Jason M.Hough

Garson lay back, adjusting the folds of her uniform. Like maybe she’d get uncomfortable? Sloane wasn’t sure how it’d all work, but she figured a centuries-old wedgie would be among the worst of their problems

She slapped the viewing pane twice, and furious pounding from inside ceased. A muted voice barely broke through the barrier, but she got enough to catch the drift.

Hurry up.

Possibly with more profanity.

Sloane stood beside him, arms folded across her chest. Addison sulked a short distance away. No, sulked wasn’t quite right. The human fumed. She clearly had expected, though certainly not hoped, to be the next in line for command in this situation. Instead, for reasons none could fathom, this middle-management finance officer had been higher on the list.

The salarian stood there, scratching idly at the back of his neck, reading his name on the screen over and over as if it might provide some hidden explanation.