Jackin appeared in the cockpit doorway, a grim scowl lining his face. Emery flushed and Warner looked down.
“Is this a proper way to act, Oculi?” Jackin barked. “Talking about our EX behind her back?”
Cavalon’s first thought quietly surfaced: better than to her face, but that newly developed self-preservation kicked in, and he kept his mouth shut.
“No, sir,” Warner said.
“Sit down and shut up,” Jackin said. “We’ll be there in less than an hour.”
“Yes, sir,” Emery said. “Sorry, sir.”
She and Warner sat on the bench, backs straight against the gleaming aerasteel wall.
Jackin turned his glare to Cavalon. He crossed his arms and stared down the optio. They’d been the ones gossiping—he hadn’t done anything.
But instead of continuing his angry glare, Jackin’s dark brown eyes relented in favor of … there it was. Disappointment. Far more effectual than anger, and Jackin knew it. He’d learned that from Rake, Cavalon was sure.
Warmth crept into Cavalon’s cheeks. “Sorry, sir.” He sat next to Emery and stared at his boots, the toes polished and unmarred. They looked downright naive next to Emery and Warner’s—both scuffed and worn. He still had a long way to go.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
About twenty seconds after comms broke off, Adequin began to seriously question the sanity of her decision to send Cavalon. She leaned back in her desk chair and ran both hands through her hair.
Though he’d demonstrated both intelligence and competence, he still served as an unknown quantity—one who’d proven to be an unpredictable, aggravating nuisance. However, the last few hours couldn’t be ignored. He’d stepped up more than she’d ever expected him to. She’d given him the tiniest sliver of trust and focus, and he’d all but entirely shed his volatile attitude.
But she knew that kind of compliance could be superficial. And temporary. A way to appease a subjugator, misdirect their focus while you scheme. It was how humans had won the Viator War, if on a far more complex and grand scale.
Adequin took a breath and refocused her thoughts. Cavalon wasn’t a militaristic force assembling some complex strategy against her. He wasn’t an enemy to outmaneuver. He was just a man—someone who had clearly lacked guidance, and who appeared to have the potential to thrive if given the chance. And she trusted Jackin without question. He would handle Cavalon well. She didn’t need to worry about either of them.
“Excubitor, sir?” Kamara’s voice rang over her nexus.
“Go for Rake.”
“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we’ve got a situation on the bridge, and I can’t get a hold of Optio North.”
“Jack’s indisposed, sorry, Kam. What’s the issue?”
“It’s his terminal, sir. Positioning alerts are going off left and right. Seems we’re drifting again.”
Adequin grimaced. They were behind again already. She’d hoped flooring the thrusters earlier would give them a longer reprieve.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she tried to compute how the hell to go about all this without Jackin. Though she’d learned some about the ship’s systems in the last five years, she’d never had reason to actually use any of them before. She’d always relied on Jackin to liaise between her and the ship. That was an optio’s job, after all.
If this thing were a starfighter, a cruiser, a recon ship—sure. She’d have it well in hand within a few heartbeats. But the Argus was no light spacecraft, quite the opposite, in fact—the very definition of a battleship. It required an entirely different kind of command, and a very different path through the Legion than the one she’d taken. It might as well have been a jump drive for all she knew about how to operate it.