++++++++++++++++++++This is my fourth in this series and it's definitely been the hardest to do, largely because Mordin is my favourite character in the entire series. Too many feelings vying for attention and confusing me.+++++++++++++++++++++++
Miranda was insistent that we start by recruiting a Salarian doctor named Mordin Solus. By all accounts he was a brilliant scientist— I reasoned that he'd have to be something special if Cerberus was willing to overlook his species. They reckoned that Solus was our best shot at finding a way to combat the Collector swarms. Of course, the Ice Queen being so dead set on finding him first made me want nothing more than to ignore him for a while to piss her off… but, this was bigger than my petulance— much bigger… galaxy size, in fact.
After Aria did her little "I. Am. Omega." intimidation floor—show, she told us we'd find the Professor running a free clinic in a quarantined plague zone— this job takes me to the nicest places. I got the sense she liked Mordin, or respected him at least. I always meant to ask him if there was a story there… Anyway, thankfully, humans were immune to the plague— so Miranda, Jacob and I could head around the slum as we pleased once we convinced a guard to let us through. Well, we weren't entirely unhindered… there were looters everywhere— humans and Vorcha. And of course the freaking Bloodpack had to be involved too. Wouldn't be a party without mercs, would it?
Getting to Mordin's clinic wasn't pretty. There was a body wherever you tried to step. Plague victims, looters… miscellaneous others… God, it was bleak. But we got there, and the Professor was waiting. Ha, 'waiting' suggests stillness— he was anything but still. Mordin was always fidgeting, always talking. Now that I think about it, did I ever actually see the guy sleep? He was constantly… I don't know… buzzing? That mind wasn't resting for a second, wasn't wasting anything. And his reflexes were just as quick. We met a sick Batatian on the way to the clinic who had been wary of going to the clinic because of Mordin's reputation. Aria had said warned us that Solus was equally as likely to shoot a person as help them. I'd say that's a little harsh— the Doc is a damn good guy, but yeah, he's a little ruthless— he was ex—STG, worked on the modification of the Genophage— he'd seen serious shit, done serious shit. But I never saw an ounce of cruelty or malice in Mordin; I never doubted his nature— his soul. He definitely did— spent years beating himself up for tough decisions even when he knew they were the best, or only, choice. Joker told me once that we had that in common. He said we both pulled the same 'haunted by my past' face when we thought no one was looking… I told him to fuck off back to the cockpit and quit playing therapist— but the jackass might have had a point.
Anwyway, where did I get up to? Oh yeah, the clinic. Mordin told me later that his work on Omega had been a sort of atonement, a penitence— so he refused to leave until he'd made enough of a difference. His cure was ready, but it needed dispersal; which naturally fell to us. The Bloodpack had other ideas and it ended up being quite a nasty fight. It was worth it though, saved a lot of lives and got the Doc on side. We'd rescued his assistant from some angry Batarians on our way through, and Mordin had faith in him to keep the clinic running until it wasn't needed any more.
The Professor settled on the Normandy quite happily; scientists are easy to please as long as you give them enough shiny equipment. But it was more than that— I ended up spending quite a lot of time in his lab. Like I said, he never seemed to be sleeping. Sometimes I'd just watch him work… he even got me to label samples a couple of times— nothing complicated or important, obviously… I've always found extended FTL periods tough… Time was running out… but there's nothing you can do to speed up the travel between destinations, you just have to wait… and it's so… frustrating. Watching him work, and helping a little from time to time, it helped me… it just helped, y'know? The fight was still going— I didn't feel as useless. Mordin picked up on that pretty quickly— I'm pretty sure he started making up stuff for me to do for my benefit alone— just to keep me busy. Like I said, he's a good guy.
Other times we'd talk. Mordin had worked with Kirrahe— y'know, the Salarian Captain from Virmire? It's a small galaxy after all. Salarians have such short lives… Mordin's getting on in years now so he already had a million stories by the time we met— and now he has even more. His work on the modification of the genophage was fascinating. Grim, of course— very very grim— but still fascinating… He's a faultlessly logical guy— so of course he had that detachment, he had to have it. But he was never cold, not really. What's that H.G Wells quote?
"The study of nature makes man, at last, as remorseless as nature."
I'd say there's definitely truth in that, but Mordin was never the heartless mad scientist that many people painted him as. The guy sings Guilbert and Sullivan for Christ's sake. No seriously! H.M.S Pinafore! Haha… Mordin is probably one of the people I've missed most since we turned the Normandy over. He kept to his lab mostly, unless he was on a mission or sticking needles in the crew in the name of scientific endeavour— but something about him made me feel… I don't know… like we had a shot.
So when he asked me for a favour I was keen to help— besides, we seemed to be tying up everyone else's loose ends, so why not his? An old student of his from STG days had been captured on Tuchanka— or that's what we thought. And well, an expert geneticist with inside genophage knowledge at the hands of angry Krogan? That didn't sound like a great turn of events. So when you throw in Mordin's personal attachment, it was clear that we needed to head to the Krogan homeworld. As it turned out, we needed to drop by anyway, to get Grunt checked out. From his comfy new throne, Wrex pointed us in the direction of a Scout who gave us Maelon's last known location. The increasingly problematic Clan Weyrloc seemed to be to blame, so we headed over to their base. They'd set up a makeshift hospital… the idea was that Maelon would cure the Genophage… and to do so he had a supply of desperate volunteers lining up for hypodermics and bodybags.
The Genophage… I'm ashamed, but I guess part of me has always tried not to think about it too much. Even after Virmire. It's such a huge, fucking terrifying thought to even begin to process… It's easy— too easy to push it aside— it's not your fault, it's not your business… But walking through that place… I see myself as a realist; I can see why the Genophage was the right call back then. It's not a pretty thought but it's the truth— or at least it's what I think. I might be wrong. But that's sort of my point. All of that… that difficult, uncomfortable moral mess… that's confusing and… impossible— but the hospital wasn't like that. It was just so obviously fucking wrong, y'know? There was nothing confusing about it— it was just plain horrific. And that's not so easy to push aside. Some people have called me heartless— maybe I've given them good reason… But I was pretty certain I had one that day. And Mordin… well if was hard for me, it was a thousand times worse for him.
So anyway, a couple of hours, a lot of bullets and a fair amount of blood later, we found Maelon. Only it turned out that our Salarian in distress didn't need rescuing— he was there by choice. He'd lost it, that much was clear— the guilt from his STG days was too much. You can say what you like about that esoteric, scientific detachment, but Maelon is what happens when the people who need it don't have it. He said it had all been a mistake, said that his involvement in the genophage modification was Mordin's fault and, by extension, so was his work on Tuchanka. He could see the horror of his experiments and he blamed it on his mentor. I guess maybe he had to see it that way— just to cope. But like Hell did that make it true. It hit Mordin pretty hard, he would have killed Maelon if I hadn't intervened. Maybe I should have let him… No, it didn't matter that he might've deserved it— because Mordin didn't deserve another helping of shit to deal with.
So the little bastard scurried away and we were left with the data he'd collected from his experiments. There was a lot of it— he'd made some significant progress towards curing the genophage. It was still a long long way from finished, and he hadn't done anything particularly revolutionary— but it was impressive enough to make deciding what to do with it tricky. Did we destroy it completely or keep a copy? I'd become so used to Mordin having straightforward, practical assessments of tough situations… so when he turned to me like he needed me to have the answers for a change… In the end we wiped the equipment, but Mordin kept a copy of the results. It was too dangerous to leave, but destroying it forever felt… I don't know, disrespectful. I'm no biologist, but my understanding was that the information wasn't irreplaceable— it could be created again given the same amount of time and… test subjects. But ditching the data because "we can just vivisect another few dozen expendable Krogan later"… that was too much for me to stomach. We decided it was better to keep the information. That way, if it's ever needed, their sacrifice isn't wasted.
Of course that could easily prove to be a terrible decision— my choices do seem to love coming back to bite me on the ass. But if that does happen, I know Mordin'll back me up. That's why I sent him back with Chakwas and the crew when we got them out of those damn pods in the Collector Base. He's a good friend; I hope I get to see him again before my time runs out.
+++++++++++++++++The H.G Wells quote is from 'The Island of Doctor Moreau' - one of my absolute favourite books which I'd recommend to everyone, but especially anyone with an interest in biology.
Like I said, this one was a bit of a bitch to write but hopefully it's not too terrible.+++++++++++++++++++