Chapter 18

Out of all the species other than humans, it was the krogan that Shepard had excelled at killing. It was no easy feat but Shepard had a salarian mentor, and it was common for salarians of Lor's caliber to know every weak point the krogans had. Lor had his share of run-ins with over eager krogans who had held him responsible for all the mistakes of his species. He had quickly developed ways to fight them, a lot of them, sometimes, even on his own. Especially on his own.

Despite that, it was also the krogan that Lor admired the most. They were prey in Tuchanka and yet outside of it, they became predators. It may have been wrong to test one's true mettle on a species that seemed so lost, but Lor believed that any creature that managed to survive on Tuchanka for longer than necessary was either one lucky bastard or one hell of a fighter or both.

Shepard was on a standard-sized ship for civilians; less than half the size of an Alliance frigate. Her cover was that she was hired muscle along with a few mercs for volus tradesmen. Right then, she was on the receiving end of more than several odd looks, either because they were fascinated by how she managed to move about silently while wearing swanky boots or because she was the only human in a sea of batarians and a handful of krogan.

Tired of all the blatant staring, she slung her things over her shoulder and made her way towards the cockpit. No one seemed to like the pilot much either. He was said to have too much attitude for a civilian pilot so far flung from the Citadel. Plus, he was human, so apparently that made things worse. He was good at it though, that much Shepard could tell from the way the ship cruised quietly despite its age and visible rust.

"Tired of the ass-leather smell of krogan hide?" He asked without turning back when she arrived with a soft knock. "It's going to be a long ride. Would appreciate it if your omni-tool had a spray function— I especially like lavender."

She walked up closer behind him, admiring the way his fingers glided over the buttons.
"You're running this ship on your own?"

"No need for extra fuss when you've got the best flying this vessel. Plus," He swiveled around in his chair to face her. "It's half the size of an Alliance frigate, which would have been easily manageable by moi."

She kept her surprise at seeing him to a minimum. Of course he wouldn't recognize her. He was drunk when they were first introduced in Flux during the bash she threw for the Commander. Not to mention, she was barely there during the funeral. Still, the sight of the bearded face and ever present cap reminded Shepard of sunnier days. "I see. I guess what they say about you is true."

He narrowed his eyes at that. "What are they saying? If those volus out there are talking about my brittle bone disease, you can tell them that at least I can shoot a gun without flying off the floor – despite my whole arm shattering."

She grinned at him. "They said it was run by a hotshot, former Alliance pilot with a big mouth."

He looked up at her in surprise. "Damn, now that I look at you – you look pretty damn fine for a merc. Have we met?"

"Tell me that wasn't a pickup line."

He grinned back. "Only if you want it to be." He shook her hand at that. "But seriously, I have this sneaking suspicion that I should know you from somewhere."

"One sentence: Flux, about a year ago, and free drinks."

His grip on her hand tightened. "Well, shit. Rachel? The Rachel that gave Wrex round after round of freaking ryncol till we all thought he might actually die from alcohol poisoning despite his multiple livers?"

"It's good to see you well, Moreau." She took a respectful step back. "I thought you'd stay with the Alliance after— that."

His shining eyes dimmed for a moment before flaring in rage. "Alliance grounded me. Couldn't take much more of that so I left. Got in touch with Wrex, weirdly enough, because I can't say we got along – he said he needed someone to send people back and forth from Tuchanka to the Terminus systems."

"You're a krogan's chauffeur now?"

"Not a krogan, the krogan. Only been a year and some of the clans are moving faster to get an alliance with Urdnot than they were to start making babies." Moreau's eyes glazed over. "And even if this ship isn't my Normandy, it's still a ship. Piss poor defense systems, though. Just enough to get quickly in and out – and that's only if Tuchanka doesn't chew us up."

Shepard crossed her arms, looking up at the open expanse of stars laid before them. "ETA?"

"About a day, Galactic Standard – slow as hell, I know. This ship wouldn't have passed the regs to fly anywhere, but you know what they say: whatever comes from Tuchanka, never stays in Tuchanka." Shepard shook her head at him and his grin grew wider. "Best to get used to the krogan smell too, there'll be more of that where we're going." He laughed a little to himself. "It's nice to see a familiar face around – or not so familiar, considering that I remember your face being blurry and blue."

She laughed. "Likewise, Moreau."

Shepard spent the next day near or in the cockpit. Moreau cracked strange jokes about her coming onto him, but she could see the relief on his face when she was around. They traded jokes about every volus that walked past the cockpit. They were a couple hours away from reaching Tuchanka and Moreau (he insisted on the name 'Joker', which she had decided to use only when she was speaking to him) had put the ship on auto-pilot.

"So," Moreau began. "What brings the infamous Rachel all the way to Tuchanka?"

"Infamous? If I'm infamous then I didn't do my job right." She spun on one of the empty co-pilot seats. Not that she could help him fly the thing, but she did occasionally press a button to keep Moreau on his toes. ("Hey, hey, hey! Do you want to throw the krogan out the – Never mind, I know you do.")

"You know what I mean."

Shepard stopped her spinning and looked at him. "Joker, I think you know more than anyone why the galaxy should be preparing for a threat instead of sitting around with their thumbs up their asses."

He sighed through his nose. "So, you know about the Reapers?"

"And I believe it. I'm doing the prep."

"And the rest of it?"

She looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in the couple of hours they spent talking about porn stars in Fornax. "We'll have to see. But when it happens, Joker, you'll be the first to know."

That had been the end of her luck. When she left to set-up and make a last stop at the washroom, all hell broke loose.

"Brace, ship under fire!" Moreau's voice snapped through the comm channels before he hit the thrusters and dived. "Keep your volus asses from rolling around back there!"

The ship was hit by bullets the moment they breached past Tuchanka's atmo. Moreau, skilled as he was, couldn't evade all the gunfire and missiles before one connected hard. The volus tradesmen held on for dear lives as they landed – crashed—almost a click away from the supposed landing zone.

"Joker! Patch in Urdnot and let him know the coordinates of our location!"

"Already on it, ma'am." He said automatically before he caught himself, feeling embarrassed. "And something tells me that wasn't the first Alliance order you've spat out."

She grinned at him. "Something tells me that was the first time you've called anyone with some respect."

"Hey! There were a few! Captain Anderson was a hard ass."

She sobered into seriousness. "Are they pirates?"

"No. Should be a rival clan, but they're probably after the stuff. I guess they don't like Urdnot being hot shit in Tuchanka at the moment."

She grabbed her Hornet SMG and her Carnifex sidearm and strapped them onto her holsters. Strapping on her sword and heading to the main floor, she hissed at the over eager mercs by the hatch. "Do not open that hatch, batarian, unless you want your head blown off by the krogan on the other side."

The hatch was fairly narrow, good enough for only one or two to leave at a time. When it was pried open, the krogan outside clearly wanted them to know they were from clan Turvak. ("For the pride of Turvak!")

So when one came in, charging and ready to steal and plunder, Shepard's sword was out and ready. Lor had pointed out, time and time again, that a krogan had to be taken down fast. The quickest way was to remove his brain – it may have multiple hearts, livers and nervous systems, but he only had one head.

Her sword, upgraded with better tech that could slice its way through armor, embedded itself into his left eye. She twisted it as he screamed before she slid the blade out from his head. She stuck a bomb on him before kicking his body backwards and out the door. The orange of his blood spilled all over her face and hair – she wiped away a bit of it from her face and gloves before turning back to the volus passengers. Behind her, the bomb went off and the krogan roared outside.

"I suggest you move back, things will get messy from here." She drew her sidearm with her other hand as she heard the battle cry outside. "There's only one door for them to enter."

"Unless they make a new one." A volus breathed, moving himself and his cargo as far away from the door as possible.

"Unlikely, they'd want the cargo in here safe. Blowing up a hole to make another entrance would jeopardize that." Her heels clicked as she moved away from the door again. "Joker, have the Urdnot responded?"

The comm crackled and spat before he said, "Not yet."

She closed her eyes. "Listen people, I'm going to have to ask you to follow me if you want most of us to survive. I know you don't want to take shit from some human but I want to make it to Urdnot whole and alive." There were only four krogan and two batarian mercs in the ship. They were clearly not eager to work under her but they all moved closer towards her, eyes wary as they listened to her plan.

Military precision was Shepard's answer to krogan brute force. The moment one or two entered, she had the mercs aim their shotguns at their skulls. They had made a makeshift barrier as cover for the front of the door at a range where any shotgun would feel like a hammer to the quad. As soon as they fired, Shepard finished them off with either her sidearm or sword or pushed them out with a sticky bomb attached to him that killed or severely injured whoever was behind him.

When two Makos drove in, flanking the rest of clan Turvak along with their backup, Wrex's head scout was expecting to meet a massacre of volus and Joker's dead body.

Instead, he found Legacy – covered in krogan blood, being thanked and praised by a bunch of mercs and volus. And Joker, looking a little weary but very much alive, faced him and said, "About time you showed up."

She had tried to settle into Tuchanka, but it was proving to be difficult. Even if she was allowed to sleep in the Urdnot camp upon arrival from the downed ship, Wrex still refused to see her.

"He's busy." The krogan guard at the head of the line of krogans from other clans and the volus tradesmen, grunted.

She crossed her arms. "Sitting his ass down on a throne of rubble?" The krogan looked ready to pull out his shotgun, but her hand was already dangerously close to her sword. "Tell him I'm only here for business."

"He's busy, human. Can't you see the queue? Everyone wants the Battlemaster's time and they're all here on business."

She took note of the long line and then moved up to glance at Wrex who looked bored beyond compare every time he tuned in to listen to volus. Instead, he eyed the clan in the distance warily and Legacy followed his gaze.

They were composed of mostly women with one or two children. Wrex was keeping an extra eye on them and the guards he had stationed near them. No wonder he was so twitchy. He had guests that took precedence over anyone here – the future of the krogan.

Legacy, or rather, Rachel, since she had yet to change her name, cursed in an old tongue. She'd have to be patient. "I don't do lines. Tell him Rachel is here and to come and see me."

She knew she was in hell when the first night rolled in.

Moreau had offered the ship for her to stay in but she had declined. She needed to get used to Tuchanka as she planned to stay here long enough. Moreau had called her crazy, Rachel had to agree.

"Just head back here when you change your mind. I'm not sure what the hell Wrex's problem is. Probably being a krogan and testing you. He always used to give the Commander a hard time." Something somber came over the pilot's face but it was dismissed when she gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. She told herself that this gesture was necessary to shake away the memories – it wouldn't do to dwell on someone who was about to be resurrected, not that Moreau knew that.

"I don't doubt it." She slung her gear and her equipment over her shoulder. "Don't worry, Joker. You get some rest before you leave planetside. You've got a ship to re-patch."

"Aye, ma'am. Good night and don't let the klixen bite."

With a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand, she made her way to the border of the camp. Even the predators of Tuchanka seemed less fearsome than the krogan prey nearby. Wrex may have allowed her to stay but he had other clans staying over as well and they didn't like the sight of her.

She had done her research; the surrounding fauna comprised mostly of pyjaks and wild varren that may attack her from outside the border, but there was vegetation that she could touch and she could kill and roast the pyjaks. She had no intention of sleeping until the day cycle hit, if she would even sleep at all. Instead, she took a meditative position and sat in silence. There was no use wasting energy and even without the nuclear winter, it was freezing on Tuchanka. She readied a fire by activating a mod from her omni-tool and the wood that she had gathered from some of the odd purple trees nearby.

Now, she could think about how she hadn't told anyone in Archangel that she was leaving. Then again, it's not like they would have wanted to know that she had gone; not after what she did. It was a real shame too; she really could have used some of that Vakarian humor. If there was anything that she was going to miss, it was that.

Still, she sighed, what Sensat had insinuated – without even asking about the scars. Rachel reached for her hands, peeling off the gloves to look at the marred skin there. The flushed red skin meant her heart rate had sped up. Regardless of what they looked from the outside, few knew what they meant to her.

"Each hand represents a lesson," Shepard had told him. Looking into his grey eyes as he studied her, Azril – she thought of him every once in a while as her comrade and for a longer while, as her lover. He looked sad but understanding, just the way she remembered. "Do they disgust you?"

"What lessons?" He asked, taking her left hand. "Who taught them to you?"

"The left means–"

Krogan were not known for their subtlety. She wasn't entirely sure why they tried. She opened her eyes to the present, sidearm at hand as she aimed–

Only to find a boy, a krogan child, whose eyes were impossibly large and who probably weighed twice as much as she did. He was probably younger than twenty but was rather weak and puny for his age and species. He had a stick in his hand and he looked ready to knock her out with it, only he got caught before he could do it. He turned embarrassed and hid it behind his back instead of brandishing it over his head.

Shit. How did the clans not see one of their own escaping the camp? So much for the extra security they were laying out for their future.

"Boy," she called out and he stiffened. She tapped her omni-tool so that her translator would be put on speaker for both of them. She doubted he was old enough to have an omni-tool of his own or that the clan could even afford one at this time. "Get back into the camp. Your clan will miss you."

"Red-asari," the boy called her and she had every right to be insulted. How could he not know what humans were? "Why are you here? Madra, mama, said that even volus-thieves get to sleep in the camp, so why not red-asari? Are you—dangerous?"

She nearly hissed at him, thinking of some way to scare him off so he could go back to the safety of his clan. However, his intention to stay was clear when he sat down, his plump krogan legs making the task a little difficult. His hide was a pale red shade and still looked soft. Rachel was wary; she extended her senses all around them for anything that might sneak up on them in the dark. She was all too aware that the boy was prey in his own home and she'd be damned if he died near her. She would be killed three times more brutally and twice as slowly by the krogan if they found out.

"Very dangerous, boy. But not as dangerous as the borders of this camp." She motioned her head towards the expanse of sand and darkness. "Hasn't your Madra told you it isn't safe here? Get back inside."

As all children did, he didn't seem to hear her. "What is red-asari's name? I am Greior. I want to be part of Urdnot one day – like my father, my Dragur."

She looked up, summoning her patience. "I am nameless. And I am not an asari. I'm human. Didn't your Madra teach you these things?"

He looked thoroughly confused. "Madra only said our Sodragur, our forefathers, hated the asari. For the way they used them and for that they've done to us. How they helped the salarians and the turians. She didn't talk about hu- huamans."

Rachel sighed. The League and the krogan now turned out to be equal parts belligerent.

Not bothering to reply to that, Rachel closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The dust had mostly settled and the cold night wind had ceased. Though, she would have to let the fire die slowly – keeping it up the entire night would invite nocturnal predators. She would be able to keep warm if she concentrated on that.

However, the young Greior sidled up closer to her instead of leaving for camp. She moved her weapons to the right side so it would be hard to him to reach for those without her noticing.

"Your Madra will look for you," she said quietly causing him to jump at the sound of her voice. Her body was absolutely still and the night beyond them was daunting. "If she finds you here, she may kill me. Or try to."

He growled. "My Madra is young but she is strong. Stronger than some red-asa– hu-man."

"Then do you want to get me killed, boy?"

"What I want is to be free. I want to be part of my Dragur's clan. But Madra won't let me because I—" He motioned at his small arms and legs, the soft portions of his hide that should have, by now, become rough and strong.

Legacy said nothing in reply, only looked at the fire – stared at it long and hard until Greior fell asleep beside her, innocent and unaware of the predators all around him.

When his mother came by, looking panicked and twitchy, she looked ready to attack Legacy, but all Legacy did was stare back. In turn, she merely fixed a glare at Legacy as she woke her child up and dragged him back to camp, her eyes never leaving Legacy as they left.

Things had changed in Archangel since Rachel—Shepard—Legacy left. Things had also changed in Omega.

The new Legacy was noticeably different in her MO and less fearsome as a result. There were rumors going around that the old one had died and Aria had found herself a quick replacement to fill the void. Where the old Legacy had been silently effective, this one was loud and noticeable. Garrus didn't like the way Shepard's professional reputation was being dragged through the mud and he approached Aria about it.

"It's on purpose." She replied easily. "We need to confuse people about her identity. I had told the new agent to be as different as possible: they'll likely think the old one's dead."

"You got rid of her pretty fast for someone who was mad about her going missing."

"So did you."

He almost flinched at that. Almost.

"Did our favorite human do something to piss you off? Say, did she hit someone precious to you? Kill someone you loved?" She laughed at his stunned face—a reaction he couldn't control. Her grin was so wide and her teeth, so white. "You fell for it, so easily. And she slipped right through your fingers like water."

His stance stiffened and he found himself having to put his hands behind his back to keep himself from climbing the steps and strangling Aria. He'd probably get a bullet through the brain and that's only if Aria didn't kill him with her biotics first. "What do you mean?"

"Archangel, you got right under her skin. Hit her right in her human heart, tiny as it is." She leaned forward. "But what do you really know about her? If there's anything I know about the girl, is that she'll cut off anything that keeps her from the mission. If your little cheering squad or yourself had given her purpose, had given her any reason to pause from that mission, she probably would have readily killed any of you. And if she knows you as well as I do, you'd be reluctant to let her go. Not unless you saw it with your own eyes: a reason to distrust her, to hate her."

He left Afterlife boiling with fury at the insinuation that Legacy—Rachel—Shepard had planned so extensively to leave. Would she? Could she? He reviewed everything he knew about her. The past that she had shared with him, the decisions she made while she was present. She was intelligent enough, devious enough. When it came down to it he knew she didn't need his friendship nor his loyalty.

His father's voice, one that had been absent for the longest time, came back—berating him for trusting so easily, for letting a shadow take form, allowing it to haunt him. He wanted to be honest with himself. He hadn't met anyone whom he had looked up to, whom he had laughed with since Alenko's death—not as much as he did with her. But that honest reflection was snuffed out by the snarl of his anger. Never mind what he knew, she had manipulated him instead of telling the truth. She had escaped him and he had fallen for it easily.

Unless Aria was wrong. She had seen only the worse in Rachel—Shepard. With that thought, Garrus made his way to the Gozu district to meet a certain doctor.

"Can't possibly deduce all of her reasons. She can be mean. Can be selfish. All people are." Mordin paced around his office before motioning for Garrus to take a seat. "Only more creative about it. Makes her interesting."

"But do you think she set it all up? Got close to Sensat and waited till I went down there?"

"Not beyond her capabilities." He blinked many times before he put his hands behind his back. "Aware she told you a bit about Lor?"

Garrus face plates twitched at the memory. That time... Had it been that long ago? "Yeah."

"Likes to downplay her abilities. Lor made an exception for her when he promised he would be the last of the League and changed the name to Legion. Reason being Rachel possessed extraordinary talent and capabilities. Huge potential with close quarters, subterfuge, tech, among others. The reason is here," The salarian tapped the side of his head. "Rachel possesses genius-level intellect, managed to learn all Lor had to offer in the same time as a salarian. Nothing left that Lor could teach her by the time he left."

"I always knew she was smart. What's new, doctor?"

Mordin shook his head. "She can predict the way you move before it happens. Aided by League know-how, of course. But it wouldn't work as well with humans—shouldn't work as well—but Rachel is not just smart.

"But when she doesn't see something coming—when she makes a mistake—disaster. Withdrawal from others. Warnings in dreams. Stress levels rise. System tells her to flee rather than fight."

Garrus stood up then. "Are you saying she's not good at predicting hugs? That just sounds—"

Mordin stiffened. "Is that what happened?"

Garrus would have found this whole situation either a big lie or just really funny, but Mordin looked shaken and disappointed and scared all at the same time. It was rare for the salarian to display any emotion but haughtiness and self-confidence. "That and my team's asari—Sensat—pointed out the scars on her hands—"

Mordin closed his eyes and began shaking his head. "Then there is no help for it."

"Sensat said that the scars looked self-inflicted."

"Rachel would never hurt herself for that purpose." Mordin's tone was enough to remove that insinuation from his mind even if the doubt kept crawling back before then. "No, those scars aren't self-inflicted. But they're worse. Much worse for humans." He sighed. "Can't tell you this. Have to hear it from her."

And then Shepard was back to being a big mystery again. Everything he knew about her seemed useless in trying to understand her—whoever she really was. What could he do?

He put the thoughts of her behind him. He needed to focus on the now. He called Sidonis and set themselves up to work. Together, Garrus and Sidonis explored the tunnels that Shepard mentioned. She had left a map guide in a datapad on her bed, one of the few traces she left behind.

Garrus had half a mind to toss it into the trash. Sidonis, not one to squander an advantage given to him, convinced him against it.

"To think something like this existed inside Omega." Sidonis said aloud, mostly to himself, Garrus assumed.

"Hmm." He looked about, then looked up at the opening indicated by the map.

"Damn shame she left before she could teach us more of this. I could probably figure them all out but it would take one hell of a long time."

"We could use some of these walkways." Garrus consulted his map when he heard his omni-tool ping. He opened up his mail. A message from Solana. He told himself not to feel disappointed. Then he berated himself for feeling disappointed.

Come home. Now.

Garrus had received numerous messages from her and his father asking where he was and what he was doing. But something about this last one set him on edge.

Sidonis walked up closer to him. "Something wrong?"

"It's nothing." Garrus quickly closed his omni-tool. "Let's look around some more and head back."

Edited 06.09.2014