“I’m sick of waiting on the Legion,” she said. “We can find out more about what’s going on, right now. I don’t feel particularly inclined to waste time waiting for their permission.”
Jackin scratched his beard, lowering his voice even further. “I can’t say I blame you, Rake, but is this really the best idea? I know you might feel like you need to be doing something…”
He was right, and she knew it. With an unconscious Griffith in the other room, she needed a distraction. But she also couldn’t bring herself to simply lie down and wait for them all to meet their fates. At least this would be something.
“It’s the only idea I’ve got,” she explained, shaking her head. “What else can we do? We haven’t been able to get the gate restarted, and Lugen hasn’t called. What harm is it to take a few of us on the SGL and see if we can’t get some of these beacons working?”
“The SGL?” Jackin scoffed. “The Synthesis at least has armaments.”
“After the noise that snap-warp caused, I don’t really trust its warp drive right now. Besides, a Hermes-class vessel’s not safe to take through a relay gate on its own. The others will need the Synthesis once they get the gate turned back on. It should stay here, so they can escape.”
He pinched his lips together and nodded ruefully. “In case we don’t come back.”
She gripped his shoulder. “You know the drill, Jack. It’s intel on the enemy’s position. Priority alpha.”
“But the enemy is the collapsing edge of the universe?” he confirmed.
She gave him a weary grin. “Right.”
Jackin rubbed his face with both hands. “I’m going to need coordinates.”
The door slid open with a hiss, and when Adequin turned around, she found Cavalon standing in the doorway, eyes wide, face pale. “Sir, uh…” He gave a hasty glance around at the others before returning his look to her. “He’s awake.”
* * *
Adequin marched back down the hall at a brisk pace, sensing Cavalon following just over her shoulder.
“He seems to be doing well,” he began. Though his tone pre sented itself as optimistic, she could sense the warning it carried with it. “His vitals are strong and stable, he’s responding well to stimulus. Answering questions coherently.”
She half listened, focusing her efforts on getting to the medbay as quickly as possible without breaking into a full-out run. As they approached the doorway, Cavalon reached out and gripped her arm.
“Rake, wait.”
She stopped in her tracks, turning back to face him. “What is it?” she asked impatiently.
“I took another sample,” he said, deep lines creasing his brow. “And I did some … estimating.”
“And?”
“And his cells have already aged about six to nine months.”
“Since when?”
“Since I took the last sample.”
“Which was when? When we got here?”
Cavalon shook his head, and his eyes drifted to the floor. “Twenty minutes ago.”
She let out a sharp breath, looking down at Cavalon’s boots. Again her mind reeled with unwanted math, and she cursed the day she’d been taught basic arithmetic. Her eyes focused and unfocused a few times before she regained her breath.
She looked back up at him. “What does that mean?”
“He’s got maybe…” he began, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat and raised his eyes back up to her. “Twenty-four hours. Thirty, at the most.”