Defending the Galaxy: The Sentinels of the Galaxy Read online

  “As I said, we’re concerned,” Mom says. “Dr. Edwards would like to do another brain scan. And we would also like you to undergo a mental health evaluation.”

  A double whammy. I wilt in my chair. “I thought we didn’t have a psychologist on base.”

  “Dr. Bharathi has experience,” Edwards says.

  “Fine,” I say. Refusing would just cause more problems.

  “You’re to stay out of the Q-net until the results come back,” Radcliff orders.

  Triple whammy. “I won’t reach out to it, but if I’m worried about something and fall asleep, I can’t promise I won’t connect.”

  Dr. Edwards clears his throat. “You’ll be given sleeping pills to help you sleep.”

  They want to drug me? Quadruple whammy. I scan my parents’ faces and then Edwards, Radcliff, and Morgan. They decided this before I arrived. They never intended to believe me. It was an ambush just like I feared. An ache pulses in my chest and I can’t even glance at Niall. What if he’s nodding in agreement? What if he’s looking at me in pity?

  I stand. “I just need to finish the task I was working on with Officer Dorey right before this amb…meeting.” It’s somewhat true. We were interrupted.

  Beau jumps up beside me. “Yeah, we need to complete it, otherwise we’ll risk our escape tunnels being discovered.”

  “How long?” Radcliff asks with his suspicious squint firmly in place.

  “Two hours,” I say.

  “All right. Two hours and then you’re to report to the infirmary.”

  “Yes, sir.” I leave the conference room with Beau at my heels. The impact of Radcliff’s orders reminds me of when he told me I was his for ninety days. I’d thought I was heading for detention, instead I ended up on probation. This time betrayal throbs in my heart instead of fear. Well, I’m scared, too. What if I’m never allowed to talk to Q again? Yes, I know they can’t stop me, but I’d no longer be part of the security team. I wouldn’t be involved in stopping the shadow-blobs.

  When we’re far enough away, I say, “Thanks for covering for me, Beau. I owe you one.”

  He huffs. “They’re overreacting. What do you want to do before…you know?”

  “I wanted to start searching DES to find who might be communicating with the looters. Since there’s over two million employees, it’s going to take a long time without Q’s help. So if we do a couple then Q can do the rest.”

  We reach his office and entangle with the Q-net. I take the lead and find one of those breaches into DES, tracking it to an employee’s cluster. A queasiness swirls in my stomach as this is borderline eavesdropping.

  Beau senses my reluctance. If they’re helping the looters, then they’ve no right to privacy.

  But what if they’re innocent?

  Considering the consequences of the looters gaining information from DES, do you think they will mind if they are?

  I know I wouldn’t mind, but not everyone feels the same way. At least it’s not their personal cluster. How can you tell if they’re innocent or not?

  Security has a program that scans messages and flags certain phrases. We also have another one that looks for unusual correspondence between people who normally don’t have any interactions. Although I don’t know how to use them in this situation. We use it for those under investigation.

  Please show me where they are.

  We withdraw from the suspect’s cluster and Beau takes me to a security cluster. I weave the threads of the programs together and loop it to those breaches. It’s delicate work and Beau helps with connecting it in to DES. The resulting program will scan a person’s correspondence, and if there is suspicious activity, their name will be listed in a file in my special cluster. But once we prove the looter-detector program works, Q will then be able to scan the rest of the employees. Well, when Q is finished with closing all those breaches.

  CORRECT.

  We test our hybrid program and it concludes that the person we are currently investigating is not communicating with any illegal entities. Then we test a few more until a name appears in the suspected-looter-colluder file. A sense of accomplishment fills me. I savor it as I expect that feeling will be rather elusive during my mental health evaluation.

  Beau must sense my mood. I’ll be honest. I don’t know if I believe you about the Q-net. But, from what I’ve seen, it’s either true or you’re a genius level wormer. And I’ll do everything I can to back you up.

  Thanks.

  That’s what partners do. Is there anything else?

  Our two hours are almost up.

  No, but can I have a couple minutes alone? Not that I’m ever alone in the Q-net.

  Sure. Beau disentangles.

  I inform Q that I’ll be unable to interact with it for a few days. Can you help Beau while I’m gone? I ask.

  I CHOSE YOU.

  Well everyone thinks I’m nuts so I can’t do anything to help stop the HoLFs. You chose poorly.

  I CHOSE YOU.

  It’s like I’m arguing with a toddler instead of an alien intelligence. I do my own equivalent of disentangling. Standing, I head for the door.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” Beau asks.

  “Thanks, but I can find the infirmary on my own. I’ve certainly been there enough times.” I give him a mock salute and leave.

  Radcliff and Morgan are in his office. They’re sitting close together, discussing…something. I ignore them.

  But when I reach the doorway, Radcliff calls, “Make sure you take an overnight bag with you, Ara.”

  I give him a tight nod and bolt before the tears welling up my throat can flood my vision. Halfway to my unit, I finally gain control of my emotions. Then I chastise myself for being so wimpy. I’ve faced shadow-blobs for stars’ sake, I can handle a psych eval. Except, that’s not what I’m upset about. I guess deep down I really thought everyone would believe me.

  My mother is waiting for me in my room.

  I so don’t want to have this conversation right now. She was acting reasonable during the ambush, which just led me into a false sense of security. Underneath her calm exterior she must have been freaking out. Or the fact that she knew I was going to be ambushed helped her to keep her composure.

  “I brought you a backpack,” she says, holding a blue pack trimmed with orange.

  “Thank you.” I take it and unzip the main compartment. Then I grab my pajamas, and my regular clothes, which include two pairs of jeans and a few T-shirts—all hand-me-downs donated from similarly-sized women in the base.

  “I’ve been meaning to give that to you since you lost yours,” she says.

  My backpack was actually stolen by Jarren, but I suspect she is avoiding the J-word. I shove everything in except one pair of jeans and a shirt. Then I tuck the picture of King Toad and Queen Mouse that Niall drew for me into a side pocket. My sole personal possession. I leave the room with the extra clothes.

  “Where are you going?” Mom asks, trailing after me.

  “Washroom.” I duck inside and close the door before she can join me. Changing into the civilian clothes, I grab my toiletries.

  Mom is waiting for me right outside. And like a puppy she follows me back. Is she feeling guilty or ensuring I don’t run away? I toss my uniform onto the bed and try hard not to think that I’ll never wear it again. The sudden knot in my throat tells me I’m unsuccessful. Then I add the rest of my stuff, zip the pack closed, and sling it over my shoulder.

  “Ara, I—”

  “I get it, Mom.” I step past her and head for the unit’s entrance.

  “I just want—”

  “What’s best for me. I know. And I agreed, so there’s nothing more to say.”

  I’m just about to escape when she asks, “Do you want me to come with you?”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I say, “No.” It’s a harsh no, but I don’t feel too bad. She had to know I’d be upset.

  I thank the universe that no one is in the hallways as I cut through the area of t
he base that’s just for security. I avoid going by the training room because the door is always open and I don’t want Elese to see me. One perk is that I won’t have to explain my absence to the rest of the team. Radcliff can do the honors. But there goes my reputation as a sane person. I’d just earned their respect when they all touched a Warrior heart and could finally see the HoLFs and Warrior ghosts. One of my favorite moments was when they all apologized for doubting me.

  And just when I think I’ve avoided everyone, I spot Niall waiting for me by the double doors. I so don’t want to talk to him either. Yes, I’m a chicken and don’t want to learn my boyfriend doesn’t believe me either. That would destroy my control.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” I ask, then realize he’s wearing his uniform.

  “I’m on light duty,” Niall says shrugging. “I was bored.”

  We stand there awkwardly for a few moments. When he keeps staring at me with pity, I go for humor. “Looks like I’m getting those couple days off after all. A vacation for one in a rubber room. Lucky me.”

  Niall doesn’t laugh. “Mouse—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  He cocks his head. “Say what?”

  “What’s written on your face.” I gesture. “The stress has gotten to you, Mouse. It’s for the best.”

  “Does the Q-net allow you to read minds now?”

  That surprises a laugh from me. “Yes. Q is a divine being that has granted me great powers. That’s genius, Toad. I can add megalomania to my list of mental disorders.”

  “Are you done?” Now he’s angry.

  I sigh. “Yes.”

  “Did you ever think that I might believe you?” he asks.

  Oh no. “You said it was ridiculous.”

  “When you were speculating that the Q-net did something to you. You didn’t tell me about your conversation with the Q-net. You never said you thought it might be sentient. I didn’t have all the facts.”

  “Since you thought the speculation was ridiculous, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’d think the rest was crazy.”

  “How can you assume that? Haven’t I supported you from the beginning? Who showed you that video from the pits when everyone thought the HoLFs were just a concussion-induced delusion?”

  “I…”

  He waits.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s it? You’re sorry?” His tone is icy.

  Wow, I’ve really pissed him off. “It was a knee-jerk reaction. A part of me thought everyone would believe me in that meeting. When they didn’t…I felt betrayed and immediately went on the defensive. If I’d stopped and thought about it, I’d’ve realized you would be on my side. Except, I didn’t. I jumped straight into wallowing in self-pity.”

  The tension in his shoulders eased. “And when you do something, you’re all in.”

  “Hey!” I try to act insulted, but can’t maintain it for long. “So, yes, I’m sorry for not thinking you might believe me.” I pause. “Does this mean you believe me?”

  “I believe in you.”

  That’s an interesting response. “What does that mean?”

  “Obviously something happened. Your skills with the Q-net have gone off the charts. There’s a reason for it. You say it’s because the Q-net is sentient and chose you. That could be the reason, or there might be another explanation. I don’t know.” He holds up his hand to stop my reply. “What I don’t believe is the reason is because you’re mentally unstable or stressed or suffering from PTSD. I know you’re competent and capable. I believe in you.”

  I just about melt. “I can live with that.” And it’s close to what Beau said.

  He smiles. “Good. Now I can give you your present.”

  My mood lifts. “A kiss?”

  “I’m in uniform.”

  We both glance at the camera.

  He digs into one of the many pockets of his black tactical pants and brings out two candy bars. I laugh as he hands them to me. He remembered when we’d been on the Interstellar Class space ship and I’d told him if I was sent to the brig he had to smuggle in candy for me.

  I hide them in my backpack. “Thanks.”

  “I only brought two because I’ve full confidence that you won’t be there more than two days.”

  “I hope I don’t disappoint you. See you later.” I give him a half wave.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “You don’t need to. I know the way.”

  “Uh…I’ve been assigned to escort you there.” He has the decency to look embarrassed.

  My mood turns dark and scary. “I hate your father right now.”

  “At least he didn’t assign someone else.”

  True. That would have been torture. “Still hate him.”

  “Been there. Do you want me to channel some of my childhood anger and join you in a mutual Radcliff hate fest?”

  “Would you?”

  “Of course.”

  Best boyfriend ever. We spend the trip to the infirmary reminiscing about all the times Radcliff caused each of us to hate him with the power of the burning sun. It’s fun until we stand outside the doors. All my good humor drains and I’m left with an uneasy, slightly nauseous skittering in my stomach.

  “I’d rather go fight shadow-blobs,” I say.

  Niall gives me a quick hug. “You’ll be fine.”

  We go inside and a nurse spots me. He hustles over with a portable in his hand. “We’ve been expecting you, Miss Lawrence. This way, please.” He glances at Niall. “No visitors are allowed until Dr. Bharathi gives permission.”

  The news of no visitors is actually a relief. Except for Niall and maybe Beau, I’ve no desire to see or talk with anyone. “Later, Toad,” I say.

  “Two days, Mouse,” he says and leaves.

  I follow the nurse to a part of the infirmary I haven’t been in before. It’s past ICU and all the small bays for recovering patients. We go through a sturdy pair of double doors, down a carpeted hallway, and into a room that’s bigger than the ones I’ve stayed in when I was healing from my multiple injuries. A soothing blue plush carpet covers the floor. The bed is normal—no rails or machines. There’s a bureau, desk, and a chair. No terminal or screen, but there’s a washroom.

  The nurse hands me the portable. “Dr. Bharathi asks that you complete the questionnaire. Once you’re finished, she’ll be in to see you.” He leaves.

  The door clicks shut and I wait for the snap of a lock. It doesn’t sound, but I test it anyway. It swings open and I peek out. The corridor is empty. No guards. Perhaps this won’t be like detention. I retreat inside and inspect the door. There’s no way to lock it on this side. Setting my backpack down on the bed—there’s no way I’m unpacking—I examine the room and find the hidden camera in the side wall. No surprise, but it’s still unsettling. Is someone going to watch me sleep? I check the washroom next and am relieved when I don’t find a camera. I also don’t find a lock on that door either. Okay then.

  I sit on the bed and bring up the questionnaire, reading through it first. There’s a series of personal questions about my thoughts and dreams. Things like do I have nightmares, and, if yes, how often? Followed by a space to write in details of any recurring nightmares. Then there’s the queries about my mental health. Things like do I experience times of overwhelming anxiety? I have to laugh over the series of hypothetical scenarios with four choices—if you’re feeling overwhelmed do you do A—confide in a friend, B—tell your legal guardian, C—keep it to yourself, or D—ignore it.

  It doesn’t take me long to figure out what they’re seeking. Depending on how I answer the questions and the choices I make, I can either come across as perfectly harmless or seriously disturbed. Should I lie and let them think everything is all sunshine and roses in my world? Or do I have fun and allow them to think I’m stark raving mad? I’m tempted to be a brat. After all, I agreed to be here, but I never promised to cooperate.

  In the end, I decide to answer the quest
ions honestly. Mental health issues are serious and I shouldn’t be treating this like a joke. These evaluations actually help people and I’m being an insensitive jerk. I concentrate on the form.

  Do you have nightmares? Yes.

  How frequent are they? Every night.

  Please describe a typical nightmare. They’re all about Jarren. Every night he comes into my room carrying an explosive device. I’m lying in my bed and he places it on my chest. It’s heavy and so cold it burns my skin. He tells me to stay still and not to cry out. The slightest movement will detonate it. Terrified, I lie frozen in place, sipping the air so I don’t jostle the device and set it off.

  What I don’t add is that’s when Q arrives and rescues me. We fly to the edges of the Galaxy and, by the time I return, Jarren and his device are gone and I’m at peace.

  Four

  2522:248

  About an hour after I finish the questionnaire, there’s a light knock at my door. That knock is a promising sign. I call out a “come in.” Dr. Bharathi enters. She’d patched me up after a skirmish with the shadow-blobs when Dr. Edwards was busy saving Niall’s life. I’m guessing she’s in her late thirties. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a French braid. She has big brown eyes, light brown skin, and is wearing a lab coat over a pink blouse and black dress pants.

  “Hello Ara, how are you doing?”

  That’s a loaded question. “Do you want pleasant small talk or the truth?”

  She doesn’t miss a beat. “I’ll take the truth every time.”

  “In that case, I’m very unhappy, and I want this over as fast as possible. So what do I need to do to get back to work?”

  “Keep up the frank honesty and we’ll get along just fine.”

  That’s easy to do. Let’s hope I don’t give her nightmares. “Great. What’s next?”

  “Are you always this impatient?”

  Am I? “Only when we’re wasting time.”

  “All right then, let’s go to my office for a chat.”

  I follow her down the hallway, through a small medical lab, and into her office. Instead of sitting behind the pristine desk, she gestures to a couple of armchairs that are next to each other—not quite facing, but angled so you don’t have to crane your neck to talk. I plop into the one on the right. Bharathi snags a portable from her desk and sits in the other chair with a graceful elegance. Straightening, I cross my ankles. Who are you calling self-conscious?