Wherever this was leading, it was starting to churn acid in the back of Tann’s throat. Before he could say anything more, however, Morda took a step forward and bent.
She bent. At the waist.
Like a bow.
Tann’s eyes widened so far, the secondary eyelids strained.
“Then the Nakmor Clan has acted as agreed, and now officially accepts the offer of a seat on the leadership council of the Nexus.”
For a long moment, not a sound filled the hydroponics chamber. Morda, perhaps uncomfortable in so uncharacteristic a position, looked up.
“What is she doing?” Tann demanded.
Kesh’s frown deepened. “I don’t know.” She looked at Morda. “What are you doing?”
The clan leader growled, rolling her shoulders. Humility didn’t sit well on her. “I’m claiming the council seat offered in return for our service in putting down the rebellion.”
Kesh’s eyes turned to Tann.
He blinked again. “The… what?”
Morda’s frustration mounted, evident in her toothy sneer. “The council seat!” she repeated loudly, as if he were dimwitted. “Your sand-rat ambassador offered us—on your behalf—a seat at the official Nexus leadership council, in exchange for our loyalty and service and for ending the uprising.”
“Spender.” It was the only word Tann could form through the chaos of his thoughts. William Spender had gone to the krogan, and Tann had assumed the terms were clear. Taken aback, he shook his head and moved closer—hoping it wasn’t too close. “This is impossible,” he managed. “I did not authorize him to offer that. It was never even mentioned.”
Behind her, one of the meaty-faced brutes slammed his fist into a hand.
“Wrong,” he roared.
Kesh looked back and forth between them. “Spender said you’d get a seat at the council if you put down the rebellion?”
“Did I not just say that?” Morda growled. “There were witnesses.” She jerked a gesture toward the krogan behind her. “And some humans, as well. I made certain of it.”
Tann continued to shake his head. “I’m afraid there’s been some sort of mistake,” he said firmly. “No one species should be arbitrarily guaranteed a place on the council, much less by an unauthorized individual. It’s ridiculous, and goes against everything the Initiative set out to achieve.”
Morda became as still as a statue, glaring at him. Utterly intimidating. All the more reason the krogan would never occupy a council seat. Too much of a penchant for conflict. Despite the fear in his gut, Tann had to break the silence. He raised his hands slightly, appealing for calm.
“That offer should never have been made,” he said. “I’m sorry, Morda, but there is nothing we can do. Spender will be reprimanded for this error.” Error, his hydrodynamic head. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll speak with my aides and see if we can’t draft plans for a more appropriate reward for your service.”
Before the clan leader could reply Kesh stepped between them, and Tann made good his escape. Slipping through the door, he could still hear Morda shouting, her followers echoing her fury, and Kesh’s loud efforts to get them to settle down. The sounds followed him all the way to the lift.
A fury unlike any Tann had harbored before roiled within him, aimed at William Spender and made all the more intense by his fear of Nakmor Morda. The intensity of the emotion left him barely able to think, his rationalizations spinning.
He paced in a tight square as the lift descended. Spender… how to deal with Spender. The man got results, but his methods were unscrupulous and, honestly, quite insane. Offering a council seat to Nakmor Morda, what the hell had he been thinking?
Tann supposed a little of the blame for that fell on him. He’d sent the human to handle that task, after all, and instructed him to win the clan’s support at all costs. Tann should have chosen his words more carefully, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
He could not honor Spender’s offer. That, above all else, was clear. The question was, how to avoid Morda’s wrath at a faithless deal broken. Security certainly wasn’t up to the task if the krogan became… uncooperative.
“Hmm,” Tann muttered, still pacing his tight squares as the lift hummed along.
Morda was entirely unfit to sit on the Nexus leadership council. Kesh, perhaps, after an extensive trial period and a majority vote, but Morda? Impossible. She couldn’t handle the troubles, the tough decisions, even—yes, even the boredom. Rulings upon rulings, the mind-numbing maze of regulations.
No, what the council needed were cool, calm heads and councilors ready—even eager—to handle the day-to-day minutiae of station control. It had nothing to do with prejudices. This was just common sense.
By the time he made it to Operations, he’d almost convinced himself.
Morda hadn’t become clan leader by being soft. She pushed against Kesh with a roar, forcing the krogan to stumble back a few steps.
“You can’t attack just anyone,” Kesh shouted, nose to Morda’s nose.
Morda’s snarl drowned Kesh out. “I demand satisfaction,” she growled. “I demand that they treat us with the respect we have earned here!”
“I understand, clan leader.” Kesh glared at her, arms spread. Engineer though she was, that didn’t make her any less of a krogan. Morda respected her enough to know that any conflict would end in blood and bruises, and both would lose teeth. And Kesh wouldn’t back down. She turned her glare on them all.
“The human aide made a mistake,” Kesh pressed. “He is an idiot—he overstepped!”
“An aide,” Morda spat. “He presented himself as… what was it, chief of staff?”
Behind her, Kaje snorted his agreement.
“He played too hard,” Kesh said flatly, “but that is not a reason to tear the salarian apart. Would you war with all of the Nexus now?”
Morda drew herself up. “I am Nakmor Morda, leader of the Nakmor krogan, I do not bend at the threat of war.”
“But it will destroy us all nonetheless,” Kesh replied. She fisted both hands, held them wide. “We are in a new galaxy, surrounded by a Scourge that tears our ships apart. Like it or not, we must work together. Will we drown this dream—this masterpiece—in the blood of our own?”
“They deserve blood,” Wratch shouted.
Kaje huffed. “After all our work.”
“We should just wreck the Nexus,” Wratch added, nodding fiercely. “After all, we built it. Rebuilt it, too.”
Drack reached out a casual, enormous fist and punched Wratch in the chest. “Watch your tongue, runt.” With his craggy, scarred stare he forced the other to look away. “To destroy this station is a waste.”
“Better to take it over,” Kaje added, “and claim it for all krogan.”
“My krogan,” Morda corrected, her gaze pinned on Kesh. “Does that or does it not include you, Kesh?”
Kesh blew out a hard breath. “Clan leader, if we take over this station, we will enjoy the victory of a single battle, yes, but also doom our species to the same hatreds as those left in Tuchanka. We need allies. We need the other species.”
Morda stared at her. The engineer had nerve. She’d always been smart—too smart—and Morda wasn’t pleased about her divided loyalties. Kesh belonged to the Nakmor.
Even so. She wasn’t wrong.
Morda stared down the shadowed corridor that had swallowed the salarian. He’d sent some lowly rat to speak for him, to promise things—no, to outright lie—in order to win her support. The clan had been used as a weapon. That’s how they were seen and treated. They’d shed blood for this farce.