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—”