“Depending on girth,” she continued, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, “the organ can be located as deep as twelve to twenty centimeters within the thoracic cavity. If you need additional time to locate it, you can also puncture one of three respiratory organs to subdue them further.”
She used two fingers to point out one spot at each collarbone and one at the base of his neck.
Her brow furrowed and she huffed. “This is somewhat pointless without a proper anatomical model.” She glanced over her shoulder, as if she expected to find a Drudger carcass lying around to use as a subject.
Cavalon grinned fully, no longer trying to temper his amused incredulity. Mesa was fucking scary.
“That’s okay, really,” he said. “I’ll keep all that in mind. Thanks.”
Mesa lifted her chin. “You are welcome.”
“Though, it’s been hours. Maybe they’re not coming?”
“Adversaries rarely appear when it is convenient.”
“True. Well…” He held up the water canteen toward her. “Here’s to hoping they have better things to do than monitor a busted Apollo Gate at the ass-edge of the universe.”
Mesa pinched her lips together, like she’d tasted something sour. “Yes. Here is to … hoping.”
He took a deep swig from the canteen, and it tasted like ice-cold heaven—fierce and dark and beyond refreshing. The cold water surged down his throat and coated his stomach, and the welcome chill raced directly into his blood. He coughed lightly as he pulled the canteen away from his lips, shocked by the water’s intensity.
Mesa’s overlarge eyes regarded him steadily. He stared back.
She cleared her throat. “That water is laced with epithesium.”
He laughed. “Oh, yeah?”
“For subcellular hydration, alveoli oxidation, et cetera. For energy.”
“Yeah, I know what it is.”
“It is natural and perfectly safe. You have experienced a trauma.”
“Thank you,” he said.
She gave a small nod.
He took another swig, this time less surprised by how intensely refreshing it tasted. “You seem to know a lot about all this fighting stuff. Did you serve in the Resurgence?”
“I no longer fight,” she said plainly, as if that in any way answered the question. “But it is all knowledge, like anything else. I find that can be an equally powerful weapon, when correctly applied.” She straightened her back and kept her eyes on him. “I think that may be something we agree on.”
Cavalon smiled. “Yeah, I think so.”
Mesa let out a small sigh, and for the first time, Cavalon noticed how bloodshot her eyes were. Her beige complexion had lost some of its warmth, thin blue veins visible through the skin.
“Have you had a chance to get any rest?” he asked.
She shook her head once. “Now is as good a time as any, I suppose.”
“You can sleep easy,” he assured, patting the pistol on his thigh. “’Cause now I know how to use this.”
A thin smile spread across her face. “I have never felt safer.”
He inclined his head. “I do what I can.”
She took a few steps toward the doorway, then turned back. “If you are wondering what it is you should be doing, consider finding your commanding officer.”
Right. He had one of those now.
He nodded. “Good idea. Thanks, Mesa. I mean … sir?”