The Legion brass could have been playing ahead of it for years—quashing a rebellion that hadn’t even happened yet. Some of the “offenses” she’d seen on intake paperwork had been flimsy at best. Warner, when stationed in a remote system in the Perimeter Veil, had worked off-duty hours helping a settlement install shield walls to keep out the ravenous local fauna. Puck’s little thruster hack aboard the SCS Somnium had been in an attempt to catch up to a Drudger cruiser that’d taken a half dozen Core-bound IE refugee ships hostage. Technically, they’d defied orders, but come on.
Maybe they weren’t just sending the Sentinels all their criminals and miscreants, but those most likely to rebel. Those that had proven themselves capable of defiance. If the SC truly had started the Resurgence to silence a fledgling uprising from the citizenry, why not this too?
There was more to it than that, though, and she couldn’t shake the feeling it was all related, connected. It had to be. She could already see the headlines that’d roll in from the Core: “Legion Tragedy at the Divide. Sentinel Forces Lost in Horrific Accident. New Legion Personnel Welfare Act Proves Worth. Thank the Void for Augustus Mercer’s Amazing Fucking Foresight.”
Cavalon was right. The more one man consolidated power, the less the SC looked like the republic it was intended to be. That it should be, that humanity deserved. This was all part of that “longer game,” and even out on the fringes of nothing, they were pawns in it.
Despite the exhaustive list of implications, the part that made her stomach churn and bile creep up her throat, was the possibility that they knew. That the Legion or the Quorum or the Allied Monarchies or all of the above, knew. Knew these stations were the Viator’s responsibility, knew they’d fall into disrepair once they were gone. That they’d been counting on the Sentinels to die, so they could use it as part of their propaganda.
And the worst of it—what if Lugen knew? He hadn’t been able to look her in the eye when she’d left his office that day. Did he know about it, even then? He had Omega clearance, he should have known everything there was to know about the Legion and the SC. He’d have known about the LPWA and the cloned Drudger army and how easy it’d be to sacrifice the Sentinels to make a point. Who knew what dark secrets he’d shared over teatime with fucking Augustus Mercer.
Her face heated, and she took a deep breath that quavered in her throat. She knew she was spiraling, that she’d thrown logic out the window. She had no proof of any of this.
Except that sinking feeling in her gut that’d always told her when she was right. That was the recruitment officer that would finally help her. She’d thrive if she joined the Titans. Paxus was the right planet. Let the breeder go. Fix the “beacon.”
She might be wrong, or she might be right, but it didn’t matter anymore. What was done was done. Griffith was gone, and it was time to stop waiting.
After a few silent minutes, Jackin spoke up again, his voice quiet and worried. “What are you thinking, boss?”
Adequin continued to stare at the blinding ball of gas. “That there are still thousands of Sentinels that need saving.”
He said nothing for a long time, then stepped up beside her, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. “Rake,” he whispered. “What about Lugen’s orders?”
She glared. “You think we’re going to relay back to the Core, get a round of honorable discharges, and go home? They clearly wanted us gone, Jack. Our survival will be considered, at best, a nuisance.”
Jackin scoffed. “I can’t really disagree with you there. But what can they really do once we’re back—court-martial us? Again? Send us back out to the Divide?”
She shook her head. “No.”
His scowl drifted to Griffith. The ire left his voice and his tone became serious as he looked back at her. “You really don’t think it’s safe to go back to the Core?”