Mass Effect: Andromeda — Nexus Uprising

CHAPTER SIX

Jarun Tann sat cross-legged on the floor of Jien Garson’s office—technically his office now, at least for the time being. He held a glass of asari honey mead in both hands, throat still tingling from the first sip, a pleasant warmth spreading through his belly.

He stared out through the impressive floor-to-ceiling window, one of the long habitat arms of the Nexus stretching out several kilometers before him. Doing so, he could just about manage to convince himself that everything would be okay. Then he smirked, amused and annoyed that his mind would flirt with that very human way of thinking.

Their ability to filter and twist reality had always eluded his comprehension, and yet the more time he spent around them, the more it seemed to happen to him. Or it threatened to, anyway. He would have to analyze this when things calmed down.

If things calmed down, he corrected himself, not when. “When” implied certainty of success, a mere matter of time. When Garson was found, not if. He had his doubts, born of a sense of realism, but he’d yet to voice them. Let Sloane Kelly or Foster Addison speak of whens. A useful tool when rallying the crew. Garson herself had said it, too. “When we reach Andromeda…” He would presume nothing.

If was realistic. If allowed for the possibility of failure, and thus the ability to plan for that.

If we reach Andromeda.

If we can fix life support in time.

If Garson is—

“Life support has stabilized,” Addison said. He glanced up at her. Hadn’t even realized she’d returned to the room. She took the mead from his hands and allowed herself a rather generous gulp.

“They did it,” she added, and gulped again.

Humans. “Well, that is wonderful news,” Tann said aloud.

Addison went to the window and stood there. He watched her face as reflected in the glass, translucent over a mass of stars. And over that, that skein of black none of them could identify. The fear that chased them all remained, but greatly diminished. Determination had replaced doubt, success a barrier against whatever private worries she carried.

He wished he’d known this would happen, wished he’d any reason at all to research the Initiative’s leading committee. Starting anything ignorant bothered him immensely.

Addison sipped one more time, nodding as if reaffirming something to herself. “Damn, that’s good. Where did you find it?”

He pointed to an open panel to one side of Garson’s desk. It had popped open during the calamity, revealing a rather impressive assortment of beverages. Some had toppled out, but none—wonder of wonders—had broken.

Addison smiled on seeing it. “Jien’s going to be pissed that her supply was raided.”

“Under the circumstances,” he replied calmly, “I think she’ll forgive me.”

Addison drained the glass. As if possessed of too much energy, she paced back to the large desk, rounding it. She seemed poised to sit in the large chair behind the massive marble slab, a tactic he wondered at, but instead simply set the empty cup down and faced Tann.

“Do you think we’ll be able to salvage the mission?”

Tann smiled at her. “It is only a matter of if,” he said, pleased at the wordplay.

Addison’s brow furrowed. She opened her mouth to question him, but evidently thought better of it. “Any progress on comms?”

“The screen behind you,” he replied, gesturing. “I started a routine to determine what connections, transmitters, and receivers are still available, with instructions to create a new mesh based on the results. Optimized for coverage, of course. Some, err… less critical wiring is being repurposed as needed.”

“You did all that?” Her surprise galled him. “I thought you were revenue.”

Let her think that. It served his purposes well enough, for the moment. “Well,” he said demurely, “the routine already existed. I knew this because I approved the budget for it, and also recall with perfect clarity the moment it came back balanced.”

Addison eyed him.

Had he lost her? Tann bit back a sigh. “I selected the program,” he said patiently, “then pressed the big button marked ‘GO’.” He flexed his long fingers, like some kind of button-pressing champion.

Addison, it seemed, wasn’t quite yet in the mood for humor. Even so, this earned a tick of amusement from one corner of her mouth. “Gold star,” she murmured.

“Eh?”

“And by ‘less critical wiring,’” she said, louder, “you refer to…?”

Tann turned to face her now. “Did you know that Medical—and I mean the entire section—was configured with a premium sound system?”

“Sound?”

He tilted his head. “Soothes the patients.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Nice.”

“Yes.” A beat. “State of the art, incredibly well-designed. The finest minds came together to incorporate the art of sound with the science of it. Never before had any station claimed the like.” Her eyes were getting wider. Her skepticism, as well. Tann allowed himself a brief smile. “Well, it was state of the art. I’m afraid they’ll have to find soothing somewhere else, now.”

When Addison laughed, she did so bluntly. No coyness to her. “Nice,” she said again, but dryly.

He shrugged. “I thought it better we have functioning comms in the area.”

Her humor faded as he studied her, until it seemed she replayed something else in her head. Something he didn’t understand, until she murmured, “We make the greatest sacrifice any of us have ever, or will ever, make.”

The quote sobered him. After a moment of silence, he set his own glass down on the desk and offered, somewhat hesitantly, “Perhaps a fine sound system was not what she had in mind, but…”

But what? But at least they’d gotten a brief bit of amusement from it.

And semi-functional comms.

Addison seemed to understand, though she waved at him as if brushing away the moment.

The terminal chimed.

Saved from the painful effort of conversation, Tann stood and crossed to it. The director joined him. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

The view wasn’t pretty. Tann chewed on his lower lip as he analyzed the mess of lines and bubbles. Vast sections of the Nexus were not covered by the comms, and even the areas that were could barely be considered so. There were hallways where one end had a connection while the other, just a scant ten meters away, had nothing. Labs where the edges of the room were fine but, were one to be standing in the center, they’d find themselves totally cut off. Overall, the dark areas edged out those in the light.

“Hmm.” Addison didn’t seem impressed.

“I believe the phrase we’re looking for is ‘better than nothing,’” Tann suggested.

“Sums it up quite nicely.”

“I motion that we initiate this configuration change.” He gave her a sideways glance. “All in favor?” This earned a brief smile.

“You don’t need my vote, acting director.”

Tann shook his head. “I feel confident in achieving success together.” He paused, and repeated, “All in favor?”

She shrugged. “Aye.” But any victory she may have taken from the moment quickly and obviously faded to guilt. Her voice dropped to a whisper again. “I can’t believe this happened. Suppose… suppose Jien is… What the hell are we going to do?”

“Survive.”

A blunt answer for an obvious question.

It was her turn to glance at him. She searched his eyes. “It’s not enough though, is it, Tann? The mission—”

“I meant the mission. The mission must survive. Above all else.”

“If the Pathfinders arrive to find there is no Nexus—”

Awkwardly, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “One thing at a time. We both agree, the mission is the most important concern. Good. But to accomplish that we’ve got…” He turned her toward the expansive window, and its view of the broken ship, “a lot of work to do. Hard choices to make. Likely more death and pain to absorb. Bodies to jettison before disease—”

Foster Addison let out an involuntary laugh.

“What?” he asked her.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just… maybe you should let me handle the motivational speeches.”

“Another point,” Tann allowed, “on which we most certainly can agree.”

She stared out over the wreckage for a brief moment. Tann furiously worked various conversational gambits through his filters before deciding simply that he had nothing. Logic didn’t suit her, entirely. He wasn’t sure how to proceed with sympathy.

Instead, he waited until she shook off the shadows of her thoughts and turned. Her facial features, he was relieved to note, had settled into harder lines. Determination was back. Much preferred. He could channel that.

“Can we try the comms now?” She raised her arm, showing off her wrist. He didn’t get it until she added, “Maybe Jien can be located by her omni.”

A fine idea. The initial staff, as evidenced by Addison’s own omni-tool on her forearm, would have geared up first thing.

He swept a spindly hand at the comm panel. “Delighted.”

With ease, he programmed the computer to initiate the new connection matrix—a process that only took several seconds. Most went green, but a few immediately reverted back to red or, worse, remained dark. Wires to replace, antennas to reconnect. He ignored it for now. Long fingers swiping across the display, he brought up the map and pushed, pinched, and pulled it around.

“Hmm…” A common enough sound heard around here, he reflected wryly.

Addison peered at the digital mass. “Where is everyone?”

“Exactly my concern. Biometric location is offline, it seems. Database corruption maybe. Another thing to fix—but no matter,” he said abruptly. “Let’s see if anyone can hear us.” He tapped and held the transmit option. “This is Jarun Tann. If you can hear me, please find the nearest comms panel and reply. If the nearest one doesn’t work, well, I hope you’re familiar with the process of elimination.”

He could hear his own voice coming from the adjacent Operations room, as well as echoing through several nearby corridors. A good sign. He felt pleased.

Silence stretched. Tann waited. Beside him, Addison shifted on her feet.

Then, just as Tann considered whether he should try again, the comm flicked on.

“Sloane Kelly here.” The familiar voice boomed through the room’s speakers. “Nice work, you two.”

“And you as well,” Tann replied. “I cannot help but note that we have not suffocated in the vacuum of space.”

Addison shot him a disbelieving eyebrow.

Well, whatever. They knew what he meant.

“Calix and his team deserve all the credit,” the Security Director replied. Oddly humble, he thought, wasn’t it? “They’ve already begun work on reversing the damage, but it’s going to take some time.”

And his team, eh? That only slightly worried him—as much for the extra breathers as the little bit of rebellion he saw in the act. Still, the ability to draw breath pleased him enough, for now. Tann decided not to question it.

Out loud.

Privately, he wondered if they’d even tried fixing the problem with only Calix involved. Sloane seemed like the consummate security officer—which in Tann’s experience meant her default reaction to any problem would be immediate and overwhelming firepower. Figuratively speaking.

Something to keep an eye on. He filed this observation, aware too late that he very likely was meant to say something obligatory at this juncture.

Addison caught it. “Please thank them for their efforts.”

“I will. Has Garson turned up?”

“Sadly, no,” Tann replied. “And bio location isn’t working.”

“Of course it isn’t. Hardly anything is.” Sloane paused. “Damn. Well, I’ve been sending out search parties whenever someone has a spare minute. We’ve started moving bodies to a temporary morgue in one of the labs.”

“Understood. Return to Operations.” Within nanoseconds, he realized how much that had sounded like an order. Too soon, given Sloane’s obvious misgivings about his temporary leadership status. “At your earliest convenience,” he added. “We have much to discuss.”

“It’ll be a while.” Sloane’s voice bristled over the comm. “Life support was only the first of our problems. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Addison and I understand that, but—”

“Out.”

The link closed.

Well, he tried. Tann did not sigh. Not out loud, at least.

Sloane lifted her finger from the screen.

“Calix has things under control here,” Kesh said. She had been standing just behind her while she spoke to Tann. “I’m going to check on the rest of the krogan, make sure their stasis pods weren’t damaged.”

Sloane sighed. She understood the desire. Wanted to do the same for her team, more than anything. “Power is still unstable. Sensors are hosed. Shields, too. Who knows how many fucking rads we’re absorbing just standing here.”

Nakmor Kesh inclined her head in agreement. “All true. And like life support, all things that will require trained teams to repair. That means krogan, in many cases. I need to make sure they’re safe.”

“There may be another way,” she said, still working through the idea. “Hang on a second.”

Kesh waited as Sloane identified herself to the comms panel. The system recognized her, but this failed to result in what she’d hoped for. The system that allowed her to locate crew, no matter where within the Nexus they were, was dark. Still, she could communicate. Open broadcasts only, but it was a start.

“Sloane Kelly to Kandros. Please respond.” When no answer came, she repeated it.

This time, his reply came a few seconds later.

“Kandros here, along with Talini and six other survivors.” Aside from the obvious good news, his unasked for sit-rep told her that she had an audience and should guard her words. He wouldn’t know that the comms weren’t closed. Not yet.

She’d tell him later. “Report.”

“We went looking for ships, but you’re not going to like the result.”

She winced. “Tell me.”

“The explorers are destroyed. Or at least, most of them are destroyed. Something tore through docking like a thresher maw through sand. The Pathfinders’ ships took the brunt.”

“Shit.” Sloane rubbed at her forehead. In the back of her thoughts, a free-floating bit of station floated across the memory of Operations. Kesh made a low, thoughtful sound. “You said ‘most’?”

“Yeah. There’s no trace of the others.” A beat. “Just a damned big hole.”

Just great.

Kandros followed up with, “But it’s not all bleak. We took shelter inside one of the shuttles in hangar two. Situation cramped, but stable.”

Kesh grunted in approval. “Smart thinking. Self-contained, provisioned, life support, even a medical bay. Very smart.”

Sloane nodded agreement, but filed away the data for later use. She hadn’t quite reached the point of ordering everyone to retreat to safe ground.

“Leave Talini in charge there,” she said to Kandros. “I have a task for you.”

“Name it.”

Sloane grinned, bolstered by his attitude. “Make your way to stasis chambers…” She glanced at Kesh, an eyebrow raised.

The krogan rattled off a series of designators, assuredly where the bulk of the krogan population had been placed. Sloane repeated them, just in case he hadn’t caught them all.

“Got it?”

“Copy that,” he replied. “What’s the mission?”

“I want a status report. How many made it, how many… well, you get the idea.”

“Understood. Anything else?”

“Be safe.”

She could practically hear his long-suffered smirk. “Always. Kandros out.”

Sloane dropped her hand from the screen. “There, now I know the status of the other half of my team, and soon you’ll have the info you’re looking for. Everybody wins.”

“Thank you, Sloane Kelly.” A grave thing, given the seriousness of her tone.

Sloane waved the krogan’s gratitude off. “We each got something we needed. No need for thanks.”

Kesh regarded her. “But you need something else.” Not a question. Observant, Sloane thought. By far.

And right. “I do,” she confirmed.

“Which is?”

“Nothing much.” She just couldn’t help but yank the krogan’s chain. Just a little. “Only a power core in the first stage of meltdown. Noticed the alert when we left Operations, decided it best not to panic everyone just yet.”

Kesh growled, and if krogan could have hackles, Sloane had no doubt they’d be bristling. “And you wait until now to tell me?”

Sloane made no excuses. Darkly amusing as it was, her choices weren’t great then. They were better now, thanks to Calix’s team. “Now that I know we’re not going to suffocate? Yeah.”

The krogan stood there, immovable as a wall. Staring at her.

Goading krogan, Sloane understood, was the subject of a violent betting pool for a reason. “I’m hoping this is where you tell me how we’re going to fix it,” she suggested.

Kesh shook her head. “You can’t fix a core in stage one of meltdown,” she bit out. “You jettison it and move very far away.”

Sloane opened her mouth. Paused. Cast her future to fate and said helpfully, “But engines aren’t—”

“One thing at a time!” Kesh roared, hands thrown to the ceiling in frustration.

Sloane worked side by side with Kesh for twenty-six hours.

Through sweat and blood and the power of multicultural profanity, the failed core was manually jettisoned and, in a moment of inspired genius on Addison’s part, tugged out to a safe distance by a semi-functional cargo drone. Everyone now awake had to hunker as deep as possible in the bowels of the mangled space station in order to weather the resulting blast, but it worked.

Three times during the already insane day, she was contacted by Tann, or Addison, or both, each requesting that she find her way to Operations so they could have a meeting. A damn meeting, while the Nexus went up in flames all around them.

Not likely.

One emergency fixed only led to the next, and all the while life support remained stuck at 10%. No capacity for waking additional help. Sloane and Kesh rushed from one section to another, until Sloane finally collapsed, exhausted, on a half-burned couch in the lobby of an embassy that now seemed so comically unnecessary that she snorted in laughter before drifting into restless sleep.

The fourth comm blast came just as sleep had fully embraced Sloane Kelly. She’d curled up, one folded arm serving as pillow, when the annoying chime yanked her back to consciousness. She bolted upright, ready to tell that salarian where he could stuff his “discussion.”

Before she could, his words stopped her cold.

“You’re needed in hydroponics,” Tann said. “I’m afraid there’s more bad news.”

“Is it Garson? You’ve found her?”

“Would that we had,” he said, a grim note to his voice. “This is something else. I’m sorry, Director. But you need to see this.”