Jason Hough - Mass Effect - Nexus Uprising

Kesh shifted her weight from one foot to the other, thinking. She said, “By sending a representative that is far beneath her in standing but above me in the political hierarchy, you will show her the importance of the request.” She flattened a hand over the blackened tears in the clothing at her side, as if it pained her. “Morda will be pleased by this, and also enjoy the opportunity to intimidate a puppet.” Her smile showed a lot of fang, and she aimed it squarely at Spender. “Treat her like just any krogan , little man, and she’ll be picking your bones out of her teeth.”

Spender smiled back. It was strained. No love lost between these two.

“Good,” Tann said loudly, and he clapped his hands. “It’s decided. Spender will go negotiate with the Nakmor leader for krogan assistance in this unpleasant matter. The mutiny’s ringleader will soon be taken care of, and we ,” he stressed, gesturing at Addison and Kesh, “can begin working on ways to address the people’s concerns.”

Spender was already nodding.

“What of Sloane?” Kesh studied Tann in that slow way she had.

Easily decided. “We tell the krogan to look out for her,” Tann replied readily. “And if possible, escort her safely back to Operations so we can include her in the discussions.”

“All right.” Addison’s brow was a red tangle of eyebrows and frown lines, but she nodded in a slow, uncertain rhythm. “I’d rather this get solved before anyone else dies on our watch.” She rested her fingertips on the edge of the console, pinning Spender with a hard stare. “Don’t aggravate the krogan, Spender. Morda is… well, you know.”

“Believe me,” Spender said as he straightened his uniform jacket. As earnest as Tann had ever seen the man. “Pissing off a krogan war band is the last thing I want to do.”

Tann gave him a pat on the back and guided him to the door. “Listen,” he said under his breath. “I realize we’re asking a lot of you here. I appreciate—”

“Chief of Staff,” Spender said.

“What?”

“Make me Chief of Staff. If Morda agrees, I want to work directly for you, and not as a damned gopher.”

Tann looked him square in the eye and saw a hunger not present in Addison’s gaze, or Sloane’s. “I believe that can be arranged,” Tann replied. “ If Morda agrees…”

Spender’s hands were damp with nervous sweat by the time he received word that Morda had unfrozen. Kesh had initiated the process ten minutes before, and left once the vitals all showed green. She’d chuckled as she passed him, a sound that still echoed in his ears.

Standard stasis pods weren’t huge, by necessity. Big enough to comfortably fit the species their design called for. The outlier to the design came when they’d suddenly had to deal with a complement of Nakmor krogan. Such pods were understandably larger.

Much, much larger.

While Spender had no illusions about the objective size of krogan warriors, Nakmor Morda’s reputation cast a long shadow. As he waited for the only available technicians to get her through medical, he found his leg bouncing in uncontrollable nerves.

Nakmor Morda.

The profile he’d devoured on the way to the guarded communications room painted a bleak picture. A female clan leader, which said a lot about her capabilities. The Tuchanka Urdnot leader, Wrex, hadn’t been a krogan who suffered fools, and Spender knew from diplomatic association that anyone who could impress him was bound to scare anyone else.

By all accounts, Nakmor wasn’t a soft clan—they were brutish, impatient, and aggressive. All traits the krogan valued, all reasons William Spender wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

It was pretty much a given that she would be angry. She’d probably also stink like a—

Abruptly voices were raised in warning. They echoed the heavy, dangerous tread of a krogan on the warpath. Spender braced himself as much as he could before the door flung wide. It cracked into the back paneling and boomed out a metallic, dissonant gong . Just what the Nakmor clan leader needed to mark her entrance.

As if Morda wasn’t imposing enough.

Maybe more so than rumor suggested, and rumor had suggested quite a damn lot. Her eyes burned with a righteous fury as her gaze landed on Spender.

“Where the hell is my clan?” she boomed in a voice shredded by glass and granite.

“Safe,” Spender said hastily, before remembering safe wasn’t exactly in krogan vernacular. “Er, waiting for your orders!”

Morda moved like a tank. Strength and muscle forged a piledriver that pushed everything in its path out of her way. Spender’s spine went rigid as she strode up to him without slowing, barely keeping from mowing him down.

He couldn’t help himself. He flinched.

Half a second later he still found himself breathing, and cracked open an eye to find Morda’s broad, flat krogan face mere millimeters from his. She filled his vision.

Dominated it.

“Who are you?” she growled. “Where is Kesh? Or Garson? If I am not talking to Kesh, the only other I should have to suffer is Jien Garson.”

All the rigidity in Spender’s spine threatened to wilt. He forced his legs straight, made himself look her in the eye.

“My name is William Spender, chief of staff to the Nexus leadership.” Well, he would be, if she agreed. And if she didn’t agree it wouldn’t matter anyway. “Jien Garson is dead. Long story,” he added when her broad nostrils flared.

She inched that much closer. “There is only one human in this universe I consider a friend, and that is Jien Garson. So tell it. Now .”

He did. He told a shortened, much faster version. She simply stared at him, unblinking. Saying nothing. When he wound down…

She still said nothing. The silence stretched, filling the minimal space between them until Spender was positive he heard it ringing in his eardrums.

“Kesh and the council decided to awaken certain individuals,” he said, breaking the silence, “setting priority to those who could rebuild.”

The krogan’s gaze narrowed dangerously. Then, on an inhaled breath, she took one step back to give her large body room to break into graveled, guttural laughter. She thumped her uniformed chest with a knobby hand.

“ Rebuild ,” she snorted, the laughter fading. “Rebuild! And now look at you.” She half-turned, flinging that hand back toward the busted doors and the obvious signs of battle visible beyond.

Spender saw her point.

“How goes your rebuilding now, human?”

Rhetorical, Spender supposed. He sighed. “Yes, mistakes were made—”

More raucous laughter cut him off, and he took another deep breath before he did something he’d regret.

Like get himself killed.

When her gusty guffaws eased, he tried again.

“Clan leader, we’re asking for your help in putting down the mutiny before it gets any more out of hand.”

Her laughter, all trace of humor, abruptly vanished.

“Why isn’t your security taking them in?” she asked bluntly.

He didn’t want to tell her that even Sloane’s force was too small. That no alternative existed. Then again, he didn’t know how else to put it.

She read the truth on his face.

“So,” she said slowly, “your pitiful forces can’t handle it.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a shrewd stare and a pointed question. “Or is it that you won’t send them against your own?”

A valid, incredibly insightful question.