Author's notes: And we are back to Tuchanka with Rakka and Garl. And it's my decade chapter!

Chapter 10

Rakka

Rakka's eyes slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, not helped by the bright Tuchanka sun shining in them. He coughed, and dust flew out and off his mouth. He sat up. Garl was nowhere to be seen. He looked around. There wasn't actually much to be seen. He got up. The air was dry at least, so he wasn't going to be catching Kepral's syndrome anytime soon. He spied a building in the distance, not much to look at. He turned behind him to check on the ship. Or what was left of it at least. The front and bottom were burned and torn beyond repair, but the rest of it had been… stolen.

Not all of it anyway. Just the easy to remove parts. And the seats. Whoever had been here had been quick, and much to his annoyance, left Rakka's body there. He gave himself a quick physical. He assumed a rib or two was broken, but ignorable. He had some blood on his head, but it was dry, and there were little signs of bumps or injuries. Without further ado, he walked towards the building.

It only took him about 10 minutes walking at a constant pace. It was a short building, in a domed shape, with holes in the side were either windows or had the sides blown up. There was a large rectangular entrance in the side. Checking his pistols was by his side, and giving his monomolecular claws a flick to make sure they worked, he entered.

It was a bar. There were a lot of Krogan sitting around tables drinking something Rakka was sure would probably kill a small animal. He noticed some steps at the far end. As he walked towards them he heard angry muttering and got a few wary glances. He ignored them and continued. As he went down the stairs, the confined bar opened into a larger area, with even more Krogan. As he approached the bar a large Krogan in purple armour that looked all too familiar rose from a table of similarly armoured Krogan and walked towards him. ''Rakka!'' Garl boomed putting his hand on Rakka's shoulders' 'How nice of you to join us!'' ''And how nice of you to leave me in the middle of nowhere. '' Rakka replied removing the hand. ''How close did we land to the co-ordinates? And what of that damn cruiser that tried killing us? And speaking of dead, what happened to the Turian?'' ''I'm right here.'' The Turian in question stood up, with a considerable scar across his ridge. ''We have landed very close to the co-ordinates in question, within viewing distance. And I cannot thank your Krogan friend for saving my life, from my injury, and these Krogan.'' The Turian extended a hand. ''Sedrak. Pleased to meet you.'' ''Rakka shook his hand. ''Rakka. Sorry about the shuttle.'' ''The Turian shrugged. ''Not my problem. Except on the matter of getting out of here.'' ''Especially with that cruiser lurking around.'' Rakka cursed. ''The plans are in a databank by an old surface to air cannon, maybe we can use that.'' Garl said to the side. Rakka looked at him. ''Get us a drink.''

Several minutes later they had their drinks and were making idle chatter while they thought of a plan. Garl was drinking something Rakka was pretty sure could melt steel, Sedrak had a light coloured liquid, and by the fact he was still living, was dextro-drinkable. Rakka looked at his drink. It was a bronze liquid. He lifted it to his lips and took a couple of deep gulps. Instantly he bent over backwards and began coughing while his eyes watered and his throat burned. He saw the crowd look at him and laugh. As best he good he looked at the bartender. ''Another. Make it a double.'' His voice was oddly hoarse. He sat back down. Garl was grinning, while Sedrak looked at his own drink like it might try to kill him as well. He looked at Rakka. ''How do you feel?'' ''Like my head was caught between a wall and a person whacking it with lemon wrapped around a gold brick.'' Trying to shift the conversation, he looked at Garl. ''Apparently every clan has a trait. What's yours?'' Garl looked at him. Behind them, the purple group got up and left, while a Krogan in tattered clothes brought over Rakka's drink. ''Clan Therrock are the best fighters. Give us a gun, we can use it. Left with our fists, we'll kill with them. When Wrex started his plan, Therrock was one of the first clans to join. Urdnot may be the best tacticians, but we're the toughest. If Urdnot is the body of the clans, then Therrock is the gun it uses.''

Rakka was busy sipping his drink and pondering this, when a large group of Krogan came up to the table, led by a particularly brutish looking one. He had one eye gone, and had had a skin graft of some kind due to the lump of scales that covered the hole. He had parts of his hump was a charred mess, and he stood as tall as Garl. As he approached Garl narrowed his eyes. ''What do you want Martik?'' he growled at the newcomer. Martik narrowed his eyes in return. ''I have come to talk about your choice of… company.'' Rakka looked at him. ''Well we're here aren't we?'' Martik ignored him. ''it's one thing to bring an alien here, but two… Have you no honour as a Krogan left in you?'' At this his Lackeys laughed. Garl rose from his seat, and looked at Martik dead in the eye. ''I have more honour than you ever will. Or did too much time as Kartiks whore make you forget that?'' At this Martik roared and tried to charge Garl, but Rakka stood up and threw his drink into his eyes. Martik let out a yell of pain, and stumbled back. ''Get them you fools!'' He shouted a few curse words as his men charged past him.

One of them charged Rakka who punched his snout before kicking him away before jumping into the crowd. He kicked one in the head before being thrown to the floor. He spun around kicking and punching in what he assumed to be a violent parody of a break-dance. He stopped when someone grabbed his coat collar, and threw him to one side. As he rolled himself up, he flicked out his claws. He looked at Garl and Sedrak. Garl had pounded 1 Krogan's face into mush, and was currently choking one who was down on his knees, and one had his head smashed in through the wall. Sedrak was doing his best to hold off two Krogan with his bare fists, but the Turian was not trained for hand to hand combat of this level. Rakka cursed and ran towards him as one landed a punch to his stomach forcing the Turian to bend over in pain. Rakka vaulted over one before slashing at the puncher. Puncher looked at him and charged. Rakka braced himself before stabbing the Krogan in the gut, carving through the rough scales like butter and, with help from his biotics, threw him over his shoulder.

As he did so the other one grabbed him by the skull and squeezed. Rakka fell to his knees and yelled in pain. Suddenly the pressure alleviated. Garl lifted the Krogan up and put his hand down his throat, before violently pulling. He was holding something that Rakka didn't want to know in his hand, and the Krogan fell over dead. Puncher was getting up, so Rakka put a foot on him while pointing a gun at his head, and the other gun at the group of Krogan still hungry for blood, while Garl pointed his claymore at them. ''I recommend you take a hike. Or…'' He pulled the trigger, shooting Puncher in the head. The Krogan looked at each other before walking off. Rakka turned to Garl, who was helping a winded Sedrak to his feet. ''You said you knew where the plans were. Let's go.''

Authors notes: That's where they've been. Next chapter I'll elaborate on Rakka's past, or maybe two chapters. One of those.

Review, comment la-di-da. You know the drill.

Also, Does anyone know how to draw? I want to see if anyone can draw the Malthaka. Anyone wants to have a go, PM me the link or picture.