“And…” He ran a hand over the top of his helmet. “I’m sorry for questioning your orders. On the Argus, Kharon, the Synthesis. It’s not my place, not only because you’re my CO, but because…” He paused to clear the hesitation from his throat, and his tone came revived, unyielding. “You’ve earned my trust. You earned it a long time ago. I never should have questioned that.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Hate to break it to you, Optio,” she said. “But you’re wrong.”
Beneath his visor, his eyes flickered with unease. “I’m tryin’ to apologize here, boss.”
“I know, and I appreciate that. But it is your place to question me—it’s exactly your place. You think I want a second that’s just going to blindly follow me, no questions asked? I need you to be you. And you’re the only one I trust to get the others safe if this goes lateral.”
He let out a long breath. “We’ve had enough lateral for one day.”
“I agree.” She gripped his hand and squeezed, and he pulled her forward, wrapping his arms around her. He let out a long, heavy sigh.
“Don’t die, please,” he said. “I want to be able to continue judging all your decisions.”
“Copy that.”
Jackin’s arms dropped away as he stepped back. “I’ll go help Puck and the kid.”
She nodded. “Thanks, Jack.”
Jackin disappeared out the door toward the SGL.
“Excubitor?” Mesa called from across the room. “May I have a moment of your time?”
Adequin crossed to where Mesa and Griffith stood beside the station activation controls.
“What’s up, Mes?”
The Savant cleared her throat. “We have been discussing it, and, well, if we get … low on time, in regards to the Divide, and you are still out on the hull … Well, we will need Viator Imprints in order to start the station.”
Adequin’s stomach turned at the implication, but she quickly tamped it back down. No one had real Viator Imprints except her and Cavalon … and Griffith. But she couldn’t ask that of him.
“We’ll be fast enough,” Adequin said, tone firm. “We’ll get the repair done and get back in to start it.”
“Are you kidding, Quin?” Griffith scoffed. “I’ll do it.”
She shook her head. “Griff, it was extremely painful. I’m not sure you could handle it in your state.”
“What state?” His expression remained impassive, eyes glinting playfully.
She pushed her sweaty hair out of her face and sighed. Mesa gave a light smile and walked away toward the primary computer terminal across the room.
“Are you calling me old?” he asked.
“Griff…”
He reached up and released his helmet.
“Don’t—”
“Fuck, it’s hot,” he grumbled, then dropped his helmet at his feet. He peeled off the top of his suit and tied it around his waist, then faced her squarely. “Listen. If you make it back in time, great. If you don’t, then it’s gotta be me.”
“Griff, I don’t think you understand. It was like getting the Imprints all over again, but way, way worse.”
“What’s it gonna do, kill me twelve hours earlier?” he said dryly, then his tone fell serious again, low and haggard. “I’m too young to die of old age anyway, Quin.”
She forced a swallow, though her throat had gone bone-dry.