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.
CHAPTER EIGHT
