***Author's Note**
Hello again! I'd say I'm sorry for the delay in many, many words, but no amount of
them would be able to impart how terrible I feel. I've been away for a couple
months on government work, and not being able to work on FWAM itched at the
back of my mind the whole time. But, that's all settled now, and I've got my fiancee
playing ME1 now, since she's said she wants to know all the background before
she keeps reading my work (I think she's two chapters into TDN, so nothing's ruined yet, I hope!)
Meanwhile, I'm back to the grindstone. As always, thank you all for the comments, likes,
and follows, and I promise to be on a tighter schedule from here on out. We have about ten
chapters and an epilogue yet in FWAM, then it's on to my ME3 retelling, which I'm hoping
gets a better reception than the game's. :P
A HUGE thank you to all of you who've kept me followed and stuck with the story, I will not
disappoint you.
34 – Our Pasts and Futures
If the harsh daylight hours were bad on Tuchanka, John thought to himself as they crossed the large expanse of rough, dusty plains laden with scrub grass and sparse vegetation, the nights were almost worse. It seemed as if the entire world had been quieted into some sort of hushed reverence for the three of them, trudging across its surface, coming home from battle. The only sound was the wind, whipping across the open ground, unimpeded by any mountains or structures for miles around, A fresh gust blew past the three of them, and Grunt breathed in deeply, exhaling with satisfaction.
"Do you smell it, Shepard?" he asked, passion tinging the question.
"Varren blood?" Garrus retorted, "Yea, of course we do; you practically took a bath in the stuff."
Grunt eyed the turian, but chuckled regardless, then turned to face John, walking backwards as he spoke. "No, do you smell Tuchanka?" He paused to take another breath before continuing. "The dirt, the metal, the blood, the flesh, all of it. I was wrong, Shepard. I saw this world for what it appeared to be; ruins and rubble. But now I can see it for what it is; a harsh land, the perfect home for a harsh people. The tank was my mother, the Normandy and her crew are my friends, but this..." He stopped then, looking back past John towards the way they'd come. "This is home."
"And that," Garrus added sarcastically, "would probably be the welcome wagon."
Grunt and John stepped forward, cresting the top of a ridge they'd been scaling as they talked. Below, in a small canyon, stood Urdnot hold. Around the already-massive stone and steel structure, hundreds of housing facilities stood ramshackle in the eaves of the hold; the many tribes who'd joined forces with Wrex over the past months. Two large transports, their headlights cutting into the darkness of the Tuchankan night, sped away from the housing set-ups and roared up the small hill towards them. As they approached, they slowed, and a massive krogan stepped down from the passenger seat of one of them. As he stepped into the headlight beam, John recognized him as the krogan who'd met them at the shuttle bay, and nodded. The krogan returned the gesture, then turned to Grunt.
"Hours have passed, whelp, and you return visibly weary, and stained in blood."
"I come back victorious," Grunt growled, and the other krogan laughed.
"Good," came a gravelly voice from behind the other transport, and John's nerves settled a bit as Wrex stepped into the light. "Though we would have known it just to look at you. The rage in your eyes is concentrated, focused. You've finished the rite, pup." Wrex reached down to pull out a long, wicked knife that seemed to have seen neither an enemy's flesh or a whetstone in years. He drug the tip of the blade across his palm, opening up a small gash that trickled blood into his open palm. Wrex then offered the dagger to Grunt, who did the same. When he'd finished, Wrex took the blade, sheathed it, and clasped hands with Grunt. "Here," he said loudly, "in the presence of your krantt and mine, on this the sacred ground we call home, under the watchful gaze of Aralakh, I pledge my clan to you, Grunt. Your enemies are mine, as mine are yours. So may it be until we both lie cold on the ground." Wrex tightened his grip, as did Grunt, until blood began to squeeze out from between their hands and slide down their wrists. Then Wrex pulled his head back, as did Grunt, acting solely on instinct. They both slammed their heads together at once, and a loud crack echoed out across the plains.
The other krogan in attendance cheered and circled around Grunt, clapping him on the back and welcoming him into the fold. After a few moments, the festivities died down, and Wrex spoke again. "So, you want a ride back to the hold? You all look dead tired."
"No," Grunt said immediately, and everyone fell silent. "I'm finishing this journey the way I started it, on my own two feet, walking this slope."
Wrex laughed softly, a rumbling thunder trapped within his large krogan frame. "Good. Then we'll see you back home, brother." After a moment, they all climbed back in the transports and sped back down the hill. Grunt watched them go for a minute, then hefted his shotgun up once more and continued down the hill.
After a few seconds of silence, Garrus spoke. "You know, we could have taken the transport, Grunt. The trial's over."
"I know," the young krogan replied, "but it's the principle."
The turian chuckled, and John cracked a smile as he replied. "I can't say I've ever met a krogan who cared much for principle, much less stood on it."
Grunt stopped and turned to the turian, the darkness of the night only enhancing his glowing reptilian eyes as he extended his mauled and bleeding hand. When he spoke, it was uncharacteristically quiet. "Nice to meet you. I'm Urdnot Grunt."
The halls were almost as dark as it had been outside, and John ran his gloved hand idly along the rocky, uneven surface of the wall as he walked with Garrus toward their quarters. Every twenty or so feet, another luminescent sphere hung almost haphazardly from an outcropping, barely lighting the path below it, much less to either side. The walk had so far been in silence; Grunt had been pulled away by the shaman and other krogan the moment he'd stepped into the base, as word of his killing the thresher maw had preceded them. He almost shuddered in recollection of the beast, but contained himself. Still, almost in response to the gesture ungiven, Garrus cleared his throat softly and spoke.
"So, you alright, Shepard? I mean, just because...you know..."
"Yea," John exhaled the word, sounding more tired than he'd have liked to. "I know." He glanced over to see Garrus watching him out of the corner of his eye, and met the turian's gaze, smiling weakly. "I hope he never hears it, but Grunt's...enthusiasm...actually helped a lot."
The turian chuckled, nodding as they walked. "It did at that. I mean he didn't even balk, you'd have though they were offering free guns down its gullet or something." They both laughed quietly, continuing their journey down the winding passage. After a moment, it was John's turn to speak.
"How about you? We haven't really talked since the Citadel."
"Yea...I kept waiting for you to ask about what happened with Sidonis."
John shrugged. "It obviously meant a lot to you, but it was your business, I didn't want to pry."
Garrus chuckled again. "That's not the Shepard I know." He stayed quiet for a moment as they walked, then stopped and turned to face John fully. "I wanted...I can't even put words to it, Shepard. There was so much anger and pain. But I let him live. By all the spirits, sometimes I still don't know why, but I couldn't pull the trigger."
"Can he ever make up for it? Redeem himself in your eyes?" A long moment passed with Garrus looking off down the hallway.
"Hell, I don't know, Shepard. I had thought about that moment since the second I read his message on the storage locker wall. My team are probably rolling in their damn graves..." He shook his head. "But it was the call I made. I can only hope they'd have understood in my place."
John nodded. His friend was obviously still conflicted over the decision, but nothing he could say or do, especially right now, after the day's events, could help much. "For what its worth, I think you made the right call, Garrus."
Garrus nodded, meeting his gaze with a weary smile. "Had a feeling you'd say that."
The two of them continued down the hallway before coming to a stop at a large doorway. There was no door, just an unassuming archway seemingly carved out of the rock of the hallway they'd been walking down. The doorway opened into a round sort of living space, with curved seating lining the walls. There were several smaller archways in the far curve of the wall, each leading to, what John assumed, were his crew's sleeping quarters. In one of them, Tali stood silently, her white eyes glowing brightly in the darkness that surrounded her form. Her arms were folded across her chest, but she seemed to visibly relax the smallest bit at seeing them in the doorway.
"Right," Garrus said softly, "looks like no guesswork for you." John smiled, and Tali nodded to the door way to her left. Garrus nodded his thanks and stepped through, the darkness swallowing him up. John stood there a moment taking her in. Hours ago he'd been fighting one of the deadliest and most terrible beasts he'd ever encountered...twice. Days ago he'd been stopping a political assassination, and years ago...he'd died. How did she continue to care for him so much?
It was the bond, he supposed. She had attached herself to him on a level he didn't, and might never, fully understand. For all the pain and heartache it had caused her, she stood by him. He shook his head unconsciously as he thought about how he'd never be able to tell him how much it meant to him, then crossed the dark room to follow her through the archway and into the darkness of their room.
"Friends, brothers, and allies," Wrex began in a low and grim voice. "For the first time in more than a hundred years, we have called together this war council of clan Urdnot and its allies."
"We clan chiefs are honored to be a part of this alliance, Urdnot Wrex," began Gatatog Uvenk from the far side of the rectangular metal table they stood around, "but this should be a meeting of our clan's leadership only. This human does not belong at the table." Wrex chuckled, low and menacing.
"Shepard is a valuable ally for any species to have, and he will be instrumental in my battle plans. Besides saving my own hide on multiple occasions, he's the only creature in the galaxy to stand up to our true enemy and stop them in their tracks." He paused for a moment. "But if you think he doesn't belong here, Uvenk, feel free to denounce me and call for a blood feud on him and his. I promise you that clan Gatatog will be raising another to chief before nightfall." A low rumble, some murmuring, some laughing, went around the table, and after a moment of looking furtively around at his peers, Uvenk took a step back, nodding his assent.
John, who had locked eyes with the krogan since he'd made his objection, now let them wander around the rest of the table, memorizing names with faces. Wrex stood at the head of the table, then Jorgal Tarash to his left, Grundan Morsk, Nakmor Jrath, Uvenk at the opposite end of the table, Raik Vasikan, Ravanor Krahl, and Shepard himself rounding out the circle. Seven krogan and one human, he thought to himself, glad we're here for diplomatic reasons.
"Here," Wrex began as the room quieted, "is our enemy's stronghold." He tapped a few keys at his control panel, and a model of Weyrlock hold materialized in the space before them. "Guld knows we'll be coming; skirmishes between our forces have become more heated in the past months, but three days ago I pulled our forces back to the hold, to make ready for the assault, and in preparation for your arrival, Shepard."
John nodded as he continued to scan the model. "This is the model you sent to the Normandy for me to review. You're sure the base has no secondary entrances or exits; any way we could infiltrate?"
Wrex shook his giant head. "None. Guld is strong and fierce in combat, but he's not stupid. One entrance to the base is all he needs to defend. And with the numbers he's amassed...it won't be difficult for him to do so."
"Then we lure him out," growled Clan Jorgal's leader. Tarash's fist slammed down on the table top. John nodded absently. It was a wait-and-see approach, but he didn't have a better plan at the moment.
"A siege seems like the only option," Wrex mused aloud, "but it'll be exactly what he expects us to do." He paced back and forth across his end of the table. "And all the while he'll be throwing soldiers at us who are frothing to do whatever he tells them."
"A shame we must lose so many of our own," Chief Morsk said quietly, "even if for a cause as right as ours." The rest of the krogan chiefs nodded and grumbled in agreement as the room fell silent."
"Decimation unfortunate, risky to nascent regime based in togetherness. May have alternate solution." The salarian voice came from the space behind John, and as every krogan's head whipped toward it, Mordin materialized before them, hands already raised in surrender. Weapons were drawn and leveled at the salarian, and John acted instinctively, stepping between Mordin and the others. For the briefest of moments, he could see the outright surprise on the doctor's face as he stood between him and near death.
"What is this?!" Ravanor Krahl snarled, "Have your kind not done enough to our people, worm?!"
"Everyone calm down," John began, reaching out to the krogan.
"Calm? You wish us to be calm when the salarians once again sneak about our planet, sowing who knows what kind of chaos into our ranks?!" Raik Vasikan was practically spitting as he spoke.
Wrex quietly rounded the table, standing in front of John, who locked eyes with him. "He's one of yours, I take it?"
"Yes," John whispered, "but he's not-"
"-supposed to be here," Mordin finished for him, placing a hand on John's shoulder. Half-turning to look at the salarian earned John a knowing smile, and he slowly stepped out from between the two aliens. Unfazed, Mordin continued. "Not supposed to be here, certainly aware. Apologize for intrusion, clan chief, but have relevant information that could affect upcoming battle, thought it wise not to attempt...'direct route'...for fear of instant refusal" He finished with air quotes, and Wrex stood silent for a long moment before speaking.
"What information?" It was a demand, not a question, and the room fell silent, clan chiefs slowly lowering their weapons to listen to the alien.
Mordin took a deep breath. "Maelon, former student and colleague, taken captive by Weyrlock clan two standard months ago. Can only imagine torturous conditions, forced procedures, but believed alive. Could have access to sensitive material."
"What kind of material?" Wrex probed.
"The kind that could change minds," the salarian said matter-of-factly. He tapped his omni-tool, above which records sprang to life in orange light. "Analyzed scouting reports of supplies entering Weyrlock compound. Many chemicals a match for possible genophage treatment, but none stable."
"I don't follow," Wrex growled, "What do you mean by 'stable'. How the hell did you get our scouting reports, and what," he took a step towards the stoic salarian, "would you know of a cure for the genophage?"
If the room were silent before, it was as a tomb now, all eyes fixed on Mordin. He looked away for a moment, then sighed, resigned, and explained. "Mordin Solus, doctorate in genetic studies and bio-treatment. Senior adviser to salarian dalatrass on all matters scientific..." he trailed off, then nodded. "STG team leader for Tuchanka observation and administration division."
Around the room, John could see muscles tighten, rage boil beneath stone-faced exteriors. Wrex, for his part, kept a solemn face, but his voice was a cold whisper. "The alien who spearheaded the release of the genophage...That is a dangerous claim to make here, doctor Solus."
"Understand the risk," Mordin replied quietly, his eyes meeting Wrex's levelly. "Judged potential of information worthy of it."
Wrex nodded, clearly impressed by the salarian, then spoke again. "What does Maelon know? What have you figured out with all your sneaking?"
"Weyrlock Guld not trying to cure genophage," Mordin said at last. "Is instead trying to empower it."
"Empower it?" Wrex asked incredulously.
"Yes." Mordin replied. "Do not know why, but Maelon would. If Maelon can be retrieved, can surmise motives of Weyrlock clan chief."
Wrex stepped back from the salarian, pacing around the edge of the table. The other clan leaders had stowed their weapons, but the looks they continued to send Mordin's way spoke of the atrocities they held in their minds for him. "That's information I would like to know," Wrex said at last, "but it still doesn't help us in the battle."
"Ah, of course," Mordin replied, stepping up to the table console at the head of the table. "Here," he began. "Although Weyrlock clan presence proposed a potential problem, structure, previously served as STG testing center during mission on Tuchanka. Still krogan occupied, but secret installation created beneath structural foundation. Access and escape point here." The model rotated, and a small segment of the outer wall became highlighted in green. "Omni-tool communications link will open passage, allowing small team access to STG substructure."
"You mean to tell us," Jorgal Tarash hissed, "that your entire operation was based out of a headquarters beneath one of our own clan holds?"
"Yes," Mordin replied, seeming confused at the apparent lack of understanding. "Salarians very quiet when mission necessitates."
Tarash shook his head in disgust, while Wrex spoke. "So we can send a team into your old base. Why not send the rest of my force."
"Easily detected if all approaching singular point," Mordin replied. "Best tactic to send small team, establish illegitimate uplink to Weyrlock base service systems, override mechanical procedures."
"Hack their systems and jam the doors open for a frontal assault..." John thought aloud. Mordin turned to him, smiling.
"Precisely."
"Will that work?" Grundan Morsk spoke with hesitation. In the short debriefing Wrex had given him before the others had arrived, he'd told John that Morsk was usually a 'destroy things first, ask questions later' kind of krogan. It showed in his wariness.
"Dependent on complexity of systems, presence of obstacles, and skill of hacker," Mordin replied.
"Guld will know by now that you have off-worlders," Nakmor Jrath said. A staunch supporter of Wrex in all matters, Jrath was the essential right-hand man of the clan unification project; one of the few Wrex personally trusted. "Any defenses he has will be at their maximum strength."
"Clan Ravanor, and all other assembled here, can give you the time you need, human." Ravanor Krahl voice was a barely-discernable growl as his deep-set eyes locked with John's. "We will hold the siege until our last krogan." Around the table, fists met the tabletop as grunts of acknowledgment and agreement sounded out.
"That just leaves a skilled hacker," Uvenk added.
Wrex and John looked at each other immediately, thinking the exact same thing. A small smile played across the faces of both, and Wrex spoke first. "Clan chiefs, prepare your forces. The last clan war of krogan history begins at dawn."
All around John, the chamber thundered with the roars of bloodthirsty krogan.
Every hallway looked like the others, Garrus thought as he walked along the scarcely-lit corridor. He had asked one of Wrex's personal guard for directions to his destination, though he supposed it wouldn't be entirely unlikely that he'd been lied to as a joke. He shook his head as he walked, wondering if some kind of lizard joke would be in poor taste here. Try as he might to think of one, his brain kept cycling back to the task at hand. He hadn't been a war general, or a great leader of men. Even on Omega, he had seen himself as merely one of many, albeit the only one with Commander Shepard on his list of credentials. But they had made him their leader, and in accepting that he took on the good alongside the bad. This was definitely the bad.
It had been hard to get out of the surprisingly comfortable bed to walk these halls, to have this meeting. He'd stayed awake half the night staring at the ceiling above, Kasumi sleeping soundly in the bed across the room. He'd taken to falling asleep in chairs these days. She hadn't asked him to come to her bed yet, though neither had she disapproved of his sleeping arrangements now. He supposed she just liked having him there, a presence in the night assuring her things would be fine. If he were honest with himself, it comforted him to have her around as well. He couldn't say how. Surely some degree of it was the intimate nature of their relationship, but he wondered if a great deal of it wasn't also the idea of having someone around whom he knew wouldn't leave him. He had hesitated pushing the relationship further, out of the complete fear that she would decide against it, but how much longer could the tenuous romance they shared now last without a conversation?
He shook his head once more as the thoughts milled around his head yet again, and almost ran into the krogan standing in the hallway before he saw him and stopped short. "Oh, hey sorry."
"What's your business here, turian?" The krogan wore a full-face helmet, and so Garrus found himself trying to converse with two glowing yellow spheres in what was certainly one of the most difficult conversations he'd ever had.
"I...need to speak with your clan chief," he managed after a moment. The krogan said nothing, simply continued to stare at him. "It's about his son."
The krogan visibly tightened, his hands gripping his rifle tighter as he spoke. "Wait here." He turned, disappearing into the darkness of the room beyond. After a moment, he returned, waving Garrus to follow.
The pair entered into living quarters much like those the Normandy crew shared, a large central room with connecting smaller ones. Garrus was led through the main room filled with krogan, cleaning and inspecting their weapons for the battle to come, and directed through one of the offshoot rooms. He entered alone, his escort peeling off to return to the hallway. Garrus had expected trophies of war and battles past to adorn the room, but he simply saw the same amenities that were in his own. A long, wide opening carved out of the far wall served as a window out into the Tuchankan night, and in front of it stood, Garrus assumed, Krul's father. The krogan turned as Garrus entered. Long scars crossed his face and arms, and his eyes were appraising, sharp green orbs in the light tan of his rough skin.
"I know of you, turian." His voice was steel, hard and unrelenting, emotionless. "The news feeds after the Citadel reached even out here, to Tuchanka. You, the human Urdnot Wrex seems to bend an ear to, and the suited girl, the heroes of the Citadel they called you."
"I'd rather they hadn't, to be honest," Garrus replied, staying where he entered the room. "That reputation's brought me more pain than pleasure, I assure you."
The krogan nodded slowly. "Expectation is the burden of greatness. My father told me that the day I came home from the Rite." A small moment of silence passed between the two, then Morsk spoke again. "They tell me you have news of my son, Krul."
Garrus's chest constricted, his heart raced, and even after all this time, rage coursed through his veins at what they'd done to his friends, his family. "Yes, clan chief. If you have the time, I'll tell you the whole story." Morsk nodded, gesturing for Garrus to sit in the chair while he circled around the bed and sat there as well. Garrus began to relate the story of his team on Omega, their formation, their goal. He focused on Krul, how he'd met the krogan after coming to his aid in a fight against six batarians, how he'd looked out for and trained with every member of his team. How he'd given his life in the end to protect the only people he considered family on Omega. When he'd finished, the dark clouds of the evening had cleared away, and bright stars speckled the pitch black night into which Morsk once again stared. Garrus stood beside him, as they'd moved many times during the course of the tale, and when he was quiet at last, Morsk spoke after a long moment of reflection.
"Why did you tell me this story, Garrus Vakarian?" he asked in a low whisper. "Why did you bring my son's pain and death to me on the eve of the greatest battle I will ever fight?"
Garrus looked away from the stars to look at the krogan. "Because you deserved to know that whatever reason Krul had for being on Omega when he was...he gave every last shred of strength he had fighting his enemy. He died in battle, against hundreds of enemies, and he took countless numbers of them to the grave with him. He died protecting his friends, people of almost as many species as are on this whole planet right now. We were a brotherhood, a family, and he died protecting the only thing on that rock he could call his. I've lost a lot of friends in my short time in the universe, but Krul was one of the best. I wanted you to know before you went to war, that your son died a hero."
Morsk turned away from the window, his face a tumbling mask of rage, sadness, and pride. After a moment, he spoke quietly. "Krul and I had never agreed. We had fought for months before he left. I've always been of the mindset that the strength of our people is wasted on Tuchanka, warring with each other. I've believed that we should be out among the other races, striving to change our perception in the galaxy. The last thing Krul said to me, the night he left our world, was that he would not be a part of a clan who defended alien creatures. To know that he somehow found his own way to the path I would have had him walk alongside me..." A long moment passed, and Garrus turned back to the open wastes of the Tuchankan night, while beside him a krogan warred within himself. The silence seemed overwhelming, and as Garrus had decided to leave Morsk to his thoughts, the krogan spoke. "Thank you. I will never be able to say the things I wished to Krul, but I can hope that when he fell, he died knowing the affection I bore him as my son...I must be alone to grieve for my son before the battle tomorrow. But you have done my clan...and myself...a service. I will not forget it."
Garrus nodded to Morsk, clapping the krogan on his thick shoulder, and turned to leave. He passed unmolested through the main chamber, and back out into the dark hallway. For five, ten, fifteen minutes, he walked softly through the midnight hallways of the krogan base, his head swimming with the situation Morsk faced. So many conflicts unresolved, so much guesswork in how each other felt about the other as they lived their entire lives light-years apart. As he found his way down the corridor that lead to the Normandy crew's quarters, He heard the faint din of a lingering roar from the other side of the base. It was a single, pained noise in the night, and even being a turian, he could feel the sound's guttural meaning. It stopped him in his tracks, and as he listened, more and more voiced roared along with it, clan Grundan supporting, consoling, and honoring their chief in one of his darkest hours. After a long moment, the sounds died down, and Garrus crossed the threshold into the main chamber of their rooms, and crossed to the doorway of the room they shared.
There was no light, and he ignited his omni-tool, casting a dim, pale, orange light across the room's surfaces. She was still there, lying asleep on the bed, occupying only a third of it's size, intended originally for a krogan body. His gaze caught the chair next to it, then looked back to her. After a moment's decision, he stepped over to the bed, gently sitting down and reclining to stare up at the ceiling. His movements rustled her awake, and her half-open eyes seemed slightly surprised to see him beside her. The instant seemed forever; should he leave? Had his interaction with Morsk made him go too far? And then, in answer to all his questions, a small, sleepy smile grew on her face, and she reached out to him, drawing him nearer. He put his arms around her, and kissed her forehead.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I've...been stupid about this. About us."
"You're here now," she said softly. "That's what matters." Her words trailed off, and before he could reply, she had dozed off once more, lying sound asleep in the arms of a turian. He chuckled quietly, pulling her tighter and closing his own eyes, his pain beginning to melt away in the warmth of her embrace.
The caravan rumbled unsteadily across the rock-strewn plains of Tuchanka, under the burning morning sun. John looked up through the ventilation slots in the roof of the vehicle, packed tight with Wrex, Jrath, and the whole of the Normandy crew, into a blood-red sun, the eye of Aralakh bearing witness to the bloodshed to come. He looked forward, to Wrex and Jrath, and saw the blood smeared across their faces. The shaman had anointed them with the "mark of war" before they'd departed, hundreds of the roving machines racing across the expanse towards Weyrlock hold. Wrex, turning to look back at them, caught John's gaze and nodded. He was ready to fight, and he knew John's team would get their job done.
"Co-variable-dependent substrings with encryption verification, bi-lateral hot rings with fringe detection protocols, feedback distortion across all channels," Mordin's raised voice spoke to Tali, seated next to him, as they struggled to converse over the noise of the vehicle. She had been gone when John woke that morning, and had spent her waking hours since with Mordin, going over the encryption and defense programs that the krogan had used when he was last there with the STG. The words were a foreign language to John, but he smiled as he watched Tali nod along with everything the professor rattled off, tapping notes into her omni-tool as they conversed.
It was just as well she hadn't been there this morning, he'd had the dream again. He almost struggled now to think back to a time when he didn't have them, and although he was now somewhat content with them, it always surprised him when they evolved, when he was finally able to do something he hadn't been able to before, or when blurry items became clearer. The people, they were still unrecognizable, but he had seemed to have become proficient in the lights, although he still didn't know what they were for. Every time he opened himself up to one, it took him to another strange location, the ceiling's light structure different than the last. He couldn't make heads or tails of it, and he'd hesitated to tell anyone lest they think his nerves had begun to get the better of him, but they haunted him nonetheless, this puzzle he couldn't solve.
The comm system in the vehicle crackled to life, and a krogan voice burst into their cabin. "Weyrlock forces engaged! They've got turrets and biotics assaulting the front line of rovers, as well as standing soldiers on the walls. The main gate looks half-open, and they're pouring out."
"He wants a fight, then," Wrex replied. "Any sign of Guld?"
"No, clan chief, he must still be inside. They close the gate after each wave of fighters emerge."
Wrex nodded. "He knew we'd try to use a siege, he's going to make us bleed for it instead." He reached up, tapping the comm controls and patching into all the convoys. "This is it, friends. The war you've waited for is upon you. Take no prisoners, show no mercy; and don't expect to see any from the Weyrlock. This battle will unite us, or destroy us, but either way, it's worth the fight. Show them the fury of a united krogan!"
The rover skidded to a stop, and the hatch flow open on the side. Further away, near another convoy, John could see a pocket of earth erupt upwards, torn asunder by a biotic attack. Samara pushed her hands outward from the hatch, and a protective sphere covered them as they exited, bullets streaking off of the shield and flying into the skies above. They rushed out to join the other krogan, crouched behind their rovers and firing towards the enemy combatants entrenched near the Weyrlock hold gates. The battle plan had been given to all krogan in the morning, and so John could see coordinated attacks on the turrets and biotics atop the wall. While the Weyrlock had accounted for off-worlders on Wrex's side, they hadn't accounted for Samara, Jack, Miranda, and Jacob, who tore into the wall's occupants with a biotic onslaught. The minutes turned to hours, and when the last of the wall's defenders were killed or disabled, Wrex let out a massive roar, echoed by the other clan chiefs along the line. Together, they rushed from their positions, charging toward the base and engaging in combat with the enemy. Rifles were discarded in favor of hands, heads, and knees as the krogan attacked one another viciously, a sea of gigantic bodies crushing against each other in a single-purpose.
John, Mordin, and Tali sprinted around the outskirts of the fighting, weaving between battling pairs of enemies. As he ran, John could see his crew fighting as viciously as the krogan were; Grunt charging headlong into the biggest enemy he could find, Kasumi and Garrus with their backs to each other, firing round after round at those battling around them, Thane slipping in and out of sight, delivering killing strike after killing strike to unsuspecting foes. They saw their break in the line, and made for it, Mordin immediately tapping in entry sequences into his omni-tool.
A bloodthirsty roar bellowed out as a Weyrlock soldier barreled towards them. John rounded his assault rifle on it, the bullets skimming off of its shields as it continued rushing. It crashed into John, his cybernetics straining under the attack as they tumbled together towards the ground. The krogan came up on top, slamming fists downward as John desperately dodged them. He twisted his body and rammed an elbow into the creature's jaw with more strength than any human could muster, knocking the beast back off of him. He clambered to His feet as John rolled away, and Tali rushed forward to engage him. She dodged his array of punches and attempts to grab her, spinning and pulling her knife out of her boot in one smooth motion to slash at his knees. The sharpened blade bit into his flesh, severing tendons and causing him to drop to one knee. Keeping her momentum, Tali kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him sprawling onto his back, before leveling her shotgun at his face and pulling the trigger. The krogan twitched for a moment, then lay still, and she collapsed the weapon at the small of her back, wiping the blade of her knife on her exosuit before stashing it back in her boot. John got to his feet with a laugh. "Thanks, I owe you one."
"Many more than one," she said, her tone showing him the smile his eyes could not see.
"Access achieved," Mordin called out to them, "Must move quickly!" The secret door slid open, and the three of them rushed inside, closing it behind them. Tali turned immediately, her omni-tool firing to life as she scrambled Mordin's access codes and installed a few protocols of her own to keep anyone else out.
"It will take them four days to break that code," she said as they moved forward. "Let's try not to still be here then."
"Deal," John replied. "Mordin, lead on."
Mordin wove them through a series of tunnels and corridors, seemingly carved out of the rock, but lined with dust-covered terminals and metal tables. He spoke quietly as they moved. "STG based operations and data collection projects out of this site, many salarians hidden here, just beneath krogan. Many meetings to determine risk versus reward for basing operations so close to test subjects, but decision eventually made to go through with plan."
"So the Weyrlock were your testing grounds before the wide release of the genophage?" Tali whispered as they continued.
"Yes, introduced trace amounts into local water supply, collected tissue samples from clinical wing waste traps, analyzed procedural impact of genophage release in controlled population. Once desired results achieved, widespread release authorized."
"And you were just fine with watching an entire group of people reproductively degrade right in front of you?" John asked. A long silence hung as they kept moving, and Mordin finally answered.
"Morality not a factor in decisions. Saw krogan after Rachni Wars, threat to galaxy, overpopulation and planetary expansion not only possible, but inevitable, every model proved positive. Krogan over-presence in universe led to unstable war-state of galaxy." He paused as they followed the corridor, then replied quietly, almost to himself. "Genophage only option."
They rounded a corner, and came upon a ramshackle terminal, seemingly constructed in haste, with wiring poking out from the back. "That's our uplink?" Tali asked skeptically.
"Yes," Mordin replied, "was hard wired into local network on sub-standard frequencies, with trace-killers on each connections. Enabled us to monitor communications and surveillance systems undetected. Should still be operational."
"If you say so." She stepped forward, firing up her omni-tool again and interfacing with the console. While she worked, John looked around the derelict room, clearly left in haste.
"So what happened here, in the end?"
Mordin sighed as he looked over the room as well. "STG team discovered while dispersing one of final releases of genophage. Received distress call while they attempted to escape...heard their deaths. Reports came back to Weyrlock base, krogan began to sweep compound. Team fled under cover of darkness...lost many to krogan scouts. Dropship in remote wastes recovered rest of team...was disaster, Shepard. Had never experienced such a casualty rate before."
"I'm sorry, Mordin. I...didn't mean to make you relive that."
"Apologies not necessary, Shepard. For many years after mission, spent many nights wondering about validity of mission. Every diagnostic confirmed, every test concluded in favor of genophage. Still, lives lost, both krogan and salarian...sometimes difficult to see value of work against such numbers." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before opening them and touching the edge of a table gingerly. "Good to remember the past, understand what was important then, and what is important now."
"It sounds like you don't quite believe as deeply as you used to in the work you did here," John offered.
Mordin shook his head slowly. "Was necessary. Have to believe was necessary. Otherwise all work, all deaths, pointless...pointless...Besides, genophage a fact of galactic history. Mission complete, deemed a success...personal opinion no longer relevant, does not change outcome."
"I've got it," Tali called from the console, and the two of them turned back to regroup with her. "I have local access to all systems, including the doors. Contact Wrex, let him know we're through."
John nodded, tapping into his omni-tool and hailing Wrex, who answered amidst a din of roaring and crashing bodies. "Wrex, Tail's in the system, she's jamming the doors now."
"We'll take the base," the krogan yelled in reply. "Meet us inside, and we'll take care of Guld." The comm cut out, and John turned back to Tali as she tapped in a final sequence.
"I've patched all system controls over to my omni-tool to update with the fight, but that will keep it open, unless they have a captive quarian as well."
"Unlikely," Mordin replied. "Maelon will be in clinical wing, can access it from further tunnels." He turned to move down another corridor, and John and Tali followed in his wake.
The harsh sun rained heat down upon the imposing and now blood-drenched figure of Urdnot Wrex. All around, his mind took in the din, the chaos, the smoke, blood, and roaring. This was war; it was his birthright, it was what he had been made for. He looked to his right, where clan Ravanor ripped into the Weyrlock troops like a varren into a fresh piece of meat. To his left, the whelp took on three enemies at once. He smiled at that; his decision to bring Grunt into the fold had not been without its dissenters, but as with the rest of his leadership choices lately, he had been right to choose the path he did. Tank-bred or not, Grunt made an excellent addition to the clan.
Shepard had told him the quarian had jammed the gates, and sure enough they stood wide open now, and his forces were close enough that he could see Weyrlock's engineers panicking on the other side to get them closed again. They would have no such luck. Wrex had witnessed first-hand the girl's skill with computers, and he was sure that having her hack them had done more damage than ripping the door off of its tracks. He had bellowed the collapse order once they had locked up, and true to their word, every clan that had stood for him at the crush rushed forward, forcing Weyrlock krogan back and back, until the entire battle became one convoluted bulge outside the front gate.
Wrex roared again, and the clan chiefs along with him, and his forces pushed forward, rushing into Weyrlock hold, but stopping just inside. The great antechamber was an open space, sky above, ringed by level after level of living quarters and other facilities. Weyrlock Guld stood at the head of his remaining forces, across the large expanse of the chamber, and he called out as Wrex stepped forward.
"Of course they all follow you! Only you would be so stupid, to lead them all to this much slaughter of their own kind."
"You could have faced me at the crush, Guld." Wrex shot back, stepping forward aggressively. "You could have come yourself and challenged me, to keep our numbers strong. You could have come out this day, the moment we arrived, and we could have settled this as our fathers did, and their fathers before them. Instead you ignored the call to crush, you sent assassins to my call for a united people, and you hid here behind your walls, letting your own kind die to keep you safe like some cowardly turian general, always keeping the battle away from himself."
"Oh come on," Garrus's voice came quietly from behind him, "I'm right here..." Wrex smiled internally at his friend's offense, but externally his face was a stone slab.
"You call me coward in my own home! You claim I try to destroy us! You will end the krogan, Urdnot Wrex, with your dreams of the stars. Our home is here, our future is here, not out aiding the aliens who abandoned and poisoned us after we saved them from the rachni. And I will remind every krogan here of that again once you lie cold on the ground. You will have no honor in death, just as you have none now. Your flesh will feed the varren, and your bones will bleach in the sun for generations to come, as your home forsakes your body, just as you would forsake hers."
"Our enemies are greater than each other, Guld. But you won't see it. I'll have the krogan unified and ready to fight the true enemy. And I'd promise you the same about your corpse, but there wont be enough left of you to feed the varren by the time I'm finished."
"Then bring your army, whelp! I'll show you the strength of one fit to lead our people!"
Wrex roared and charged at Guld, the rest of his forces following him. They both hurled biotic attacks at each other before closing to bloody fists and horrendous gashes. Around him, they all fought just as fiercely. In the next few minutes, he realized with a rush, he would either have accomplished every goal he set out to achieve since leaving the Normandy those years ago, or bleed out into the soil of Tuchanka.
He roared again as the blood flowed. This was his birthright. It was what he was made for.
The door slid open, and John moved right while Tali moved left, sweeping into yet another empty medical room. Below them, several floors down, the small silence had erupted once more into the frenzy of battle. Wrex had found Guld, John decided, and their time was running out. They crossed quickly through this, the third medical bay they'd encountered, each one littered with the bodies of test subjects. At first, Mordin had studied the readouts at each bed, before eventually giving up in disgust as each one proved his information correct. Guld had been taking prisoners from each clan, looking through their DNA, trying to find a difference he could exploit. He wasn't trying to improve the genophage, Mordin had told them, he was trying to focus it. On every krogan clan but his own.
"Makes sense in theory," he mumbled in disbelief as they made their way past corpse after corpse. "clans breed within, with females from that clan. Only DNA exchange would be during crush ritual, where females can be traded between clans. Weyrlock absent from crushes for the past decades."
"But this plan couldn't have been in place since then," John noted, "they needed Maelon to refine the genophage, and a few decades wouldn't be enough time for genetic abnormalities to develop."
"Correct," Mordin agreed. "Probable theory is that Weyrlock trying to distill genetic line to try to eliminate genophage naturally. By continuing same strand of DNA, possibility arises to mutate away from genophage sequencing."
"So they were hoping for a needle in a haystack...but when Maelon came along..."
"Need to hopefully wait vanished," the salarian concluded grimly.
"This one is heavily encrypted," Tali called from ahead. "Whatever is behind here, it's important."
She tapped the last few strokes in on her omni-tool, and the door slid open. It was a small room, comprised of a disheveled bed and a single terminal. At the terminal, hunched over its controls, sat a salarian. His head turned fearfully as they entered, and his eyes went wide. All around his face, signs of abuse and torture showed.
"Maelon!" Mordin yelled, holstering his pistol and rushing over to the younger salarian. "Severe lesions, burn marks, laser scoring, torture?!"
"Yes," Maelon replied weakly. "I'm...I'm sorry, doctor Solus. I tried to come back in secret, tried to undo the havoc we wreaked on the krogan...but they found me. They kept me here...tortured me...said that once the other krogan were wiped out...they'd let me go."
"Unlikely," Mordin said, scanning Maelon with his omni-tool and administering basic first aid. "Krogan unwelcoming to salarians, Weyrlock easily worst of all."
"I knew it was a lie," he replied, coughing viciously at the end. "So I stalled as much as I could. It's not ready, but almost. If you hadn't gotten here when you did..."
"It's alright, Maelon," John said, "we're getting you out of here, and the other clans are handling the Weyrlock."
"That's almost as bad..." he whispered. After a long pause, sobbing began to overtake him, and he reached up weakly to grab Mordin's coat. "Don't you see what we did to them, doctor Solus? This hatred, this violence, this distrust...this is everything we said would happen if we didn't release it, if we didn't afflict them. It may just be confined to Tuchanka right now, and the few krogan who escape the planet...but they'll kill each other...we've doomed their species hundreds of times faster than if we'd have let them live unblemished."
"Was...was necessary, Malon. Every study showed..."
"Damn the studies!" Maelon exclaimed. "This is worse! It's a million times worse! We could have protected the galaxy, the Council could have stopped any aggression...but we've changed everything they are...we killed what the krogan were and made them this...monster. We...we have to find a way to undo it, doctor Solus. You taught me to act in the best interests of the patient, always and without exception. We...we wronged the krogan, and we had no right...please...please help me fix...our mistake." He collapsed forward, and Mordin caught him, carrying him over to the bed and laying him down. "We...we have to..." he whispered. Mordin looked to John, his eyes meeting the human's for a long time. Then at last, he nodded solemnly, and leaned back down to help Maelon.
"Will help you, Maelon. Will correct our mistake."
"Maelon," Tali ventured, stepping closer. "You said Weyrlock Guld himself ordered you to hone the genophage."
"Yes..." he replied weakly, barely sitting up to look at her, "right here in this room."
"Then maybe I can..." she flicked and tapped through her omni-tool controls, searching through security and surveillance logs. "Yes! Here it is!" She tapped a few keys, and Guld's voice projected from her omni-tool.
"Come back to ensure your job is done, have you? Well, allow me to change your mission parameters." In the background, Maelon could be heard screaming as the loud thuds of a beating gave proof to his scars. "You will work on the genophage, but you will hone it. I will give you samples from all the clans, and you will tool our weakness to intensify in the bodies of my enemies. Once they wither and die before my clan's feet, then...I'll release you, salarian. Think on my offer, I'll leave these two here to...explain it further..." More screaming could be heard before the audio clip cut out.
"If we can get that to where they're fighting..." John thought aloud, "Guld's people would never support him knowing he'd given that order."
"Are you sure it would be enough to change their minds?" Tali asked.
"Positive. If I learned anything from those long talks with Wrex on the SR-1, it's that the krogans would never abide trying to harness the genophage to use on other krogans again, not from any alien, and certainly not from one of your own. But how can we-"
"Way ahead of you," she replied, tapping furiously on her interface. "Watch me stop a battle in two seconds."
Wrex hurled Guld to the ground, backwards and away into his own people. The other leader was on his feet in an instant, another krogan beside him helping him. Wrex had recognized Weyrlock Vorn's face as they'd met here. The only son of Guld not snuffed out by the genophage, the unwanted son, who did not always adhere to his father's doctrines. Vorn had been Wrex's only way of contacting clan Weyrlock over the past months, and though the krogan was sound of mind, he stuck with his clan in this fight. Wrex could respect that. Guld ripped his arm away from his son before shoving him back into the throng of krogan with a curse. He prepared for the other krogan's assault, blood streaming down his face, but at Guld's first step, his ear was pierced by the static hiss of a comm channel. He cursed to himself, he'd closed his eyes, Guld had all the opening he needed. But when Wrex opened his eyes again, Guld stood holding the side of his helmet as well, and as Wrex looked around, all the other krogan had stopped to wrench at the sides of their helmets. Just as he was about to remove the damned thing and continue the fight, the unmistakeable voice of Weyrlock Guld flooded his hearing, joined with the background sounds of what sounded like an incredible beating.
"Come back to ensure your job is done, have you? Well, allow me to change your mission parameters. You will work on the genophage, but you will hone it. I will give you samples from all the clans, and you will tool our weakness to intensify in the bodies of my enemies. Once they wither and die before my clan's feet, then...I'll release you, salarian. Think on my offer, I'll leave these two here to...explain it further..."
After a few seconds, the audio repeated. Then it repeated again, and again. A long scowl grew on Wrex's face as he realized what Tali had found and what she'd done with it. He did rip off his helmet then, throwing it at Guld, who smacked it away, but catching the attention of all krogan, as the battle had come to a standstill.
"The genophage! You would turn our greatest and shared weakness against us once again! You would betray us all to that plague once more, so that you could play king?!"
Around Guld, the mood shifted, as Weyrlock faces turned from confusion, to outright disgust, to rage. They looked to their leader for some sliver of hope, some sign that all was not as it seemed, and had been blatantly proven to them. For a moment, Wrex pitied them. No, he realized, he did pity them. They followed their clan chief, as any krogan should, it was Guld that led them astray with false promises. His rage intensified as Guld spat his words.
"I sought to protect my clan! I sought to give us the rule we deserved! Ours is better than all of your mongrel clans put together; my people know it, as I know it! The genophage is our curse, I would make it our weapon! Fit to strike at those who oppose us, including you, whelp!" A rumble of dissent spread through the Weyrlock ranks, and here and there one of them holstered a weapon. Others stood fast, but only one moved. From the corner of the field, Weyrlock Vorn crossed the battlefield to stand in front of his father.
"You..." he began breathlessly, and Wrex watched as his face drew on the rage within. He remembered making that face at his own father, the atrocities he'd committed coming back to haunt him. "You are not the leader of this clan. You cannot speak for us. A true leader would not take his people down this road. A true krogan would never fathom it."
"Silence!" Guld yelled, swinging a fist at his son. Vorn dodged it expertly, drawing his blade and slamming it home in the gap in the plating between the armpit and the chestplate. Guld gasped as his organs were pierced, and Vorn wasted no time, removing the blade and ramming it into Guld's throat. Ripping it out rewarded him with a spray of blood, and Guld collapsed onto his back, beginning to choke on his own blood. Vorn turned to look over the Weyrlock clan, none of whom moved to oppose his decision and claim. After a moment, the only sounds being the gasping and gurgling of Guld on the ground, he locked eyes with Wrex, and spoke aloud to his dying father.
"You will have no honor in death, just as you have none now. Your flesh will feed the varren, and your bones will bleach in the sun for generations to come, as your home forsakes your body, just as you would forsake hers. A traitor's end, as you yourself decreed." He lifted his foot, slamming it down to crush Guld's throat. The krogan lay lifeless, blood pooling around him, and Vorn reached down, retrieving a small metal disk from his father's armor. Crossing to Wrex, he took a dagger from his belt, slashed his palm, and dripped his own blood over the medallion. "I am Weyrlock Vorn, chief of clan Weyrlock. Through my father's leadership, our clan has slighted the very essence of the krogan people. Here, at this gathering of all clans, we forfeit our claims in recompense and, should you have us, agree to your alliance of clans, Urdnot Wrex." He held the disk out to Wrex, who nodded and took it from him, holding it high and bellowing.
"The debts of clan Weyrlock rest squarely on Weyrlock Guld's shoulders, and they die with him. We accept Weyrlock Vorn into our council, and his clan as well. We are the krogan of Tuchanka, and we are one!"
The battlecry that emerged from all krogan in attendance ripped across the plains, sundered the heavens, and shook the very world itself.
Daylight faded as the wounded made their way back to Urdnot hold in the rovers, the Weyrlock clan's added to the caravan. John stood beside one of the last still at the hold, looking out over the rugged landscape as night began to fall.
"Varren will be out soon," Wrex commented as he approached.
"Yea," John said, nodding. "You know, it's really not such a bad place. Beautiful at sunset, almost."
Wrex's laugh was a deep one that belied how tired he must have been. "Careful, Shepard, or we'll end up building you a place here."
John laughed, turning to face his friend, who extended a hand. He took it.
"I couldn't have done this without you, Shepard."
"Well, Mordin and Tali mostly," he replied.
"No, you. You inspired all of this. And even after facing down death itself, you came when I called for help. You're a true friend, Shepard. Krogan don't have many of those.
"Thanks, Wrex. There will be a day soon when I'll need your help."
"I know. They're coming, but we'll be ready. I'll make sure of it." A long moment passed and he spoke again. "Mordin's friend, how is he?"
John shook his head. "It wasn't pretty. But we've got the best doctors back at the Normandy, and Mordin won't leave his side." He stared at the trailing rovers for a long moment. "Mordin says he's going to reverse the genophage."
Wrex let it sink in for a moment before replying. "Well, that's something I didn't expect to hear. I suppose if anyone could do it, it's the two of them. I'll believe it when I see it, though, and I've got bigger things to worry about at the moment."
"Bigger than the restoration of your species?"
Wrex laughed again. "Yea. Shepard, have you ever tried getting a handful of krogan clans to get along?"
John smiled. "No, I suppose I haven't.
The krogan gestured to the rover, the last to leave, and they both climbed inside. "I'll tell you my favorite solution," Wrex said as the engine kicked on. "A massive celebration." He laughed again as their rover tore off across the plains, leaving the empty Weyrlock hold a dark silhouette against the falling Tuchankan night.