Page 7 of Galactic Sentinels, Vol. 1 (Chronicles of Pherebos #1)

This is the second time in less than a year that I’ve stood in this same cafeteria, surrounded by the same sterile walls, for the same heartbreaking reason. Another funeral. Another space release.

But now it’s her lying there. My mother.

She died yesterday—cardiac arrest. Alone in her lab, working late again, chasing a cure for Prianka.

She gave everything to that mission. Nights without sleep, endless stress, the weight of hope and fear pressing on her heart until it finally gave out.

Dr. Fanyoru told us this morning. They found her early, but it was already too late.

It’s unbearable. But I have to hold it together. I’m all Prianka has now. I’ve been her anchor for years, and I have to be even stronger now.

I’m standing behind her wheelchair, just a few steps from Mom’s remains. I rest my hands on her shoulders, trying to warm her. She’s trembling—maybe from shock, maybe from her illness. I glance at Fanyoru. He catches my eye and gives a small nod—he’ll check on her soon.

As the ceremony ends, Prianka starts to sob. And I feel myself unraveling. I want to cry with her, to fall apart. But I can’t. Not yet.

People begin to drift away, returning to their routines. Only Fanyoru, Henri, Prianka, and I remain.

Henri clears his throat. “Ileana, could I speak with you for a moment? We need to talk about your situation now that your mother’s gone.”

I look up at him, my eyes stinging. Now? He wants to talk about this now?

“I’m taking Prianka for a check-up,” Fanyoru says quickly, stepping in.

He grips the wheelchair handles and starts guiding her toward the exit.

“Let’s check your vitals, Prianka. And I’ll make you a hot infusion—you’re shivering.

Ileana, you can come pick her up later. Take your time. She’s in good hands.”

I watch them leave, silent, a chill creeping down my spine. This is the moment I’ve been dreading—alone with Henri. The man who stirs up so many tangled feelings inside me .

I glance up at him, wary.

“I’m so sorry for what’s happened to you and your sister,” he says softly. “Who could’ve imagined Chandra would leave us like this? She wasn’t even forty-five.”

I stare at him, saying nothing.

He’s wearing his formal uniform today—the one with the black diagonal bars across the chest that mark his rank on the base. His voice is soft, his expression full of sympathy, like always. Everything about him says he cares.

But it doesn’t matter. Henri has always made me uneasy.

After a long pause, he finally speaks.

“Ileana, you know how much I care about you. I mean, about you and Prianka. This whole situation… it’s just awful.”

He sighs, his tone heavy with regret. “But the truth is, your position here has always been a bit… exceptional. You understand, right? On a small base like BN-35, everyone has a role. Roland and Chandra were both genetic researchers, so they were allowed to keep their daughter with them—even though she was sick. I think that’s why they adopted you after your biological parents died when you were two. So you could stay.”

I feel a chill creep up my spine. I don’t know exactly where he’s going with this, but I have a sinking feeling I already do. Panic starts to rise in my chest.

“What are you saying?” I ask, my voice tight.

“Ileana,” he says gently, “now that Chandra’s gone… you can’t stay on BN-35. Not without someone st epping in to support you. Prianka can’t work, and you’re fully occupied taking care of her.”

“I can help!” I cut in, my voice sharper than I intended. “I’ve completed all the general medicine modules. I know the theory inside and out. I’ve passed every exam they let me take.”

“But you’ve never practiced,” he replies, still calm. “And your time is already stretched thin with Prianka. Realistically, you should be preparing to transfer to one of the terraformed worlds.”

A terraformed world?

I’ve seen the vids. They look peaceful, green, full of light. I’m not afraid of change. I’m not afraid of leaving this place behind. My only fear is being separated from Prianka.

BN-35 was important to our parents because of their research—osteogenesis imperfecta, brittle bone disease. But that mission died with them. Now, it’s just the two of us. And if we can be together, if I can care for her somewhere safe, then maybe it’s time to go.

“I understand,” I finally say, my voice low. “We’ll take the next shuttle—wherever you decide to send us.”

Henri’s expression shifts slightly. He tilts his head, almost pitying. “I’m afraid you don’t fully grasp the situation, my dear.”

He steps closer, his tone soft but firm. “Your sister’s bones are extremely fragile. Over the years, how many times has she needed the regeneration sarcophagi just to recover from fractures? ”

I hesitate. “I… I’m not sure,” I admit, thinking back to just a few weeks ago when Prianka broke both wrists trying to lift a box that was too heavy.

“I checked her file,” he says, his voice calm, clinical.

“She uses the sarcophagi several times a year. And you know as well as I do—those cycles are limited. They’re not meant to be used this frequently.

If you leave for a terraformed world, you’ll be going as civilians.

No access to advanced medical tech. No sarcophagi. ”

I stare at him, stunned. Without the sarcophagi, Prianka’s already fragile life would become nearly impossible. They don’t cure her disease, but they’ve kept her going—mending the breaks, the tears, the damage her body can’t handle on its own. Without them, her life expectancy would plummet.

Henri watches me closely. His smile is gentle, but there’s something else behind it—something sharper. A flicker of satisfaction.

“I’ve thought this through carefully,” he continues. “There’s a shuttle to Jaga-11 leaving in three days. You and Prianka can take it. Or…”

“Or?” I ask, my heart pounding.

He pauses, then says, “I’ve just been offered the position of Governor of Jaga-18. The new administrator of BN-35 will arrive in about three months. After that, I’ll be transferred to Jaga-18.”

The implication hangs in the air between us, unspoken but heavy.

He’s offering me a choice—but it doesn’t feel like one .

My mind is racing. Is he suggesting we go to Jaga-18? He knows our file—maybe he’s planning to help us there, maybe he’ll make sure Prianka has access to the regeneration sarcophagi?

For a moment, a fragile hope flickers in my chest.

But it dies just as quickly when I catch the smirk he fails to hide. That glint in his eyes isn’t kindness—it’s satisfaction.

“You see,” he says, “as governor, I’d have certain… privileges. I think I could easily secure a dedicated regeneration sarcophagus for your sister.”

“That would be… wonderful,” I reply, cautiously.

“Come on, Ileana. Don’t be naive. I can’t request that kind of favor for just anyone—it would be chaos. But no one would question it if I asked for it on behalf of my companion’s sick sister.”

My stomach turns.

So that’s it. That’s what excites him. It was never about my mother. It was always about me.

I force myself to say it out loud, to strip away any illusion: “If I understand correctly… either I become your companion, and Prianka and I go with you to Jaga-18 where she’ll have access to a sarcophagus… or we go to Jaga-11, where she’ll die without care.”

A flicker of irritation crosses his face before he nods.

“I’ll give you time to think it over,” he says smoothly. “You have three days. But I’m not a monster, Ileana. With me, you’d have an enviable position—governor’s companion. You’d be free to care for Prianka however you like. I think the choice is pretty obvious. But I won’t rush you. ”

“Obvious?” I scoff, bitter. “You’re asking me to agree to be with a man older than my mother. A man I don’t love. Just to save my sister’s life?”

His expression darkens. His fists clench, and for a second, the polished mask slips. Then he exhales, smoothing his features into something softer—something almost tender.

“Don’t be so harsh,” he says. “Surely you’ve noticed I’ve been smitten with you since day one. You’re beautiful, Ileana. I know I’m more experienced, and I understand you don’t love me—yet. But I’m patient. You’ll come around. All I’m offering is security. For you. For Prianka. Think it over.”

He steps forward and presses a chaste kiss to my forehead before turning and walking out, leaving me alone in the silence.

Maybe I misunderstood.

Maybe when Henri said “companion,” he meant it in the official sense—someone to stand beside him at ceremonies, to share quarters, to play the role. Maybe he didn’t mean anything more.

But the moment I let myself entertain that thought, I know I’m lying to myself.

He’s right—I’m not naive. I’ve seen the way he looks at me. That gaze has always made my skin crawl. This wasn’t a suggestion. It was an ultimatum.

I need space. I head to the small relaxation and meditation room, hoping no one will disturb me. I just lost my mother. That should buy me a little solitude .

The room is simple—three large armchairs facing the outer wall of the base. I glance at the viewport, then sink into one of the chairs and let my eyes drift toward the stars.

The vastness of space stretches out before me—silent, endless, beautiful. It’s the only thing that makes sense right now. The only thing that doesn’t ask anything of me.

Henri was right about one thing: the choice is obvious. I can’t give up access to the regeneration sarcophagus. Prianka is my priority. Always has been.

I know how rare those devices are. How tightly regulated. How every cycle counts. But Prianka has always been an exception. Her bones snap like dry twigs. Sometimes they tear through muscle, even graze organs. She’s alive because of those machines.

If going to Jaga-18 is the only way to keep her alive, then that’s where we’ll go.