“Sorry, sir. I can’t speak as to why that—”
“Then give me someone that can,” she snapped back. The why of it didn’t matter, but this kid was useless. She needed someone with enough authority to give them some guidance, tell them what they should be doing next. Or even just how to turn the gate on so they could get back to the Core.
“I can … try to call my CO, I guess…”
She shook her head. “I want to talk to Lugen.”
Murphy’s voice wavered. “Praetor Lugen? I can’t make a summons like that, sir.”
“I’m invoking the Titan prius statute. I order you to connect me directly to Praetor Reneth Lugen.”
Murphy hesitated, more than likely having never heard that directive enacted before. He came back on moments later. “It’s two in the morning here, sir.”
“You think I give a fuck?” she barked. “You want to be on a Titan’s shit list, Oculus?”
“No, sir,” the kid sputtered.
“Then get me Lugen. Now.”
“Okay, sorry, sir. I’ll need to rouse our comms tech, then we’ll have to call around to find the praetor, but I’ll call you back.”
“Do not break this connection,” she warned.
“I won’t, sir,” he assured. “I’m locking it in. I’ll be back.”
He clicked off and left only a stream of steady static behind. Adequin fixated on the comm link and waited in the heavy silence of the room, unmoving, her heart pounding loudly against her ribs.
She didn’t even know where to start. If the Legion had purposefully abandoned Kharon and fully withdrawn from the Divide, then their negligence in not telling her was unheard of. She had no idea how to react.
But that’d just be the icing on the proverbial cake of shit that’d been the Legion’s behavior toward them since she’d arrived at the Argus five years ago. Getting anything beyond the essentials to survive was like pulling teeth. Now, they’d all but gone radio silent. Abandoned them to their fate at the edge of the universe.
Her initial instinct was righteous indignation. She wanted to march straight to Lugen and demand an answer. But she knew it wouldn’t be that easy. She might always technically have the prerogative of having been a Titan, but in sending her to the Sentinels, they’d made it clear they didn’t intend to extend those privileges.
But Lugen had trusted her implicitly, once. She’d been his strategist, his right hand. If anyone would send aid, be willing to help them, it was him. But she didn’t know what, if any, sway she’d have with the praetor anymore. He’d sent her here, after all.
Jackin’s calm voice broke through her thoughts. “I wouldn’t hold your breath, boss.”
She let out a sigh, pulling her eyes away from the silent comm link. Over Jackin’s shoulder, Puck stood with Warner and the other soldiers he’d summoned. She didn’t know when they’d arrived, but by the looks on their faces, they’d heard quite a bit. Puck and Warner’s expressions were wary, but the others’ were tight, angry, confused. Oddly, they mostly glared at Cavalon.
“How do you know about that act?” One of the circitors turned to face him, a man with thinning black hair named Snyder. “That LPWA?”
Cavalon’s mouth dropped open, but nothing came out. He pulled at his collar. “I, uh, read about it in the news.”
“And Augustus?” Snyder growled. “How is it you’re on a first-name basis with Augustus Mercer?”
Warner walked up beside Snyder. “Cool it, guys. Why’s it matter?”
“Wait a minute, I recognize you.” Another oculus shuffled forward, ignoring Warner and pointing at Cavalon. “You were in the vids a few years back. They thought you were involved in that Ivory Hall stuff on Elyseia—those college kids using veterans as drug mules. But it all got buried, disappeared from the news.”