Warner scoffed.
Emery laughed. “That’s a pretty boss-like thing for a not-boss to say.”
Cavalon forced a grin and chose to ignore them. “Might as well drain a few while we wait,” he said. Every little bit would help.
Cavalon left them to monitor the acium collection while he returned to the sauna/storage room to bring out more missiles, more than happy to let them continue in their ignorance of his royal Imprints.
Emery rambled on while they worked, detailing stories she’d heard that sounded half made up about how Rake’s predecessor used to decide on promotions and duty assignments, involving elaborate bribing schemes, indentured servitude, and climbing the ranks of cage-fighting tournaments. Rake’s far less dystopian version of the Argus seemed reasonable in comparison.
“Sirs,” Warner barked suddenly as Cavalon pushed a fourth missile out into the repair suite. Emery’s back went straight so fast, Cavalon thought she’d give herself whiplash.
“Oculi,” Jackin said. “What is it?”
“Cavalon has a question, sir,” Emery barked.
Cavalon squirmed his way out of the hatch, narrowing his eyes at her in disbelief. Just that quickly, she morphed into a whole different person.
“Okay, as you were,” Jackin instructed. They returned to the workbench and Jackin looked to Cavalon. “What’s the problem?”
A few drops of sweat slid off Cavalon’s forehead onto the missile as he rested it carefully on the floor. “These warheads are pretty ancient, Optio.” He stood and found Rake had arrived as well. She leaned in the doorway behind Jackin, arms crossed.
“Yeah, they’re Viator War leftovers,” Jackin said.
Cavalon nodded to the dimly glowing canister. “You know, oxidation, and all that. Sir.”
“Shit,” Jackin grumbled. “I didn’t even think about that.”
“I know they pulled the jump drive out of this thing,” Cavalon said, “but what about the accelerator lines?”
Jackin licked his lips, then his eyes went wide. “Man, you’re fuckin’ brilliant. There’s no way they’d have bothered to drain the lines.”
“And they should be airtight.”
Jackin nodded, slowly at first, then with growing fervor. “Right. So if we vent the sector, get a space suit … we can drain what’s left without any oxidation.”
“Maximum potency,” Cavalon agreed.
“That’s great.” Rake stepped up beside Jackin. “Where are the accelerator lines?”
Jackin’s smile faded. “Where the jump drive was.”
She let out a sigh. “So we have to evacuate all of Novem Sector?”
“Bulkhead doors, back, yeah.”
Rake pushed her hair out of her face. “Okay. Jack, make the order. Send them to the mess. Try to keep it quiet, though, yeah?”
Jackin nodded. “You got it, boss.”
Rake moved aside to let Jackin pass, and the optio scurried out the door. She eyed Emery and Warner at the repair cradle, then the line of missiles by the hatch, before looking to Cavalon. “This is some halfway decent shit-cutting, Oculus.”
He flashed a grin. “Well, you gave me homework, and I’m clearly an A-plus student.”
Her eyes glinted ever so slightly. She didn’t grin, but she didn’t not grin.
“So,” Cavalon said, “I suppose you’ll be expecting me to, uh … ‘see it through,’ as they say?”