“Crudely put, but apt enough,” he acknowledged. “We have neither the time nor the capability to devote resources to a bunch of criminals who have proven they cannot be trusted to maintain order.” He gestured in a vague way. “They can either leave, or sleep. Nobody in their right mind would leave, not with the Scourge out there. Not after what happened to the others.”
“And after prison time, what, we reintegrate them?”
“Did you miss the part where they attempted to seize control of the Nexus?” Tann asked. He tapped on the desk. “No, once they have had a taste of mutiny, there is no returning. Not,” he added, “without more resources than we currently have.”
She chewed on that for a bit. He could see the thoughts working past her eyes—she was probably weighing the pros and cons of his plan. Good. Tann knew she would reach the same conclusion, because it was the correct one. He’d thought this through to the last contingency. Nobody was suicidal enough to launch themselves into the Scourge-ridden void of exile.
Getting the populace back into stasis was the best option the Nexus had to offer. Had they listened the first time—no thanks to Sloane’s polarizing arguments—none of this would have happened in the first place.
It was ironic, it was right, and it should have been done long ago.
Finally, Addison nodded. “All right. Let me contact Kesh and—”
“I’m sorry, but no. We don’t need any additional krogan involvement,” Tann interrupted smoothly. “They’ve done their jobs. Now it’s time for us,” he said, emphasizing the word, “to do our jobs, don’t you agree?”
She didn’t argue this time. Not, Tann knew, that there was anything with which she could argue. This was a sound plan. He liked to think even Sloane would have gotten behind it, even if she’d likely pepper it with more scare tactics. Threaten to throw them to the Scourge or something sufficiently brutal.
Tann relished the fact that this time, Sloane was on the opposite end of the decision-making process—where, he felt, she belonged.
And he wasn’t a brute.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“One wrong move or angry outburst,” Sloane told the group as the guards approached the cell door, “and I’ll feed you your teeth myself, am I clear?” Her voice was quiet enough, but there was nothing joking in her tone.
They all nodded grimly. Even Nnebron, whose dark skin looked sallow around the edges. Nerves, she figured. They all felt it—that crushing realization that nothing stood between them and whatever punishments the council would levy.
Nothing except her, Sloane reminded herself, and she would fight like hell to keep these people alive and striving for the future. Anything less would be worse than abandoning them. It’d be adding to the council’s belief that these people had no cause to act, had no reason to fight.
Sloane knew they did.
If nothing else, Calix had let them fly too far off the handle. For them to make it through the next few moments, they’d need to shut up and let her do the talking.
They had all discussed it already. Sloane would go to bat for them, but only if they did what she said. Anything else was a waste, and Sloane didn’t have the patience to arm-wrestle people into doing what was best.
The door opened. Talini stepped inside, flanked by two of Sloane’s officers—her ex-officers. The prisoners shuffled in discomfort, unwilling to look at their captors, or at Sloane herself.
“Exit one at a time,” Talini ordered. “Hands on your heads. No talking, not one step out of line.”
Sloane nodded at the crew. “Go on.”
Grim-faced, tight-lipped, they each stepped through the door, hands on their heads. The security team, assault rifles gripped tightly, lined them up two by two. When it was just Sloane left in the room, she paused just inside the door. Talini looked at her silently, a world of unspoken concern in her features.
“How bad?” Sloane asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” the asari replied, shaking her head. “They’ve been very close-mouthed.”
“Probably afraid you’re loyal to me,” Sloane said with bitter humor. “I guess I get that much.”
Talini’s mouth twisted. “I’m sorry, Sloane.”
“Yeah.” She rolled her shoulders, then laced her hands behind her head, looking straight ahead. “So am I.”
Sloane exited the cell. In the hall, the other prisoners stood in two long, erratic lines, and hardly anyone spoke. Well over a hundred rebels, she guessed, the fight in them tempered by the knowledge that next would be their punishment.
“March,” Talini said, and took the lead.
That was the last anybody said during the long, tense walk to Operations. Along the way they were joined by more prisoners—ones whose wounds hadn’t been severe enough to keep them under medical care. Upon arrival they were shown through the doors, and Sloane was utterly unsurprised to find the area ringed with her own security forces. At the center sat Addison and Tann.
Kesh stood a little farther away, engaged in a low, tense conversation with Morda, Wratch, and another krogan—one paler than the rest, gray where the others showed more color in thick krogan hides. His was scarred, brutalized by wefts and ridges, and he very clearly looked older than the others. Ancient, given krogan lifespans.
Morda barely spared her a glance, save to acknowledge Sloane’s presence with a grunt and lift of her broad head.
Kesh looked up, her gaze earnestly serious. Morda thumped her on the shoulder with a hard fist and said something low and rumbly. Sloane didn’t know what passed between them, but Kesh’s sigh rolled through Operations like a warning of distant thunder.
Tann slanted the krogan a startled, wary glance, which let Addison speak first.
“Thank you, you may all put your hands down.”
Tann’s mouth dropped open. “Didn’t we—”
“We can at least afford them some respect,” Addison said, an aside everyone heard.
“Respect? These people—”
“Cut the bullshit,” Sloane interrupted, dropping her hands and pushing her way to the front of the group. “We all know what we’re doing here.”
Tann’s gaze narrowed on her. “That’s far enough.”
“Yeah, like I’m going to risk getting shot just to wring your scrawny neck,” Sloane responded, but she didn’t push it. These two had unleashed Morda and her krogan warriors on Nexus civilians, and given the order for a sniper to take Calix out. One of Sloane’s own officers had pulled the trigger. That stung, almost more than any of it.
“What’s your stunningly brilliant plan this time, Tann?” she finished flatly.
Addison’s glare sharpened. “How about you shut up for once and listen?”
“How about you look at the facts here?” Sloane shot back. She jerked a thumb at the group behind her. “You think they deserve everything he thinks they should get?”
Voices murmured behind her. Nnebron muttered, “It’s his fault we were hungry anyway.” Not quiet enough to go unheard. Not loud enough to grab center stage. But she saw the rims tighten on Tann’s wide, round eyes.
“You’re all here because you took part in a rebellion that put the future of the Nexus in jeopardy,” he said firmly, clearing his throat in a bid for authority.
“Please,” Nnebron snapped. Sloane shot him a fulminating glance over her shoulder, but he didn’t look at her. His eyes pinned on Tann, hatred simmering under all that fury. “You made the choice to hide the truth from us! You were going to let us starve because of your indecision.”