After The Fire
By Cpt. Mira
A/N: *May contain minor spoilers from Lair of the Shadow Broker.* This story takes place after the STG mission that was on the Shadow Broker's dossier on Mordin. If you haven't read it (which I highly recommend), it's on the Mass Effect wiki, under Shadow Broker Dossiers/Dr. Mordin Solus. Enjoy!
Aboard the Veshok-16, Mordin was tending the wounded. He applied medi-gel, performed surgeries, changed IV bags, and checked vital signs, even as his fellow STG squad mates insisted that he lie down and rest due to the injuries he sustained earlier. He simply dismissed their advice and went back to work.
In the ship's infirmary, Maelon was starting to stir in his cot. Mordin noticed and quickly finished bandaging Operative Hishau's torso. As he walked along the row of cots toward Maelon, he could hear his student mumbling about population levels and krogan.
When Mordin approached, Maelon looked up groggily and said with a slur in his voice, "Mordin…did we…are the female krogan alright? I can't…it's hard for me to remember."
As Mordin rooted through his metal cabinet to find a syringe, he replied, "Everything is fine Maelon. Mission completed, minimal casualties."
He then found his syringe and filled it with a sedative. As Mordin injected the sedative into Maelon's IV catheter, Mordin said, "Important that you rest now. Will feel better tomorrow."
Maelon gave a sad sigh and muttered, "I don't think I'll ever feel better." Before he could say anything more, his eyes closed and he fell asleep.
Mordin felt a twinge of pity for Maelon. He could understand how conflicted he was about the mission and the genophage modification as a whole. He would be lying if he said that there weren't things in his line of work that disturbed him profoundly. But Mordin reminded himself that his research was needed to prevent the deaths of countless lives from another war, even if it meant that a few had to be sacrificed in the process.
Leaving Maelon, Mordin made a final round in the infirmary. Once he checked that everyone was stabilized, he handed his shift over to a doctor's assistant and retired for the night.
Mordin traveled through the ship's narrow corridors towards his quarters. On the way there, he passed Commander Kirrahe's office. Seeing that the door was opened, he took a quick glance. Commander Kirrahe's office was neat, with papers stacked like miniature skyscrapers on his desk. On the walls there were maps, mostly of the Krogan DMZ and Tuchanka, complete with mountain ranges, population numbers, and major cities. A small window over looked the depth of space, only a few feet away from where Kirrahe was sitting. The STG commander was currently typing away at his desk, oblivious to Mordin's inquiring gaze.
Breaking the silence, Mordin said, "Hello Kirrahe. Typing up a mission report?"
Kirrahe looked up from his computer console and blinked rapidly in surprise at Mordin.
"Mordin! I didn't expect to see you," said Kirrahe. He waved him into the room and Mordin took up the invitation, stepping inside and sitting in a chair that Kirrahe pulled up for him.
"I was just finishing up my report actually," said Kirrahe, sitting back down. "I hope you don't mind that I wrote about how you stopped that Weyrloc guard. A pitchfork through the eye! I commend your creativity, not to mention the sheer bravery of your action."
"Had to do what was necessary. The pitchfork happened to be in my reach. Would have preferred a pistol but…no bravery required," stated Mordin simply. "Appreciate the compliment however."
Kirrahe nodded. His large eyes studied the slash wound on Mordin's face and his missing horn.
"Are you feeling well?" asked Kirrahe, gesturing to Mordin's face with his three digit-hand. "Those injuries look serious."
Mordin sniffed. "Injuries already healed. Applied medi-gel to facial wound, cauterized cranial horn. Probably will scar, but doesn't matter. Other STG members suffered worse."
At the last comment, Commander Kirrahe gave a pained expression.
"I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you," said Kirrahe, guilt written across his face. "I thought that we should have stuck to my plan. I should've been more flexible and shifted the drop parameters after we took out those scouts like you advised. If I did, Jirin and Chorel would still be alive. "
Mordin put his hand on his chin and thought for a few seconds before answering, "You are right. Should have listened to me."
Yet when Mordin saw the remorse in Kirrahe's eyes, his expression softened.
"However," continued Mordin, "shouldn't be so hard on yourself. Jirin and Chorel knew the dangers of their work. STG always has risks. Not productive to regret past actions. Instead, should focus on how to improve oneself, to learn from mistakes."
"But what have I learned from all this?" asked Kirrahe.
"Will suggest this; a good leader listens to his teams' concerns. Team input a vital part in decision making. Don't just mean me, could be any member of the STG that has an opinion," said Mordin. "Still young, inexperienced. Understand that. Apologize for calling you a cloaca earlier."
Kirrahe shook his head. "No need to apologize Mordin. I called you some names too. We were just frustrated at each other. But thank you for your advice. I'll take it to heart."
Mordin gave a hint of a smile. "Know you will. Maybe someday you'll be promoted to captain. Will have to thank me later when you do."
Kirrahe chuckled and replied with, "Only when you regrow your horn."
"Wouldn't doubt it. Am doctor after all," said Mordin with a sniff.
"Never mind, I take it back," said Kirrahe. "You're still a cloaca."
"If remembered correctly, you called me one tough cloaca. Sounded like a compliment," commented Mordin.
"I also called you a walking cloaca. Don't forget that," pointed out Kirrahe.
"Hm. Will ignore that comment, only because I enjoy your speeches," said Mordin.
"You do? Really?" asked Kirrahe. "I thought you hated them."
Mordin shook his head. "Not at all," he replied. "Always raises morale, actually quite enjoy the 'hold the line' bit. Never knew a cloaca could give such rousing speeches."
"Fair enough Mordin, fair enough," said Kirrahe with a laugh. He got up and extended his hand.
"It was good talking to you," said Kirrahe as Mordin got up and shook his hand.
"Enjoyed talking to you as well," replied Mordin. "Possibly could continue this again?"
"Of course," said Kirrahe. "My office is always open. Feel free to drop by and chat anytime."
"Thank you Kirrahe."
"You're welcome Mordin."
Mordin turned to leave and walked out of Kirrahe's office. After a few seconds, he backtracked and poked his head back in.
"Forgot to say something. Am performing in The Pirates of Penzance this weekend. Nothing too extravagant, just a community theater production. Invited family, but have an extra ticket left. Would you like to attend?"
"Well a good leader listens to his men. I'm not sure if that includes singing but now you've got my curiosity," said Kirrahe, giving a grin. "I never heard you sing a single note before."
Mordin returned Kirrahe's smile with a smug expression.
"Am sure you'll be pleasantly surprised at my singing abilities," he said, punctuating his sentence with a confident sniff.
"Count me in then," replied Kirrahe. "Just don't forget to send me the time!"
"Of course," sniffed Mordin, "wouldn't even dream of forgetting to give vital information to my commanding officer."
Although Mordin didn't want to admit it, inwardly he was quite ecstatic. He then reminded himself to set aside a few extra hours to practice. After all, he didn't want to disappoint.