Wrex
Wrex had never been one for appreciating beautiful sights. Certainly there were some things that had taken his breath away as a youth; the sight of a hated slain enemy, certain weapons he had been saving up for and drooling over for months and now held in his arms, a squad of turians broken underfoot … but these had been the simple thrills of a warrior, eventually outweighed by the casual cynicism of centuries. None had given him much pause. None had brought him to tears.
Please do not think me weak.
"You can hold him," said Bakara, the shaman who had once scorned him, gently lifting the sleeping krogan child, the most precious and valuable thing he had ever beheld. Grunt looked on in similar awe, his mouth slightly open with astonishment from his position just behind Wrex.
Wrex opened his mouth but no sound came out. He bowed his head.
"I – I'm afraid I'll hurt him."
"You are not that clumsy, Wrex." Bakara put a slight mocking edge in her tone. "And krogan children are not so physically fragile as that. Be mindful, and hold him."
Wrex looked around, and he wasn't sure why. He's my child. Any krogan father who knew the kid to be theirs would react this way. Still the emotion welled up in his throat, and it became difficult to speak. He leaned forward and gently plucked his son from Bakara's arms and cradled him. He looked so tiny…
"He is small, but I was small once. Hah!" Grunt pounded his fists together. "One day when he is not so small I will teach him new things, as a clan-brother should. But not the things the tank mother taught me. Proper things - how to wrestle a pet varren without triggering its kill reflex. How to assemble a gun. How to taste the air for the wind and feel the soil for the prey's footsteps. The sounds thresher maws make. Tuchanka lessons, just as Wrex taught me."
"Thank you." Wrex stared down at Jarrod, his firstborn, the child he had long ago concurred would never be born. We had no future … and now I cradle it in my arms. His crest was barely a nub atop his tiny little red head, and the skin on the lower part of his face was the shade of crème rather than the yellow Wrex knew it would develop into. I know he is much too small to look like much of anything right now … but I still think he looks like me.
Wrex stood there in silence while Bakara and Grunt watched him. Wrex shut his eyes and took a deep, shaking breath, trying to control himself.
"Grunt – give me a few minutes with Bakara."
"Of course, battlemaster." Grunt stomped out of the room, but the stomping sounded just a little quieter this time, to let little Jarrod rest. Wrex returned the child to Bakara's arms, feeling like part of his soul went with it, surrendered to this little being that would probably never fully appreciate just what he meant to his parents, to his entire species.
"So," said Wrex, marveling that the day had come to pass. "The cure works."
"The cure works," agreed Bakara, "but it is hardly ideal. The salarian went through dozens of antibiotics to make sure I survived the pregnancy – this cannot work for all of Tuchanka, Wrex. This is only the first step. And I am not sure we can proceed any further."
"The cure has to be perfected," mumbled Wrex, turning away from his mate and his child, "but it cannot continue. I have seen the camps."
So he had. At great insistence the emotionless UED captain, Leng, had allowed him a brief tour of just what the UED were doing to get their medical data. A brief tour had been enough. His stomachs had sickened and his hearts had chilled at the endless rows of bodies falling into pits dug by rusted SCVs, atthe strange contrast between the sterile and highly technological environments of the science facilities themselves and the … brutality outside.
One visit had been enough.
"The salarian has a bleeding heart, Wrex," said Bakara. "He regrets what he did to us, as he should. If we can secure him and Okeer, the UED's work can be continued without these atrocities. If the galaxy were to learn of this … they would not bother with the Genophage this time."
"I know this." Wrex sat down on a chair, head in his hands, eyes shut, temples throbbing. "And I can see what the UED is doing. The protoss are pulling out. The Reapers are gone, as far as we can tell. A new status quo has to establish itself." And so, they turn us into an army.
It was unclear how the word had spread and what the word was, but krogan from all over the galaxy now converged on Tuchanka as they had not done since the days of Shiagur. Whether they had been told of the cure, of vengeance at long last, or even simple mercenary work, Wrex could not say. But they were organizing now. Blood Pack, Urdnot, Gatatog, all. He had seen them drilling, power armored krogan marines backed by the UED's miracle medics. Not even viscerators will slow them. And while word had reached krogan ears, the new Council, such as it was, appeared to remain oblivious, focusing instead on what looked to be an inevitable protoss withdrawal from galactic affairs.
And the UED … the UED held the Koprulu Sector now. Dominion and KMC both, swallowed up and flying the eagle and bolts, a symbol Wrex understood like few else did.
Humanity. And no others.
But his child … his child changed things. Banished some of the old fears, summoned a host of new ones to replace them. This cannot stand. Maybe only the UED can save us, but they alone will certainly doom us if this continues.
"Okeer sometimes asks me if I have some kind of plan for planting a knife in the back of those earther bastards," said Wrex dully, opening his eyes and straightening on the chair. ""You have a thousand years of life, Wrex," he'll tell me, syringe in hand, "you should be able to figure something out."" Wrex gritted his teeth. "I will have to disappoint him in that regard. My plan consists of telling them "no" and then to get off my planet."
"And if they take offense?"
Wrex stared at that tiny little figure wrapped in soft blankets. "Then you will rally the clans as the mother of our future, as Shiagur did in ages past. If the UED will not leave in peace, then they will learn just what Tuchanka does to outsiders who find themselves in unwelcome territory."
"Go quickly then, Wrex." Bakara smiled at him, a far cry from the initial tongue-lashing she had given him months before, when she remained uncertain of his intentions and character. "The faster you move, the more lives might be saved from UED hands. The experiments cannot go on."
They should not have happened to begin with. Yet it was difficult to hold on to that ideal as he took one last lingering look at his mate and son, the child by all rights he never should have been able to see.
Grunt waited outside the door, and seemed to recognize immediately that his clan leader was on the war path, foot stomps and all. He fell behind Wrex, who moved with bitter purpose.
"Something is happening," he said, tone gleeful. "Whose skull are we crushing? Gatatog Uvenk? His bleating grows obnoxious."
"With luck, no one's." They emerged from the small medical building at the heart of the Urdnot camp, bearing a direct course for the tomkahs. "If luck fails us, then every human on the planet."
"But … they cured us?" Grunt hurried to keep up. "Has there been a betrayal? What have they done?"
"It is about what they will do." Wrex turned to face Grunt, bringing himself face to face with the young krogan, the hero who had emerged from the collector base when one of the protoss's finest had not. "For the first time … for the first time since I plunged my dagger into the chest of my child's namesake, I can think of the future. Our future. Free of the Genophage." Wrex took a deep breath. "For almost six hundred years, I couldn't do that. Now I can. And I will not see that taken from me, or you, or Bakara, or my son, or any other krogan. I will not see us make the same mistake the clans did during the Rebellions. There is to be peace, not vengeance."
"But … the turians and salarians wronged us!" Grunt's eyes widened. "The tank mother even agreed! We are to hate them until either the stars burn out or the last of their wicked skulls are crushed underfoot by a resurgent krogan, whichever comes first. You want us to … throw it away?"
"We will have a future." Wrex pushed Grunt back. "Look around you. At these wastes. Remember how you felt when you first stood on this world."
Grunt turned and looked around at the makeshift camp, at the blasted lands beyond it.
"Now tell me how such a world and such a broken people can, in the space of a few decades at most, rival the might of the salarians and turians, who remain unbroken from the Great War, who have survived skirmishes with the likes of the protoss and ultimately came out stronger from it." Wrex waited. Grunt opened his mouth, but his eyes narrowed and Wrex could see his thoughts racing, remembering all those statistics about the numbers and fleets of each species that Okeer had drilled into him.
"The UED is offering to make us ships and weapons, to back us on any crusade we might wish," said Wrex, preparing the finishing blow. "They have already suggested us targets. In short, they aim to use us as a weapon against the enemies they cannot slay. Does this sound familiar to you?"
"Yes," said Grunt, elongating the word. "They would … they would uplift us and … we know what happens next!"
"This has been their goal from the start, Urdnot Grunt, and the time has come to put paid to their expectations." Wrex turned from his adopted son and marched to the tomkahs. "I will not see history repeat. Not when we are still reeling from the first go around. My child … all our children … will grow up without the shadow of someone else's war blotting out their futures. Tuchanka will bloom again."
The words sounded so final and certain in those moments, and Grunt pounded his fists together in approval. But convincing him is not the hard part. That is to come shortly.
Wrex did not ask around for a driver. He remembered well enough how to handle the terrain, and he would not have to answer any awkward questions. They blazed forth from the camp, making a beeline for the main "science facility" where he knew Kai Leng made base.
"Just say the word and I will start crushing human skull," said Grunt, but Wrex sensed he was about to say something else. "Only … what if Shepard has to come here, or Anderson, or Alenko, Joker, or Jenkins – what do we do?"
"Think of your brother," replied Wrex, fingers tightening on the steering wheel and fervently hoping they were somewhere far away with no knowledge of what was happening on Tuchanka. "Think of your brother and steel yourself. If they put their banner before their krannt, it is no dishonor to follow suit."
Grunt stewed on this and, to be honest, Wrex could not quite drive away certain feelings of trepidation as well. Whatever might be said of the bastards such as Admiral "I'm apparently never going back to Earth" Stukov or Kai "pile the bodies high" Leng, there was honor in the ranks of the humans. A pity it did not surface more frequently in their higher officers.
They could smell the camp well before they actually arrived at it, a lingering stench of soot that carried on the wind. Wrex tried to think of his son, of his mate, of Grunt in the back, to reinforce that whatever had been done, it had given them all a chance at a future, and that he was putting a stop to it at this very instant.
They stopped before the gate, and Wrex waited for the inevitable. Sound crackled from the tomkah's radio.
"Urdnot tomkah, identify yourself and your business here."
"I am Urdnot Wrex, chief of chiefs, and I would have words with Kai Leng."
From the other end of the radio came only a few murmurs and silence. For a lengthy time they heard no response.
"Permission granted. Proceed directly to the command center. Do not stray."
They would give me orders on my planet? Wrex tried to drum up the anger and indignation. The gate lifted and the tomkah drove through. The smell of burning intensified dramatically.
"It reeks," said Grunt, wrinkling his nose. "They're burning turians. I can smell it. It is foul."
"They're burning more than turians." Wrex drove the tomkah to a stop and exited the lumbering vehicle without a further word, motioning for Grunt to follow. Misery surrounded them at every side within the camp and Wrex, to his not inconsiderable shame, refused to look at it. Instead he thought of his son, and fixed his gaze on the command center.
"Top floor," said a receptionist as they entered, not even looking up from her computer. "Second door to your right."
Wrex thought about saying something, but his words were truly reserved for the UED and their leadership, the sick and cold bastards that they were. He proceeded up the steps, each footfall like a muffled thunderclap.
Kai Leng sat on the window sill closest to his door, a scoped rifle clasped in his gloved hands. He aimed at something or someone below, within the camps. Wrex guessed what he was doing.
"Stop. Now!"
Leng pulled his eye away from the scope with a sigh, standing off of the window sill and leaning his rifle against the wall. He closed the window with a quiet snap before gesturing for Wrex to take a seat while he sat at his own desk, where a lukewarm cup of coffee waited for him. Somehow, the sheer banality of it all made Wrex's blood rise.
"You will not sit?" Leng sipped the coffee, no expression on his face. "Very well, I will not impose. I understand you are now a father. Congratulations."
"Yes," said Wrex while Grunt waited in the back, uncertain. "I am now a father. A title to be finally shared among many krogan."
"The UED is proud of its own small role in the rehabilitation of the krogan people." Leng planted his coffee cup on a UED coaster, directly in the center. "I imagine that this visit has something to do with our shared work here?"
"With the help of Okeer and Maelon, you have created a rough cure," said Wrex. "One that greatly weakens the immune system, but restores undeniable fertility. That means the priorities must change. That means the agreements must change."
"Must they?" Leng took another sip of coffee, face still without any emotion Wrex could see. "Our goals are not yet met, as far as I can see. The UED still needs the help of the krogan. The krogan still need a more refined cure. And total secrecy must be maintained for both of our sakes. If you have truly come to negotiate and not simply make demands, then you should bear all of these facts in mind."
"The fact is, the krogan have been part of this kind of arrangement before, as Okeer will tell anyone who will listen." Wrex stared the human directly in the face, teeth bared, eyes narrowed. "The Uplift ruined us. We must own the Rebellions as our own fault, but it was a direct consequence of what the salarians did to our people to save themselves. You? You do not even have the excuse. Why have you not turned home, any of you?"
"I am not privy to that information. I only have my orders." Leng remained unintimidated. "I have been assured by Admiral Stukov himself that our work here is pivotal to our being able to return home, something desired greatly by every member of the Expeditionary Armada, myself included. I will not see it hindered."
"I do not aim to hinder it." Wrex leaned forward, placing his heavy palms against the desk, which threatened to crack under their weight. "I aim for it to stop entirely. You are planting a massive target on our backs with your experiments and your … "harmless amusements." They have been called unfortunate necessities and perhaps they were, but they are necessary no longer. No more experiments on pregnant turians or salarian clutches." Grunt took a step back at this. "No more batarians screaming, begging for swift death as the nanites fuse bone and flesh together as an "unforeseen side effect." No more cruelty, Leng. I want the UED gone, off my planet. The krogan want a future free of you."
"That is unfortunate." Leng held up a finger and finished his mug, placing it one last time on his coaster. "Are you certain this is the course of action you wish to take?"
Wrex grabbed the side of the desk and upended it, sending papers, pens, and mug and coaster flying across the room. They hit the wall with a muted thud, the mug shattering as it hit the floor. Wrex stepped up to Leng, who stood from his chair, his face a mask of anger.
"I see." Leng cocked his head. "EDI – the krogans grow truculent. Kill Grunt."
"As you wish."
"Your computer will not save you!" Wrex grabbed the human by the throat and pinned him against the wall, holding him in place. Kai Leng's face did not twitch, but Wrex could see up close the sweat running down from his smooth forehead, into his dull little eyes. Then he smiled.
"Stop smiling!" bellowed Wrex, clenching his free hand into a fist, preparing to drive it into the worm's stinking guts, to pull them free and feed them to him…
From behind came a sound of muffled choking. Wrex turned his neck.
"Grunt?"
Grunt fell on all fours, heaving. He looked up, and Wrex dropped Leng in shock. Blood ran from his eyes, his nose, his mouth. He looked up to Wrex, his adopted father, his battlemaster, his clan chief, and opened his mouth as if to speak. All that came out was blood, thick and colored almost black. Cuts appeared all over his skin, springing up as if he were being cut by a million little blades. With a gurgling moan, Grunt fell to his belly, a spreading pool of crimson surrounding his body. He did not stir again.
"A quantum computer allowed the galaxy to watch Grunt survive that little incident on the collector base," said Leng from behind him. Wrex barely registered, his future suddenly black, all black. "The same quantum computer can issue simple commands to UED nanites at the will of any officer of Earth … no matter where that krogan is in the galaxy. Orders such as to abruptly tunnel out of any arteries they happen to occupy at that time." Wrex shut his eyes, the emotion rising in the throat, that bitter draught of total despair never tasting so strong as now.
"The same nanites now run through your veins, the veins of Urdnot Bakara." Kai Leng strode to Grunt's corpse, toeing it with distaste. He looked to Wrex, that same small smile playing at his lips. "The veins of your son. I'm sure you wondered why we so urgently required pregnant specimens. We needed to be certain of embryonic transfer of the nanites, both to insure hereditary fertility and … well. As leverage in the event you succumbed to barbarism."
"I will kill you all," spat Wrex, the liquid from the eyes mixing freely with the liquid dribbled from the mouth. "I will eat your children."
"I will forgive your emotional outburst this time." Leng straightened. "Another word, however, and I kill both Jarrod and Bakara. This is the part where you listen, understand?"
Wrex stood there, the word still inexplicably turning, the sun still somehow beating down on Tuchanka outside, even though it was clear everything was over. For everyone.
"You will lead the krogan to the best of your ability and to UED specifications," said Leng, never raising his voice. "You will inform Bakara that continuing the current course is mutually beneficial to us, going into as much detail as you prefer. Honesty might be best; she is sharp for a krogan, and will understand better than anyone how limited your options are."
"I understand Admiral Stukov has some grand plan, some … epic series of events that will permit the UED to return home unmolested and unobserved. The krogan are part of this plan, and you will lead the krogan. When it is done, the galaxy will be changed. The krogan will be free to explore their own futures in whatever fashions they choose … so long as it does not endanger humanity. You have seen what happens if it does."
Wrex shut his eyes, turning away from the sight of the fallen Grunt and the smug Leng.
"The Reapers are gone but our work must continue. We must go home, Wrex. I apologize for this unpleasantness, but you had me, literally, by the throat. And now I, figuratively, have you by the balls." Leng stepped towards Wrex, who refused to look him in the face, his new slavemaster.
"Do not be afraid to suffer," crooned Leng, twisting the knife. "The future awaits us."
