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.

“Point taken. Still, do me a favor?”

“No promises.”

Kesh spread her hands. “Calix is the only person on board who really knows the life-support systems inside and out.”

“You don’t?”

She didn’t rise to the bait. “I do, but I have my exceptionally skilled hands full. So if you need to shoot him,” she continued mildly, “aim for the leg.”

Sloane laughed, a full sound that told Kesh everything she needed to know about the human’s sense of humor. Much more like a krogan’s, or a turian’s, than not. “Deal,” she chuckled. “But I don’t plan on shooting anyone. Call it an attention-getter.”

“We’re in trouble. We need your help.”

That earned the turian’s attention.

“You don’t say. What kind of trouble?” Calix blinked several times, his eyes a bit less bleary each time. Finally, he lifted his head a bit, winced, and laid it back, the bony crest pressing into the form-fit cushions. Somehow, he dredged up humor. “Given the method of wake-up, the warm weaponized welcome—” Sloane lowered her pistol a notch, but only just. “—and the lack of medical, I’m going to guess it’s the critical variety.”

She didn’t know the details because he was too humble to talk about it.

Whatever the case, they were loyal after that, “to a fault,” in his words.

“They said they’d follow me anywhere,” Calix had said dryly, “so I thought I’d test them on that with Andromeda. Turns out they were serious.”

Sloane worked side by side with Kesh for twenty-six hours.

Through sweat and blood and the power of multicultural profanity, the failed core was manually jettisoned and, in a moment of inspired genius on Addison’s part, tugged out to a safe distance by a semi-functional cargo drone. Everyone now awake had to hunker as deep as possible in the bowels of the mangled space station in order to weather the resulting blast, but it worked.

“Where was she found?” Sloane asked Kesh.

“In one of the apartments near Operations,” came the answer, but not from the krogan. The tech had answered. A gaunt man, with tired eyes. “We were doing a room to room, clearing bodies.”

The other of the pair added, “Wounds are consistent with all the rest. Environmental damage. Significant burns. It’s… not a pretty sight.”

Sloane glowered at the back of his spiky fringe. “Which reminds me, why the hell didn’t any of you brainiacs put an emergency eject on the inside?”

“We did.” He didn’t spare her a glance, but his tone brimmed with humor as he carefully tweaked the controls he worked on. “You just didn’t pay attention in class.”

“That’s—” She hesitated mid-protest. Thought about it. “Okay, that’s fair,” she admitted. She’d preferred training simulations and security logistics to what she’d figured would be a class on insignificant details for a device she’d only be sleeping in.

Showed what she knew.

And yet there were the problem scenarios to consider. They were legion, to put it mildly. It all came back to supplies. Mouths to feed, thirsts to quench, waste products of which to dispose. Life was many things, but chief among its traits was its incredible efficiency at turning food into feces, and that simple process lay at the core of all his concerns.