She never thought being a politician would be such a hard job. It had always seemed to her like strutting around, smiling all the time, slinging bullshit and platitudes like rice at a wedding.
It was goddamn hard, though. She could admit that to herself now. No point in letting Tann know she’d reached that particular epiphany, however.
And yet, like a demon summoned by name, her omni-tool chimed.
Was it Tann? Of course it was. Luck wasn’t her game. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.
“We need to meet,” he said flatly. “If you can spare a few minutes.” He knew she could. Knew exactly where she was, and what she was doing, thanks to the device on her wrist, which now functioned more or less as intended—albeit with limited range.
Sloane inhaled a long breath of recirculated air. “Is it important?”
Tann’s irritation snapped with—and she could sympathize—fatigue. “It always is.”
All right. Fine. She rolled her aching shoulders. “On my way.”
The three of them gathered in a conference room just off Operations. Tann and Addison were already there when Sloane arrived, but that was normal. She seemed perpetually doomed to make them wait, and at this point neither of her fellow leaders even mentioned it.
“It’s been a while,” Addison said. “Tann and I thought this might be a good time to assess where we’re at.”
“Okay,” Sloane said, flipping a chair around so she could straddle it. She rested her arms across the back and laced her fingers together. “Assess.”
“Do you want to start?” Tann asked her.
“Nope.”
“Are you ever in a good mood?”
Sloane barked a laugh. “Usually about twenty seconds before my omni-tool goes off.”
“I’m sorry if I ruined your day,” he said dourly.
“It’s not you, Tann,” Sloane said. “It’s meetings.” She stared at the center of the table. “I really hate meetings.”
“Then think of this as more of a chat,” Addison put in, not quite able to keep the annoyance out of her tone.
“The only thing worse than a meeting,” Sloane said, “is a meeting with no agenda. AKA, a chat. But okay, I’ll try. Promise. Let’s chat.”
Addison and Tann exchanged that look. It was a look that had been exchanged when the first meeting of the cave clan was held around a fire, to decide what to do about the spear tribe from the next valley over. The do you want to start or shall I look. Sloane forced herself to relax. It had been four weeks, after all. Maybe a little progress update couldn’t hurt.
Tann went first.
“There is one thing I would like to discuss,” he said in a vague, casual tone. “Supplies.”
“Supplies,” Sloane repeated. “I feel like that’s all we ever talk about.”
“Only in the immediate sense. The micro, not the macro. We need to discuss the long-term prognosis.”
This, Sloane reluctantly agreed, probably merited a chat. Maybe even an honest-to-God meeting. Supplies were a problem that loomed like an overdue planetquake, just distant enough that everyone knew it was coming, yet no one wanted to do anything about it. Except Tann, of course. Truthfully she found little fault in his thinking.
“Hydroponics,” Tann said, taking their silence as permission to continue, “is behind schedule. It will be another four months, I’m now told, before we get our first edible crop, and meanwhile the effort is a massive drain on our available resources.”
“Four months?” Sloane repeated. Last she’d checked they were claiming three to four weeks. A single month at most. “First I’ve heard that.”
She regretted the words the moment she’d said them. It amounted to an admission that she hadn’t been paying attention, which was largely true.
“I asked Spender to do some calculations,” Tann said. “At our current burn rate, we will run out of our reserve caches in eight weeks or so.”
“So soon?” Addison asked.
Well, at least I wasn’t the only one tuned out, Sloane thought. That, or Addison’s own advisor had left her out of the loop, which seemed equally likely.
“That isn’t the worst of it,” Tann went on, gaining steam. “Water will run out sooner. Reclamation and filtration are woefully behind schedule. There was far more damage down there than anyone realized. And this assumes we’re out of the woods regarding the Scourge, which is so far wishful thinking.”
Sloane looked at Addison, saw the same surprise she felt. “How is it you know all this and we don’t?” she asked Tann. She feared the answer, but had to know. Sloane braced herself, ready to learn that she’d been oblivious to reports or blowing off meetings. She expected some kind of condescending answer about how, as acting director, it was his job to know. The reply took her by surprise.
“I walk,” Tann said.
“Huh?”
“I walk. I roam the halls. Well, usually I just pace in my lab, but sometimes a change of scenery helps me think, so I wander. And when I wander, I see things. I hear things. Later today,” he added ruefully, “I have no doubt that we will be officially told by Nakmor Kesh that these two critical projects are not going well.”
“It’s not Kesh’s fault,” Addison quickly said.
“Did I imply as much?” he asked blandly. “I did not. But that you leap to it does make one wonder.” Whatever Addison wanted to say—and all the swearing Sloane didn’t have the heart to throw in—was halted by a dismissive wave of his hand. “This type of news tends to take its time filtering up to us, and occasionally as I walk, I catch on sooner. I gather hints. I connect the dots… but this is not the issue. The issue is supplies. We should focus on that.”
“I really don’t like where this is going,” Sloane said.
“Oh?” Tann fixed his gaze on her.
Sloane inhaled, puffed herself up. “The solution to a supply problem isn’t exactly a security officer’s dream scenario. Fed people are content people. Showers are generally appreciated and really damn useful for morale.”
“Understood,” Tann said, but then he added, “We will begin by discussing rationing.”
“Is there another alternative?”
“I believe there is, but let’s start with this.” He glanced at each of them. “We made a mistake by allowing free rations. At first, our shared sense of purpose led people to naturally be aware of their draw on our resources.”
“Yeah,” Sloane said. “Not so much now, though.”
“Precisely,” he agreed. “The crew has become accustomed to taking whatever they need, when they need it. Over time, as routine set in and our immediate dangers were mitigated, the lack of worry has led to… I won’t call it gluttony, but certainly people are behaving like, what’s the word?”
“Assholes?”
“No.”
“Selfish pricks?”
“No.”
“Inconsiderate cunts?”
“What is a—?”
Addison cut in hurriedly. “Short-sighted!”
Tann snapped his fingers. “Yes! That’s what I was looking for, thank you. Also, thank you, Sloane for the colorful commentary. It is always, er, linguistically fascinating. I shall have to consult the database on some of these terms.”
“Knock yourself out,” she said. “But we got hit by the Scourge not that long ago, if you recall. Has there been a dip in ration use?”
Tann shook his head grimly. “The reverse, in fact. As if once aware that rations bore no restriction, desperate times seemed to create further draw.”
“Well.” Addison gestured, indicating all things outside the room. “If people are losing sight of the mission, what their duty is, then let’s remind them.”
Tann rested his chin in one hand and tapped at his jaw with one long finger. “What do you have in mind?”