Page 73 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
He looks away again, almost afraid to believe it. But I believe it for him. Sure, he’s grumpy as hell, but his will is made of steel.
Whatever he lost to the slave traders—he’ll get it back. I’m certain of it.
I’m finishing up cleaning my lab while he watches from a chair in the corner. Inside my space, golden light filters through the interlaced branches of the walls. The place is simple but warm, padded with dried moss and leaves, and smells of bark and herbs. Everything’s carefully arranged. Even without walls, each area is clearly defined by rough wooden furniture.
A low table holds a mortar, some linen pouches, and scattered tools. At the back, cords stretched between beams hold hanging plants drying upside down. Baskets gather fallen leaves. A gentle breeze flows through, helping the process.
To the right of the entrance, another table is crowded with composite jars from Gekkar Creek, wooden bowls, carved spatulas. Herbal oils simmer slowly over a clay pot on a bed of hot stones.
I’m making a balm for skin irritation, a salve for burns, a wound paste, and some teas for infection.
But today, I worked on something else. Something even my father didn’t know existed.
Mouerta toxin is a powerful neurotoxic extract from the Mouerta plant. It’s used for its potent anesthetic properties, but mishandling it can release a lethal dose. I rarely make it due to the danger, but I always take every precaution.
Not wanting to leave Nov alone too long, I made a quick run to the colony a few days ago to stock up on supplies. The doctor at Gekkar Creek told me he was running low. I promised to prepare a few vials. Which I did this morning.
I’m now cleaning and putting away my workspace using the big water bucket Goulou provided.
“You seem to really like it here,” Nov says.
“Of course! I started this lab with my mom—she was an herbalist, taught me everything. Actually, Lina taught her first.”
“Lina?”
“An old Gekkari. She passed away a few years ago. She trained Mila and my mom, who then taught Flea and me. There’s something deeply fulfilling about knowing how to use the plants around us.”
“They’re just weeds,” he scoffs.
“Weeds that saved your leg from gangrene and amputation. Weeds that broke your fever too.”
He shrugs, unconvinced.
“I’m done! I’m going to bring the flasks to my aeropod, then deliver them to Gekkar Creek tomorrow.”
“What is it—some potion to curl nose hair?” he snorts, hobbling after me.
“A powerful anesthetic,” I correct. “There are accidents in the greenhouses. If the doctor has to operate, he needs this.”
“Surprising. I didn’t think people still used such primitive methods.”
“Very few planets in the galaxy are technologically advanced. Most live quite simply. The Intergalactic Confederation’s policy is to not interfere with their development.”
“Oh, those Confederation do-gooders,” he sneers.
“Why do you say that? You—”
We're interrupted by a strange noise from above. We look up to see young Gekkaris hanging upside down from their friends’ fronds, staring at us. Or rather—at Nov. They’ve never seen him before. He’s spent most of his time in his hut, only interacting with a handful of adults. This walk through the village? It’s a big deal for curious Gekkari kids.
“What’s their problem?” Nov grumbles.
wNothing. They’ve just never seen a giant hairy beast before!”
“Then let them come closer. I bet they’ve never seen sharp teeth or claws either!”
“Oh, Nov, they’re just kids. Stop playing the big bad wolf. No one’s buying it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
