Archon's Ship: Aftermath
Drak sat in the galley of the Tempest, a data pad in one hand and a bottle of ryncol in the other. Every so often, he would take a drink from the bottle and scroll to the next page. His scaly features had long ago turned into a frown, and each page made it deepen.
"Damn Salarians..." He both hated and respected Ryder. The Kett had probably exalted his scouts by now, or tried to. And Ryder had decided to save the little pyjak Pathfinder instead of his people.
But that same Human had stabilized Eleedan, helped the colony, cleared out countless scavengers, and made water so much easier to get there. Drak knew he couldn't do that. Well... all but the scavengers, they were easy.
"Hey, Drak?" Peebee over the omnitool.
"What, kid?"
"I, uh... I heard what happened. On the Archon's ship." She even sounded small.
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Right, yeah. I get that. But, I just wanted to say... I'm sorry. I know how much your scouts mean to you."
"No, kid, you really don't." Drak turned off the omnitool and went back to reading.
Names. Sons and daughters. Fathers and mothers. Brothers and sisters. Killed or captured by Kett. All Krogan.
Jorgel Jad
Nakmor Tethik
Surka Faav
And the list goes on. And the bottle was empty.
Drak wasn't sure what triggered it. The rage, the violence, but it felt good. He needed to let it out.
The data pad was the first to go, thrown hard enough to shatter. Then the chair at the door, bending the plates and breaking the chair. Table was next, ripped from the floor and smashed on the ground. Sink, cabinets, walls, ceiling, floor. All bruised and broken. With blood prints of Krogan fists.
He stood there, alone as the light finally gave out. Good. No one needed to see this next part. It was private.
Drak looked up, and let out his frustrations. He bellowed, shaking the sound proof room. It turned into a sob. For a lost son. For a granddaughter who has to live here. For great grandchildren he will never see the Rites for. For lost sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, friends. And family.
He stood in the dark, unwilling to let his sadness bring him down. He stood for the lost, and shed tears for them. He wiped the back of his hand on his eye, clearing the wet from his face. He took a breath, and another, and another.
"I don't want Ryder to know about this." Drak called out into the dark. That damn computer was always listening. "I'll pay for repairs. You understand, Synth?"
"It was not our intent to share your private moments with others, the Pathfinder included." Neutral. Monotone. Mechanical.
"Good."
Drak stomped out of the kitchen and headed for his bunk. He had another data pad there, same names. They all needed to be read. Drak owed them that much. And so did Ryder.
"Robot. Forward a list of Krogan names to Ryder. Let him see what his actions caused."
"At once, Drak."