Their faces fell into dejected frowns, but they nodded their understanding.
“Keep the instigators separated. I don’t want any more fighting.” Adequin opened her nexus and input a quick command. “I’m releasing full Imprint control to all circitors. Don’t use it unless you have to, but do not let them break down any bulkhead doors, got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sorry, sir.”
The circitors left toward the lift, and Mesa’s lithe form drifted into Adequin’s periphery. She’d half forgotten the Savant had come with her.
“I’m headed back to the bridge,” Adequin said. “You okay, Mes?”
Mesa regarded her steadily for a few drawn-out moments before she spoke. “Yes, Excubitor. Fine.”
“Thanks for letting me know. Sorry about the comms, I’ll get…” Jackin. She wanted Jackin. “… someone on it.”
“You are welcome.”
Adequin inclined her head to the Savant and left, heading toward the bridge. She had every intention of actually going there, but as she passed the corridor to her office, her feet veered, and she found herself standing in front of her desk.
She needed a minute. Just a minute.
What was she doing? Lying to everyone and ignoring what was so clearly happening … It had to be some kind of denial. She had to snap herself out of it.
It didn’t take long to determine why. She’d been crushing it under everything else, forcing it out of her mind because left unchecked, it threatened to overwhelm her.
Admitting the Divide had started moving toward them meant admitting Griffith was in trouble. Serious, mortal danger. And she couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.
She could have. She could have taken that warp core and that Hermes and headed outward instead of inward. She could have hopped on the Divide and tried to track down the Tempus. Warned them before it was too late.
But could a Hermes even withstand the turbulence of riding the Divide? It’d been built to handle warp speeds, but hadn’t been cleared to travel via Apollo Gates. She didn’t even know if that mattered. Relays were more like a shortcut through space-time than increased speed.
But she could have tried. Or at least asked Jackin if it were possible. But she’d lost her chance to go after him. She’d resigned Griffith to death.
Her heart seized, and she tried to force it to maintain a steady beat, but her breath came in short, hot rasps, and she couldn’t impose calm. She braced both fists on her desk and leaned forward, looking down at her scuffed boots, head spinning.
Silken draped feet shuffled in behind her. “Excubitor?”
“Mesa. I’m…” Fine? Just having a think? Panicking?
“Overwhelmed,” Mesa answered. “That is reasonable, Excubitor.”
It wasn’t. Not really.
Adequin sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She turned to face Mesa.
The Savant’s brilliant eyes were patient and deadly serious. “Why are we drifting outward?”
Adequin opened her mouth, expecting another lie to fall out, but her breath caught in her throat.
“We’re not.” Puck’s voice drifted in as the door whizzed open across the room. He marched up to stand over Mesa’s shoulder, scorn in his eyes. “Are we, EX?”
Mesa turned her bewildered look away from Puck, back onto Adequin. “What?”
“Where’s North?” Puck asked, tone full of impatient accusation.
Warmth flooded Adequin’s face. Though every instinct told her to keep up the farce, she knew the time to come clean had long passed. “He took a Hermes to Kharon Gate to request assistance from the Legion. He’s bringing ships back with him.”