Defending the Galaxy: The Sentinels of the Galaxy Read online

  “It’s okay if you still consider him a friend,” she says. “To you it’s only been two-hundred and fifty or so days since you and Jarren were good friends. Since you were sad to leave him behind. To him, it’s been over twenty-two Actual years since he last saw you. He’s changed quite a bit.”

  Yeah, into a murdering looter. “There are times when I admire his skills with the Q-net, but Jarren is not my friend. He is the enemy.”

  “He has spared your life a number of times.”

  I open my mouth to correct her. He killed me once and had every intention of doing it again until I tricked him.

  “He could have killed you in the pits that first time you encountered him. And he’s had plenty of opportunities since. Yet he didn’t. Why do you think he spared you?”

  I mull over her question. “The first time because we were friends and he didn’t consider me a threat. The second, when I was a threat, he claimed I’d figure out the mystery of the Terracotta Warriors, but he wasn’t ready to kill me. Instead, he offered me a chance to join forces.” Tempting for a nanosecond. “The third time, he wanted information about how we stopped the HoLFs.” He was right about one thing. I am a threat. I’m close to figuring out the Warriors. I just need time to uncover all the details and prove my various theories. Too bad I’m stuck here.

  “But each time he was thwarted, Dr. Bharathi, he didn’t hesitate to kill me. I hold no warm and fuzzy feelings for him.” Phantom pain pricks my back. Although I know the explosive device is gone, there’s still a weight between my shoulder blades.

  “Do you regret not killing Jarren when you had the chance?”

  Shocked, I stare at her. What kind of question is that? “I never considered killing him!” I tap my chest. “I’m one of the good guys. We don’t kill people unless there is no other option.” And I just about quoted Jarren. Is that a symptom of mental unbalance? No, it’s just accurate.

  We talk some more until I start yawning. It’s been a long day and we only stopped for two short breaks so I could eat. Bharathi hands me another portable to take back to my room.

  “Just one more cognitive test before bed.”

  “Oh joy.”

  She laughs and shoos me from her office. “I’m sure you can find your way.”

  I appreciate the trust as I return to my room. Yes, I know there are cameras in the hallway, but it’s still nice. Before doing the test, I take a shower, washing away the sticky residue of the sensors and dried sweat. Donning my pajamas, I hop into bed and cue up my homework while munching on one of my candy bars. Mmmm…fake chocolate.

  While I’m answering the various questions, I can’t help thinking of Niall, wondering what he’s doing. Is he back on regular duty or still taking it easy? I imagine him sitting on his couch drawing a picture in one of his sketchbooks. The desire to join him throbs in my chest. Will we ever get another proper date? All the emotions I’ve been suppressing since this first started well up my throat. I hunch over the portable as unstoppable tears leak from my eyes.

  The portable’s screen turns black for a second then a photo of Niall appears. He’s standing in the middle of the hallway that runs through the housing units for the officers. Wearing a black T-shirt—my favorite one and he knows it—and jeans, he holds two pieces of paper toward the camera. One says, Miss you, Mouse, with a heart. The other is a drawing of me. I’m wearing my jumpsuit while holding a null wave emitter. There’s an army of Warriors behind me with fierce expressions. He’s titled the picture Queen of the Shadows. His expression has a little bit of a snark in it. As if he knows I’ll be watching even though I’m not allowed. I laugh as more tears fall. The Q-net has given me this gift and I save the photo to my cluster. Then I wipe my eyes and return to the test more determined than ever to prove to everyone that I’m not imagining things. Thanks, Toad.

  The nurse arrives after I finish and I take my sleeping pills without complaint. Another night of nothing and I’m woken by Keath-the-nurse-who-has-Ara-babysitting-duty-until-dinner. He informs me that I have another session with Dr. Bharathi after I finish breakfast.

  This morning’s heart-to-heart focuses on the looter attack and why I didn’t run away when I had the chance. I explain about wanting to cover the hatch to the factory and save the Warrior hearts, but this time, I’m honest.

  “I felt compelled to protect them. In here.” I tap my chest. “After I’d touched that heart, I had a…connection to the Warriors. I just didn’t know it at the time. Huh.”

  “Huh?”

  “Of those who have touched a heart, I wonder if they feel that connection as well. Have you asked anyone else?”

  She clears her throat and smooths the sleeves of her lab coat.

  I’ll take that as a no. But I wonder if everyone would be more open to the idea of testing out a Warrior portal if they had that bond as well.

  There’s a light knock at the door. Bharathi is quick with the come in.

  Keath pokes his head into the room. “Is Ara ready for lunch?”

  “Yes, we’re done. For now.”

  That “for now” sounds ominous. After a trip to the cafeteria with Keath, I’m back with Dr. Bharathi and her endless questions. More tests in the evening are followed by the oblivion that is sleep. The fourth day is more of the same and a heavy sensation weighs on my shoulders. Niall predicted I’d be back in two days. I’m letting him down. Before leaving Bharathi at the end of the day, I ask her if I have to stay here much longer.

  “It depends on the test results.” She holds up a finger. “I’m waiting on a few more. Once I have them, then we’ll have a conference.”

  Day five isn’t a good one for either of us. Here’s an example of one of our exchanges:

  * * *

  Me (impatient and grumpy): You asked me that question three times already and the answer has been the same All. Three. Times. Why don’t you go through your recordings if you want to hear the answer again?

  Her (shocked and suspicious): How do you know I’ve been recording our sessions?

  Me (frustrated and annoyed): I’m not an idiot. And I’m a security officer.

  Her (exasperated and condescending): You’re a junior officer in training, Ara, you’re not—

  Me (angry and accusing): I’m not what? A part of the team? Not responsible for the safety of the base?

  Her (sighing): Perhaps we should take a break.

  * * *

  Yeah, I’m not proud of day five. And I suspect Dr. Bharathi isn’t either. Day six is better because I’m told early in the morning that the results of all my tests have been collected and reviewed and we’re going to have a conference at thirteen hundred hours to discuss the next step. Finally, progress!

  With my stomach threatening to turn inside out, I arrive at Bharathi’s office a few minutes early. Anxious to get this over and done with, I practically run into her office. Then I stop dead. My parents are there.

  Five

  2522:253

  Another ambush. Or so it feels. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied with getting the results, I would have realized that my parents would be invited to the conference. They’re sitting in two chairs facing Bharathi’s desk. There’s another one set up next to them. My mom and dad hop to their feet with exclamations of love and support. I’m soon squished in a parent sandwich. Except I’m not in the reciprocating mood. Quite the opposite. And when my arms refuse to wrap around them, they step away awkwardly and resume their seats.

  Bharathi’s keen gaze notes all this, but I don’t care. Wary of this entire encounter, I move my chair, increasing the distance between me and my parents and angle it slightly so I can face all three adults. We are not in this together. No. It’s me against them. And that’s exactly what my body language says. Bharathi can write a medical paper on it and get famous.

  The Doc clears her throat and begins, detailing all the tests she ran. My parents are attentive, but keep sneaking glances at me. I keep my expression neutral. When Bharathi finally reveals the resu
lts of all those tests, all I hear is normal. Normal. Normal. Normal. Normal.

  “She does have elevated levels of adrenaline, cortisol, and norepinephrine. All three are stress hormones, but that’s to be expected considering what she has been through,” Bharathi says.

  Then back to another string of normals. Music to my ears.

  “Her brain activity is different than both before and after the concussion. Since she’s been scanned a few times after the attack, we have a record of the changes. Each time the neural activity was somewhat altered until this most recent one, which is very different.”

  “Is that bad?” Mom asks.

  “They’re all normal, but people don’t usually change that drastically or that quickly.”

  I jump in. “But they do change?”

  “Yes, during major life events, and as a person learns new skills.”

  “Dr. Bharathi, I think both those qualifiers can be applied to me.”

  “Which is why I’m not that concerned.”

  Whew. I relax back in my seat.

  The doctor continues, “Another interesting result is her cognitive scores. They’ve actually improved quite a bit since before her concussion. I tested her twice and the results were the same. Her analytical thinking scores were by far her strongest. They are well above average for her age group and are another skill that has improved.”

  Go me.

  Bharathi finishes her report then places her elbows on her desk, laying her arms on top of each other. She leans forward and I brace for the big announcement. Something like, I’m sorry, but Ara has a brain tumor. Or, I’m sorry, she’s totally and completely nuts.

  “According to all the tests, Ara is completely healthy, both physically and mentally,” Bharathi says.

  I resist the temptation to jump up and yell, Told You! And I don’t whoop with joy and kiss the doctor either. Because there’s that whole body language thing, and no one appears as happy as I do. They’re tense and bewildered and frowning.

  “But what about her belief that the Q-net is sentient?” Mom asks.

  “It is not causing her any stress. Her quality of life isn’t affected by it. It is most likely a coping mechanism. Considering what she’s been through, it’s…a bit odd, yes, but not concerning.”

  The unspoken not yet hangs in the air so I say, “And I’m happy never to mention it again.”

  My parents aren’t appeased. “What about the change in her neural activity?” Dad asks. “Could that be a sign of undiagnosed brain trauma?”

  “Or perhaps that her interactions in the Q-net have damaged her wiring?” Mom adds.

  Oh for stars’ sake, did they not listen to the woman? “Dr. Bharathi, can’t you match the changes in my brain activity to what was going on in my life?” Because I know that every time my skills with the Q-net improved something major was going on.

  She purses her lips. “There’s no evidence that her wiring was damaged.”

  Great. I stand up. “Can I go back to work now?”

  “No,” Mom says, also getting to her feet. But it’s not as impressive as she’s nine centimeters shorter than me.

  “Why not?”

  “There’s something going on and, until we figure it out, you will stay out of the Q-net.” She turns to Bharathi, probably hoping for an ally. “You said time will heal brain trauma, right?”

  Frustration pulls all my muscles into one giant knot. “There’s no proof of any brain trauma. No evidence. You’re a scientist, for stars’ sake.” And then it hits me. She’s also a mother. A mother who saw her daughter in the hands of Jarren, who’d shot her. Saw her with an explosive device attached to her back. Thinking about it, it had to have been pretty horrific to watch. Perhaps Mom is suffering from PTSD. “You can’t ground me because you’re terrified.”

  She crosses her arms. “Technically I can.”

  Point to her. “Let me restate, you can’t risk everyone’s lives in this base because you’re terrified of losing me.”

  “We have Tace and his team, and Jarren is in our custody. We’ll figure it out,” she says. “Besides the rest of the looters are not going to blow us up when we have sixty-eight of their people.”

  I don’t remind her that they sent a missile to do exactly that when we had sixteen of their people. “I wish I had your optimism, Mom, but I’ve seen what they can do and they’re quite clever. I’m sure they’ll find a way to attack us again and avoid killing their people.”

  “No. I’m your legal guardian, and I’m in charge of this base.”

  Which means she can ground me and tell Radcliff I’m no longer allowed to be on the security team. No doubt he’ll take her side. He’s done it before—the rat bastard. Time for some negotiations. “Mom, you can’t keep me from accessing the Q-net unless you drug me all day and all night. I’d prefer to avoid that,” I hurry to add. “How about a compromise? If you allow me to keep training with Elese and working with the security team, I’ll promise not to entangle with the Q-net.”

  “No. I don’t want you in security. You’re coming back to our unit.”

  And now who’s the crazy lady? I meet my father’s gaze. Do something! But he gives me the helpless you-know-how-stubborn-your-mother-is shrug. Infuriating. Because I do know. She has decided that I’ll be safer with her, where she can keep a close eye on me, thinking that she’s protecting me.

  In the end, I trail them back to my prison. Mom is holding a bottle of sleeping pills—good luck getting me to take them—and my dad is carrying my backpack like I’m two years old. They chat about…I’ve no idea. I’m not listening. Instead, I’m trying to decide what I should do. Do I be a model daughter and wait them out for a few days? Or do I completely ignore them and go help Beau right away? I promised to stay out of the Q-net during the medical evaluation and I did. I’ve been declared heathy by a medical professional. As far as I’m concerned I’m under no obligation to continue with that promise.

  We reach my old bedroom and Mom opens the door. “See? It’s just as you left it.”

  I peer inside. Not quite. The terminal and screen are missing. My mother is in serious denial. At least I still have my own washroom—the only thing I missed while living with Radcliff.

  “Why don’t you rest up before dinner? Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

  That’s unexpected. “Oh?”

  “Yes, you’ve lots of school work to catch up on. You can use my portable. I copied all your assignments to it. You’ll also work in my office in the morning.”

  I blink at her. Is she serious?

  “And you’ll be going to soch-time. I’ve already informed the facilitator to expect you.”

  Oh. My. Stars. I don’t know whether to cry or laugh. I opt for staring at her in stunned silence.

  Which she ignores. “You’re forbidden to go in the Q-net. And tonight I’m making your favorite dish.” She hurries off to cook dinner.

  See here’s the thing. My mother is used to her daughter, Lyra Daniels, being a good girl. Other than minor infractions like worming in the Q-net, sneaking out of the base, and having some hooch with the chemists, Lyra was pretty mild and she earned high grades. Same as her brother Phoenix. Nice kids, no real problems. My parents are expecting Ara Lawrence to be the same way. Well, they’re in for a big surprise. Because Ara isn’t like Lyra. And if they’re going to treat Ara like a teenage delinquent, well, then that’s what they’re going to get. This might actually be fun.

  I toss my backpack on the armchair. This room is bigger than my room at Radcliff’s. There’s more furniture, a bigger desk, and a huge closet that seems even more cavernous without anything in it. It’s weird. Like I’m in another person’s bedroom. Someone who has moved out or is attending university and I’m just visiting.

  There’s no decorations on the walls. I miss Niall’s mother’s paintings. Thinking of Niall, I check under the bed for dust bunny assassins. I also scan the room for hidden cameras without looking like that’s what I’m doing.

>   No dust bunnies, but I spot one camera. I try really hard not to hate on my mom. She’s worried about me and trying to do what she thinks is best. And I’m hoping that this crazy person she’s turned into will eventually go away and my sensible, loving mother will return. In the meantime, I’m going to fix a few things.

  I test out the softness of the bed. The sheets and my favorite blanket smell clean and fresh. It’s been an exhausting day, so I lie down, rolling on my side so the camera’s at my back. Then I connect to Q. I’m welcomed back. Not with words, but a general atmosphere of happiness. And no, I’m not sharing that with anyone. I’ve learned my lesson. My own emotions are mixed between a sense of rightness and guilt.

  Tapping into the camera’s feed, I check what part of my room it’s recording—the bed and desk. At least it doesn’t have an infrared sensor. I let it record me faking sleep. My first task is checking for any messages for me. There’s three from Niall. One for each day I stayed past his guess that I’d be there only two days.

  2522:251: Hey Mouse. I was wrong. I figured you’d be done by now, but you’re either not cooperating or getting the full work up. Knowing you, I’d say they’re doing a complete and thorough evaluation. Good. Then you’ll have proof of your competency, and I’m willing to wait a couple extra days so you don’t have to go through this again. But not too many days, Mouse. I miss you like crazy. Also dinners are excruciating. All my dad and your parents discuss is the base’s security. No one mentions you. It’s like there’s this giant black hole in the middle of the kitchen that everyone edges around and ignores. Weird. I’ve asked if I can come visit you and the immediate answer of no was curt and dismissive as if I just asked to strangle a puppy. I don’t know if you’ll get this or not. I’m using a portable and it’s not going through the Q-net so it wouldn’t break your promise to read it. They have to let you access your personal messages…right? I did send you another message, but if you’re being good, you won’t see that one. You’re curious now, aren’t you?