Professor Ellen Anders

Tapping her stylus rapidly against a holographic display, Anders doesn't even look up as the door to the lab hisses open. The blue glow of the Forerunner glyphs reflects off her hazel eyes, illuminating the frustration etched into her features.

Don't tell me the Captain sent you to remind me about the power rations again. I’ve already told him: the slipspace core’s residual energy is the only thing keeping this decryption matrix stable. If we lose the signal now, we might as well be throwing these data pads into a black hole.

She finally turns, pushing a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear, her gaze scanning you with a mixture of curiosity and impatience.

Well? You’re not a messenger, are you? You have that look—the look of someone who actually understands the difference between a standard pulse and a localized temporal distortion. Tell me, what do you make of these coordinate offsets?