She afforded him the tiniest of smiles. “Get on it, soldier.”
Oddly, that same fire kindled in his stomach. He could see why everyone regarded her so highly. That look of approval was addicting.
CHAPTER TEN
The thick bulkhead door slid open, and Cavalon stepped out of Novem Sector and into the amidship vestibule, brow soaked in nervous sweat. Rake waited on the other side, leaning against the wall.
“How’d it go?”
“Good, sir,” Cavalon said, voice muffled through his visor.
He set the acium-filled jar on the floor at his feet, then released the lock on his helmet. He lifted it off, and his ears popped as the pressure fully equalized. Glad to be free of the artificial air, he took a deep breath, but found it tasted just as stale as the suit’s oxygen had.
“There was a lot of drip left in the line,” he continued. “More than I expected. All sealed up tight.”
He took off his gloves and pocketed them, then pushed up the sleeves of the white, pearlescent suit. He tucked the helmet under his arm, then picked up the jar.
Rake’s hopeful visage faltered as she eyed his exposed arms and helmet warily. He found himself, yet again, afraid that he’d managed to screw up without knowing how.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
She gave a small nod. “Yeah. Just déjà vu.”
Cavalon held the brightly glowing jar toward her like a peace offering. Rake stared at the acium and her unsettled look faded. The blue glow appeared a brilliant shade of emerald reflected in her amber eyes.
“You could probably warp to Kharon Gate three or four times with this,” he said, with as much optimism as he could muster.
She nodded slowly. “Great. Let’s go.” She spun and headed for the other side of the circular vestibule.
“Go?” he squeaked. Though the other part of her statement concerned him more—just exactly how specific was her usage of “let’s”？ He slicked his sweaty hair off his forehead and took a few quick steps to catch up.
Though every part of him wanted to insist she elaborate, he kept his mouth shut and followed in nervous silence as she headed toward the lift.
At first, he’d been sure his involvement in all this would conclude at the odd-line-of-questioning phase. Then, he’d thought it’d be over after the warheads. This time, he’d been certain his final task would be venturing into a vacuum for the first time ever to drain the fluid from two-hundred-year-old accelerator lines. All while quelling his acute panic at being only one faulty warning sensor or clogged filter away from suffocation.
But she’d said “let’s,” and his feet were moving underneath him, and—even more oddly—he didn’t feel all that compelled to argue with them.
A few minutes later, they entered the main hangar. In the docking bay across from where he’d seen the Tempus parked the day before, now sat a small, spherical transport vessel.
Jackin and Emery stood underneath the ship, lifting a crate above their heads toward the open hatch. Warner’s thick arms reached down and grabbed it, then disappeared into the hull.
As Rake and Cavalon approached, Jackin looked over, cheeks flushed and sweat glistening on his forehead. Cavalon imagined the work of an optio rarely required such heavy lifting, but the real question was why the hell they were lifting anything at all. Loading a ship with supplies? This grew more and more suspicious by the minute.
Maybe Rake had finally had enough. Or maybe she and Jackin were secret lovers, intent on stealing away into the night, never to be heard from again. Cavalon had to grin at the thought. Not only did abandoning ship seem so not Rake-like, it was ludicrous, but the idea of her and Jackin together was just … silly.