Cavalon blinked. “Uh, sir?”
“I’m willing to consider advancement,” she clarified, then added quietly, almost to herself, “You might make a better animus than a soldier.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He had no idea what to say.
Rake continued, oblivious to his dumbfounded state. “But you have to fall in line,” she said, tone low and serious. “Get your shit in order. Earn the promotion.”
He shifted uncomfortably. He still felt like he was in trouble, but she was … He wasn’t sure. Valuing what he might be able to contribute? She seemed to think he could, and maybe more oddly, would change. It wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with.
Yet something about it sat right—clicked into place in the back of his mind. He’d just started a fight with a guy twice his size, in a room full of trained soldiers, many of whom probably had legitimate cause for wanting to kick the shit out of a Mercer. He’d fought them out of anger, out of spite—really for no reason other than to try and prove who he wasn’t. Maybe it’d be more effective to focus on trying to prove who he was.
“Uh, okay, sir,” he managed.
“Report to the bridge at zero five hundred. Remember your assignments?”
He nodded. “Cut the shit, learn fucking humility, respect what we do, no uproarious behavior. Sir.”
“Get out of my sight.”
He bid his legs to move, but they proved somewhat undependable, wobbling beneath him. With a deep breath, he regained his composure and strode toward the exit.
“Oculus?” Rake called after him.
He turned back to face her. “Yeah?”
She raised one eyebrow.
He cleared his throat. “Uh, yes, Excubitor Rake, sir?”
“Bring a mop and bucket … and a toothbrush.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Once again, Adequin found herself sitting in that awful chair.
The half dozen bridge crew worked at their stations, the silence cut only by the occasional console beep or muted cough. At the foot of the tiered levels, the main viewscreen still showcased the inevitably vacant outward view.
A tier down, Jackin stood at his terminal, arms crossed, eyes trained on his holographic screen. His boot tapped out a slow rhythm on the metal floor as he scratched his short black beard and released a long, slow yawn.
Adequin shifted in her seat, resisting the urge to mimic him. It wouldn’t be particularly motivating for the crew to see their EX as bored senseless as they were.
A damp sloshing passed behind her as that pain-in-the-ass new recruit pushed his mop across the floor. She prepared a judgmental glare, but Cavalon’s eyes stayed focused on his work. He’d been mopping the upper deck all damn morning, and though she generally appreciated attention to detail, it’d started to feel suspiciously like stalling. He was probably afraid to find out what chore she’d come up with next.
But only because he didn’t know any better yet. Giving him something to do—even if menial—was really just doing him a favor.
Jackin’s terminal beeped and Adequin sat up.
“Boss, it’s done,” he called over his shoulder.
“Finally.” She pushed up out of the rigid captain’s chair and descended the short set of steps toward him. “Report?”
Jackin flicked through a few screens, then shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Well, comms viability’s in the red, but still well within our version of ‘normal.’ You know how the Divide likes to eat comm signals. Otherwise, all systems nominal.”