Beside her, the other two soldiers—both oculi—exchanged relieved glances. Though their faces were a mixture of flushed, scared, and angry, they all stood upright and appeared uninjured.
Eura nodded to Griffith, her worry loosening a bit. “Sir. Good to see you made it.”
“Likewise,” Griffith rumbled. He wiped sweat from his brow, then rested a forearm on the door frame.
“Everyone okay?” Adequin asked.
The two oculi holstered their weapons, then stepped aside. On the ground behind them lay Ivana—the Tempus’s mechanic, unconscious, her alabaster skin a sickly shade of pale blue. Smears of glossy crimson coated the torn remnants of Eura’s duty vest strewn all around, clearly used to try and staunch the bleeding.
“She’s in a bad way, sir,” one of the oculi said. “Needs blood ASAP.”
A jolt rocked the ship, sending a groan of steel creaking through the metal walls. Adequin stumbled, but kept upright despite how slow her fatigued Imprints positioned themselves. Save Griffith, the others lost their footing completely, tumbling to the deck.
From the corridor over Adequin’s shoulder, the ship’s computer blared a repeat of the evacuation warning, adding to the list of affected quadrants.
Eura’s gaze hardened as she picked herself up off the floor. “What’s going on?”
“Sitrep later,” Adequin said. “For now, we abandon ship. Everyone to the personnel air lock.”
Adequin made to pick up Ivana, but Griffith pulled her back.
“I’ve got her, Quin,” he said, and his steady tone left no room for argument.
“Okay.” She eyed him as he limped toward the wounded mechanic. “Just be careful.”
He knelt and lifted the small woman, his stoic visage thawing into a deep frown. His sweat-slicked brow furrowed as it became harder and harder for him to mask his pain.
Eura and Warner escorted him into the corridor, trailed shortly by Erandus and the other two oculi. Adequin helped Jackin up off the ground, keeping an arm tight around his waist until his footing seemed sure.
They worked their way back down to the main deck, then quickly donned their suits and crowded into the air lock. After confirming everyone’s helmets were secure, Adequin swept the controls to depressurize. She opened the hatch door as another wave of small explosions rippled through the Tempus’s corridors.
Adequin ordered Griffith and Eura to move the unconscious Ivana across first, along with instructions to take her directly to whatever semblance of a medbay the Synthesis had. Warner led Erandus and the other two Tempus crew members across, then Jackin climbed out next.
Adequin let him get a few meters ahead, her eyes drawing up the tall, broad side of the dark ship above her. The Tempus sat silent and black against the void, with only the narrow beam from the Synthesis’s searchlight illuminating a small section of the aft.
“Coming, boss?” Jackin’s voice crackled over suit comms.
She cleared her throat. “On my way.”
She’d made it about halfway when Jackin pulled himself into the Synthesis’s open air lock, then turned to look back at her. That’s when she felt it, the tiniest pull—deep in her stomach, right at her core, willing her back toward the Tempus. Just as she’d felt on the Argus before having to watch Bray tumble to his death, vanishing into nothing. Her head spun and her limbs jerked on instinct to catch her, as if she was about to fall backward.
Heart racing, she stole a glance over her shoulder, and a flicker of movement caught her eye. The outline of the Tempus silhouetted in a flash of light that disappeared so quickly, Adequin almost thought she imagined it. Then it came again, sharp and defined—a white static flicker from somewhere outward.