Jackin stood back up and took a deep breath, brow furrowed. “No, it doesn’t.”
Cavalon shifted his weight, doing his best to mask his discomfort. The more outwardly rattled Jackin became, the harder it grew to pretend like some seriously weird shit wasn’t going on.
“Emery, Warner, take the core to the refueling station,” Jackin said.
“Yes, sir,” Warner replied.
“And it might appear abandoned, but be careful. Sweep the corridors, follow protocol. No shortcuts. Quick but safe.”
“You got it, sir,” Emery said.
“Meet us in the control room when you’re finished.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. Warner followed as she turned on her heel and headed aft with the warp core.
“Cavalon, you’re with me.” Jackin turned the opposite way, toward the front of the station, and Cavalon fell in line behind him.
The eerily lit corridors matched the oppressive Viator design of the exterior, with walls of slanted aerasteel slabs layered atop one another like thick, dark scales. The angled walls narrowed as they moved deeper into the station, like traversing the dark bowels of some ancient, formidable beast, the innards constricting as they drew closer to the core. Cavalon tried to shake off his growing sense of unease.
He followed as Jackin made a sharp turn down another dimly lit corridor. How the optio knew where to go, Cavalon had no idea. Though he’d traveled via Apollo Gates a few times, he’d never had cause to actually dock at one. The way Jackin strode forward without question suggested a familiarity that went beyond a general knowledge of station layouts.
“You seem comfortable here, Optio,” Cavalon remarked. “Were you stationed at a gate before?”
Jackin didn’t respond at first, but after a few moments he spoke up. “No, but I know every asset in the Legion fleet.”
“Oh? Were you an engineer, or…？”
“I was chief navigations officer for the First.”
Cavalon’s mouth dropped open, partly from his bluntness, but mostly from the admission. “No shit?”
“No shit,” Jackin said, tone completely devoid of sentiment.
“That’s like…” Cavalon collected himself with an effort. “Really?”
“Really.”
The next logical question went something like, “Well, why the fuck are you here?” but that seemed impolite to ask among Sentinels. And it would likely lead to retaliatory questions like, “Well, why the fuck are you here?” accompanied by accusatory, distrustful glares. Cavalon chose not to press his luck.
Yet he couldn’t help his surprise. He didn’t know the specifics of the Legion’s hierarchy, but CNO was as household of a term as Praetor or Titan. Jackin would have been in charge of coordinating movements for an entire fleet. For the First, no less, which comprised the majority of the Legion’s forces, including the Titans and Vanguard.
What was it with the Argus? It was like some isle of misfit war heroes. Cavalon was just waiting to discover Emery’d been a decorated centurion. Warner was probably a praetor.
Cavalon chewed his lip as a slew of questions conjured in his mind. Had Jackin been active at the same time as Rake? He had to be into his early forties, which meant he could have come to the Argus before the Resurgence War, though that would have made him a very young CNO. Even if they did serve at the same time, did the First even interact directly with the Titans? Or was that one of those things, like saying “Oh, you’re from Elyseia? Do you know Mr. Smith?” as if you’ve met every single person on your planet?
Cavalon discarded his careening train of thought before it derailed entirely. He refocused his mental efforts on being unduly paranoid about the dark, ominous corners they walked past as the sinister walls closed in around him.