Tann manipulated the interface. “These, perhaps?” He pointed.
“Yeah,” Addison agreed. “That would work.”
“Hypothetically, who would comprise the crews?”
Addison had already worked out the basics, but decided to allow Tann the feeling of participation. Besides, he might discern a better way.
“Pilots and co-pilots, those are easy, and in fact we already have capable pairs awake. Beyond that, a sensor tech for each.”
“Don’t we need them here, to fix our own sensors?”
“No,” Addison said. “To calibrate them, yes, eventually, but right now they’re all waiting on fabrication. They’ve taken to menial tasks in the meantime.”
“I see. Okay, who else.”
The list went on like that. Xenobiology, astrogeology, engineering, medical, and security.
“Security?” Tann asked dubiously.
“I think that would help ease Sloane’s concerns. Just in case someone suffered a mental breakdown, or one crew decided to take their ship and forge their own path.”
“Neither of those seem very likely,” Tann observed.
“Still, Sloane worries about that kind of thing, and her team is… excessive in number,” she said. “I think that’s fair to say.”
“Until food runs out,” Tann responded. “Then they all will be needed.”
“Well, yes, but that’s the whole point of this. Preventing that day from arriving. Besides, these systems are close enough that all of these ships should return before our supplies reach critical levels.”
Tann stared at the display, scanning the map and, Addison guessed, mentally juggling the pieces that would be in play.
“Unless any of them run into problems,” he muttered, as if to himself. “A mechanical failure, the Scourge, or something unforeseen.”
“It’s a risk,” Addison said, nodding, “but we’re not going to get out of this without taking some chances.”
“Hmm.” Tann stood and began to pace. In that moment Addison knew she’d convinced him. The rest would be details.
Finally, her time had come.
She pinged Spender. “Get to Operations right away,” she sent, hands shaking slightly as she typed the letters out. “Colonial Affairs is open for business.”
Spender took on the task of creating preliminary crew manifests for the eight missions. While he did that, Addison went to the Colonial Affairs hangar and made a personal inspection of all the shuttles.
Many were already in use as temporary shelters. But not all of them, and moving the occupants around in order to fully empty eight craft wouldn’t take more than a few hours.
The bigger issue, which she had anticipated but underestimated gravely, was supplies. The temporary occupants had been heavy-handed in raiding the stores, evidently thinking that because they’d made the ships their homes, that meant everything inside belonged to them.
Discussions turned heated, but Addison’s quiet summoning of security to help “clear the air” soon took care of that.
“Thank you,” she said to Kandros, the officer who’d arrived.
“It’s my job. No thanks necessary.”
Addison moved on toward the next craft.
“What’s all this activity about, anyway?” he asked, lingering alongside her.
“We’ve decided to send some scouts out. Catalog the nearby worlds, hopefully find some resources we can use, or make contact with the arks.”
“Security Director Kelly is on board with this?” he asked, sounding dubious.
Uh-oh, she thought. “Sloane didn’t have any objections,” she told him, watching carefully for his response.
He just nodded, studying the flanks of the nearest vessel. “You know I have some experience with that kind of thing.”
Addison stopped and turned. “Do you?”
The turian shrugged. “It’s sort of why I came here. Why I joined up, I mean. Somewhere along the line I wound up in security, but back home I was in counter-terrorism.”
Addison didn’t know this man, barely knew his name, but she could see a look in his eyes she’d seen in the mirror often enough.
“Spender’s in charge of the rosters,” she told him. “If you’re interested, I mean.”
He stared at the sleek ship for another long moment, then glanced at her and smiled. He quickly looked away, then walked off, saying nothing more.
Addison tapped a quick note to Spender on her omni-tool. Kandros in sec ideal for scout mission, if you need one more.
The reply came a minute later. I’ll talk to him. Thanks!
Foster Addison smiled to herself. Good morale was a powerful thing, she thought.
By evening the first of the scouts slipped out from the Nexus’s shadow and lit off into the vast emptiness beyond. Addison and Tann watched it from Operations, which still lacked a forward wall and thus provided one of the more impressive—if terrifying—views of their surroundings.
Provided, Addison mused, you only want to look forward. Which suited her just fine.
They toasted each departure, wishing the assigned captains good hunting as they neared the very meager range of the Nexus’s transmission capability.
Kandros, commanding the shuttle Boundless, promised they’d be back soon, and added, “Tell Sloane to save my seat at the card table,” seconds before powering past comms range.
Addison couldn’t recall how many times she’d smiled that day, but this one felt best.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sloane Kelly hadn’t worked so hard in years. She returned with the work team dead on her feet, hungry, bleary-eyed. She didn’t know what time it was. She didn’t know where her political counterparts were, and felt glad for that. She could sneak to her room and grab some sleep before anyone realized she’d returned.
Eight more hours of zero bullshit, that sounded beyond incredible, and she wasn’t about to ruin it. Better still, she could delay reporting that the mission had only been a partial success. The great hallway had been cleared enough to allow passage, yes, but there had been no cache of backup sensor arrays to plunder at the far end. The Nexus would remain blind a while longer, and that wasn’t going to make anyone happy.
She stuck to the plan. Avoided everyone. Ignored the messages waiting for her. The one from Kandros was tempting, but it didn’t have any of the emergency flags on it, so it could wait. It would wait. Eight damned hours, they could give her that much more.
She’d earned it, hadn’t she?
Sloane slept like a rock.
A rock then kicked loose by a careless boot to tumble down the mountain.
She woke eight hours later, sore and famished. It had been a long few days out in the “wasteland” with Kesh and her team. This was the term they’d adopted for the parts of the Nexus that hadn’t yet been visited.
They only used it among themselves, Kesh explained, so as not to offend or worry any of the non-krogan crew. The fact that they’d let Sloane in on the slang was something of an honor. She’d learned a long time ago that when the krogan honored you, you don’t take it lightly, no matter how inconsequential it might seem.
She’d worked alongside them, clearing debris and pulling cable with the no-nonsense attitude they maintained. They didn’t need security at their side. She needed the work. To lose herself in it. To—
Suddenly the message from Kandros registered front and center in her mind. “See you soon,” the subject had read.