’s timbre and tone had changed beyond recognition. Instead of several discordant voices fighting to be heard, he spoke with the power of many united voices…a single focused essence.

  Marigoth laughed again, the sounds sweeter and lighter than before.

  Deathly certainty suddenly shone in the Kragak’s eyes.

  "Gorde, call security." Artax struggled to bring himself upright.

  Gorde looked at him confused.

  Before Artax could repeat himself, Marigoth’s arms snapped free of the suspension circle as though they had been bound by delicate threads.

  The Kragak flashed a black smile. And sprang forward.

  Artax hit the plasma cannon trigger on his SIG.

  The chamber shuddered under the weapon’s fire.

  Artax covered his face and looked out from under his arm.

  The Kragak held up a magnetic shackle, shielding itself from the fire. The molten restraint snapped off his arm. He tossed the twisted chunk of metal and the cannon exploded in a shower of sparks.

  Artax activated his helmet as Marigoth’s hand pulled him into the air. He had never felt so powerless, not even in the hands of the Primelord.

  Rather than try to kill Artax, the Kragak closed in on Gorde.

  The room spun about his head as the Kragak bounded after the waddling Rivarian. Artax caught sight of his assistant out of the corner of his eye. Gorde, realizing he wasn’t going to make the door, twisted and fired his stun-gun, but the blue energy bolt fizzled by Artax and smashed into something behind.

  Cowardly fool! Artax thought as the ship interior spun even more violently.

  Marigoth’s other hand swept out and Artax heard a sickening crunch. His heart raced when he suspected the Kragak was making good on his promise.

  Realizing he still held his knife, Artax stabbed desperately at the Kragak’s forearm, but the beast took no notice.

  Marigoth showed Artax Gorde’s severed head. The Rivarian’s lifeless eyes stared into space. Marigoth shook the head, and Gorde’s limp tongue flopped about between multiple rows of serrated teeth.

  The Kragak grinned at Artax and drew the head back, readying a blow.

  Knowing his helmet probably wasn’t going to help, Artax shut his eyes.

  Gunfire rang out.

  Artax opened his eyes to a wild flurry of plasma bolts. Several smashed into his TEK.

  Marigoth flung him at the maintenance crew. His head struck the wall, plunging him into darkness.

  2

  Ember Rekindled

  Clio watched engineering through a reinforced glass-panel on the viewing station, the low hum of the Orinmore’s engines and the sight of Zaqarans going about their business making her feel at ease. The crew rarely used the platform, making it the perfect place for Clio to get some peace and quiet when she needed to get away from the daily hubbub of the Orinmore. She noted only one Omnion among the Zaqaran assistants. The longer she spent on the colossal vessel, the less she saw of the shape-changers.

  The rumors must be true.

  Booster sat next to her, perched on the rail, his tail arched for balance.

  "When we first started coming up here, at least a quarter of engineering personal wore white uniforms."

  "More Omnion are getting sick," he said, his voice a little clearer than the day before.

  "It sounds like Alvar is working wonders on your language processing."

  Booster gave her a fanged smile. "Monkey Man is working on lots of things. He’s very busy."

  "I’ll start getting jealous if you two keep spending so much time together." She chuckled.

  Booster gave her a playful punch to the shoulder. The gesture communicated more than words ever could.

  "The fewer Omnion there are, the less chance they’ll look into the scar tissue on your brain."

  Booster shrugged. "It can wait."

  The Orinmore medical crew had also stopped calling her in for tests two weeks previous. "Hopefully the Zaqarans can find a treatment soon."

  Booster chirped in agreement as he watched the engine room.

  It felt good having Booster join her. They shared a moment’s silence as they watched the operators and engineers scuttling about below. The engineers worked at control panels and operated a host of unfamiliar tech. She occasionally quizzed them on the Orinmore’s impressive setup, but they never revealed much. From what she put together, the ship was powered by a reactor beyond contemporary understanding. She suspected anti-matter tech, but she couldn’t confirm. She regarded the reactor containment barriers, wondering what they hid.

  The twinkling engineering lights reminded her of Morgana’s skyline. To Clio’s surprise, part of her longed to see her home-world again. She couldn’t figure out why.

  Must be the damn air on this ship. When they first boarded, the Omnion had warned the North Star crew that the Orinmore’s mixed atmosphere might cause side-effects, including lethargy and mood swings.

  Still, after everything that had happened over the past few years—being locked away in the Steelrose Penitentiary, escaping the Aphnai invasion of Colony 115, going renegade with the North Star, and entering the Shroud—perhaps she simply longed for familiarity.

  Maybe I’ll go back for a quick visit after all this is over.

  Booster tugged on Clio’s gray uniform sleeve, pulling her out of the memories.

  "Someone’s coming," he whispered, pointing to the corridor left of the platform.

  Clio listened for a second before she heard the measured footsteps. "Sounds like a Zaqaran."

  Booster chirped.

  Narith rounded the bend and nodded to them. Clio and Booster greeted the Zaqaran engineer in kind as he approached. The species were cold and calculated in their manners, but befriending Narith had helped Clio adjust. The overhead beams highlighted his blue-tinged skin, the white glint on his head-crest blinding her for a second.

  "I thought I might find you up here," he said with a smile, his wide nostrils flaring.

  "You’ve finally decided to tell me how the Orinmore engine’s work?"

  He laughed, the air exiting his flat nose in a wheeze. He sidled up to Clio and Booster, clutching the walkway rail as they looked down on engineering together. "It’s a magnificent sight, isn’t it?"

  "I’m glad you showed me how to get up here, though, I would appreciate the magnificence more if I knew how it all worked."

  Narith turned to her, his off-white eyes shining. "I hardly understand how the engines work myself…honestly…outside of what I need to know to perform my assigned tasks. The Omnion guard their secrets closely, even with their so-called trusted agents."

  "It’s got to be the most advanced vessel in the galaxy."

  "Perhaps," Narith said.

  "You really think there could be ships more advanced than this out there?"

  "I have it on good authority that the Ancients might have used gray-hole technology."

  "I’m no physicist, but I’ve heard theories. Isn’t that supposed to be impossible?"

  "But some believe that it’s more than a theory." Sadness crept into his eyes as they reflected the glittering lights. "Or at least it was…once. The specifics have been lost to time, of course. I spent years scouring the Orinmore’s archives for hints of how the Ancients may have achieved such…greatness. One partial document alluded to black and white holes sharing a single containment field, but the data cluster had been corrupted."

  "Anyone with that kind of tech could do…pretty much anything they wanted." Clio tried to imagine what the Ancients were like. "It’s almost too hard to believe."

 
"Such things are often difficult to believe unless seen with one’s own eyes."

  Clio tapped the handrail as she thought. "It’s probably a good thing such advancements died with the Ancients. To think what the Galactic Alliance or Chimera might do with such power."

  "Indeed," Narith said. "Perhaps that very power is what ended the Ancients. Or perhaps unlocking such power caused them to ascend beyond anything we might understand. I guess we will never really know."

  "You think they became gods?" Clio tried not to sound too skeptical.

  The Zaqaran shrugged. "Sometimes I don’t know what to think, but I do know that anything is possible. Dimensions exist beyond what we would call reality. Who knows who, or what, dwells in such places?"

  She figured he had a point. "I’ll miss our philosophical discussions when I’m gone." Such subjects had never appealed to Clio before meeting Narith, but the Zaqaran’s sense of wonder had sparked an interest.

  He let go of the rail and turned to face her. "I heard you might be leaving in the coming days."

  "We haven’t had confirmation, but it’s likely."

  "Truth be told, that’s why I came. I have something to give you." He gulped. "In case we don’t get to speak again before you leave." He unclipped a case from his utility belt and offered it to Clio.

  Booster perked up, the exchange catching his attention.

  She accepted the black box. "What is it?"

  "Consider it a parting gift." The Zaqaran smiled.

  "It’s not as if we’re leaving for good. We’ll be back in a few weeks. After all, Galactic Alliance space is hardly safe for a crew of so-called terrorists."

  "Be that as it may, you might find it useful," he said, puffing out his chest. "It’s a little project I’ve been working on over the years. It’s a prototype power source…far more efficient than what your Aegi Order TEK uses. I hoped to ask you to test it first, but it appears we don’t have time. Don’t worry," he added quickly. "It’s safe. I’ve run many lab tests using a crude replica of your TEK. I would like to know how it performs in the field."

  "That’s why you asked for my TEK specs before?"