She tossed one of the boxes up to Warner, then glanced over her shoulder. Jackin placed the last of the jars from the missiles into the vacuum chamber built into the workbench.
Emery lowered her voice, decidedly unamused. “No one ever goes anywhere. Like, anywhere. You probably know more than we do, boss.”
It was partly true. He at least knew they wanted to get to Kharon Gate. But that sliver of knowledge didn’t do much to calm the knot in his stomach, which constricted with every passing minute.
He glanced over to where Rake leaned against the workbench, quietly speaking with Jackin as he worked. Cavalon wanted to stop packing and refuse to lift another finger until they explained what the hell was going on. Instead, he absentmindedly passed cases up to Warner and focused on trying to overhear Rake and Jackin’s hushed conversation.
“… supplies really necessary?” Rake asked. “Shouldn’t take longer than a few hours to get there and back.”
“Just being cautious, boss,” Jackin answered. “Who’re you gonna send?”
“I’ll do it.”
Jackin scoffed. “Well, that’s just about the worst idea ever.”
“We need rank to make that kind of request. And the higher it is, the more likely they’ll listen. Technically, we need delta clearance to even relay this report.”
“My rank and clearance will do. Send me.”
Silence hung in the air for a long moment before Rake responded. “Fine. You’re not going alone, though. Who do you want?”
“Just send these guys, they already know too much. No need to involve anyone else.”
There it was again, that ambiguous plural that suggested Cavalon might be expected to continue down yet another stretch of this strange road.
Rake mumbled something, and Jackin huffed, then said, “That, I’m leaving up to you.”
Warner dropped down from the hatch, then called out, “All packed, sirs.”
With the filled warp core in hand, Jackin crossed over from the workbench, followed by Rake.
“Here’s the situation…” Rake stopped in front of them, hands held behind her back. “You will be warping to Kharon Gate to send a request to HQ.”
“Yes, sir,” Warner said.
“Uh,” Cavalon said. “Me too?”
“Yes, you too,” Rake said patiently.
“Uh…” he began again. He’d been waiting for this shoe to drop, and he’d intended to fight her tooth and nail. But he quickly realized he didn’t know which scared him more—fleeing to ask the Legion for help with … whatever, or staying behind on the ship they were fleeing from.
“Jackin’s your CO for this mission,” Rake said. “Heed his orders, and I expect you to treat him with the utmost respect. If I hear otherwise on your return, there’ll be hell to pay. Understood?”
“Understood,” both Emery and Warner barked in unison.
Cavalon had to clear his throat before his feeble response fell out. “Understood…”
“Your job’s simple—head to the gate, put in the call, and come straight back.” She turned to Jackin. “And Jack—ships. Right away, if you can.”
Ships? Cavalon swallowed the lump in his throat. What did that mean? Like, backup? Like, “Enemies incoming, mobilize the fleet”？ Cavalon looked to Emery and Warner for any indication of a reaction, but they still had their exemplary-soldier hats on, and their demeanors didn’t waver in the slightest.
“Will do,” Jackin said. “This’ll be this Hermes’s inaugural voyage, boss. What do you wanna call it?”