“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t have to martyr yourself. What happened, happened. It’s over—”
Her eyes sharpened, cutting him off mid-sentence. His jaw flexed, but he didn’t continue. Griffith was the only person on the Argus, and one of the only people in existence, who knew why she was there. And he knew far better than to bring it up.
“Am I a bad EX, Griff? Do I not have anything to offer the Sentinels?”
He shook his head, grim solace in his eyes. “I think your talent’s being wasted sitting on the edge of the universe, waiting for nothing to happen. You think they wouldn’t jump at the chance to have you on the front lines again?”
“Front lines of what? War’s over.”
“They’d give you whatever job you want. I’m sure they’d love to plaster you on their recruitment posters.”
“I’m sure they would.”
“Just think about it, okay? We can talk to Lugen, get stationed anywhere.”
“You don’t have to stay on the Argus, Griff.”
“As long as you’re here, I’m here.” He lowered his voice. “I didn’t leave you on Paxus, I’m sure as hell not gonna leave you now.”
“You’re about to leave, literally right now.”
“Hey, I’m just following your orders.” He smiled, then wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his lips to her forehead and his beard scratched her skin as he spoke. “Last time. Six months. It’ll make me that much less of a cradle robber when I get back.”
She laughed, though it didn’t lessen the sharp tightness in her chest.
“We’ve been through way worse shit than the Divide, Mo’acair,” he said. “We got this.”
She pressed her face into his chest and quietly murmured, “Aevitas fortis.”
“Aevitas fortis,” he echoed.
He kissed her one last time, then inhaled sharply and turned away. The door slid open and he stepped into the barren corridor. She leaned in the doorway as he strode down the hall. He turned back and smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in that endearing way that made her stomach flutter.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to tell you before,” he called back. “We’ll make up for it in six months.”
“Two weeks,” she said. He laughed, then turned away and disappeared around the corner.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Adequin’s whiskey buzz had almost worn off, and she felt jittery and anxious for reasons she couldn’t put her finger on. So she showered, dressed, and headed for the bridge.
Though she wouldn’t say she relished her time there during working hours, she found it a peaceful kind of calm in the dead of night. She’d spent a fair share of evenings reading her way through the old weapons systems manuals. She enjoyed visualizing how the dreadnought used to function two hundred years ago, when it’d still been the SCS Rivolus.
The bridge was in low-light mode when she arrived, three small, harsh lamps spotlighting down from the high ceilings. To her surprise, Jackin stood under one of the pools of light. He faced away from her, leaning on his terminal with clenched fists, head hung low.
“Jack, what are you doing here so late?” She stopped and rested her hands on the back of the captain’s chair.
He remained silent for a few moments, then raised his gaze to the large viewscreen. “Did Bach get on his way?” he asked, tone flat, almost autonomous.
Adequin narrowed her eyes, not used to this kind of mood from her second-in-command.