“Uh, okay. Verbal confirmation … granted?”
“Error.”
“Disengage safety protocols, please.”
“Error. Please confirm by stating the following: ‘I understand the risks associated with exposure to hazardous elements. I wish to disengage safety protocols and understand that any repercussions are not the responsibility of the System Collective Legion.’”
Cavalon took a deep breath, clinging desperately to the last vestiges of his patience as he repeated it back.
The computer chirped, “Confirmed.”
A series of small clicks preceded a soft roar of electricity sparking, and the floor shuddered as the ion engines roared to life. A familiar, unsettling sensation tugged down on him as the Argus’s simulated gravity swapped with the SGL’s notably less-realistic sim ulated gravity. His stomach flopped, and the ship lurched forward. All signs indicated they’d left the hangar bay.
Jackin’s voice rang over the ship’s speakers. “Cruising up to speed. We good, Oculus?”
Cavalon reached for the comms button. “Good to go, sir.”
“Copy.”
Cavalon lay facedown over the edge of the cavity and stared at the glowing acium. As sure as he’d been of the theory behind their jury-rigged warp core, he wasn’t nearly as confident that it’d actually work. If it didn’t look like it would catch properly, he at least wanted to have a chance at pulling it out in time.
“At speed,” Jackin said. “Engaging warp.”
Cavalon hovered his hands above the warp core, fingers twitching nervously. A soft click cut through the silence, but nothing happened. The acium sat placidly in the glass cylinder. His breath slowed to a stop.
Then the hairs on his neck and arms rose. The floor lurched and the acium floated upward. A high-pitched squeal began to build, then the element spun into a thin line and twisted through the core in a regimented corkscrew pattern. He knew it’d caught when the squeal cut off in favor of a low, constant rumble that vibrated deep in his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief.
When he returned to the common room, Warner and Emery stood near the circular table. He crossed the room toward them. “So, uh,” he began, “what the hell’s SGL mean anyway?”
Emery shrugged. “No idea.”
“Shit’s gone lateral,” Warner rumbled, folding his arms over his broad chest.
“Really?” Emery snickered for a few seconds before the humor wiped from her face, white cheeks flushing. “But, wait…” she mumbled. “Does that mean shit’s gone lateral?”
“It’s an old Vanguard thing, s’far as I know,” Warner went on, seeming not to have heard Emery’s digression. “EX prolly got it from the Tempus’s captain.”
Emery’s grin reappeared, eyebrows waggling. “That hunky centurion? How do you know he was a Vanguard?”
“Musta been—he was at Redcliff just before he joined the Titans.”
“No shit?”
Cavalon quirked a brow. “Wait, there’s another Titan on the Argus?”
“Sorta,” Emery said. “He captains the Tempus, so he’s gone most of the time.” She leaned toward him, lowering her voice even further. “Both showed up here five years ago, just after the war ended. Weird, right?”
Cavalon shrugged. “I don’t know, is it?”
“I mean, two Titans at the Divide? Can’t be by choice.”
“They musta pissed someone off,” Warner agreed.