A groaning creak of metal rang out from the direction Rake had gone. Cavalon looked over his shoulder, but couldn’t see her.
Jackin let out a slow sigh. “Go with the EX, please.”
“Uh … yes, sir.” Cavalon gave a quick, awkward salute. He hadn’t tried that yet. It felt weird. By the grimace Jackin gave him, it must have looked equally strange.
Cavalon shrugged it off and turned to hurry after Rake.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Rake had already made it ten meters down the corridor. Cavalon quickened his pace to catch up.
A small weapons locker sat recessed in the wall, and the once-locked metal door rested mangled and warped on the ground below it. Cavalon stopped to look in. A single plasma rifle was missing from the half dozen lined up inside the locker.
His fingers drifted to the small pistol on his thigh. Though it should in theory do the trick if they encountered a stray Drudger on the way, the station weapons looked far more formidable. Besides, following Rake’s instincts had to be the right call.
He grabbed one of the rifles, then took an extra power cartridge and hurried after her.
“Mercer,” she growled, glaring at him but not decelerating her pace. “What are you doing?”
“Uh, Optio North—” He almost dropped the rifle and ammo, stumbling as the floor sloped upward. “He, uh, told me to go with you.”
“He did, did he?” she muttered.
Cavalon couldn’t quite infer how best to respond, so instead, he focused first on walking, and second on trying to figure out how to load the rifle.
He fumbled with it for a minute until Rake turned and snatched it away from him. Without missing a step, she pulled her already loaded rifle off her back, dropped it into his hands, loaded his in one fluid movement, then slung it across her back.
Cavalon pulled the strap of his new rifle over one shoulder. Despite her purposeful march, he kept up easily, and his heart thrummed and fingers twitched with unused energy. The cold epithesium still coursed through his veins, making his body and mind restless.
Rake took a sharp right to head down another corridor, and the walls narrowed as they wound their way deeper into the station. After a few more minutes of silence, Cavalon took a couple of quick steps to fall in next to Rake.
“So, why’d Puck punch you?” he asked. “Sir.”
She grimaced. “To force me to abandon ship.”
Cavalon nodded, not in any way surprised. He’d been wondering how they’d stopped her from going down with the Argus. Though he had to admit, his congenial CO punching her into submission hadn’t been the first on his list of possible explanations.
It also explained her half-angry, half-annoyed, and fully despondent attitude. She’d been forced to leave most of her soldiers behind, and from the sound of it, the Legion hadn’t done a damn thing to prevent it from happening. But that seemed like a grim topic he wasn’t quite ready to broach.
“So, uh, AJ, huh?” he said. “What’s the J stand for?”
She ignored him, staying focused on the corridor as they walked.
“It’s only fair, right?” he continued. “I mean, you know mine. Augustus, ugh. Dick.” He rolled his eyes. “I bet he wishes he hadn’t given me his name now, huh? Thanks for keeping that from the others, by the way. Or trying to—I think they’re going to figure it out. These Imprints are like a beacon, and I’m so clearly not a soldier, and they already know I’m not a Saxton or a Watts, and this fuckin’ blond hair—”
“Bloody hell, recruit,” she said in disbelief. “Did someone give you quill or something?”
He gaped, dropping his hand away from mussing up his hair. “Why would the Legion have psychotropics on board?”