So even though to Adequin, Griffith had been gone six months, it’d only been two weeks for him and his crew. This had been his assignment for the last three years—three years to her, three months to him.
Griffith dropped his pack off his shoulder and descended the ramp.
“Aevitas fortis, Titan,” she said.
“Aevitas fortis,” he echoed, pausing long enough to press his fist to his chest in a proper salute before continuing toward her.
“I’m gonna catch up with you soon, Centurion.” She threw her arms around the burly man’s neck.
He pulled her close, then let go to look her over. “You haven’t aged a day either, Mo’acair.”
“Yeah, right. If you keep this post, it’ll only be ten years before I’m older than you.”
His dark brown eyes flickered with unease. “You mean ten months?”
She shook her head. “Lace says you owe her a beer.”
Griffith’s jaw firmed, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Goddamn, she’s relentless.”
“About what?”
He rubbed a hand down the side of his face. “Nothin’ important. After twenty years, you’d think I’d learn not to bet against her.”
“One would think,” Adequin agreed. “How’d it go?”
“Nothing to report. Buoys are all clear, no signs of activity. A few minor repairs, but we got it all squared away.”
“Did you dock at the Accora?”
“We did. They’re doing well. Being good Sentinels, as always.”
“They heard from HQ lately?”
Griffith’s brow creased. “They didn’t mention if they had or hadn’t. Why?”
“Nothing.” She blew out a short breath. “They keep delaying meetings. Haven’t had a true status update in five months. I think they’re bored with us.”
He gave her a warm grin. “They just trust you, Quin. They know you have your shit in order here.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Adequin’s nexus beeped, and she glanced at the interface—it was signaling an incoming call from Bray. She tapped the black band on her wrist to open the comm link. “Go for Rake.”
“Sir, Oculus Bray.” Bray’s voice came crackled and staticky over the line. “I have the results of the psych eval you ordered.”
Adequin sighed, exasperated by the reminder of the snarky, entitled bastard. “I’m in the hangar, meet me there.”
“On my way, sir.”
Adequin closed the comm link and offered Griffith a weary grin. “Duty calls.”
He nodded over his shoulder at the Tempus. “I have to do my final report anyway. Drinks tonight?”
“I shouldn’t. I have a ton of paperwork.”
He raised his thick eyebrows.
“Just some reqs and other boring EX stuff.”
He frowned and stuck out his lip. “But I’ve only got thirty-six hours.”
She grinned. “Like I’m gonna let your shore leave lapse without seeing you. We’ll make something work, promise.”
“All right,” he said as he backed toward the ship. “I’m holding you to that.” He turned away and jogged up the ramp, ducking into the Tempus.
Adequin started toward the operations deck, but found Bray had already arrived, marching a brisk pace across the bay toward her.