Not that those were new activities for Drudgers. They’d acted as the resident pirates of the SC since their inception at the hands of Viator geneticists a millennium ago. But it’d been different during the wars, when their sadistic inclinations had been focused on aiding the Viators. At least it clumped them all together, so the Legion could wipe them out easier.
“Well.” Cavalon stood and dusted his hands off. “That’s our cue to take our leave, I believe.”
“We gotta send this message…” Jackin’s voice withered and died in his throat. He stared at the screen, brow furrowed and desperate.
“How far out is the ship?” Cavalon asked.
Jackin’s eyes refocused. “Maybe ten minutes until they dock.”
“That’s definitely not enough time to fix anything, Optio.”
“No,” Jackin agreed, then his tone waned again. “But we can’t just … leave.”
“It may not be ideal, but we can’t fix the comms ever, if we’re dead.”
“We’re four trained Legion soldiers,” Jackin began, then sighed as Cavalon raised an eyebrow. “Okay, three trained Legion soldiers. We can fight.”
“There could be fifty Drudgers on that ship!”
Jackin looked back to the terminal. “I’ll do a scan, see if I can get a head count.”
Cavalon paced for a few tense moments as Jackin worked.
“Uh, okay.” Jackin cleared his throat. “Never mind.”
Cavalon stopped in his tracks. “How many?” he asked, though he wasn’t positive he wanted to know the answer.
Jackin flung open another screen, then slid across a command labeled “Station-Wide Emergency.” A different ear-piercing tone rang out, and the blue and red lights from the proximity alarms were replaced with yellow and red.
“Hopefully Warner and Emery will get the hint.” Jackin stood from his terminal. “Ready to run, Oculus?”
“How many?” Cavalon asked again, but Jackin had already hurried through the door. The optio accelerated into a jog, and Cavalon rushed to catch up.
Sweat glistened on their foreheads by the time they arrived back at the S6 air lock. Emery and Warner were nowhere to be seen.
“They’re not back,” Cavalon managed through stilted breaths. “What do we do?”
Jackin opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated as another, entirely different clanging alarm joined the chaotic din. Down the long corridor, an oscillating beacon lit up the S4 air lock door. The Drudgers had docked.
Cavalon turned his panicked look to Jackin.
“We stay,” Jackin said, staring at the royal Imprint tattoos on Cavalon’s right arm. “We hold the air lock until they’re back.”
Hold the air lock? Cavalon’s mouth fell open, but the choice words he’d selected for expressing his total incredulity stuck in his throat. Jackin shoved him through the secondary airlock door.
They rushed toward the SGL, and Cavalon hid behind the left side of the open air lock. Jackin took cover on the opposite side, knife out of its sheath, raised and ready. The half-serrated, dark steel blade glinted in the flashing emergency lights.
Cavalon’s eyes darted to the SGL’s hatch. “Uh, Optio? Is sticking around really the best plan? Emery and Warner could be trapped on the other side of the station for all we know.”
Jackin shot him a fierce glower. “Even if I were willing to abandon two of my crew—which I’m fucking not—we’re not going very far without that warp core.”
Cavalon swallowed hard. Dammit. He was right.