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"It's a krogan," Garrus said, not looking away from the object in front of them.
"Yep," Shepard replied, staring at the same object.
"In a tank."
"Uh-huh."
"Shepard, far be it from me to question your judgment, but. . .are you fucking crazy? You'd tell me if you were fucking crazy, right? Because this is fucking crazy."
It was kind of fucking crazy. The krogan warlord Okeer turned out to be a tad more maniacal than they expected; he died so that his "perfect soldier" could live. His perfect soldier was a tank-bred krogan, and it was this tank-bred krogan that was sitting peacefully in stasis in front of them, tank and all.
Now Shepard just needed to wake him up.
"Please tell me you'll at least have a small army on hand in the very likely event he goes berserk. You remember the other krogan supersoldiers Okeer bred, right? The ones who all inevitably lost their minds? You are considering the possibility that this one will do the same as his ten thousand predecessors, yes?"
"Of course. I have my gun with me."
"Unless it shoots atomic warheads, I'm not exactly comforted."
"You doubt the force of Commander Shepard's mighty gun?"
Garrus winked. "No, it's just your pistol I doubt."
"I totally gave you that one."
"But seriously, at least let me be in here with you when you wake him up."
"Garrus, if we want to avoid pissing him off when he wakes up, then the worst thing we can do is have a turian be one of the first things he ever sees. Your races hate the shit out of eachother, and we need him to be on our side."
"We hate the krogan because they pitched a fit and tried to take over the galaxy. The krogan hate us because we turians bent them over our knees and spanked them. Am I to blame if they hold a grudge for thousands of years?"
"The average krogan lifespan is a thousand years, kinda like the asari. Furthermore, what you call 'spanking,' a lot of people call 'genocide.'"
"The genophage-"
"Permanently sterilized the entire population, resulting in clan wars over reproductive rights for fertile females, resulting in societal collapse, resulting in their ultra-violent tendencies."
"I'm pretty sure their ultra-violent tendencies existed before we dropped the genophage on them, or we wouldn't have had to do it in the first place."
"Look, can we debate the moral pros and cons of genocide later? I kind of need to birth a krogan."
"Fine, but don't come crying to me when he needs his diaper changed."
Garrus turned and left the port cargo hold. Shepard knew he wouldn't go too far; just out of range of the krogan's senses, about to the elevator. If he was right, though, and the krogan did snap. . .he didn't want to think about it.
"EDI," he said.
"Yes, Shepard?" Came the overhead response.
"Do you sense anything wrong with this guy?"
"Like all krogan, he is affected by the genophage; beyond that, no genetic anomalies or defects are present. All life signs are stable. I cannot determine his mental state at this time."
"All right, then. Let's open this tank up."
"Are you sure that is wise, Commander?"
"I will not be questioned on my ship, by my ship. Open the tank."
"Very well."
The tank hissed, and the fluids keeping the krogan stable drained out. The front opened up and the krogan fell out onto his hands and knees, shaking his head. He wasn't as big as Wrex had been, but he was still seven feet tall and covered in massive plates and scales like other krogan. When he opened his eyes and looked around, they were a brilliant shade of blue.
The krogan's eyes landed on Shepard. Then he charged, grabbing Shepard in an iron grip and slamming him against the wall. The krogan's strength pressed the air out of his lungs and held him several feet off the ground.
"Human," the krogan said. "Male. Before you die, I need a name."
"Commander Shepard. Nice to meet you too. Relax, we're not going to hurt-" the krogan pressed against him, cutting him off.
"Not your name. Mine. Okeer trained me. I know things, but the tank. . ." the krogan's gaze wandered, but his grip on Shepard remained firm. "Okeer couldn't implant connection. His last words. . .warlord, legacy. . .grunt. 'Grunt' was among the last. It has no meaning. It'll do." His attention focused back on Shepard. "I am Grunt. If you are worthy of your command, prove your strength and try to destroy me."
"My ship has a strong crew-a strong clan. You'd make it stronger."
"If you're weak and choose weak enemies, I will kill you."
"Oh, our enemies are worthy. No doubt about that."
"Hmph. That's. . .acceptable. I'll fight for you."
"I'm glad you saw reason." Shepard glanced down at the gun in his hand, trained directly on Grunt's midsection.
"Hm?" Grunt looked down and saw the gun for the first time. "Ha!" He let the human down surprisingly gently. "Offer one hand and arm the other. Wise, Shepard."
"If you'll fight for me, then I need you to cooperate with the rest of the crew. Including the turian."
"Hmph. Yes, I can smell your turian bodyguard's stink. If your crew challenges me, I will crush them, but if they leave me alone, I'll do the same."
"Good. Now, about setting you up. . .you're kinda big for the crew quarters."
"This room suits me fine."
"You want to stay in the cargo hold?"
"It's quiet, private, full of nice, breakable things. What's not to like?"
When Shepard left the cargo hold, Garrus was still waiting outside.
"So," he said, "since you're still in one piece, I assume everything worked out well with Junior?"
"More or less. We'll have to see how he is on the field. Till then, you kids play nice."
"Aww. I don't wanna."
When they left the krogan ("Grunt," Shepard called him; what a stupidly accurate name), Shepard asked Garrus if he would come up to his cabin. Garrus gulped.
Right now? He wasn't ready yet; he still had research to do. As much as he wanted Shepard. . .he wanted it to be right even more. But he agreed to go up to the cabin together.
The elevator ride felt long and uncomfortable. Neither of them said anything the whole way. When the doors finally, blissfully opened, Shepard unlocked the door to his room and led Garrus in.
"I want to show you something," he said.
Oh, spirits. "Shepard, um, do you think it's a little soon? I mean, we were just looking at a krogan, and it takes a bit to get that smell out of my nose, and-"
"The hell are you talking about?"
"Oh. You're not inviting me up here to. . .you know. . ." he tilted his head to the side.
"No, but now that you mention it. . .you do still want to. . .be with me, right?"
They hadn't really talked about it since their discussion several nights before. Embarrassed by the misunderstanding, Garrus mustered up his confidence again. He took Shepard's soft hand, held it up to his face, and nibbled gently on a knuckle. "Don't worry," he said. "I haven't forgotten what we talked about. I hope you don't feel that I'm leading you on or something."
Shepard made a soft, pleasant sound when Garrus took his hand. He wondered what kinds of noises humans made in bed, how loud they got during the act. "I don't feel that way at all," he said finally. "It's just. . .you'd tell me if you weren't interested, right? You're not doing this because I'm your commander or anything?"
"Of course I would. I'm not nearly so good a soldier as to go that far beyond the call of duty."
Shepard nodded solemnly, then pulled his hand away. "Well, I'm looking forward to it. But for now. . ." He activated his omni-tool and typed in a few commands. "Have a seat, Garrus. I'm going to tell you my life story."
"Huwha?"
"Sit. Don't make me order you."
He sat on the bed, confused. What the hell was Shepard doing?
Shepard stood a few feet away, holding his omni-tool up but not doing anything. He stared directly into Garrus' eyes. "I was born on April 11th, 2154, on the colony of Mindoir. It was a rainy day, and. . ."
As Shepard droned on and on, his omni-tool suddenly came to life. Holographic projections of words appeared in front of him, but he continued his story as though nothing was going on. His gaze never wavered from Garrus' eyes.
IGNORE WHAT I'M SAYING. STAY QUIET, the words said.
Garrus looked from the words to Shepard's eyes, questioning. Shepard grinned, but continued his story.
"So anyway, I was eight and just said my first curse word, so Mom gets out this ancient wooden spoon her parents used on her. . ."
THE MOLE MAY BE LISTENING IN.
"And let me tell you, nobody ever fucked around with my sister again after that guy showed up at school with a cast over his. . ."
THERE IS A SIGNAL COMING FROM THE MAIN BATTERY. IT BELONGS TO THE MOLE.
Wait, what? Garrus' mandibles twitched back and forth, clicking as they hit his face. I had no idea, he tried to communicate to Shepard without using words. You don't think it was me, do you?
IT BROADCASTS OUR POSITION EVERY SEVEN HOURS. I NEED YOU TO DISCREETLY FIND IT AND NEUTRALIZE IT.
"Dad took me to my first lap dance when I was fifteen. Man, that was an uncomfortable coming out experience. . ."
I BELIEVE WHOEVER PLANTED IT MAY BE TRYING TO FRAME YOU.
"I just turned sixteen when the attack on Mindoir happened. The rest, well, you know. . .it's public record."
IF YOU NEED TO TALK, SEND ME A MESSAGE. BE CAREFUL.
The words vanished and Shepard's omni-tool turned off. "So, that's it. Thanks for listening, Garrus. Do you need anything from me?"
"Um." He was a little disoriented. "N-no, I got it. Thank you for telling me, Shepard."
"No problem. Dismissed."
Garrus nodded and walked out, suddenly with a lot more on his mind than when he went in.