Garrus

The same green loudmouth from earlier, the one so adamantly against Grunt performing the Rite, all of a sudden able to see the big picture. Nobody ever seems to appreciate anything until it benefits them.

"No one has brought down a thresher maw in generations." Uvenk stares us down from his vantage point above us. I look around. Four total, all with shotguns. And with us out in the open.

This day just keeps getting better and better.

Grunt scoffs and points at the old warlord. "My krantt gave me strength."

"Uvenk, state your purpose. We were kinda in the middle of something here, in case you hadn't noticed." Shepard shifts her weight, and I glance down to see a growing hole in her armor.

Try not to die, she says. Really gonna need a little more effort, Shepard.

"You are a mistake, but your potential could tip our balance of power." The krogan paces as his guards take battle stances. "If you call yourself a krogan, then I propose Clan Gatatog, with restrictions. You would have no breeding rights, of course. And no more serving on an alien ship. But you would be clan in name, and bring honor to our army."

"That offer is insulting," Grunt declares.

"You heard the man, quad-less. He doesn't want your deal." Shepard gives Grunt a small grin that transforms into an outright leer at the warlord.

He sneers. "You insult me for the last time, human. I'll have your head on a pike!"

"Try to take it!" Grunt reaches for his gun, Shepard following suit. True diplomats over here.

"Really?" I say to Shepard. "Didn't we just kill a thresher maw? Why do they think we're going to go easy on them?"

She snaps in a heat sink. "Damned if I know, but it looks like we're about to kill a clan leader. I really hope Wrex doesn't mind."

Krogans are notoriously hard to kill. There's very few sensitive or exposed areas, even without hard suits, and they've got redundant organs and high regeneration. Get more than a couple in a fight, and you're in for a world of pain unless you've had practice.

Unfortunately for them, Shepard and I practiced for years. But at least the poor bastards died fighting.

"C'mon," Shepard says, pocketing a credit chit from the leader. "I say we take their transport and go back the way we came. No use sticking around, especially if another clan starts feeling froggy."

"Shepard, Shepard, Shepard," Wrex grumbles. "Couldn't help yourself, hmm? First you kill a maw, now this whelp's getting breeding requests. You too. Guess that's what it takes to replace me."

"Aww, no one can replace your sunny disposition," I say.

He chuckles and beckons to the young krogan. "Grunt, step forward. From this day on, you are Urdnot Grunt. Welcome." He turns to me and Shepard. "There's to be a celebration. As his krantt, I would expect you to be there, but I know you wouldn't miss it."

"Definitely," Shepard says. "But uh…are you sure the whole 'destruction of Clan Gatatog' thing is ok?"

"They attacked you on sacred ground. I was itching for a reason to get rid of him, and you offered a way to do it. Just like old times," he says, letting out a rumbling laugh.

She frowns. "I'm not just some hired gun to clean up the world's messes. And I wouldn't have thought that you'd be keen to political maneuvers like that."

"I'm not." He gives her an amused stare. "That's why I'm glad he's dead. We're the dominant clan, Shepard. But don't think for a second that it'll stay that way forever. Not without a fight. We're not like you turians, or salarians or that pyjak you call Udina. Soft," he spits. "Too much talking, and for what?"

"For things to stay exactly the same or worse," I answer bitterly. "I imagine that now he's gone, you'll have a little less resistance."

"That and more. Our newest edition will make us proud," Wrex replies, giving Grunt an appraising look. "You chose Shepard as your battlemaster. She leads well, good as any krogan I know. Come with me. You should meet the rest."

He turns back to us. "You and your crew are welcome here, Shepard. But watch yourself. Tuchanka isn't safe and homey like Feros and Ilos." He laughs at that, and leaves the area with Grunt following suit.

He would label the places that had a mind-controlling plant and more geth than the Outer Rim as safe and homey. And I thought my jokes were bad.

"So…" Shepard starts, bouncing on her feet. "I dunno about you, but this radiation is murder, and I need to swap gear. Watch over these guys while I'm gone. I know Wrex has got our backs, but it's Tuchanka. No telling on this rock."

"Still trying to rope me into your dirty work, I see." I glance around at the compound. "Fine, but if anything happens, you get the honor of dealing with it."

"Deal." Her eyes soften. "Garrus, one of these days you'll get back to trusting yourself as much as I trust you. Ping if you need anything."

She departs. Sometimes I wish she'd stop saying things like that. Any reasonable commanding officer would know better than to try to promote someone who wasn't ready for it, or worse yet, proved they weren't. Stalwart faith like that had no place in the Hierarchy.

I make my way through the Urdnot compound, aware of the looks ranging from curious to hostile. It was one thing to have Wrex and Shepard around, but now? Hopefully being part of the krantt that slayed a thresher maw will keep things from escalating beyond curiosity. The rest of the crew I wasn't as sure about.

Checking on Mordin suddenly seemed like a good idea.

The salarian doctor was likely the most hated here, and that's without the krogans knowing a thing about him. The genophage was already grim business, and to this day the action is hotly debated. At the time it was seen as the only choice, and turians were taught early on that the galaxy was better off. But to know Mordin had a hand in the bio-weapon, just as Wrex was trying to right those mistakes was unsettling. He certainly had guts for coming here.

I find Mordin near one of the camp scouts. He appears engrossed in watching the krogan kill off pyjaks with a mounted cannon. A waste of firepower for sure, but it's a bit of a marvel. If they can get that kind of pinpoint accuracy, then imagine the devastation they could accomplish on a target that mattered.

"Impressive to see life adapt," Mordin says as I walk up. "Continue to live, thrive, despite circumstances. Inspiring."

"Not that I share Shepard's fascination with the krogan, but didn't your people create the genophage? That's part of the circumstances they're facing now."

"Yes. We created it. Modified it. Originally had no intent to use it. Your people thought otherwise. Most viable option in the end."

"And now here we are, right in enemy territory and still alive." I look over at a group of Blood Pack krogans lumbering by. Alive, but for how long?

"Indeed. Often find myself in enemy territory. No different from Omega. Many fought against our efforts. Still alive. We still did good work," he says, giving me a steady look.

I avert my eyes. "I try not to think about that place. But now that you mention it, I think you patched up some of my men more than once."

"Sensat, I believe." He taps a finger to his head as his eyes brighten. "Suspected he was teammate. Could never prove for certain. Good with guns, explosions, former STG. Stubborn."

The salarian in my squad would only go to one clinic on Omega whenever he got injured. I'd never met Mordin personally, but his reputation was known in all the districts. He was skilled enough to cure a plague, but could kill just as quickly. Even the Blue Suns learned to steer clear.

I cock my head at him. "I never understood why you were out there. What was a brilliant scientist doing on that pisshole?"

"Wanted to heal people. After work on," he coughs, "project, needed something with less moral ramifications. Work more clear. Healing people, Collector work, clear. Omega most in need of help. Assume you would agree." He blinks at me expectantly.

A year ago he'd be right. "I don't think anything I did there made a dent," I mumble.

"Turian 'total war' mentality. Consider instead this." He holds out his hands in a weighing gesture. "One less merc, more civilians safer. Shepard killed Blue Suns, saved assistant. Assistant now runs clinic, saves dozens. Or gets killed trying. Either way." The salarian smiles. "Can never change world. Can change parts. Do what we can."

"The little pyjak calls himself Maleon." One of the Blood Pack mercs lets out a harsh laugh. "Sounds like a girl's name if you ask me."

Mordin's eyes widen and his hands drop. "No. Couldn't be."

I start to ask him what's wrong, but he quiets me.

"–Running experiments at the hospital. Once we're done with him, Clan Weyrloc will return to its former glory."

"Must investigate," he whispers. "Maleon name of former protégé. Salarian name either way. Could be held against will. Needs rescuing." Mordin looks toward where the Blood Pack scouts are walking. "Should go now. Coming?"

"This qualifies as a bad idea," I drawl. "We're only really safe in Clan Urdnot territory. Anywhere else, we're a target."

"Was target on Omega. This is no different. Could use the help."

I look in the direction of the Blood Pack, then back at the suddenly distraught salarian. And blame it on mentioning Sensat, but I don't want…

Not again.

"No we wait," I say firmly. "Let's do some recon first, and I'll contact Shepard." I sigh. "Besides, the party's the best time to slip away unnoticed."

Shepard

I take the shuttle back down to Tuchanka with a fresh set of armor and a new acid scar on my leg. The latter has me on edge; I don't like limping around in a place where strength is paramount. It doesn't help that I'm getting leers from some of the krogan that remind me too much of my first year of basic training. EDI informed me that I received two more breeding requests. As if I need another joke about krogan blood.

I make my way down to the Clan Urdnot compound, but don't see anyone from my crew. The sound of drums and boisterous krogans fill the cramped quarters. The air is thick with the elevated heat, and I smell nothing but alcohol and the smoky scent of roasted maw.

I hear smashed glass, followed by a guttural yell. Grunt. The man of the hour, living it up like any true krogan. He seems happy, and the others are in the throes of either a game, a tradition, or a liability. I walk further in and size up the room. Zaeed's by the varren pits with a group of krogan, clearly drunk and in a story-telling stance. Tali and Wrex are off in a corner, her arms waving excitedly while he laughs.

Odd. No sign of Garrus or Mordin.

I make my way over to Tali and Wrex, passing through a throng of betting Urdnots. She's still in the middle of her story when I approach.

"Shepard! You came for Grunt's party! I was just telling Wrex about the ship. It's about the only thing nice that Cerberus has done."

"Hey, don't you think you're forgetting something?" I drag over an old radiator and sit beside them.

"They may have patched you up. A little," she teases, squinching her fingers at me. "Wrex, are you sure you don't want to at least see it? You can lurk around in the cargo bay like old times."

"It was comfortable down there. Besides, I liked making the turian nervous," Wrex says with a low rumbling laugh.

"Oh Christ," I groan. "I knew it. Here I am, doing my part to promote intergalactic relationships, and you were down there the entire time terrorizing the youngsters. Wrex," I say in mock-anger, giving him a stern look. "Such actions are unforgivable."

Tali giggles and shakes her head vehemently. "Shepard, please. Your idea of intergalactic relationships was trying to tag the most geth. Which you were behind, last I counted."

"I was only behind because you were cheating with your combat drone. That's practically two against one."

"Excuses, excuses. Nothing beats a shotgun, except maybe biotics." Wrex holds up a glowing fist for emphasis. "None of this fancy tech you two fuss over."

"Both come in handy," I grin at Wrex and hold up a glowing fist of my own. "But for my money, why not have it all?"

The din raises in pitch as more krogans join in on the drumming platform. A few have taken up stylized sticks, ancient and crude, and teach Grunt how to wield them. He learns how to leg sweep, and raucous laughter echoes through the compound.

"So Shepard," Tali says. "What's with the varren following you around?"

I look beside me. Sure enough, it's a little fishdog, the same one that was hanging around the fighting pits. For all the ones I shot this one seems a bit friendly. And cute I guess? The scaly thing paces around us before settling on a spot near the radiator.

"Get a load of me. I can charm a varren." I look at Wrex incredulously. "What the hell do you even feed them, anyway?"

"Pyjaks mostly, but they'll eat just about anything. Krogan if you're not careful. Some of the water snakes." He grins at me, which always looks like an attack waiting to happen. "A varren's a good fit for you, Shepard. Just as vicious."

I roll my eyes.

"Shepard, I hope you're not considering keeping him," Tali says. "It's… well, you don't know where it's been. And where would you even keep it? And don't your people eat them?" She points at Wrex. "There's a whole restaurant chain named after them!"

Wrex chuckles as Tali works herself into a fit. I look around, idly feeding scraps at the varren. Some things are definitely still like old times. I'm glad that no matter how many light-years separated them, Tali could still spout off a tirade at me and Wrex while he laughed. From the first day we met she gave Wrex an earful, pissed that he was working for the Shadow Broker. He laughed in that same low grumbling way until I stepped in and explained the situation.

"Tali, I'm not going to adopt a varren. Yet," I grin. "But after the mission and this guy's still around? Maybe."

I get a ping.

Meet me over by the pile of rubble near the varren pit. The larger pile of rubble.

GV

"Huh," I breath, glancing around the area. "I should go."

"Something wrong?" Tali asks.

"No more than usual." I stop for a second, and smile back at Tali. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. You have fun."

I squeeze through another crowd until I reach the varren pit. I spot the turian. Between his C-SEC stance and the nigh-constant scowling, Garrus managed to carve out a wide berth among the crowd. He eyes me, relief flickering across his face.

"Shepard," he starts. "Sorry I couldn't say more. Didn't think it would be safe. It's about Mordin." He tilts his head imperceptibly, and I steal a glance in the same direction. Two krogans with different clan marks are conversing, wearing unmarked mercenary armor.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I hiss. "Did he get dragged off by some damn wannabe Blood Pack?"

"Shh! Spirits, no! We're smarter than that." Garrus glances around. "We can't talk about it here, but we ah, secured some transportation and did a little recon. I can tell you about it on the way."

"Wait, what?" I splutter. "On the way where? What recon?"

"Quiet! We overheard something that set him off. He needs our help," Garrus says, looking deep in my eyes, pleading with me.

I glare hard at him, and take a deep breath. "Ok." I exhale. "Ok. But I need the full story."

The full story was more than I bargained for. What was supposed to be a simple rescue mission turned into something worse. Maelon, Mordin's protégé during the covert drops on Tuchanka, managed to simultaneously grow a conscience and lose all moral scruples. He was trying to find a cure, and butchered his way to results.

It wasn't a matter of Mordin's work on the genophage, or even the scarred, tumor-filled humans, the test subjects for this abomination. It wasn't the Wreylok females, dead from internal bleeding, obvious volunteers. It wasn't even Mordin's apprentice bleeding moss-green over the console, over his salvation.

It was seeing all these wounds as a whole, laid bare over the wasteland.

Whatever excuse Mordin has now, I don't want to hear. He helped cause this. Pyres of stillborns, infertile women retreating to the wastes, the clones, the experiments… The deaths. This is what 'population stability' really looks like.

"This has to fucking stop," I mutter, eyes stinging. I look up at the ceiling and gather myself. "Mordin, grab every bit of research off that console you can. Moral high ground or not, those lives will not be wasted. You owe them that."

"Methods were unethical," he protests.

"Yeah? So were the ones that made Grunt. And the ones that brought me back, and damn near every human biotic out there. Fuck ethics, 'cause we're well past that talk. Don't," I glare at Garrus as he tries to approach me. "Just… just whatever you gotta say, let it rest a bit, alright? And what the fuck am I going to say to Wrex about this? Another fucking clan gone in the middle of a goddamn bar mitzvah…"

Garrus looks at me quizzically. "A bar whats-vah?"

"Mitzvah, mitzvah, like a coming of age party?" I throw up an arm in frustration. "Become a man, break some shit, speech about making your father proud. Fuck it, it's not the point." I barely miss Garrus giving me a hard look, and I glance over at Mordin working the console. "We have to get out of here soon. No one really mourns Blood Pack, but we've already upset the balance of power once today."

It's well into the night cycle by the time we get back to the Urdnot compound. The party is still in full swing, though I see a lot more krogan passed out along the corridors. I spot Wrex speaking with Grunt and head over.

"Grunt. Wrex. I assume everything's going well?"

"Shepard," Wrex nods. "Heard an interesting rumor from a scout that just came back."

Here we go.

"Listen Wrex," I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Dunno what that guy had to say, but when I found him the poor thing was delirious. Most of what he was saying was probably suspect."

Wrex gives me a steady look. "Seems another clan was getting in over their head. It happens from time to time. A clan will try to work out a cure. Another gimmick tested. Always in failure." He strides past, back turned toward me, overlooking the throng of celebrating warriors. "Always in failure."

I shift my weight. Maleon's data was deemed sound, however gruesome, to the man that helped modify the genophage. Before he died, the young salarian said that Wrex wouldn't approve his methods, and mistrusted anyone who could. How would he feel now, knowing that the data might help?

Though without the threat of extinction, could the krogans unite under one leader? Could anyone? They follow Wrex because he's strong, but if Wrelock had succeeded, what then? If Okeer had his way, what then?

"It might be for the best," I hear myself say. "The rumor I heard was that a lot of good humans and krogans were slaughtered with not enough to show for it."

"Mmm. That so?" Wrex turns slightly. "Then you've heard the one where the leader in charge of that project was a pain in my ass. Urdnot has taken in the remaining members. They fight for us now."

He knew? I didn't want to test my luck on how much he already figured out. And from the sound of it, Wrex didn't want to catch me in any omissions either. I look at him, feeling a sense of regret and sadness, and not for the first time wishing for the simpler days of chasing down rogue Spectres.

He looks back at me with the same tense resignation he wore years ago. On that beach where we faced off, neither knowing if words would be enough. His rage. My resolve. "We're a proud race, Shepard," he says, echoing the words he said when he left the Normandy. "We will endure. We always will."

"Yeah," I respond. "You will."