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“Has it been shared with Klah’Eel Intelligence yet?”
“It’s making its way there.” Sazahk shrugged and started scrolling through the code on his tablet again. “Through avenues they might potentially accept it from.”
“As in, not directly from a group of criminals?” Fal’ran raised an eyebrow as he stood from the stool and stretched his lower back. Patrick looked no more relaxed than when he’d arrived, and Fal’ran was going to find out why.
“Exactly.” Sazahk pointed at him without looking up from his tablet.
Fal’ran took Patrick’s elbow and guided him to a corner. Inhaling through his nose, Fal’ran wasn’t surprised to smell a studied nothing at all. “What’s up?”
Patrick leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “I got somewhere with the brass today.”
“Yeah?” Fal’ran’s heart jumped in his chest, despite his bad feeling about Patrick’s tone.
“Yeah.” Patrick nodded and pressed his lips together. He dragged his thumbnail over his biceps again and Fal’ran bit his tongue to keep from demanding more information. Patrick’s broad shoulders twitched into a hunch before he pulled them straight again. “I think I’m going to step down as your squad leader.”
“What?” Fal’ran’s disbelieving voice came out louder and more accusatory than he’d meant it to. He resisted the urge to look back at their team, who had undoubtedly heard him, and shifted his body to block Patrick’s view of them, too. “Why would you do that?”
Patrick let him crowd closer and hide him away from their teammates. “Because it’s what the brass wants.”
“So?” Fal’ran didn’t give a shit what the brass wanted. He gave a shit what the brass ordered since orders decided their fate, but what they wanted was a whole different matter.
“So, if I give them what they want, then it gets the rest of you off the ground.” Patrick thumped the back of his head against the wall and frowned at the ceiling. Fal’ran’s heart filled up with so much affection and pride it hurt. Patrick, a klah’eel man in every way but his body, exposed his throat to Fal’ran without a second thought. Fal’ran had earned that.
“Abandoned and alone.” Fal’ran frowned hard.
“Don’t be dramatic.” Patrick whacked Fal’ran’s leg with his boot.
“You’re the one leaving us.” Fal’ran's throat threatened to close on him as he said the words. Army squads weren’t forever. He’d always known that. And officers came and went, but that Patrick could walk away from them—from him—was unbearable.
“I said I was thinking about it,” Patrick corrected quickly. He cringed as though his own words had startled him. “And it’s worth thinking about—”
“No, it’s not.” Fal’ran stepped closer until he had to tuck his chin to keep eye contact with the shorter human man.
“It’s not just up to you and me.” Patrick glared up at him with all the confidence and authority of a man twice his size. He pointed over Fal’ran’s shoulder with his chin. “I’m taking the decision to the team.”
That settled Fal’ran down. He stepped back to open Patrick’s path to the group. Sazahk, Bar’in, and Tar didn’t want Patrick to go any more than Fal’ran did. He wasn’t worried any of them would send him away. He was worried Patrick wouldn’t give them the choice.
Patrick’s hand twitched toward Fal’ran when Fal’ran stepped away to stand beside Bar’in and Tar. But by the time Fal’ran stood next to the other klah’eel, Patrick had rolled his shoulders back, lifted his chin, and looked every bit their calm, confident leader.
Damn, Fal’ran adored him. How Patrick didn’t see himself the way Fal’ran did, he had no idea.
“I know you’ve all been restless, stuck on Base Ship Givast.” Patrick placed his palms on a lab table as he regarded them seriously. “And I know sitting on your asses up here while all the action is down there—” he jerked his chin at the sweeping view of Qesha visible through the wall of windows “—isn’t what you all signed up for.”
Bar’in and Fal’ran exchanged glances. They’d all signed up for different reasons, but they didn’t argue. Different reasons might have brought them together, but they stayed for the same one. They were sick of not being anything to anyone. They were sick of not mattering.
Patrick paused and swallowed. “I know you want action, even if it is dangerous.”
Again, they didn’t argue, and Tar even crossed his enormous arms with a frown. They weren’t idiots. They knew it was dangerous. But they’d all come from dangerous.
“I’ve been trying to get us assigned out, or put on the on-call roster, or anything, really.” Patrick shook his head with a sigh. “Today the brass finally budged.”
Instead of looking excited, all three of his teammates looked at Fal’ran. They knew if he didn’t like it, they wouldn’t like it.
“Out with it, Patrick. What’s the catch?” Bar’in, as usual, spoke up for all of them.
“I can get you onto the Menace gunship.” Patrick sidestepped the question. “For the next city defense. She’s the best gunship on Givast and you’ll crew her with two other squads, who I personally vouch for—”
Tar’s deep voice rumbled over him. “What’s the catch?”
