Mass Effect: Andromeda — Nexus Uprising

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Kesh and I will be there as soon as we can.”

Jarun Tann glanced at his companion. Addison’s features betrayed nothing. Well, then. “No need to pull Nakmor Kesh away from her tasks,” Tann said. “It’s not a, er, technical problem.”

As expected, the Security Director did not take well to subtlety. “I’ll take that under advisement.” As usual when dealing with Sloane Kelly, the link abruptly ended.

Tann stood silently for a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Then, thoughtfully, “I should have been more emphatic.”

“It’ll be fine,” Addison said. She sat on a bench, knees together, hands clasped in her lap. The bench itself sat askew, the bolts that held it in place having been sheared in the disaster. It straddled the common area and the area of spongy, synthetic soil it was supposed to face. A fine patch of bright green grass should have been growing there by the time Tann awoke, had everything gone as planned.

“If Kesh is with her, we’ll manage. It may even be a good thing. Her knowledge of this station is—”

“Unrivaled,” Tann finished, locking the hint of acid welling up behind a determined smile. “Yes, I know. But the protocol was clear. You and Director Kelly are to advise—”

“The protocol.” Addison sighed the words. “Really. Take a look at this place, Tann. Protocol should be the least of our concerns.”

Perhaps. In part. He began to pace. Rubble skipped away from his feet, clattering across the floor. The hydroponics section, like everything else, resembled some ancient abandoned place, a shadow of the idealized and perfectly engineered marvel it should have been. Quieter, maybe, but no less devastated.

That made this moment so important.

No. He was right about this. “I disagree,” he said. “A lot of very intelligent people spent vast amounts of time working through every situation we might face, planning for every contingency. We’d be making a huge mistake if we threw all that out and started relying on snap decisions made by whomever happened to be standing around.”

He reached the wall, turned.

“That is no way to govern,” he added, before proceeding on another circuit of his route.

Addison remained silent.

So much so that he paused mid-circuit, stopped in front of her. “You agree, surely?”

“I suppose…”

It trailed off, leaving Tann humming. Not quite the fervor he’d been hoping for, but at least she was listening. He continued to pace. Each step brought a new line of thinking, another possibility to account for. Yet it all came back to the same thing.

Jien Garson, truly a brilliant mind, had overseen the protocol encoded into the Nexus’s systems, which had led to his awakening. His presence here, his role, was essentially due to her direct order, and he intended to respect that by fulfilling that role to the best of his ability. Director Addison may feel bitterness that she was not chosen for the role, but that was not Tann’s fault. Nor his responsibility. Only Jien Garson would be able to explain the reasoning there. If she turned up.

Another turn, more walking, more thought.

Jien Garson could never have guessed that a calamity on this kind of scale would befall her mission. In truth, the leadership protocol could have just as easily wound up with two human janitors and a krogan dental hygienist—easily the worst job in the known universe—as its new leadership, had they happened to be the three most senior surviving crew. More power to them, had that been the case!

Turn. Walk.

Think.

That worst-case scenario had not happened, of course. The protocol had whittled down the list and found him, a full seven rungs below Administrator Garson on the leadership ladder. Addison and Sloane would advise him just as they would have advised her. He hadn’t asked for this. He’d staged no coup. Jarun Tann was here to do a job, whatever was required of him, and if this was it, then he would do his duty. The mission mattered, above all else.

Turn. Step.

Freeze.

Boots before him. How long had they been there? He glanced up, met the tired, bleary eyes of Sloane Kelly.

“Make this quick,” she said, without even a courteous attempt at preamble. “I’m busy.”

“And hello to you.” Abruptly, he realized he’d walked right in front of the door and blocked her path. “Come in, come in.” He swept an arm toward the innards of Hydroponics and followed the security director inside.

She greeted Foster Addison, then sat on one of the benches, looking on the verge of collapse. With the two women occupying the only two benches, Tann moved to stand nearby. He had nothing to lean on, so he clasped his hands behind his back and waited.

Addison said nothing, forcing Sloane to break the silence.

“What’s the goddamn emergency?” she demanded. “There’s nothing on fire here. No dead bodies. So… what?”

“No fires,” Tann agreed. “No bodies, true. Notice anything else missing, Director Kelly?”

“I don’t have the energy for puzzles, Acting Director Tann. Spit it out.”

The impact of the revelation, he reasoned, would serve enough to take the spite from her use of title. “Very well.” He pointed at the closest bay. “No crops,” he explained, enunciating each syllable.

Sloane merely sat there, looking exhausted. Maybe he was being too obtuse?

Then, with a shrug, she said, “Okay. So? We just got here. Plants take time to grow.”

“There should be buds,” Addison volunteered. Ruining his grand reveal, of course. These humans. No respect for finesse. “Several weeks before our arrival the first seeds should have been placed by automated systems, so that a crop would already be started as the crew was revived.”

Tann walked to one of the auto-gardeners, removing a bag he’d placed there thirty minutes earlier. He took it to Sloane and laid it at her feet. Inside were the remains of a few hundred small plants, shriveled and burned.

“Radiated,” he said. “Every last one.”

The security director studied the plants. She spread her hands. “So we start another batch. Right? When necessary. We have supplies. I’m not a botanist but—”

“Exactly,” Tann cut in, seizing the opportunity. “Not a botanist. Nor am I, nor is Director Addison. And a botanist, a whole team of them, is what we need.”

“Tann,” Sloane said, frowning, “we talked about this. You even argued against the concept. With everything going on, the last thing we need is more people running around. We’ve barely got things working as it is. More strain on the systems is a bad idea.”

“More data,” he said flatly, “means decisions must be revisited. In this case, I disagree with your assessment.” He raised his hands in defense, staving off her no doubt profanity-laced retort. “Please, let me explain.”

Perhaps it was the please that did it. Sloane deflated a bit. She glanced at Foster Addison, perhaps looking for support. The other woman simply waited in silence.

“Fine,” she sighed. “What’s the reasoning?”

Tann tipped his head. “Our situation is still critical,” he said, “but the immediate threat is over.”

“You can’t know that,” she said hastily. So much for that. “Hell, we don’t even know what this threat is, and implying that you do is dangerous.”

“All I mean,” Tann said in slow emphasis, “is that the fires have been put out. The hull breaches are sealed. I agree there could still be aftershocks, or new attacks, whatever we want to call them, but there may not be, either. Can we at least agree on that?”

Addison gave a single nod.

Sloane shrugged.

“There. Progress. Given that assumption, I think it’s time that we turn our attention to the mission.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sloane stared at his face, which Tann hoped projected calm confidence. “Holy shit, you’re not. You’re actually serious. Save this shit for Garson, there’s no need to be—”

Tann lifted his hands once again. “Please, Director, let me finish. I hope, as we all do, that our guiding visionary will be found alive and well, very soon. I remind you that I did not ask for this.”

Sloane shook her head. She did not believe his sincerity or motivation, that was plain, but lacked some way to combat it. Or perhaps she couldn’t decide on which vulgarity to use next. He pushed on before she could.

“We need to adjust our immediate goals. Change our focus. From survival to recovery. I believe our ultimate goal, to support the mission of the Pathfinders, is still possible. Indeed, not just possible, but critical. We can’t have them arrive here only to find the Nexus…” he swept a hand across the devastated hydroponics bay, “like this.”

“And you have a plan to accomplish this?”

He did, but he fully intended to fold it in under the guise of inclusion. “We all do, consciously or otherwise. Let us discuss the options, and decide.”

“Decide,” Sloane said with a sardonic laugh. “So that’s why you wanted Kesh away.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” he replied.

“Don’t be so offended,” she snorted. “It’s exactly like that.”

“Okay, yes,” he replied, exasperated by the woman’s distrust. And observations. “It is like that, but not for the reasons you no doubt are thinking.”

Now Sloane really did laugh, loud and energetically. “We’re in Andromeda now, Tann. Don’t you remember Garson’s words? Check all that old bullshit at the door.”

“I don’t recall her saying anything quite so vulgar.”

“I’m paraphrasing. It’s what she meant, though. None of our old scores, our stupid and unjustified prejudices, apply here.”

“As I said, this is not the reason for my concern. I simply feel that the protocol—”

Sloane waved her hands in overdone acquiescence. “Right, right. The protocol that so neatly made you boss.” She blew out a sigh that undercut any humor with sheer frustration. “Let’s finish here. I’ve got a station teetering on the brink, and you’ve got a proposal in mind. I can see it all over your aerodynamic face.”

Tann cocked his head. “Hydrodynamic. We are not a species suited to—”

“Whatever.”

He wondered if he would ever get on Sloane Kelly’s good side. So far, it didn’t seem possible. In the end, of course, it didn’t matter. He had the power to make decisions. As long as he had a sympathetic ear with Foster Addison, such decisions could be ratified. Not unanimously, perhaps, but still a majority, and that was all they truly required.

“Very well. I suggest we wake a more significant part of the population,” he explained. “Experts in all the various systems. Life support is already taken care of.” No accusation here. “Hydroponics, power, medical, communications, sanitation, sensors, astronavigation, and a dozen other areas, however, are offline or at best critical, and will remain so unless we wake the people necessary to begin correcting the problems.”

The problematic human was already shaking her head. “No can do,” Sloane said. “Not enough air. Or food. Or water. You said you wanted to shift from survival to recovery, but your recovery team will make survival impossible.”

It was an echo of the argument he’d fed her. He was savvy enough to recognize it—and also how to navigate it. That’s where Addison would come in.

And on cue, she did. “Supplies can be augmented.”

“How so?” Sloane asked.

“From nearby planets.” She raised her eyebrows. “Which is what my people were cultivated for. I overheard your discussion with your officer,” she added. “What was it, twenty-some-odd hours ago?”

“Twenty-six,” Tann replied, but decided to round it when Sloane shot him an incredulous look. “And some minutes.”

Thirty-seven minutes, to be precise. Not that he figured they’d appreciate a salarian’s photographic memory.

“I know it’s a blow that we don’t have the Pathfinder scout ships,” Addison continued, “but I’ve been thinking. We can send shuttles, scout the nearest worlds. They could return with air and water, even food. We might even find help. Chances of that are low, I’ll admit, but non-zero.”

“Shit, Addison, we can’t do that either.” Sloane scowled, locking her hands under her chin—a posture, Tann noted, that let her put her fatigued weight on her elbows, braced on her knees. She glowered at them both. “Saying no to you two puts me in the position of bad guy here, but fine. I’ll be the bad guy. You heard Kandros. We’re out of ships. If another event occurs, or life support takes a turn for the worse, we’re going to need those shuttles to evacuate the Nexus.”

“What are the odds?” Addison queried, her brow furrowed.

“Evacuation is still a very real possibility,” Sloane replied. “Especially since we still don’t know what caused the breach. If we should be talking about anything, it’s how we’re going to get thousands of stasis pods off this station in a hurry, and where we’d even send them if we could.”

“We are aware of habitable planets—”

“We don’t,” Sloane cut in grimly, “have the manpower to fight hostile native species.”

Addison’s expression clouded. “We’re not here to fight, Sloane. Negotiations can be—”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember the speech,” she retorted. “But unless we have a copy to forward whatever life forms exist in this galaxy, I’m not willing to bank on a peaceful welcoming committee.”

Addison’s jaw set. Shoulders tight.

Tann saw fit to intercede before it culminated into something much… louder. Granted, he hadn’t thought of the evacuation issue, but it wasn’t an insurmountable obstacle. “You raise a valid concern,” he began, only to pause pointedly when Sloane muttered something he thought sounded like, “Gee, thanks.”

If sarcasm could be a weapon, the woman would be an assassin with no concept of collateral damage. Meanwhile, his validation of a legitimate concern seemed to have frayed Foster Addison’s trust in him. At least enough that she was now glaring at him, rather than her temporary opponent. He bit back a sigh.

Mentally, he added at least one psychologist to the list of those who needed to be brought up from stasis. Perhaps a whole team, of diverse species, to help the crew deal with the shock. Yes, a good idea.

Tann clasped his hands behind his back. “If there is no room for compromise, then we are at an impasse.” He started to pace. “The dilemma is that we do not have the staff to make repairs to the Nexus in any reasonable time frame. Our current skeleton crew can, at best, keep the station limping along, however I think we can all agree that such a scenario does not present a very bright future for us or our mission?”

Addison nodded emphatically.

Grudgingly, Sloane did too.

Tann went on, still pacing. “Also, we cannot send our shuttles, because they are needed here in the event of station-wide system failure—a very real possibility, as Director Kelly—”

“Sloane.”

“—Sloane,” he amended, “has pointed out.” More nods. This time, though, it was Addison who hesitated and Sloane the strong affirmative.

They all knew where they stood. Good.

“Then,” he said firmly, “my original proposal is still best. We wake the crew needed to make repairs, instruct them to work quickly and efficiently within severe resource concerns. Addison’s ships will remain ready to evacuate all personnel, awake or otherwise, at a moment’s notice.”

Sloane Kelly, to Tann’s surprise, was no longer frowning. Something had caused her mouth to stretch into a broad smile.

He didn’t know what to make of that. “What is it?” he asked cautiously. “Have I accidentally made a joke?”

“No,” Sloane replied. “It’s just that the crew we’ll need to pull off all these repairs are mostly from the labor force.” Her smile deepened. The bite, he realized too late, came with it. “Kesh’s people.” A beat. “You know. Krogan.”

Tann stopped pacing.

“We should make a list,” she continued, too brightly for the environment, “of all the krogan workers we’re going to need.”

“I—” Tann swallowed, his mind painting pictures of a Nexus full of krogan. He shuddered at the thought. Too late now. All he could do was try to keep it in check. “I have some ideas on who we will need. Perhaps some additional security staff would be wise…”

Sloane’s grin only widened. Clearly the difficult human woman found joy in his discomfort.

“There’s a few people I will need, too,” Addison said. “My assistant, William Spender, for starters, plus a select few members of the colonial team to inspect the surviving shuttles. For all we know, they were also damaged in this calamity.”

“Like I said, make a list. I’ll review it for security concerns.” Sloane glanced at each of them in turn, making sure they were paying attention. “What happens, by the way, if we wake a bunch of people and find we can’t support them?”

“They return to their stasis pods,” Tann said simply. The obvious answer, yet Sloane looked dubious. This time, though, she didn’t press. Instead she stood and moved past him, headed for the door. As she went by she clapped him on the back.

Hard.

Tann swayed, wincing in mingled annoyance and surprise.

“We’re all in agreement,” she said briskly. “I’ll let Kesh know. Meeting adjourned.” Just like her arrival, she left at her own cognizance. His shoulder still stung when the doors closed behind her.

Even so, Tann felt a smile creep over his face, and it felt surprisingly good. He’d accomplished something here. Not much, granted, but it was a start.

An if was so much more likely to become a when with a start.

In the hall outside, Sloane went to the nearest comm panel and punched in her first officer’s ID. Thank all hell they’d managed to lock down the comm systems while she’d worked her ass off with Kesh. She didn’t want this one blared over every speaker. Then thrown in her face when the salarian wanted something later.

“Kandros here,” his reply came, a minute later.

“It’s Sloane,” she said. “Can you talk?”

A shuffling sound, then the click of a door closing. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

She considered her words carefully, and made doubly sure Tann and Addison had not joined her in the hall. Satisfied, she angled herself to the best possible surveillance vantage and kept her voice low. “Put together a team of officers, led by Talini. Trustworthy people.”

“How many?”

“Enough to guard the supply rooms that are actually accessible.” Supplies were cached all over the Nexus, but the bulk of the station remained cold and airless, inaccessible due to damage. Sloane saw no need to put soldiers in front of those doors. Not yet, at least.

“Have we got a problem?” Kandros asked.

“Negative,” she said, “but it’s only Tuesday, if you follow.”

“Heh. Yeah. I follow.”

“Good. Sloane, out.” She killed the link, and went off in search of Nakmor Kesh.

Her path wound through one debris-strewn hall after another. She passed a series of apartments that overlooked one of the great arms. Their doors, less robust than those on the cryostasis rooms, had all torn off and now lay in an oddly neat row on the opposite side of the hallway, as if a construction crew had placed them there in preparation for installation.

On a whim she paused at one room and stepped inside. One of the smaller layouts, barely more than a bed, table and chair. No personal belongings; those would all be in deep storage until whoever had been assigned this room came to get them.

If they were even still alive.

Hell, Sloane hadn’t even seen her quarters since before they launched. All shiny and new. Who even knew if that section of the station had survived?

The thought left a wistful pang in her chest. So much for her own office, right? Much less bed.

Sloane sighed, turning her back on the lonely room, and left. She reached the end of the hall, turned, and pushed on, past the shuttered Transportation Office, then Immigrations.

The chances that either would ever be staffed and actually used seemed so remote that she wondered if they might be better off turning them into shelters.

A soft noise, behind. Sloane drew her sidearm, whirled, aimed.

“Just me, just me,” Jarun Tann said hastily, hands up.

Sloane narrowed her eyes. “Are you following me?”

“Of course,” he replied. Then appeared to think better of what he meant. “I mean, not in that sense.”

“What other sense is there?”

He stepped out of the shadows. “In the awkward sense of two people who have finished a conversation but also need to travel in the same direction.”

She eyed him, but she’d be damned if she’d ever taken to salarian expressions. Turian faces were one thing, but there wasn’t enough… I don’t know, she thought distantly. Not enough lines, not enough distinct features on the amphibious faces of the salarian species. The horns were easy enough to recognize, large oval eyes, sure. But they all had those.

Whatever the reason, she wasn’t sure she believed him.

Tann took her silence as a lack of understanding.

“I was returning to Operations, and thought I’d let you get well ahead of me to avoid any… any of the aforementioned awkwardness. And then you stepped out of an apartment only meters in front of me. It felt odd to stand there and wait, so I—”

“It’s okay, Tann. I get it.”

“Then perhaps you could lower the weapon?”

Sloane did so, doing her best to hide a grin. She’d scared the hell out of him, she realized, and found she didn’t mind so much. A little fear could be healthy.

“So, Ops, huh? What’s on your agenda next? And get the hell over here, I don’t bite.”

The salarian did his best to look casual as he crossed the rest of the gap and fell in beside her. They walked in silence for a bit.

Not for lack of words, Sloane realized as the salarian hummed one of his thoughtful noises. He was a thinker, this revenue wonk. The kind that weighed every word.

Which didn’t make him any more trustworthy, all things considered.

“It is so hard to prioritize,” he finally said, “with so many problems facing us.”

“Yep. No argument here.”

He nodded. “I felt, after our meeting, that I finally had a free minute. I thought I might check on something that’s been bothering me.”

“Just one thing?”

The salarian paused, sliding Sloane a thoughtful, cautiously amused look. At least, she thought it was that. “No,” he said, and that caution gave birth to a weak smile. “No, but let us focus on this one thing in particular.”

“Which thing?”

“Specifically, the thing,” he said, stressing the word as if pleased by the byplay that led to it, “that we ran into. Whatever it is, it is foreign to us, or the sensors would have noticed it and alerted someone.”

“The sensor arrays had been damaged,” she pointed out.

“Were they?” He laced his thin hands together, tucking them into the sleeves of his attire. “Or did the technicians believe they were, based on the inability to parse the data?”

Her eyebrows raised. “Okay, so? Doesn’t change anything.”

“No,” he allowed. “But I am worried it was not a singular event.”

“Ah.” She’d thought about this, too, especially whenever she tried to sleep. With so many known problems, worrying about unknown ones seemed pointless. But now that he’d brought it up, she worked it over. “When we located Ops the first time,” she said thoughtfully, “there was a violent quake. The whole ship lurched, and it sounded like the hull peeled back somewhere.”

“Weakened structure failing, perhaps?” He cocked his head. “Or another meeting of station and whatever we had run into?”

“If it was a run-in,” she pointed out, “I saw no ships—” Her words went dead. So did her pace, frozen in the middle of the corridor.

Tann’s brow moved in what she took for inquiry. “You saw something?”

“Maybe.” She frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. “Everything was one large adrenaline rush.”

“Ah.” Tann patted her arm cautiously, in what passed for sympathy. “Understood. Human evolution is predicated on the rise of prey to predator, but it never truly evolved redundant systems to effective process—”

“Tann.”

He stopped. Cleared his throat. “Adrenaline,” he said, way more succinctly, “can play havoc with logical thought.”

That she would buy. Sloane picked up her pace again, once more flanked by the salarian. “The clearest thing I remember is that nebula out there. Or some kind of energy wave? I saw it hovering near the part of the station that… I don’t know, that ripped off.” She was reaching, and she knew it. She raised her hands. “I’m not an astrophysicist, so take your pick. But I can’t shake that there’s something there. Something we haven’t seen yet.” Or missed.

Tann glanced at her. “Without sensors, it is impossible to find out. However, I thought perhaps if we studied the data gathered before we impacted this… You believe the unusual nebula to be the key?”

“It’s the only thing I saw,” she said, shrugging once more. “And given how close it is, I’d be really pissed off if we ignored it, only to run into it later.”

“A fair assessment. We shall earmark that theory as among the first to investigate,” Tann said, with so little argument Sloane found herself eyeing him sidelong as they walked. “In fact, I rather relish the idea of learning something new about our new galaxy.”

“You?”

“Well, of course,” he replied, gathering himself up. “Who else is available to decipher the logs? There can be a great deal of information buried in even partial records.”

“I guess the devil’s in the details.”

To her surprise, he gave a little chuckle. “One of my favorite human idioms. Yes, exactly. Even if our systems did not recognize the coming assault as a threat, it may still have a record of it.”

“And you’ll be able to figure this out?” she asked. It seemed the least she could do to try for sincere. All things considered, sensor data tech seemed less intrusive than acting director.“I thought revenue was your area of expertise.”

At this, his slender shoulders straightened. It was hard to tell, but she thought his skinny salarian chest may have even puffed up some. “Math is my expertise,” he declared. “Sensor logs are not so different from cost-basis figures.”

Heh. “If you say so.” They walked a bit farther, passing one of the huge common areas. It should have been filled with excited pioneers holding flutes of champagne. Instead it resembled a dumping ground for unwanted furniture. A disaster, like everything else. “Still,” she mused. “What happens if it’s, you know… actually in our way? We can’t move, we can’t shoot at an invisible target.”

“Hence my comment about priorities,” he said. “Do we fix hydroponics first, so that we can eat in the weeks or even months to come, or do we get the maneuvering engines back online so that we can avoid another collision? Plus, there is the possibility that this is widespread. We may need to alert the Pathfinders.”

Of all the things weighing on her mind, preying on her sleep, the Pathfinders had been firmly shunted aside. At least until now.

If they, still in stasis, coasted into this mess…

She rubbed at the bridge of her nose with one finger. “Tann, you’re giving me a headache.”

“It is a difference between us, I think,” Tann said. “Forgive my presumption, but you prefer narrowly defined problems. Whatever is pressing at the moment gets all of your attention, and when that is fixed, you turn to whatever waits just behind.”

“And you’re a big-picture kinda guy, is that what you mean?”

“Another lovely phrase.”

She stopped. They were at the door to Operations, and he hadn’t seemed to notice. “Where are you going with all this, Tann?”

“Just making conversation,” he said, already large eyes wide.

“Right.”

He sighed. “Okay, your sharp investigation skills have seen through my sinister plan.”

Sloane’s turn to laugh. Even for him, that was too patently false a surrender. She gestured for him to go on.

“What I’m trying to say, Secur—Sloane, is that if, for example, I do discover that we will need maneuvering capability straight away, and I suggest as much to you and Addison, I ask that you keep in mind my methodology. In other words, if I ask for engines, it’s because the math says we need them more urgently than we need seeds.”

“It’s more than just math, though.” Sloane frowned down the length of the empty corridor. “People are hurt. People are dead. Are you saying that if you come to me claiming we should fix engines instead of, I don’t know, life support, I should just accept the goddamn math and not question you?”

“I’m asking for a little trust. If the data says that fixing life support now might save ten lives, but fixing engines would kill the ten, yet save thousands later, then we should fix the engines.”

“Damn. That’s cold. Even for a salarian, that’s cold.”

“So is the universe, on average. However,” he continued, as if ordering some kind of extra, “I can promise you that while I am busily applying mathematical value to the immediacy of any situation, other parts of my vast intellect are experimenting with other options.” He gave her what she imagined he thought a friendly grin was.

Maybe all salarians tended to look snide. Maybe it was just him.

Sloane shook her head, her goodwill fading. It left her as cold as his calculus. “So you’re saying I should trust you twice over,” she said slowly. Her incredulity mounted with every word. “Once that your math is rock solid, and the other that you’ll come through with better options?” She barked a short laugh. “You’re right, Tann. It is a difference between us. So let me give you another piece of data to analyze.” She shoved a finger in his direction, only narrowly missing his bony chest. “Acting Director or not, if your math says to do X for some potential future benefit, and my gut says save someone’s life right-fucking-now, my gut is going to win, every time. That clear?”

He studied her for a moment, once more tucking his hands into his sleeves. Then, with a slight nod, he murmured, “Abundantly.”

The door to Operations hissed open, and Nakmor Kesh came lumbering out. Unprepared for the sudden company, Tann almost fell over his own feet leaping out of her way.

Sloane didn’t even bother hiding her snort. At least until the krogan’s gaze met hers. “Oh, shit. What now?”

Kesh’s large head swung around to pin on Tann, who busily attempted to right his dignity. At the weight of her silence, however, he stopped fussing with his apparel and frowned. “What happened?”

The krogan’s voice graveled low. “Jien Garson.” Before either could leap to questions, she shook her head. “They found her.”

The temporary morgue had been set up in one of the Biology labs, several decks away. Kesh led the way, with Sloane beside her and a very silent Tann trailing behind.

“They’re up to almost a hundred dead now,” Kesh was saying. “With biometrics offline, and the bodies… well, you saw a lot of them. You know what it’s like.”

“They didn’t know they’d found her,” Sloane said anyway. A hollow explanation, an ugly one, but it made sense.

“Exactly.”

Kesh pushed into the frigid room and went straight to a desk where two life-support techs were standing by. On the table was a sight Sloane had seen many times in her career: one body. One body bag. She’d never thought, not ever, that Garson would ever be inside one.

“Where was she found?” Sloane asked Kesh.

“In one of the apartments near Operations,” came the answer, but not from the krogan. The tech had answered. A gaunt man, with tired eyes. “We were doing a room to room, clearing bodies.”

The other of the pair added, “Wounds are consistent with all the rest. Environmental damage. Significant burns. It’s… not a pretty sight.”

The door swung open and Foster Addison rushed into the room. One look at Sloane’s face and the last glimmer of hope bled out from her eyes.

Sloane waited for the woman to join her at the table, and pulled back the bag. At first, Sloane couldn’t piece together any evidence of identity. Much of her face hid under charred skin. The smell was terrible, burnt and swollen flesh left to rot for untold hours in open air, but Sloane forced herself to stand strong. Don’t gag.

A somber silence fell over those gathered.

A million thoughts raced through Sloane’s head. Too many to grasp. To shape. She covered the body back up.

Addison gripped the edge of the table with white-knuckled fingers. “We’ll have to organize a burial,” she said, voice ragged.

“Negative,” Sloane replied, cutting the idea before it could grow into something bigger than they could handle. Too harsh, but nothing to be done about it.

“I agree with the security director,” Tann volunteered.

“I didn’t ask,” Sloane snapped, but checked her anger. It wasn’t really aimed at him, calculus or not. Besides, his role as acting director just became a bit more solid. There would be no more avoiding him in hope that Garson would turn up and save the day. “Addison, no offense, but a burial is the least of our worries. We don’t have the time or the manpower.”

“Or,” Kesh rumbled, “the facilities.”

“We should keep her here,” Sloane continued, grateful for the krogan’s support, “along with everyone else, until—”

“Until we can do it right,” Tann interjected, surprisingly firm. “She deserves as much.”

“They all do,” Sloane corrected. She couldn’t help herself. There were nearly a hundred bodies in the room, and they all deserved the respect of a proper farewell.

Nobody argued. Nobody moved or spoke. Not for a while, save for Kesh who laid one huge hand on Garson’s covered brow. A tender gesture, but not surprising. Garson had moved mountains to bring the Nakmor clan along on this journey.

It was Tann, in the end, who broke the silence. “We all wish to mourn, but there is a lot of work to do. If I may be so bold, our brilliant founder would have wanted us to do everything we could to save this mission before anything else.”

It was the kind of thing you couldn’t argue with, delivered with absolute perfect tone and understanding. Sloane gave him a nod of respect for that, which he returned in kind.

With nothing left to say, to do here at Jien Garson’s side, she left.

There really was a lot of work to do. The mission depended on them, now.

And only them.