Semper Fi
Chapter 29
Wrex – 3
The lights were already shut down for the night in Tali's quarters. Only the faint shimmers of the force fields could be seen from the shuttle bay. Wrex sighed and tried to find a more comfortable position between his crates. He had slept for a while in Javik's quarters but the Prothean had asked him to move out after Kasbeel. Since then, Javik was a little cold with him. It didn't surprise Wrex. He had lied to Javik when asked a direct question. That was the prothean equivalent of a middle finger – well, a human one because Krogans expressed their disrespect with a lot more blood. Wrex could only blame himself on this one.
A sting in his abdomen made him growl. Luckily for him, Vega wasn't there tonight, punching his bag of sand, otherwise he would have asked questions. Vega was a good kid, a good soldier from the little Wrex had seen, but he had the bad habit of helping people. He had been helping Ashley a lot lately. She smelled like Vega every other day and Wrex had heard them going down to the utility rooms in the middle of the night quite often. Maybe he'd tell them, one day, that he could smell their sweats and other body fluids from a kilometer. That'd be fun.
Wrex was kind of sad for Kaidan though. Ashley didn't smell like him at all now. Their relationship never had been serious, mostly because the handsome idiot had the hots for Shepard, but they were good to each other nonetheless. Ash had the balls Kaidan lacked. She forced him to get out of his shell while he calmed her temper. Not that Vega didn't help Ashley in his way but it was obvious Ash had nothing to offer him in return. Not that it was any of Wrex' business.
"Wrex," EDI gently called through the radio, "Shepard would like you to join her on first deck."
"I thought she was into Turians," Wrex snorted.
"I have noticed too," EDI replied. It should have been a joke but its dead flat tone killed it. "But," it continued, "this invitation is for a meeting. You're not the only guest."
"Yay, an orgy!" Wrex said, faking enthusiasm.
The AI shut the communication in response. Tough crowd, Wrex thought as he got up. The sting came back and he had to wait a few seconds for the pain to go away. Dammit. Maybe one of those acid bleeding aliens from the movie was eating his insides after all. Wrex snorted. That'd make a tolerable death.
It was actually the first time Wrex stepped into Shepard's lair. He had never been invited before and he knew Shepard too much to try to come without her permission. Her cabin was pretty big, with its own bathroom, sofas and an aquarium where only plants grew. There was a window above the bed and a bit of the Citadel was visible. It smelled like her, mostly, and gun oil, powder, leather. The ventilation was on though, which meant Shepard had thought too many odors would bother him, or she was trying to hide the tobacco smell. Otherwise, it was pretty much like Wrex had imagined it: neat and tidy. Shepard didn't like it any other way.
Wrex was the last to join the meeting. Garrus was sitting on the sofa, near a console. On his left, in the corner, Javik. Left to him, Mordin. Shepard was still standing, in her uniform, and she invited him to take the last spot left to the Salarian. Wrex sat without a word. Garrus immediately stood up to take the console's chair and pushed it next to his mentor. Shepard gave him a somewhat annoyed look as he went back to the sofa but sat nonetheless.
"Thank you all for coming."
"Sure thing," Wrex shrugged. "What's up, Shep?" If it was an intervention to know what was wrong with him, he'd wreck the place and get out by the window. Javik would be a problem, he was a much more powerful biotic than Wrex, but he could still be defeated.
"We have a bit of a problem."
Wrex tensed. Well, he had had some good years on the Normandy but everything came to an end.
"Have to go to Tuchanka," Mordin continued.
"What?" Wrex said, surprised. "Why?"
"Mordin is in an impasse with the cure of the genophage," Shepard explained and she invited him to talk.
"Not everybody familiar with project so might take time to explain everything," he warned them. "First version of genophage implanted into krogan population a thousand years ago but has been deteriorated over time by krogan physiology. Genophage not as efficient as before, therefore new version created. Was recruited by STG," he said, a hand on his chest, "and worked on genophage 2.0. Took us years but new version eventually dispersed on Tuchanka."
"Only on Tuchanka?" Garrus asked.
"Yes," Mordin confirmed. "Krogan population off world negligible, two percents, mostly mercenaries not focused on reproduction and short life expectancy due to line of work. Not worth the effort."
Wrex snorted and folded his arms. "That'll bite you in the ass someday."
"Unlikely," Mordin shook his head. "New version heavily based on first. More aggressive but same transmission vectors and shared a lot of similarities. Therefore, Krogans able to fight second version with more ease, fastening mutation process. Second genophage still managing population growth but transmission completely different now. Made my work more difficult, even with Maelon's data."
"Who's Maelon?" Garrus interrupted once more.
"A crazy Salarian who wanted to cure the genophage," Wrex explained. "Shep and I found him on Tuchanka a few years back."
"Was also former student of mine," Mordin added. "Brilliant mind, very talented but lacked personality. Brought him along to work in STG. Thought would be a good addition to the team but disagreed on ethic and eventually left the project. Worked on his own on a cure on Tuchanka for years, killed dozen of test subjects with very few results. Sloppy work," Mordin snorted, "taught him better than that."
"And what does it have to do with going on Tuchanka?" Wrex asked, scratching his neck. "There is nothing left there but wastelands and radioactive dust."
"Can't work on samples collected," Mordin said. "Need originals of genophage, both first and second versions. Currently held on Sur'Kesh. Since operation a total secret, cannot use those. Only other option..."
"The Shroud," Garrus realized.
"Yes, the Shroud," Mordin smiled.
Wrex winced. The Shroud had been a gift from the Salarians after first contact two thousand years ago, an attempt to repair the damaged atmosphere of Tuchanka by hundred of years of nuclear wars. Towers had been erected here and there on the planet and their first role had been to launch the components of the Shroud in the atmosphere, on low orbit, but the project had been abandoned because of the Krogan Rebellions. All but one tower, located in an ancient shrine dedicated to Kalros, the mother of all thresher maws, had been destroyed by the stupid Krogans and people had started to call it the Shroud over time. The lone tower still dispersed chemical and whatnot in the atmosphere nowadays, to try to control the climate.
It had also been used by the Salarians and the Turians to spread the genophage.
"And you want me to go with you and Baby-Spectre," Wrex understood.
"No," Shepard shook her head. "I'll go with Mordin and Garrus but I have to take a detour in Hell first." Wrex frowned. Shepard pushed a lock of hair behind one of her funny little ears. "I can't use my biotics now, you all know that. It's because of my addiction to nicotine. Mordin has some sort of cure for that but it takes three days to work. I want you to go on Tuchanka alone and scout for us during that time. Taking down a Krogan is not easy. Taking down a whole pack is not manageable with my resources. I need reliable intell."
"Take Javik and me and you won't need it," Wrex smirked.
"The Normandy will stay in orbit around Tuchanka while you're on the ground," Shepard replied, "and I'll need Javik here to take care of everything. I won't be able to do anything but puke and sweat, if I understood correctly." Mordin confirmed with a nod of the head.
Wrex sighed, considering the offer. Going back to Tuchanka didn't please him at all three years ago and the idea wasn't better now. Wrex didn't like his kind. Krogans off world were tolerable but those stuck on their planet were dumb and had no idea how the galaxy worked. All they cared about was their petty wars between clans and so called republics, and their dicks. The worst part was the location of the Shroud. It was in clan Urdnot's territory. Wrex would probably have to deal with those assholes again.
He could also seek the Shaman's help, he thought as a slight pain warmed his insides. Krogans weren't known for their medicine but better him than anybody else.
"Alright," Wrex agreed, "I'll do it."
"Thanks," Shepard replied but Wrex brushed it off. It was important for his dumb people too after all. "I also have to send someone on Horizon and I can't decide."
"Why Horizon?" Wrex asked.
"Miranda Lawson, the head of Project Lazarus. She's a Cerberus agent, potentially the new Timmy. Taylor told us she was on Horizon but over a million Humans live there, the Council can't send any alien Spectre or spy on the colony without being noticed."
"A second human Spectre would be welcome in this case," Garrus commented.
"Won't happen any time soon," Shepard sighed. "I know Williams has been complaining about her lack of action recently so I thought I'd send her but I don't like the idea. She's too blunt for this king of job. Alenko isn't cut for that either, plus I don't want to be down of another biotic."
"There is a high probability Cerberus knows them anyway," Javik added. "They both raided their headquarters with us last year."
"Which takes us down to Vega," Wrex resumed, "but you don't know if he's capable of doing the job."
"He's a soldier," Shepard confirmed. "A good one, no doubt about it, but he's young and he didn't see much of the galaxy yet."
"Dossier mentioned Fehl Prime," Mordin said. "Lived situation similar to Torfan. And noticed by N7 program, yes?"
"Yeah but I don't know." Shepard rubbed her face with her left hand. "Pairing him with someone more experienced is a solution but sending him with Williams on Horizon is a terrible idea. Damn, if even I noticed their flirt, everybody on board already knows."
"Yep," Wrex nodded and he saw realization hit Garrus. Not everybody knew apparently.
"Would recommend Lieutenant Steve Cortez," Mordin advised.
"Cortez?" Shepard frowned. "He's our shuttle pilot."
"The shuttle can be set on autopilot or controlled from a distance," Garrus intervened. "I bet I can also pilot it."
"And I'm sure the seat will magically broke and be unmovable after," Shepard grunted, staring at him. Garrus played the innocent. "So, we don't actually need Cortez but why him? He's been a pilot all his career."
"Good fellow," Mordin shrugged, "much more relaxed than Vega, older too, used to lie due to sexuality and military record exemplary."
"He's not a bad shot," Wrex confirmed, "and he kicks ass in hand-to-hand combat. Yeah, I think it could work." Shepard wasn't convinced. "You'd prefer Traynor?" Wrex smirked. "The kid is smart and she knows the colony, granted, but put a gun in her hands and she loses her shit. Donnelly and Daniels? They talk too much. Adams is too old for that. We can send Gardner but we'll all eat rations for a month."
"Westmoreland and Campbell are not ready for this kind of mission either," Javik continued. "The Salarian is right. Vega and Cortez are the best choices available considering the situation."
Shepard took a few seconds to think and eventually agreed. "Very well," she said, standing up. "I'll inform them right away and they'll leave tomorrow before we head for Tuchanka. Dismiss."
The trip to Tuchanka didn't take long from the Citadel and the Normandy was in orbit around the planet a day and a half later. Wrex waited for everybody to be back to work during the afternoon and left with the shuttle controlled by EDI without a word. He had decided to travel light, only taking with him his shotgun and a submachine gun, plus enough rations and water to last a few days. He could go without, his hump was round and full, but he preferred to have a little food on him. He could trade it for intel or clips if needed, it wouldn't be dead weight.
The shuttle ride was a little more bumpy than usual due to Tuchanka's tortured atmosphere. Wrex watched it all from the co-pilot seat, contemplating the storms at first, then the desolation of the surface. The landscape didn't change in the last couple of years. It was the same deserted lands, ruins of a glorious past that nobody remembered, sand, blood and ashes mixed together in thousands of shades between yellow and red. Adaptation had done its work on the Krogans and they could now distinct them all better than any other species, even the Salarians. In return, their eyes had lost the ability to see all the variations of blues and greens. There were no oceans nor forests to contemplate on Tuchanka anyway.
Wrex jumped on a large rocky plateau and knocked on the hull by habit to indicate the shuttle could leave. It was better that way. Any Krogan seeing a shuttle would try to hop in it to get the fuck out of Tuchanka and Wrex wouldn't even blame him. There was also a high chance the shuttle would be dismantled and its parts used somewhere else. Wrex was pretty sure Shepard wouldn't like to see her pricy Kodiak in pieces. He raised his eyes to the clouds where a dim white circle could be seen, wondering how the kid was doing. She had gulped Mordin's medicine right after their departure from the Citadel and had spent the trip in her cabin, indeed puking and sweating between other fun activities. Wrex wasn't really worried, she was tough. Besides, Garrus was with her and Mordin and Chakwas were monitoring her. She'd live.
Wrex brought his omnitool to life to have a map and a compass, even if the tower was visible from where he was. He wasn't far from the Shroud and wanted to check on it before anything else. Since it had been built on sacred ground, nobody respecting the traditions would be there to bother him. The only serious problem was the thresher maws roaming the region. The shrine was an old arena used for the Rite of Passage, a place where thresher maws were summoned for a boy to prove his worth. It also meant easy preys for the gigantic worms, which was the reason why the region was infested with them. Wrex had to be careful. A single Krogan walking on the ground wouldn't attract any thresher maw with a bit of luck, but too many vibrations and he'd be in for a deadly fight. As fun as killing a giant worm with teeth bigger than him was, he wasn't on Tuchanka for that. Besides, it would only bring attention to him, which meant potentially hostile Krogans and more thresher maws joining the party. Wrex could do without.
He walked carefully for a dozen kilometers before reaching the surroundings of the arena without a problem but short breath – Wrex blamed it on the high temperature, the pressure of the atmosphere and its low percentage of oxygen. It wasn't the first time he visited the place. The kid he had been an eternity ago had came here with his friends to prove he was a Krogan. They had visited the ruins even if it was forbidden and written their names on top of a building now shattered on the ground. Many parts of the complex were down and it wasn't difficult to figure out it had been the handy work of a thresher maw – the giant holes in the ground were a pretty good clue. Maybe some kids had been less lucky than him and his friends.
The tower was still there, behind the octagonal arena, five kilometers of concrete and steel two thousand years old. It didn't look krogan at all, with its arches and polished surfaces. The Shroud was something impressive. The sheer height of the tower could shame any architect on Tuchanka. Krogans built more grounded structures before the nuclear wars, pyramids, enormous pillars, thick walls, nothing that high. Nowadays they dug tunnels under the surface to try to escape the radioactive dust and the storms. Wrex sighed and entered the complex. He didn't come here to be depressed and take pity on his dumb cousins.
Wrex took his time to rxplore the lower parts of the shrine, that once housed many activities, shamans, priests, shops and whatnot. It always amazed him, somehow, that his people had built a great civilization on a planet so hostile to life. Tuchanka had had silty seas and a rich tropical vegetation before the nuclear wars but the soil was poor enough for the plants to feed on the fauna. Most part of said fauna had rapidly evolved to an omnivorous diet, creating a lot of competing species for few resources. Krogans had had to eliminate several sentient creatures to become the apex species, whereas most aliens just had had to sit and wait for evolution to do their job. At some point, they had almost driven the thresher maws to the verge of extinction, when thousands of young Krogans passed the Rite every year. It had helped their cities to expand, their towers to grow and their mad scientists to develop the nuclear weapon.
Nowadays, cities both topside and underground needed costly vibration cancelers or para-seismic systems to avoid being attacked by thresher maws. The worms had known a great booming period for their population in the last thousand years. At least young Krogans would be able to test their virility against the worms when the genophage would be cured. Heck, they'd even have several thresher maws each! That would be glorious, all those young in the arena, fighting for their lives, proving they were Krogan. It would happen, someday. Maybe in a thousand years but it would happen. The Great Hammers of the arena would call the thresher maws for the Rite of Passage again.
Wrex had no intention to climb the Shroud, not even to admire the view from so high, but he roamed the lower floors for several hours nonetheless, ever so careful. The tower stood still and its basements were solid, Shepard wouldn't have to worry about a possible collapsing. Electricity was still working here and there, by some kind of miracle. The bad news concerned the elevators. They were dead, all of them. Wrex checked the stairs between a few floors. They weren't in mint condition but it would do. The climb was not going to be fun but nothing Shepard and Garrus couldn't do. Mordin, in the other hand, was old for a Salarian. He was ex-STG and had a shiny new heart but certainly not the training for this kind of exercise. Wrex wrote a note about that on his omnitool. Maybe the shuttle could land on top of the Shroud.
Days were shorter on Tuchanka and the sun already had started to set. Wrex didn't have time to go to Urdnot, the cleverly named capital of, that's right, the Urdnot clan, so he settled down for the night on hard rock in the ruins. Thresher maws preferred to hunt on looser ground like sand, especially the little ones. Besides, he was still alone with no sign of any Krogan around, so no big worm would try its chance with a poor dinner like him. Wrex didn't start a fire, even if the nights could be cold on Tuchanka, to not alert anyone or anything hostile. He watched the sun set and his homeworld get as dark as it could get without moons and stars to embellish the night sky, and waited for the morning with the pain in his chest for company.
It took him half a day to reach the capital and he could easily have missed it if he hadn't known where it was. Urdnot was located under the ruins of a large and devastated city whose name was long forgotten. People lived in bunkers and tunnels deep under the surface. The only sign of activity was a few watchtowers around the ventilation wells. Those were hollow towers piercing the ground down to the city, with gigantic fans used to keep the atmosphere of the tunnels breathable. The humidity coming out was used in combination with the poor light to grow gardens because the hydroponic cultures weren't enough to feed the citizens. Not all cities had those systems, only the more populated and richest. They also were a good indication of the average intelligence of a random Krogan. The more sophisticated the city, the smarter its tyrant. And by the look of the capital, Urdnot Wreav was far from an idiot. Wrex snorted. Smart ran in the family anyway.
Finding the main entrance turned to be pretty easy once the guards were alerted of his presence. Wrex didn't know them, the two of them were recent additions to the clan by their accent, and he decided to keep a low profile. He was an Urdnot, no doubt about that, but he wasn't necessary welcome on the land of his ancestors. That tended to happen when you killed a Warlord like his father, on sacred ground no less. That's why he kept his mouth shut during the long process of admission – he even let those idiots drool on his weapons. Wrex had been tempted to take his Christmas present with him, just in case he needed to kill something big, but it had been a good idea to let it on the Normandy. His beloved Black Hole Gun would have been "temporarily confiscated for security reason" or something like that, and Wreav would have grabbed it in the end. Wrex would die before that happened.
The underground city was large enough to house fifty thousand Krogans – it was currently the second largest city of Tuchanka – which meant the smell in those dark tunnels was an abomination. Wrex regretted to not have taken his helmet and its precious filters. The place simply reeked of people, shit, animals, rotten food, testosterone and despair. Wrex just knew Tali would rant about it for days when he'd be back.
No, Wrex thought, frowning for himself, don't go there. He focused on the wobbles in his chest to think about something else as he walked through the tunnels, avoiding eye contact as much as he could. Unfortunately, his facial scars were pretty noticeable and some people recognized him on the way. Wrex ignored them, even when they called his name, and walked faster. He shouldn't have come. He should have stayed at the Shroud and keep an eye on the tribes' movements to make sure Shepard's operation would go well. Walking in those damn tunnels was the stupidest idea he had had in a long time.
"Where do you think you're going, kiddo?" someone called from his back. Wrex didn't recognize the smell but he knew that voice. Fortack. The closest thing to a krogan scientist on this planet, a genius by their standards. An old friend. Maybe.
"You're just a year older than me for Christ' sake," Wrex grunted, turning to see the Krogan. Fortack had changed over the eighteen years of Wrex' absence – three centuries for the rest of the galaxy. His head plates were thicker now and had darkened with time, but his eyes were still bright and full of life. Fortack was thin otherwise, when he once was a stocky Krogan barely fitting in any large armor. He now wore regular clothes, dark gray and dirty white. He looked good for a Krogan his age despite his weight loss.
"Christ' sake?" Fortack snorted. "The fuck is that?"
"Been too much around Humans recently," Wrex shrugged. "Good to see you're still alive."
"I could say the same," Fortack replied. "Eighteen years, Wrex, and no postcard. Not that we have a post office anymore or that Krogans care about writing or reading, Imma right?" He patted Wrex on the shoulder with a smile. "You smell like aliens, brother."
"I've got a gig on a human ship for the last four standard years," Wrex explained, happy to be called like that. They didn't share the same mother but they had had enough blood together on the battlefield to be brothers.
"That's why you're so fat," Fortack mocked.
"It's all muscle," Wrex grunted.
"Right, and I'm the prettiest Asari of the galaxy," Fortack smirked. He pushed Wrex forward. "Come on, I've got some stuff cooking at home. It's not much but I'll share it with pleasure if you have a few stories to tell."
Fortack lived near a ventilation well in the nicest part of the city. Still, his two rooms cave was smaller than what Wrex had on the Normandy, electricity cables ran everywhere from the ground to the low ceiling, dust and sand could be found on every surface and it was barely spacious enough to fit two Krogans and a bit of furniture. Fortack had a small kitchenette, a luxury by Tuchanka's standards, with imported spices, oils and herbs – probably bought on the black market. The two rooms were filled up to the roof with electronic parts, wires, chemicals, weapon parts and, surprisingly, books from all around the galaxy in their diverse forms. Wrex even discovered an English edition of To Kill a Mockingbird, the leather hardcover not even too damaged. Joker had one back on the Normandy, Wrex had read it to practice.
"Grab a bowl and dig in," Fortack said, placing the pot on his small table. There wasn't much inside indeed but it smelled good. It smelled like home. Wrex took enough of it to not offense his host but felt like shit nonetheless. He took all the ration bars he had on him and put them on the table.
"It's not much," he said, "but I didn't exactly plan to visit you."
Forlack pushed the wrapped food away from him. "Keep it," he replied. "I'm not a fucking beggar. If you want to pay for your meal, speak."
And so did Wrex. He spoke about his first years far from Tuchanka as a mercenary, his time on Omega, great raids he had participated to, the beauties he had fucked, the big names he had killed. He spoke freely but didn't say a word about Shepard or the genophage, nor his short come back on the planet a couple of years ago to hunt down Maelon. When Fortack asked about his current job, Wrex simply said he trained a multi-species crew on board of a human ship, which was exactly the truth. He just let his friend think his boss was a mercenary.
"And why did you come back to this shithole?" Fortack eventually asked.
"For intel. My boss is this crazy human woman who thinks she can take down a thresher maw on foot like a Krogan," Wrex lied but he was pretty sure that was the truth. "She heard of Kalros' arena and of course she wants to kill a thresher maw there. Question of pride."
"She got balls, your boss," Fortack frowned. You have no idea, Wrex thought but he just shrugged. "So she's coming here despite the embargo?"
Ah shit, he had forgotten that. The Krogans had lost their rights regarding spaceships or any kind of planetary unified army after the Rebellions, and since then turian ships roamed the system – they also had a few stations. They monitored the relay activities and didn't hesitate to open fire if an unauthorized flight was noticed. The Normandy had had no problem coming thanks to Shepard's Spectre status.
"She plans on stealing an Alliance ship and get here before anyone notices," Wrex lied. "Humans and Turians are still at each other's throat, the Alliance won't alert the Fleet about a missing ship right away."
"She's fucking crazy," Fortack said, eyes wide open.
"Yep," Wrex confirmed. "Great kid though, and she pays well. Speaking of, who can I buy to know the whereabouts of the tribes around the arena?"
"The Chief Scout would be your guy," Fortack answered, scratching his neck. "His workshop isn't far from my lab, I'll take you to him later."
"Your lab?" Wrex repeated, surprised.
"Yep," Fortack straightened and smiled, proud of himself. "I am the Lord High Researcher of the Urdnot clan now. Been a couple of years, actually."
"How did you manage that?"
"I killed the previous one, duh."
Wrex genuinely laughed, something he hadn't done in a while. It woke up the pain in his chest again but he managed to not cough and barely winced. Fortack noticed it nonetheless but his question was interrupted by a knock on the door. Krogans weren't prone to respect the privacy of the others so it was a big surprise.
"What is it?" Fortack barked.
"I need to talk to Urdnot Wrex," an old and tired voice replied.
Wrex frowned. At least the surprise didn't sound ready to barge in and fill his chest with bullets. Fortack wasn't so sure of that though and he grabbed a shotgun along the short way to the door. He opened it abruptly and looked around, ready to fire.
"What do you want, Shaman?" Fortack asked.
Wrex automatically straightened. Every shaman was a well respected man, sometimes more than warlords. They were the keepers of the traditions, the wise nameless men to seek advise from. Most of them still knew how to read and write and they often practiced a little medicine on the side. Wrex had no difficulties recognizing this one, with his dark skin and his arched back. He looked like shit but, to be honest, Wrex hadn't known him in a better shape, even when he was himself young and careless. That Krogan probably was a thousand years old, if not older. It was a freaking miracle to see him still alive.
"Let him come in," Wrex said, trying to make room for the old man. There wasn't another stool around so he gave his to the Shaman who sat with a grunt and a lot of clicks from his old bones. Fortack took another look in the street before closing his door and locking it up. "So," Wrex eventually said, "you found me."
The Shaman smiled and nodded. He waved at Wrex to come closer. Wrex obeyed and even knelt to let him put his old hand on his forehead. The Shaman closed his eyes and inhaled deeply several times, studying carefully every smell on Wrex. He mumbled for himself during the process before opening his eyes. He probably didn't see much with that cataract, Wrex realized.
"It is really you, young Wrex," the Shaman said. "I'm happy to welcome you back on Tuchanka like I welcomed you back from your Rite of Passage."
"Thank you, Shaman," Wrex humbly replied, head bowed to the ground.
"You have grown strong," the Shaman continued, "and have traveled with many companions. A lover, even?"
"Huh, yeah, kinda."
"A lover?" Fortack snorted. "You didn't tell me about that!"
"None of your business," Wrex growled, which made his friend chuckle. The Shaman gently smiled at their childishness but he became grave the next second.
"There is also something in you I never sensed before," he whispered, "something alive and hungry."
"I came in hope you'd know how to cure it, holy man," Wrex said.
"I do not know of that sickness but I still have books of the Ancients. Tell me more about your curse."
"It has nothing to do with magic or voodoo," Wrex replied, standing up. He had to lie again. "We were raiding that spaceship we found, really old and never seen before. Everything went well till we met the maintenance guys. Huge black creatures with tentacles and gooey skin that could create harpoon-like spikes. It wasn't all organic, more like a mix, with synthetic parts. The Turian in my team called it a phax."
"The fuck is that?" Fortack asked.
"Nightmarish creatures from the turian mythology," Wrex explained, "but we don't know if those things in the spaceship were actual phaxren. The kid just got scared, if you want my opinion, and he named it with the first monster name he remembered in his panic."
The Shaman nodded. "And this creature wounded you."
"Yeah," Wrex admitted, "got pierced through and through. We have a crazy Salarian doc on board, the kind of guy who believes the end justifies the means. He opened me up from the neck to the dick to scrub my insides and remove every little bit of that creature. Took him hours but it wasn't enough."
"I will study the books and question the Ancients for you tonight," the Shaman eventually said. "Unfortunately, I didn't just come to welcome you, young one. Words travel fast and our Warlord, Wreav, heard of your return. He awaits your visit and expect your gratitude."
"Gratitude for what?" Wrex snorted. "I don't remember Wreav doing anything for me."
"Well," Fortack intervened, "he didn't order his men to kill you when you showed up at his door. You spread blood on sacred ground, Wrex, that's not something we forgive."
"You were with me, remember?" Wrex grunted.
"Yeah, but I didn't run and abandon my people right after," Fortack replied coldly. The pain in Wrex' chest wasn't all the creature's doing this time. Fortack shook his head. "I'm sorry, brother. I'm happy to see you but your stories don't compensate the eighteen years of your absence. You were a good tribe leader, you would have made a good Warlord for the clan, but instead Wreav took the power. He made up a story about the day you killed Jarrod and became his legendary assassin. He spared the lives of those who agreed to spread that story."
"You took the deal," Wrex realized.
"Of course I did!" Fortack continued, louder. "I wanted to live! I did it and I witnessed the civil war which killed nearly half of the clan to decide who would become our next Warlord. For two years, I fought alongside Wreav and I bowed to his feet the day he took the throne. And I watched him rebuild the city, make it better, build alliances and fight other clans to expend his territory ever since! Wreav is the biggest asshole I know but he stayed and fought for us! He fought for the survival of our people!"
Wrex couldn't help his smirk as he tried to keep his anger in check. You gotta love the irony, he thought, looking at Fortack straight in the eyes. He couldn't tell his friend he was actually on Tuchanka to save the dumb Krogans. Wrex had worked his ass off to made the cure of the genophage a possibility. Sure, he hadn't thought for a second about the fate of his people for the first couple centuries spent off world. He had been busy finding contracts, fighting everywhere he could, making money because everything revolved around money in this fucking galaxy. He had been busy surviving on his own for more than two centuries, regretting to have left, fearing to come back. So when Saren had offered him a gig related to the cure fifty years ago, Wrex had said yes.
Wait, Saren? Wrex shook his head. That was new. He had forgotten about that job, a consequence of an unlucky and quite violent encounter with a car a few weeks later, to the point of not knowing how his quest for a cure had started. But it was coming back now, he could feel it. Saren had contacted him, yes. He was a young Spectre at the time, less than thirty, a prick proud of himself for a bareface. The Turian had said Jarrod's lineage was more fertile than the average and someone wanted his genes for analysis. But who? Wrex couldn't remember. The Council? No, they hadn't cared for a cure before they had heard of Maelon's work. Wrex focused. Who was it, dammit?
A sudden bolt of hot pain struck his brain and Wrex took a step back, a hand on his head, hit by a marvelous epiphany.
"What is it?" Fortack asked, his anger forgotten.
Wrex pushed the helping hand his friend was offering him. So that was how it worked. The thing growing in him could reactivate long lost memories and the price to pay was his life. Wrex chuckled for himself. That was just fucking perfect.
"Nothing," he said, clearing his throat. He turned to the Shaman. "Forget about the phax. I don't need your help. And tell Wreav to go fuck himself, with my gratitude." Wrex then turned heel and walked to the door.
"What are you doing?" Fortack asked, following him in the dark and smelly street.
"Going back to not caring about my people," Wrex replied but the sarcasm was lost on his old friend.
"What about the Chief Scout?" Fortack insisted. "We can go talk to him now."
"I'll find another way."
Fortack's heavy footsteps stopped but Wrex didn't wait for the lord.
"You're leaving us again."
"Yep," Wrex said out loud. "Good luck surviving in this shithole!"
He needed to get out of here and fast now. Wreav may have authorized the Shaman to come to him alone because the old Krogan was a holy man but he'd quickly know that Wrex had decided to leave. It left him maybe twenty minutes, fifteen if communications worked properly around here. Wrex couldn't reach the city's main entrance in so little time but that wasn't really a problem. Contrary to most Krogan, he knew how to use his brain. That's why he aimed for the ventilation well while testing the communication network with his omnitool. It was pretty good so he accelerated a little as he wrote a quick message, just when two heavily armored guards called his name behind him. Wrex looked at them over his shoulder, smiled and ran.
The pain in his chest was barely tolerable but Wrex hadn't feel that good in ages nonetheless. The chase and occasional shooting made his blood boil of excitement, and the rush of his biotics through his body electrified him. Finding the ventilation well wasn't difficult, he just had to follow his nose, and soon he felt the fresh and humid air on his face. Wrex accelerated, slamming a Krogan against a wall with his biotics on the way, and shot the next one in the head with his shotgun. He didn't bother recharging and switched for his submachine gun, a M-25 Hornet he had grabbed during the raid on Cerberus' headquarters. This thing was not made for a Krogan but its maneuverability was fantastic. With incendiary ammo, the Hornet became a serious weapon against heavy armored assholes. Wrex decided to stop being selfish and made sure to share his bullets with everybody coming his way, hostile or not.
He rammed into heavy grates at the bottom of the well, shook his head to clear his vision and kept on running through pillars supporting the structures. The gardens were vertical, on metallic grids along the walls, and a complex system of stairs, ladders and catwalks around the central fans permitted to access it all. Wrex climbed the first he encountered and didn't hesitate to throw anybody on his way over the hedge, or the precious plants. He was an easy target as he climbed the tower but his barrier was strong – as long as he didn't get shot at close range.
Wrex was almost at the top, the hot dusty air of Tuchanka falling into the pit, when he heard his name being called from the bottom of the tower. Nobody was following him anymore at this height and he made the mistake to stop. Wrex first gave a quick look to the sky but eventually turned. There, maybe fifty meters under him on the other side of the tower was Wreav, a Krogan with red skin, in a heavy silver armor, eye in the scope of a M-98 Widow. Oh shit, Wrex thought and the bullet hit his chest, throwing him against the wall.
It took him a few seconds to get back on his feet and by that time Wreav's men had climbed several levels. Wrex kept on marching, checking the hole in his chest. He could tell the bullet had hit his primary heart by the quantity of blood he was losing and the dizziness. Damn, his armor was ruined. Wrex discharged his clip, vaguely aiming, and climbed the final steps, a warm wind welcoming him on top of the world. He embraced the desolated view one last time and said his goodbyes to his beloved Tuchanka as the soldiers approached. He then jumped into the void.
And landed on top of the shuttle waiting for him a few meters below. Wrex laughed as it put some distance with the tower, watching the stupid Krogans trying to shoot at him. Once far enough, the shuttle slowed down enough for him to jump safely inside and the door closed behind him, sealing the cargo. Wrex sat, for once, and sighed. He fumbled in his new chest hole but didn't manage to reach the bullet with his fingers – it stung at each heart-beat.
"Doctors Chakwas and Solus have been notified of your injury," EDI announced. "Now heading for the Normandy."
"No, not yet," Wrex contradicted the AI. "Aim for the Shroud. I wanna see the area from above and make sure nobody's around."
"You forgot the magic word."
"Pretty please," Wrex snorted and even gave his best smile to the nearest camera.
"Heading for the Shroud now," EDI replied.
Wrex felt something wiggle and push inside of him. He gritted his teeth until the bullet eventually fell from the wound, rolling on the ground in a trail of blood. A little black tentacle pointed out of his chest. Wrex smirked and pushed it back inside. There, there, little guy, he thought. You're not going anywhere.
TBC
