To Survive: Terminus Coalition
Chapter 48 : The Glimmer to Grasp
"You look good, Thane. How are you holding up?" Shepard asked as they sat together in Kolyat's ratty apartment. The place was kempt, but everything was dated and gave off a second-hand impression. He immediately considered how much he was financing Thane, and grew concerned.
"I'm well, Shepard. My symptoms have been very gradual, and the doctors assure me that it will continue at this rate. Kalahira has given me this chance to be with my son by stripping me of the skills that might keep me away. Every week it becomes more difficult to breathe as I exercise, but I will continue until I am unable." Thane replied, his expression conveying whole satisfaction and peace.
"I'm glad you finally got the chance to spend time with your son. I hope everyone else realizes how important it is before extinction becomes a veritable threat."
"Indeed. I hope you have found some comfort with your own family." Thane croaked.
"It's not the same, but we make it work. It's uh… hard to be a comforting husband when the future is so uncertain. I would never lie to her, not that she is so naïve that she doesn't know the risk. It is just hard to face head on when she has so much of a future to look forward to."
"As do you." Thane asserted with a nod. "I saw you on the galactic news the other night. You spoke well of the roles that everyone must take during war. We are not all masters of combat, and too many that chose to stand against me realized it much too late. Likewise, many will sign away their lives to make a difference and end up as mere fodder. In reality, one cannot fight for the billions of faceless numbers, but for the men and women closest." Thane contemplated.
"I've heard that before." Shepard nodded, remembering Mordin and how he visited with his nephew for motivation. Shepard acknowledged in his heart that he couldn't honestly apply it in his own experience.
"Your face when you brought Tali on stage. It carried a pride that I lost long ago." Thane remarked with a peaceful smile gracing his lips. It was sad to think of the loss that was implied in his sentence, but his genuine empathy was beautiful.
"You don't think you've found it again, now that you can spend time with your son?" Shepard asked hoping to lend Thane more appreciation than he already had.
"My son brings me a different sentiment: more of hope than pride. He still has much to learn, but at the same time he brings me peace. I regret no one's death but Irikah's, though I am comforted by the promises of Kalahira."
"Is your share of the salvage royalty coming through?" Shepard asked after a brief silence. The sum of credits would surely be enough for a nicer apartment, even on the Citadel, and it continued to bother him.
Thane smiled, "Yes, Shepard. It is quite a generous amount and I thank you. I do not mind living on small provisions. I send the majority to support a program working on building habitable zones on Kahje for my fellow drell."
"I'm sure it wouldn't hurt to spend some of the credits on a better place for Kolyat's comfort." Shepard suggested.
"I will need full time medical care by the year's end. Material wealth is not something I wish Kolyat to become accustomed to by my means."
Shepard nodded. He realized that as much as he trusted Thane, and as much as they were close friends based on how they had helped one another, they didn't share much in common. Their relationship was one of respect and mutual benevolence toward one another, but Shepard didn't have much to say to Thane. "You, uh. I'm not saying that you're making a bad choice, but I'd like to hear your reasons for not giving him something more after being away for so long."
"Kolyat will learn a craft, and he will always be taken care of by the work of his hands and mind. There is nothing more I can offer him there except my support. The credits are of more use to the hanar. I have suggested numerous times that he seek out a mate and move back to our borrowed world; away from the Citadel."
"What did he think of that idea?"
"He didn't. He enjoys what he does here, to a certain extent. I have yet to see him passionate, but I can see in him a desire to make me proud in his own way. I urged him away from all violence, but policing is certainly a noble profession. He has been assisting Captain Bailey full-time ever since finishing his sentence, and he has been offered a position in a training program that he has not accepted yet." Thane explained.
"Good for him."
"Indeed." Thane nodded in agreement.
"Would you mind if I told Dr. Lineon that you'd help him if he needs you? More from a protection standpoint than anything else." Shepard asked, realizing they had little else to discuss.
"I will have my former contacts keep an eye on him, and I will protect him so long as I am able. Is he currently in danger?" Thane asked.
"No, but he's working on something very important for me. If the worst happens, I just need him alive. It shouldn't be too much trouble for you. I really do appreciate it, Thane."
"Thank you for visiting, Shepard. Perhaps we will see each other once more before the end."
"I'd like that." Shepard smiled weakly as he stood from his seat.
Deep in the halls of Urdnot's main camp, inside of the ruins of the ancient city of Galsh Matol, Wrex unsheathed his stellite blade and held it firm before Grunt and Jack.
"Did Okeer teach you about these?" Wrex asked after hearing much from Grunt about his various imprints. So far he had been impressed with the amount Okeer had successfully imparted to Grunt about krogan culture, though at the same time nothing carried the same meaning to him as a normal krogan. Moreover, a few mundane oversights became obvious immediately.
"It's a blade, what would there be to teach?" Grunt shrugged. "I can use it to kill; that's good enough."
"This is a kukshock. Okeer didn't teach you about it because he is from clan Hurda, a clan in the far west below the Trunika Basin. In clan Urdnot it is custom that each of the Chief's trusted warriors has a blade forged for him, and it is tied to his own name. Your kukshock will be called Grunt. Mine is Urdnot." Wrex grinned wide.
"Because you are Chief?" Grunt supposed.
His smile grew, "The blade named Wrex is buried in my father's neck, and I forsook it when I left Tuchanka. No, this blade belonged to Grenalk Urdnot, a smith of the great Grenalk clan regarded for its smiths. Clan Urdnot, and every clan that splintered from it, took this custom in recognition of Urdnot's strength and the name he created for himself. This blade belonged to Urdnot, but was not recovered after his success at Ornmadon against the Turian Kulian Force just before the release of the genophage. Wreav, Urgen and I retrieved it and I have wielded it since as a claim of succession to Urdnot. But enough talk about the past. Urgen has arrived with a new kukshock for you to spar with. I'll teach you how to kill other krogan first."
"I can kill krogan. I am stronger than the others." Grunt replied irritated with the notion. Jack snickered while sitting against the wall of the open chamber.
"That's not enough. The difference between the few hundred Urdnot warriors I take to purge the tribes and the others is efficiency." Grunt scowled as Wrex countered his simplistic argument. "If you were taught by Shepard, you probably have some sense of why thinking on the battlefield is vital. There are millions of krogan on this rock, and too many are idiots. I'll teach you how to take down a krogan quickly and permanently." Wrex summarized.
"Okeer gave me insight."
"Okeer wasn't a warrior." Wrex bluntly countered. "His name is hated because he used his words to intimidate and manipulate a following without earning it. He led clan Hurda to war against many in the east, but he never fought. His intelligence is not respected here, because he exercises none of it in battle. A great and feared krogan warlord is marked by a sharp mind in combat, as well as his strength and the strength of his krantt. Okeer was forced to flee when a strong whelp finally challenged him and it was discovered how weak he really was even if he maintained strict rule on his clan and conquered many other clans."
A clanking of chains and the heavy footsteps of three krogan resonated from the entrance to the vast circular chamber, "I've got a kukshock for you, Grunt." The terribly scarred Urgen called out. "Claim it." he demanded.
Grunt walked forward to grab hold of his blade as Wrex spoke with Wreav who was prodding another krogan forward who was chained on all limbs, and had his jaws bound shut.
"Who's this?" Wrex asked, "And why bring him here?"
"This is a prisoner from Vaul. One of the few that disobeyed their chief and refused to swear submission to Clan Urdnot." Wreav said, spitting on the smaller krogan who stood the mere height of humans compared to their own eight-foot stances. Grunt tested the weight of his new blade behind them.
"Fealty, not submission. What's he doing here?" Wrex reiterated, crossing his arms.
"You wanted to train the whelp, then pit him against something living to kill." Wreav proposed.
"We haven't even begun."
"Then give him a quick lesson and see how he does. You need strength, and if he can't beat this puny fraud than he's worth nothing to this clan."
Wrex scowled for a moment, "Remove his muzzle," he grunted.
Wreav proceeded to untie the thick gag, and Jack, Grunt and Urgen moved closer to watch. When the gag was removed, the krogan spoke articulately, "You are Chief Urdnot Wrex?"
"Yeah," he replied apathetically.
"I will kill you." He said matter-of-factly, not wrestling with his tight bonds.
"Then you're an idiot. If you want to save yourself and honour your clan then go and submit to the Chief of Vaul. I'll let you." Wrex offered generously.
"Not until I kill you and feed your corpse to your own varren packs."
"Fine. You fight him first." Wrex indicated Grunt with a quick gesture; the krogan standing another six inches above the rest. "Then you can fight me. He hasn't had formal training, so he should be easy for a challenger of me."
The prisoner looked back at Grunt, a massive krogan by any standard. "I hope you've spent some time with the females, whelp. You're not going to get another chance." He challenged. Grunt merely smiled in return.
"Leave me to train with Grunt for the afternoon; they will battle in the evening." Wrex instructed Wreav.
"Can't wait to see this shit go down." Jack mused from the side as most of the party departed leaving them to train. Jack knew that she'd be spending most of the day watching and helping whenever Wrex let her. At the very least, the heat of Aralakh didn't penetrate the layers of rock above them, and the stone was rather cool.
"You could probably kill that vorcha without training," Wrex indicated with a point to the door, "but it'll be good for you to show me your skill. The challenge will be without weapons, and I'll give you some advice later for that, but we'll start training with the blade first." Wrex stated.
"Any krogan worth a damn can't just gouge out flesh or stab frantically without ending up dead. You have more options to you one-on-one, but in a bigger fight speed and accuracy are most effective." Wrex taught. "Here," he pointed to his lower right abdomen, "is where the second heart of a krogan beats, surrounded by thick fat but more exposed than the other, under the ribs. You might kill a krogan if you stab it through or cut it out, but he won't die immediately, if at all. One of the easiest ways to kill a krogan is with two punctures. Lower heart, then another in the abdomen but angled to drive up and to the right." He motioned. "The angle can be difficult, but it's easier than piercing through thick armour and bone. If the krogan's unarmoured, a straight stab is just as easy. If he's weak-boned, then just carve the blade from the bottom up and cut through both. Just be sure to remove the blade quickly and keep fighting. He'll die quick, and if he hasn't already entered a blood rage, he'll have no hearts to pump it."
Wrex knew how to kill like it was a science. He had lived a long life, and his own intelligence and ability to exploit even the few weaknesses of his own species was astounding. Grunt's imagination was soaking in the descriptions as he dreamed of visualized ripping apart his enemies in such a way.
"Going for the hearts is efficient if you're strong, fit and won't tire. Moving for the neck can be quicker, but will leave you exposed if the opponent isn't puny. Having you're arms up is foolish; you never want your abdomen exposed. Tackle him to ground, and your options open up. The neck is easily exploited, but it can be difficult to pull off an ample swing to cut deep enough. If you stab under the jaw, and angle it in such a way, there is a weaker spot on the base of the skull toward the back and at the top of his mouth. Crack through that, and you'll stab into his brain and he'll usually die immediately. I'll get you some skulls to practice your placement later, but you'll only do it right with live experience."
"I'll enjoy that." Grunt guffawed.
"If you're on the ground, you better end it before someone else takes advantage of you and ends up on top. If you know another krogan is about to strike you, the kill might still be worth it. Decide between being struck and facing two at once. In the worst case, remember that you've got strong jaws. Use them." Wrex instructed.
Grunt reveled in the knowledge he was gathering. He was better than the average krogan, but Wrex was something of an artist and a celebrity to him. Wrex continued to teach him many intricate ways of taking down enemies, and the different scenarios he might find himself in. He emphasized speed, but also patience: knowing when to be aggressive and when to pick apart the enemy by gaining slight advantages. Krogan warfare was so much more than brute strength, though Wrex recognized that the majority of krogan were only strong to other species, but their witlessness was there downfall on Tuchanka. There was a definite reason that the Warlords stood above the rest.
Throughout the afternoon Grunt learned the different methods of killing with the kukshock, and the places to aim with a shotgun. Jack reveled in the gory detail, and Urgen left to attend to other matters part way through. Grunt loved it all. He didn't get a chance to practice, but his hands itched for the chance to fight. He wanted to kill and test every new idea that Wrex imparted to him.
But there was no time left for that. Another day awaited them tomorrow, but Wrex needed to go over how to kill a krogan with no weapons before the challenge in the evening. With his newfound knowledge of krogan anatomy and weaknesses, Grunt was already putting together ideas on how to kill with his claws.
"Get in his mouth." Wrex stated.
"What?" Grunt asked in a bemused chuckle.
"A good way to take care of your opponent when faced one-on-one is to stun him. If you stick your arm down one of his throats, and crowd out the other, he'll gag."
"He'll bite me."
"So you break his jaw first, or grab it quickly after and break it. Just get your arm down the right hole. There's four throats in there, and you want one of the back two. Just remember to use your claws when you're in there. Rip a gash between the back two and then start tearing out. That's the only way to choke him out. If you don't want to go for that, then tear his plate off or break all the bones in his limbs. Both aren't easy, but don't try and crush his neck from the outside, it'll be too strong for you to crush both and stop his breathing. If you're going at it from the outside, than you better have him pinned and just dig in."
Grunt nodded with over-excitement. "I'm ready. I'll kill him.
Evening came quickly, and the prisoner was brought forward and his chains were removed. The fight wasn't going to be made a spectacle, but each of the mightiest warriors was present to watch, and Jack was given the privilege of staying as well. The room was sweltering hot at the end of the long dry day, as the sun had slowly heated the room like an oven.
Grunt sized up his opponent and found little reason to be afraid. The scowl the enemy bore was typical and it only made Grunt want to kill him more. Use him as an outlet for his fury and his desire for violence.
"Your plate's not natural, whelp." The opponent mocked, rubbing his wrists and walking forward to the center of the chamber. The opponent had been given a standard piece of armour to cover below his waist and prevent damage to the quad, and Grunt was permitted to wear the same.
"The plate of Kredak. Without weakness." Grunt replied confidently, stepping into the small arena. His hulking size was impossible to ignore.
"You ready to die?"
"I am krogan," he replied simply with a shrug, leaning his head side to side to loosen up.
"Get on with it!" Wreav shouted, starting the fight off. They stepped forward and readied themselves.
Grunt let the smaller krogan make the first move, and it was an immediate charge too low to meet head on, but Grunt managed. They both grunted as he took absorbed the contact and withstood the initial push without losing balance.
Jack saw Wreav smirk as Grunt was pushed back and she rolled her eyes. "Fuck him up, Grunt!" She yelled with her hands cupped around her mouth. She was quickly learning what an ass Wreav was. If Grunt struggled in any way to kill the krogan, Jack was sure Wreav would focus on it.
Grunt dug his back claws into the cracked floor, and slammed his left fist hard into the enemy's lower torso; stopping the push hard. His right hand fiercely gripped the shoulder as he leaned him back and stomped down with bone-crushing force on the other krogan's foot. Jack could hardly be heard howling with laughter through Grunt's intense focus.
He didn't relent, but moved his grasp from the shoulder to jaw as he took ahold of the temporarily stunned krogan there and used his other fist to crack the thick bone with a heavy uppercut of lightning speed. Switching hands, he grasped the broken jaw again and brought his other fist back.
With mighty force he thrust his fist forward into the gaping mouth of the krogan he had tugged open, an audible thud heard as he made contact with the back of the throat. The other krogan in the room cringed with the powerful hit that Grunt completed, slamming them both into the ground with Grunt in full control.
Fluids and weak sounds splashed out of the victim's violated mouth, only heightening in pitch as Grunt opened his talons inside and began to tear the throat apart from the inside. Most of his arm was submerged inside of the other krogan.
His kill was quickened as he brought his powerful jaws to tear at the outside of the throat, and ripped back with a blood-curdling roar. He pulled out, taking fleshy threads of gullet with him, throwing the desecrated meat to the floor. Blood dripped from his stained face, and he held a sadistic grin while focusing his attention to Wreav for a moment: his true challenger. His bare unmatched chest heaved with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The fleshy mass of krogan spasmed at his feet.
He then refocused to Wrex who had walked up and patted Grunt on the shoulder. "Killing a krogan in forty seconds without a weapon. Ha ha! Not bad!"
"That was fucking awesome." Jack oozed. "When do I get to kill one?"
Wreav cut in, "Your opponent was weak."
"He was," came Grunt's quick reply. "Bring me someone worthy next time."
Hmph
"See to it that Dr. Emily Durand is removed from the project and thoroughly tested. We can't afford to lose that data because of one girl's change of heart. Project Regeneration must continue. Collect the data and prepare another research team to replace her on Pragia. We don't have enough test subjects to run a second team as a contingency, but I do want a another team to have full access offsite to avoid further loss of information." The Illusive Man commanded one of his many cell coordinators through a voice modulator.
"We can get rid of the blood rage side-effect with just a minor tweak, at least in theory. We could begin working on the elite operatives at once instead of wasting more bodies," the coordinator suggested.
"I can't risk losing any of them to the blood rage issue. I'll send some expendable operatives in to test the modifications. We'll proceed from there."
"Very well; we'll have the apparatus prepared for when they arrive," was the reply before the Illusive Man shut the connection down. Project Regeneration will be finished soon and the elite operatives will have an unmatched edge, combat suits or not.
He noticed Jackson enter behind him, "A report from the Citadel, sir. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams has been hospitalized. She is paralyzed."
"One of Shepard's former crewmembers… surely he's aware?" He presumed in hope of confirmation.
Jackson walked forward and handed him the report promptly, "It appears she arrived with Shepard, and he has been quite concerned with her condition."
The Illusive Man remained silent in contemplation, "We could use this."
"That's why I brought it to your attention, sir." Jackson replied, the Illusive Man purposefully disregarding the self-promotion.
He turned to activate his large monitor display and sifted through his priority folders, bringing up a report on the latest developments into Object Benezia. Skimming through the formalities, he read the substance of the report:
…The particles that travel faster than light affect the mind differently according to the degree of energy used in the polarization. Tests on the complexity of the control that can be exerted have not been fully realized, but certain behavioural patterns have already been observed and we will undoubtedly discover further intricacies of this 'indoctrination' soon enough. A larger test group would greatly help in this; to discover general trends to isolate and identify outliers….
…The engineers report that object itself can be replicated through reverse engineering without the signature it currently maintains. The new object would have the same effects, but could be attuned to our own instruments without the risk of Reaper influence. The nature of the signal sent is FTL, so further testing could theoretically be conducted from extreme distances. For example, the new object could be planted in a colony in the Horse Head Nebula, and we could continue to try altered signals and monitor effects even from this base….
The Illusive Man lifted his eyes from the screen, "Jackson, get operative Nazarov to the Citadel; I'll apprise him of his duties when he arrives."
"Are you Jracht?" Shepard asked a batarian man sitting at the bar of a small establishment with an alien name. He and Garrus had been searching around the ward for a while trying to identify the place by Anderson's anglicized directions.
His eyes widened and he turned surprised, "Who the hell wants to know?" He furiously whispered leaning forward toward them.
"We were told you could get us an audience with the batarian Hegemony."
A fellow batarian bartender stepped in, "These two giving you trouble, Hrutt?"
"Ah, shit." Hrutt or Jracht -or whatever his name- stood up and waved the bartender off. "Follow me," he said in a low gravelly voice.
Shepard looked to Garrus, who just shrugged in response. Something was up, and it was more than just that his real name was a mystery. How did Anderson know he could get them an audience with the Hegemony? Whatever the answer, they followed at a solid pace out into the busy ward and towards a dark building.
Shepard started again while the batarian fiddled with the lock, "Should I call you Jracht or Hrutt?" He prodded with crossed arms.
"Shut up or fuck off. We'll talk inside." He growled, cracking open the lock and shoving the creaking metal door open. Staleness hung in the air as they entered the dark apartment. A quick look around the room didn't tell Shepard as much as the smell. Whoever this batarian was, he had been working with some volatile chemicals. A kitchen greeted them at the door, and it was a dusty mess.
"So tell me who you are." Shepard said crossing his arms, as Garrus continued to stroll around the perimeter with his nose vigilant. "And while you're at it, tell me why you thought it was a good idea to bring me to see your little plastic explosives operation."
"I know who you are, Shepard. This place doesn't matter because of what you know. I just need to know who told you that name? You clearly have no idea who I am…. Was it the Shadow Broker?" Jracht spoke hoarsely.
"Seems like you've got big problems there, Jracht." Shepard figured, "It was the Council that directed me here."
"Fuck."
"Yeah." Shepard responded with a smirk.
Garrus interjected smoothly, "Sounds like you're in a lot of trouble, Jracht. " He turned to Shepard, "It seems that our friend has cyclonite and I could smell white fuming nitric acid stored in the walls. Definitely C4."
"What's it for?" Shepard asked the batarian with a harsher tone as the batarian tapped his dusty counter with a long fingernail. Dust floated about, illuminated by a dim light shining through a shuttered window.
He released the bite on his lip, "Fuck it, why the hell are you here so uninformed, huh? Why'd you come for me?"
Shepard's eyes shifted as he chose whether or not to pursue, "We were told you could get us an audience with the hegemony. They've locked down, and we need in. I wasn't lying to you at the bar."
He sighed, "That's it? The Council told you to approach me with my real name in fuckin' public just to ask me that?" He shouted furiously, "Guess we all can't play the intelligence game." He sniped, stepping around and slamming his fist into a ruddy cupboard in frustration. "Well? What the hell could be important enough to get the attention of the hegemony? Why the fuck should I get their attention for you, risking my own eyes in the process?"
"Have you heard of the alliance forming in the Terminus Systems? I want to negotiate a place in that for the batarians." Shepard answered honestly.
"You don't even have the Council on board, from what I understand. Why waste your time with the batarians? You're not exactly known for your good rapport with us."
"Look, Jracht. I don't have time for the Council. With my goal of preparing the galaxy I would welcome them, but they've already made their choice. I can't waste my time, and without them I might have a better chance of swaying your leaders."
Jracht upper eyes cringed in frustration as his bottom two looked about with focus. Shepard's omnitool lit up receiving a message. "Here's the deal, Shepard. I've been stationed on the Citadel to keep an eye on things and gauge how the Council is reacting to the batarian 's growing isolationism. I was fucking undercover, and since the Council apparently knew this for Foresight knows how long, I've got to get the hell out of here and report back. It'll take me a while to clean the fuck out, so what timeframe would you be considering?"
"Garrus, you decide. How long do you need on Palaven?" Shepard asked, turning to read his omnitool as Garrus answered.
"Just give me a day or two; it shouldn't take long." Garrus replied to Shepard whose omnitool lit the room in a smooth orange glow. "Four days should be enough to account for travel."
"Can you believe the Illusive Man wants to speak with me back on the Normandy?" Shepard asked perturbed by the notion after reading the message on his omnitool, "I can hardly wait to hear what he has to say."
"Fucking Cerberus? You still working for Cerberus, Shepard? 'Cause I swear on my Wrath that the Hegemony will execute you the moment they suspect you've got anything to do with that filthy terrorist syndicate."
"Relax. I've got nothing to do with Cerberus. The Illusive Man just has an obsession with me. If we can get passed that, how is this going to work? Can you have them prepare for me and I can fly the Normandy into batarian space? I don't want this to be some smuggling mission. I want it to be an arranged meeting."
"I'll have more details when you return from Palaven. I promise you they'll peel your skin if they find out you have anything to do with Cerberus."
"Before we go. What's with all of the C4?" Garrus asked with narrow eyes, unwilling to drop it.
"Insurance."
"Not exactly a satisfactory answer." Garrus replied with ample pressure.
"If you want the batarians as your allies, start with not delving into their business operations." The batarian contested bitterly.
"Let's get back to the ship, Garrus. We know who he is, and I take it the Council has the STG tracking this guy's every move." Shepard suggested.
Garrus' stare remained vicious as he slowly turned to follow Shepard out.
Author's Note
I'm really sorry for the wait. I didn't intend for it to take that long, and I'll try to do better. The next chapter is almost done, so that's a plus. I moved all of the extra information on my profile page to a dedicated blog page or the series. For those that were interested in the updates and supplementary info that I posted, please check it out. I find it much easier for my own organization, and I think you can comment too.
