Earth was a nice place. Grunt couldn't see what the humans were all moaning and groaning about. Even in the ruined city, there were still trees, weeds, plants that didn't want to kill and/or eat anyone who got too close; there was rain that wasn't toxic enough to burn when it came down; and even if the cities were all pretty trashed, that just meant room to build and expand. This world was great. He'd seen oceans as Aralakh shuttled down from the turian vessel that brought them.

This was a great world, and all the humans could do was whine that it was a little wrecked. It was no worse—not one little bit worse—than a high-class bar on the Citadel that had had to cater to a unit of drunk krogan troops: nothing damaged that couldn't be fixed.

He'd like to bring Shar here, Grunt thought wistfully, remembering little of his drunken freak-out session in Shepard's shower. Maybe take a walk down one of these wide streets, admire the planet. Shar had never been off Tuchanka, but had expressed an interest in seeing more of the galaxy if the opportunity ever arose. This would be a good first time off-world destination.

Once they cleaned out the Reapers, it would be. But that kind of went without saying. Everyone was having that problem, and that statement hung on the edges of everyone's plans.

"Shepard!" Grunt beamed as Shepard made her nimble way across the open terrain and into the building where Aralakh Company was ready to move out, to get into position to distract for one of the Stiletto teams. He liked this plan, liked the boldness of it, the confidence it showed. He wished he was allowed on Hammer One, but the organizers had been firm: he belonged with his unit, so he would stay with his unit.

That Anderson fella sounded a lot like Shepard with that 'you will obey' tone. Even Grunt hadn't argued with the man too much. It was only later that he found out Anderson belonged to the same military unit as Shepard, was one of her mentors. That explained a lot. He'd like to see Anderson again, without a war on. Maybe talk to him a little. It might be interesting. He had to have some good stories.

"Grunt!" Shepard grinned, bright eyes flicking up and down his fame to inspect him for any new damage. "Urz," she added, waiting until the varren stopped jumping at her before scratching his neck vigorously. The varren immediately began to rumble and drool, hind end wagging enthusiastically. "Who's the good varren?" Shepard cast Grunt a look he didn't quite understand, a knowing common-sense kind of look.

Whatever her point was? He was missing it. He wasn't going to humor her by asking what she was trying to say without saying, either. He had a feeling he didn't want to know.

"He's okay," Grunt said stiltedly.

The truth was, Urz was a good varren—a very good varren, as fishdogs went—and had refused to be left somewhere safer than Earth. Grunt had tried. Urz point-blank refused. "About time you got here, though. I didn't want to win this thing all by myself." It came out louder than he intended. After all, he had an image to maintain in front of his men.

"I had boots on the ground first, sweetheart," Shepard pointed out, rising from her kneeling position. "Who's late?"

"…point taken…"

Shepard nodded that this was a good thing, but didn't belabor the point. "Wouldn't want to do this without you."

"Free reign to cause as much carnage as kroganly possible? Wouldn't miss it for anything," Grunt grinned.

Shepard nodded. She looked at home here, in the bombed-out rubble of her people's homeworld. She, at least, wasn't whining about a few broken windows.

"Hey, Shepard?" Grunt shifted uneasily. He hated saying heartfelt things, even to her.

"Yeah, Grunt?"

Quietly, so the words wouldn't carry to his nosy unit, "Thanks. For getting me out of that tank." He didn't think he'd ever thanked her for bringing him into the galaxy, but it seemed important somehow. If she hadn't, he wouldn't have found his place, wouldn't have learned to be a warrior, wouldn't have met Shar, wouldn't have seen a future for his people, or cared about that future. He'd probably still be listening to Okeer's imprints, teaching him miles and miles of useless stuff in some medlab's closet. Assuming said medlab didn't pull the plug so they could take him or the tank apart for study. Yeah. He owed her some thanks.

"Anytime," Shepard assured him just as quietly. "It's been an honor."

"Same here, Shepard." The silence stretched for a few minutes, until Grunt grew uncomfortable. "Wrex and that Primarch are both here. If you're checking in, you might check in with them."

"How was the trip?" she asked mildly.

Grunt shuddered. "It sucked! We were stuck on a transport of nervous turians. None of them had Garrus' grit, and they were like that the whole damn way! We had to hold a lottery for who got to be the first to shuttle down!"

Shepard laughed. "Please. You'd have had to hold a lottery if it was a krogan vessel: who wants to be off last?"

And that was what made Shepard, human though she was, a good krogan. She understood. With that, Shepard cuffed his arm in friendly fashion, gave Urz one more good series of scratches, then set off with a spring in her step.

Yep. The Reapers were going down. They might have weight of numbers, but the allied galaxy had Shepard, and this was clearly her home turf. She'd get the humans to stop whining and start growling. Who knew? Maybe once they got it together the humans would do something impressive combat-wise.

That meant his crew had better be ready with their a-game right from the get-go. Couldn't have the locals outperforming the krogan. That'd just be embarrassing.