“How about this: Try not to engage at all, just watch my back. If you get caught up in it, stay inside their guard so they can’t shoot you. Use your knife if you have to, but use your Imprints for defense, first and foremost.”
“What about…” He lowered his voice and leaned toward her. “Volatile interfacing?”
“So long as your Sentinel Imprints aren’t activated at the same time, you’ll be fine.”
He frowned and gave her what he knew to be a sheepish, pathetic look.
“I promise not to activate them,” she assured. “And the mainframe is still rebooting, so the controls won’t work anyway.” She scoffed. “Plus, why the fuck would I?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “If I do something stupid…”
“Well, that’s guaranteed. But I still don’t see the logic in taking down my only ally when it’s two against fifty.” She turned and looked at the pile of bodies behind her. “Forty-five, I guess. Maybe forty after the ones you guys killed.”
Forty. Forty Drudgers. That’s what he’d just agreed to. No, not agreed to—insisted on. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Hey, calm down,” she said, gripping both his shoulders. “You’re not off to a good start.”
“I’m fine,” he squeaked, eyes darting around. “What makes you think I’m not calm?”
Rake blew out a heavy breath and dropped her hands from his shoulders. “Okay, we don’t have time to keep talking about it. You wanna do this or not?”
He nodded and tried to focus on the cool, refreshing epithesium coursing through his blood. Maybe that had been what’d turned him suicidal. Did an abundance of unfocused energy equate to blind, illogical courage? Could this even be called courage?
He mustered every ounce of nerve he had in an effort to steady his voice. To sound confident. To sound like he wasn’t panicking about willingly putting himself in mortal danger. “Yes, sir.”
Rake gave him one last assessment, her narrowed eyes sharp and serious. He was sure she was about to change her mind, insist he leave her, find his way back to Jackin and the others, and get some real, proper help.
But instead, she took a step toward him, lowering her voice to a growl. “You stay on my six.”
He managed a single nod, his stomach doing that unsettling flop that sent warm tingles up his spine. “Yes, sir.”
Rake unslung her rifle and headed down the hall toward the air lock where the Drudgers’ ship had docked. Gun raised, she quickly swept the secondary air-lock door before crossing through the threshold. Her feet moved silently beneath her with unsettling deftness, and Cavalon felt like a lumbering oaf in comparison, boots shuffling loudly against the metal floor. Rake’s movements were clean and methodical, aim focusing into each corner and crevice as they made their way through the redundant air locks. Cavalon found himself glued to her heel.
She glared back at him over her shoulder, then whispered, “I’m happy to be your human shield, but you really don’t need to stand so close.”
He gulped and nodded, letting her take a few steps ahead before following again.
They walked through the open hatch of the Drudgers’ ship and into a dingy vestibule, which forked into two corridors leading to either side of the vessel. The stale air reeked of earthy Drudger musk, but there were no Drudgers in sight.
The bare bulbs cast the area in dim but harsh light, throwing the corners into deep shadows that made Cavalon’s skin crawl. Rake didn’t seem disturbed, likely instantly dismissing their threat due to the fact that they weren’t large enough for anything to hide in, or that Drudgers simply weren’t patient—or smart—enough to hide in them. He supposed the one easy thing about fighting Drudgers was their brash impetuousness. They’d charge toward you headfirst without a second thought, or even a care for their own well-being. Strategy or deftness didn’t play into it, so you always knew what to expect.