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

by Killian Carter

  She pulled a small recorder from her orange purse. “A little birdie told me you’re involved in a particularly interesting murder case.”

  “Did that birdie happen to be a fat little blue tit?” It had to be a cop. My money was on Rodger or Randy or whatever the hell his name was. I bet it didn’t take much, either. He struck me as the kind of guy who’d sell his granny for a muffin.

  She giggled. “Nice try, but a good journalist never reveals her sources.”

  We reached the sidewalk and waited for the lights to change. I was glad O’Sullivan’s wasn’t close. “I can’t talk, Maya. Cat and I haven’t eaten yet this morning.”

  “Great idea, Max. Let’s talk over breakfast.”

  “That wasn’t an invitation.”

  She giggled again as if I was joking. “Let’s get something to eat then hang out in your office for a while. For old times’ sake.”

  I put up with Maya in the early days. We’d even had a few wild parties together. I enjoyed her company at first, even felt a little flattered, but I eventually grew tired of being someone’s next story, especially after the article she ran comparing me to the Black Charlatan. I cringed at how desperate I was back then.

  “I’m busy, Maya. Why not cut to the chase?”

  “You sound tense, Max. Does it have something to do with what happened at the Wilder building? You can tell me all about it. Get it off your chest.”

  Speaking of chests, hers bounced all over the place as we crossed the road.

  Cat growled when we reached O’Sullivan’s. He never did like Maya and he wasn’t going to let anyone get between him and his lamb shank.

  I didn’t want Maya following us inside, so I stopped her and said, “You know I can’t share information pertaining to my clients.”

  “So you are on a murder case.” She beamed at the idea.

  “Drop it, Maya.” I tried putting some weight behind the words.

  It didn’t make a difference.

  She leaned in close and put her hand on my shoulder. I got a whiff of perfume. Melons. Sweet yet subtle. Almost charming. Very unlike the woman wearing it. Many would disagree with me, but few knew Maya as well as I did.

  Her breasts pushed into my ribs. She whispered into my ear, “All I need is a little info. One tidbit, and I’ll let you buy me a drink later.”

  “I’ve had a bad weekend. Maybe tomorrow.” I had no intention of telling her anything at any time. I just wanted to say whatever it took to make her go away.

  She pouted. Tomorrow would never do for someone like Maya. Someone else would get the scoop by then. She and Cat were tied for the most stubborn person I knew.

  She fluttered her eyelids. “How about over lunch, on me?”

  “Like I said, I’m busy today.”

  Fed up, I made a move for the door, but Maya slipped in front of me and started fixing my collar like we were married. “If you’re going there for food, at least make yourself presentable.”

  Her dark brown eyes locked onto mine.

  I rested my hands on her hips.

  “Stop trying to stall me, Maya. We both know the kind of people who eat at O’Sullivan’s don’t give a shit about that kind of thing. Now step aside.”

  I shifted her sideways onto the pavement, not hard, but I said no, and I wanted her to know that I meant it.

  “I could have you arrested for assault, you know.”

  “Bite me.”

  From the look she gave me, I half expected her to do just that. Instead, she launched forward, slamming the door closed with her body. She held it there with her foot.

  She dropped the act. “Come on, Miller. You’ve gotta give me something.”

  Cat snarled. It took all I had not to do the same. “Only thing I can say is to leave this one alone, Maya. Something doesn’t smell right, and as much as you annoy the hell out of me, I wouldn’t like to see you get hurt.”

  “High risk. High reward.”

  “This one’s too risky. Even for you. Now, let me through. I’m sure you’ve got ten other guys that’ll take you up on the booty call.”

  She stepped back, looking genuinely hurt.

  My stomach sank a little, but if I backed down, she’d be at my throat again.

  “I know you’ve fallen on hard times, Miller. But I didn’t realize you were such an asshole.”

  She stormed off.

  I knew she’d be back. A little part of me even hoped she’d be back. I told myself that was the hormones talking. Maya always came back. Getting rid of her was the problem. This time had been surprisingly easy.

  The door jingled as it closed behind me like the stores in old movies. That was the first thing I liked about O’Sullivan’s. I gave Morris, the owner, a nod as Cat and I passed the bar. He briefly looked up from the glass he was wiping and returned the gesture. Most onlookers would have missed the exchange, but it communicated a great deal. It told Morris that I wanted the usual for breakfast: Full Irish with no red-pudding, extra eggs, two soda farls, potato bread and a large coffee for me. A raw lamb shank for Cat. That was the second thing I liked about O’Sullivan’s.

  I was glad to find our favorite booth in the back was empty. It usually was. Sitting slightly higher than everyone else made people feel uncomfortable. O’Sullivan’s was rarely crowded enough for folks to sit that far away from the bar, anyway. But it allowed me to have the wall at my back against the wall and offered a direct line of sight to the door. I liked to keep an eye on it, especially with people like the Russo Three tossing threats around.

  The place was divided in three parts. On the left, a couple of barflies hung off a solid wooden slab that was probably as old as the city itself. The taps featured the usual offerings: Murphy’s, Smithwick’s, Porterhouse, Hilden, and the black stuff, along with a few labels I didn’t recognize. Six dark-stained booths lined the right side of the room. A scattering of tables took up the middle.

  Old Guinness toucan posters and monochrome photographs covered the wood-paneled walls. Beat-up violins, dusty blackthorn walking sticks, and other historical knickknacks hung between the ancient beams crossing the ceiling. O’Sullivan’s was a pretty basic place, rustic home-cooked style. Others called it real. I called it home. Few would agree that Sullivan’s was the best pub in the city, but it was the best pub in the city.

  Cat panted in anticipation under the table and I gave him a pat.

  Morris showed up with my food fast…as always.

  He moved with silent efficiency, transferring my plate and coffee from the faux-wood tray to the table and tossing a dog bowl and a large leg of lamb under the table for Cat. He looked around to make sure no one was looking our way before dropping a white-plastic bag with a lamb chop inside onto the table.

  “One for the road,” he said with the cool, calm voice of a man who’d been plying his trade for decades. “Enjoy, Cat.”

  “Thanks, Morris.” I gave him a salute as he headed off to clear another table.

  I drowned the contents of my plate in brown sauce and wolfed if down. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was and my plate was empty before I knew it.

  I sat back in the chair as Cat munched on a bone under the table. I reached into my breast pocket for a few bills and felt the piece of card from the Wilder building. I’d forgotten about it. I pulled it out and looked at it again.

  I silently mouthed the printed letters, ess, running a list of words ending in those letters that might appear on a business card through my head. Paperless. Business. Press. Dress. Wellness. Fitness.

  Probably a gym or nutritionist’s card. Or a laundry ticket. It could have been anything.

  “Useless,” I muttered, stuffing it back into my pocket.

  O’Sullivan’s was starting to get busy. It was time to leave.

  I went to the bar and pulled a few bills out of the brown envelope. One slipped from my fingers. I made to pick it off the ground, but one of the guys at the bar beat me to it. He offered it to me with a friendly smile, a small scar under
his nose pulling one side of his mouth higher than the other. “Looks like you dropped this, mister.”

  I accepted the note. “Thanks.”

  He nodded and went back to his meal.

  I passed it to Morris and waved goodbye. The door closed with a jingle and a satisfying clunk.

  I was happy to find the weather was better. I belched. “That was good.”

  “Good,” Cat agreed.

  A passerby looked at us with a mix of confusion and disgust.

  I had most of Old Man Joe’s rent. My stomach was full. The sun was out.

  I felt better than I had in months, and all I’d had to drink at Sullivan’s was coffee.

  Life was good.

  I reached the other side of the road and found a commotion. A teen in a hoodie had wrestled an old lady to the ground. He tore her purse from her hands and bolted.

  “He stole my purse!” she cried from the ground, her voice wobbling.

  Cat readied to spring at the thief as he passed.

  I put my hand on his collar. I wasn’t about to let these people ruin my mood.

  “Leave it be, Cat.”

  He whimpered and tried to pull away, but I held him tight. The teen looked like a junkie. Could have had a gun or a knife. The last thing I needed was for something to happen to my only friend.

  A woman helped the old lady to her feet and glared at me.

  I threw my hands up. “Not my problem.”

  We returned to the alley to get my field kit from the car.

  “Asshole,” someone yelled.

  “You won’t get any argument from me on that one,” I shouted, lifting my middle finger over my shoulder.

  “We do some research on this case, then we head back to the cabin for a nap,” I told Cat.

  An engine roared. A black van appeared in the alley, shrieking to a stop behind Betty.

  I pulled my gun, aiming it at the blacked-out windshield.

  Cat growled and barked. “Threat! Threat! Threat!”

  The sun broke through the clouds again, warming the back of my neck. Someone’s shadow fell over me.

  Before I could react, something smashed into the back of my head, casting me into darkness.

  7

  The Coffin

  I opened my crusted eyelids to utter darkness. At first, I thought it was another nightmare. But I felt warm, even claustrophobic, and there were no stars. I also had the sense I was on my back and not floating as in the dream.

  I tried to get up. My hands and head banged against a hard surface. I felt around and found I was in some kind of box.

  I forced myself to breathe, fighting down panic. I tried to figure out how I got there. The alley.

  Cat!

  What happened to him? I pushed and kicked the lid, but I might as well have tried to move a wall. I needed to find out what had happened to my dog. Did he get away? Did they get him too? I didn’t want to think about what that might mean.

  Something thudded above me.

  It sounded like rocks and dirt being piled on top of a lid. Had I been stuffed inside a coffin? Was I being buried alive?

  “Hey!” I screamed, but my mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and the word came out muffled. “Hey!”

  The thudding continued but grew quieter.

  I hammered on the lid. “Let me the fuck out of here!”

  It came out more a string of grunts than a coherent sentence.

  “Aaah!”

  Again, no answer.

  Was whoever had attacked me up there? Maybe someone found my body and thought I was dead. Were they burying me by mistake?

  The thudding stopped.

  Silence.

  “Hello!” I screamed with all the breath in my lungs.

  I heard a crack followed quickly by a hiss.

  A line of light appeared around the of traced the lid.

  I pushed up and it swung open with surprising ease, the light blinding me.

  I tried to climb from the coffin, but something stopped me. I found some kind of rope holding me down. No, a harness.

  What the hell is this?

  From what little I could make out with compromised eye-sight, the room I was in seemed pretty basic. It was all white walls and stainless steel. Across from me, some kind of structure angled away from me.

  I needed to get free.

  I was looking for a way to out of the restraints when a small screen activated on the inside wall of the coffin. Text scrolled down the screen, but I couldn’t make it out. My vision was still blurry from being drugged or hit on the back of the head or whatever the hell had happened.

  “Magnetic restraints will be released after clearing Earth’s geosynchronous equatorial orbit,” a dry female voice announced by my ear.

  “Orbit? What the hell are you talking about?”

  My tongue felt heavy and tasted like metal.

  “Safety harnesses must be worn by all passengers. Magnetic synchronization sequence complete. Launching from Earth Orbital Platform. Reducing spin.”

  I lost my mind and thrashed against the restraints. When that didn’t work, I arched my back, driving my upper body against the harness with everything I had. It was no good. I slumped back into the launch pod, sweating and panting.

  “Magnetic induction release in ten seconds.”

  “Hey…” The word felt hollow in the small metal chamber.

  “Nine. Eight. Seven.”

  “Let me out of here, you bastards,” I screamed. “Let me go.”

  “Six.”

  My demands descended into begging.

  “Three. Two. One.”

  I expected to hear roaring engines.

  There was nothing.

  “Increasing spin.”

  Something shoved me hard, pushing me deeper into the pod.

  I tried to scream, but I couldn’t catch my breath. I clutched the harness so hard, I thought the material would cut through my skin, but I didn’t care. I may have even fallen in and out of consciousness a few times.

  Sweat trickled down my temples. Drops of fear rolled into my ears. I tried not to sob.

  I have a thing about going into space. It’s pathetic, but anyone who knows my history wouldn’t blame me.

  Several dull clunks and then it was silent.

  “Entering Lunar Line injection phase one.”

  In my crazed state, I didn’t know how long I had been awake. I’d lost all sense of time…and all sense in general.

  “Shortly, Lunar Spaceways crewmembers will check all passengers. We’d like to wish you a safe and comfortable translunar journey.”

  The speaker by my ear crackled and the screen turned black. A green status light appeared above me. The harness clicked. I tried the buckle again, and it snapped open.

  I fought my way out of the webbing, and still unable to see clearly, pulled myself up and out of the pod that may as well have been a coffin. I tumbled out and my face hit a hard, gridded surface. The landing was softer than I expected, but a sharp shriek rang in my ear. My head pounded like the worst hangover ever. I scrunched my eyes together, fighting down a wave of nausea. Whatever I’d been drugged with was doing a number on my gut, though the space travel probably wasn’t helping.

  A hiss drew my attention. I could make out the shape of another pod looming over me with a motionless figure inside. I hoped whoever it was could tell me what was going on, but the bastard was still sleeping. I’d have those answers. I’d find out what had happened to Cat. And, I’d make the bastards hauling this transport turn right around and take me home.

  I reached for the pod’s frame and pulled myself up for a closer look. I couldn’t see the occupant’s face, but he was of formidable stature. I leaned closer for a better look at his huge head. I smelled something oddly familiar.

  Onions!

  My mind reeled, overwhelmed by questions. What was he doing here? It took me a minute to work it out. Russo hadn’t been fucking around. The bastard knocked me out and put me on a flight to Luna.r />
  But how did they get me to a spaceport? It was then I recalled the half-memories like pieces of dream that didn’t fit together. I recalled flying in their gunship. It had dropped Onions and me off somewhere. I had flashes of long lines, a spaceport scanner.

  The Russo brothers had clearly drugged me, but how did I get my passport? It snapped into place. The half-eaten hamburger in my office trash. The office reeked from the onions. I hated onions. The Russos had broken into my office. Lucas must have left the burger. Like Marco had said, he wasn’t the brightest.

  “Bastards,” I muttered.

  I hammered the side of the pod.

  “Wake up, you sneaky bastard!” I yelled, poking Onions hard in the chest. “I’ve got questions, and you’re gonna give me answers.”

  He didn’t react.

  “Hey!” I slapped his face pretty hard. “Wake up, sunshine.”

  Still nothing.

  It suddenly occurred to me.

  Onions was dead…

  Pre-order The Lunar Express on Amazon

  The Lunar Express - Max Miller

  Get The Lunar Express

  There are two things Max hates…

  ...Space travel and people who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

  How did he end up in the coffin?

  Max doesn’t take a lot of clients, but his reputation for solving the toughest cases in New York gets him an interesting puzzle to solve from time-to-time. It’s enough to keep him drunk and his dog, Cat, fed. Beyond that, he doesn’t care much what else happens.

  He isn’t picky who hires him…

  …but he won’t take certain jobs.

  When Frankie Denaro, a known mobster, asks him to look into something on Luna, Max doesn’t care about Frankie’s chosen vocation, but he won’t be sent to the moon.

  It was an instant pass.

  That was his first mistake.

  In the haze of a drugged stupor, living his worst nightmare, Max may not have a choice. He must solve Frankie’s little problem or face the consequences. When he came to that realization was the moment…

  …all hell broke loose.

  You’ll love this science fiction mystery, because everyone enjoys a hard-nosed guy trying to do what’s right. You'll keep turning the pages.