Jason Hough - Mass Effect - Nexus Uprising

He’d swear one of her flared nostrils twitched. Fascinating.

“That is an extremely cavalier view of our own dead,” she said, a hiss somewhere under the tightness of her words.

He shrugged. He was right and he knew it.

“Of everything we need to address, the dead can wait,” he pointed out. “They are hardly going to come knocking on anybody’s door, unlike the very much alive men and women we must take care of immediately.”

“What are we going to do about the insurgents?” she demanded.

“An easy solution.”

“The hell—”

“Director, please.” Tann held up one hand, as placating as he could. “At least hear me out.” He gestured at the seat on which she leaned. “Sit.”

Addison frowned. “I’m good,” she said, “and I’m listening.”

Well, it was better than Sloane, most days. The salarian allowed the woman her small rebellion, saying nothing more about it.

“Let’s discuss this like rational creatures,” he said instead. “What has been our primary consideration since waking?”

“Survival.”

“True enough. And what else?”

Addison considered this. “The mission.”

“Exactly.” He smiled at her, pleased that despite the horrors of the last few hours, her wits remained. Of course, he’d expect nothing less from the director of colonial affairs. In a strange way, it was nice to see her standing up to him, finally. Showing a little passion and intensity, a trait her file noted but he feared the Scourge had knocked out of her.

“The moment those people refused to go back into stasis, we started losing ground. With too many mouths to feed, too few resources, and the time and energy of balancing everything, they cost us more than we could afford.”

“ Those people are still part of the Nexus ecosystem.”

“Exactly,” Tann said. “Exactly.”

“So?” Addison folded her arms on the back of the chair, leaning in a way that looked less menacing.

“So,” he repeated, drawing the word out, “to handle the insurgents, all we must do is offer them two choices.”

“Two?”

“For the sake of simplification.”

“Fine.” She raised her eyebrows. “Please don’t say we’re going to space them.”

Tann chuckled. He couldn’t help it. “Actually space them, as our erstwhile security director had suggested? That would be especially ironic, now that she is one of them, but no, of course not. However, it may be worth pulling a page from Sloane’s own peculiar way of handling situations.”

“What, like, give them a terrible choice and then a reasonable one?”

“Exactly,” he said, nodding approvingly. “Option one, we offer them shuttles—”

“We can’t afford—”

“Director, please. Allow me?”

Addison sighed. “Fine, go on.”

“We offer them shuttles,” he repeated firmly, “and supplies to last a reasonable—but not unreasonably reasonable—amount of time. Wish them well on their journey to find a world more to their liking.”

“Exile.”

“Precisely.”

“In a corner of Andromeda plagued by a death nebula from hell, where all our scouts either failed to find anything useful or disappeared trying? Shit, Tann, just space them, it would be less cruel.”

“Yes.” Tann’s smile just widened. “And they know it. Sloane does, at least. Which is why option two will sound so much more appealing.”

“And that is?”

“Cryostasis. Which was all we were asking in the first place. Of course, a punishment hearing would await them at the other end of that, but at least it would occur under less pressing circumstances. Cooler heads, as it were.”

She caught on immediately. “We can get everything settled, an infrastructure in place, and resources steadied.” Her gaze sharpened on him. “In short, put this whole mess in a drawer for now and come back to it later.”

“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.

“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.