She pushed herself across the floor and sat against the wall beside him.
“Sir…” he croaked. “What’s … going on?”
Swallowing hard, she slid another saline cartridge in the biotool, then set it aside. She’d wondered when he would start asking questions.
“What happened to the Argus?” he continued. “And what caused that gravity field you pulled us out of?”
“We don’t know for certain…” Her instinct was to play it down, let him rest, not add to his stress. But she’d grown tired of lying about it—to others and to herself. Maybe saying it out loud would help. She took a deep breath. “The Divide appears to be contracting.”
He let out a wheezy snort.
“Unfortunately, I’m not kidding.”
He stayed silent for a few long moments before he spoke, his voice hoarse. “The Divide is the edge of the universe.”
She nodded. “You are correct, Oculus.”
“And you’re telling me you think it’s contracting?”
“Yes.”
“As in, the universe is collapsing?”
“Right.” Adequin chewed her lip while she waited for his response—for an onslaught of panicked questions or accusations about how she’d handled it all wrong. But after a few moments of heavy silence, he merely rubbed his palms down his pale face and let out a deep sigh.
“If it’s okay with you,” he said, “I’m going to file that away for later processing.”
She bobbed her head slowly. “Me too.”
Cavalon fell quiet, and his breath slowed until she was sure he’d fallen asleep.
She craned her neck to look out the staggered doorways into the pristine crew quarters, hunting for something to busy herself with. Unfortunately, she saw nothing that needed doing. She tucked her legs up to her chest and laid her forehead on her knees.
As disconcerting as it was, she wasn’t actually worried about the Divide. Yet. As long as they had access to FTL, they’d be safe for the time being. But what about the thousands of other Sentinels at the Divide? There were dozens of ships just like the Argus stationed along it. Had they met their fates as well, been scrubbed from existence like the soldiers left in her charge? Or did they still have time to warn them?
She breathed into her knees and tried to focus. She needed to take it one step at a time. A task like any other. Step one: Gain access to Kharon Gate so they could fix the comms, contact the Legion, and get new orders. The rest could be determined later.
She took a slow breath and let her eyes drift closed, but had to force them back open a heartbeat later. Every time she shut her eyes, she couldn’t stop seeing Bray screaming, falling away from her, unspooling from existence. And Lace’s defiant glower as she sealed up that damn suit.
Lace had been like family to Griffith, and Adequin had let her die. Her stomach roiled at the thought of having to break that news to him. If she ever even got the chance. Void only knew where he and his crew were. It’d been almost a day since the Tempus left, but to them, it’d have only seemed a couple hours. If they’d even safely joined up with the Divide to start with.
What she didn’t want to admit was how selfish that pain in the pit of her stomach was. She worried for the crew of the Tempus, of course she did. She wanted them all safe. But Griffith was her best friend, her oldest friend, and the only person she’d call family. They’d worked side by side for over ten years; she hardly remembered what her life was like before he was in it. He’d been there when she completed her spec ops training, when Lugen took her under his wing, and for every major campaign to minor skirmish since she joined the Titans. They’d followed each other into the fray countless times, but she didn’t know how to follow him this time.