"They can't just turn the damn thing off!" Grunt howled furiously as the beam, which had cast such a stark, painful light over the rioting city, suddenly cut out. The darkness seemed absolute for a few minutes as his eyes adjusted to the ambient lighting…which sucked. There was no way around that. "Dag! Change of plan! We're going to make those bastards turn that damn thing back on! Urz, come on!" Grunt began to lumber forward.
Aralakh Company, with Clan Chief Urdnot accompanying, had been following the flow of Reaper troops. At first, the Reapers had tried to push them back. Then, after the big Reaper had abandoned its post to be replaced by a smaller one, the ground troops had stopped trying to push the krogan back and instead started heading towards the beam, as if to reinforce it. It had become a route, at least as far as the krogan were concerned, with the Reapers trying to retreat to the beam but harried every step of the way by the krogan.
Grunt wondered if maybe this was all a Reaper trick, luring them into a really big ambush.
He grinned at the Cain strapped to his back, a 'gift' from the Resistance. Bring the big stuff, he had a monster slug with 'for the big stuff' written all over it.
"Krogan assets," the voice crackled over their radios, distinctly synthetic. "This is Citadel asset Horatio."
"You're supposed to be radio silent," Wrex retorted.
"Affirmative, but the time for secrecy has elapsed. It is essential that the krogan change directives. You must reach the beam—"
"It's been turned off!" Grunt protested.
"—I will turn it back on, if I can. You must approach the beam. There is a target on the Citadel that requires krogan strength and tenacity. I do not have the assets to menace this threat as it stands."
Wrex and Grunt exchanged looks. It sounded like a trap to Grunt. From the old man's expression, Wrex agreed.
The synthetic seemed to appreciate the situation. "Why would a Reaper asset wish a krogan presence on the Citadel? Surely it would be better for you to remain planet-side where nothing sensitive can be damaged. Please, proceed to the beam. I will attempt to reactivate it. Take the beam to the Citadel. Be mindful of the landing, it has been observed to not be delicate. I will make contact with you once you are aboard. Please hurry."
The signal cut out.
"What do you think?" Grunt demanded of Wrex, the other krogan crowding together. Although their numbers had thinned, most of them didn't look too much the worse for wear. Fighting Reapers gloriously in the rain? It was one of the best fights Grunt had ever enjoyed. And the old man was no slouch when it came to busting up Reapers! He'd never admit it, but Grunt had been taking notes.
"I think it sounds like a trap," Wrex grunted. "But—"
Suddenly, the radios all coughed and that awful sound Reapers made, that low whining groan, flooded their ears.
"ORGANIC RESISTANCE. I SPEAK TO YOU, ONE OF THOSE WHO ARE MANY."
"Reaper propaganda?" Wrex wrinkled his nose. "That's new."
Grunt shivered, then blew water off his lips. He didn't like the sound of a Reaper wanting a word with everyone. It couldn't be bringing good news.
"CEASE YOUR STRUGGLING; ACCEPT SALVATION. YOUR HEROES ARE DEAD. YOUR SHEPARD IS DEAD. SHE WAS CUT DOWN ATTEMPTING TO ESCAPE HER OWN ILL-FATED PLAN. I ASSURE YOU OF THIS. I WAS THERE. I STRUCK THE BLOW. IN MINUTES, YOU WILL BE BLE TO VIEW WHAT IS LEFT OF THE CORPSE."
"He's bullshitting," Grunt snapped. "Any corpse looks like Shepard's if it's damaged enough!" But Grunt felt cold fear filling all his organs.
Another voice cut across the Reaper's broadcast. An old, tough voice, the voice, Grunt thought, of a veteran, someone like Shepard only older, with more experience. Come to think of it, it sounded like that green guy… "Except this manure-eater is wrong!" the new voice snarled furiously. "Because if you were firing at Shepard's locator signal, Reaper, you only succeeded in killing a little dog-mech. Did you think she'd let you know where she was, would give you a way to find her? She knew you were watching and she pointed you just where she wanted you to look! You are fallible, Machine, and now all know it!"
"Show me the body," Wrex growled. Then he threw back his head and bellowed to the sky, rage and grief and denial of it all bolstering the sound. "SHOW ME THE BODY!"
"Show me the body!" Grunt howled as well. He wouldn't believe it until he saw her dead, until EDI or someone who wouldn't be fooled by a charred corpse confirmed it. "Show me the body!"
The cry was taken up by other krogan. Maybe other assets on the ground heard, for Grunt thought he could hear it faintly shouted elsewhere.
Show me the body!
"Come on!" Wrex roared, his biotics flaring eerily around him. "I don't care if this is a trap or not! If it is, so much the worse for them! If it's not, we just found a quad to kick!"
Aralakh howled their support of this sudden reckless courage and ferocity. Even Grunt lent his voice to the roaring, undulating war cries that followed the krogan as they surged forward, following the thundering figure of Urdnot Wrex, the Clan Chief who would show the krogan the way.
As they ran, the krogan began to beat their fists against their chests rhythmically, increasing the cacophony of their progress, mingling the metallic clinks with the pound of heavy feet and the scream of raucous voices. Rage and denial bore them company as they charged through the city of London, refusing to stop for anything, refusing to be stopped by anything, charging towards the place where the beam between Earth and the Citadel had once seared the night.