Lush, tropical, serene: the brochure for Virmire basically sold itself. Who didn't want to colonize a world that was the definition of paradise?
Shepard felt sand clump inside if her boots as she trudged along the beachfront. Her talk with the salarian captain had left a dryness in her mouth comparable to the grit in her soles. While she knew she had to speak to Wrex before they went inside, least she lose him to misguided empathy for his own kind, the prospect caused an unsteady lump in her throat to bubble. Krogan, even ones with a conscience, made formidable enemies. She wasn't looking forward to this.
"This isn't right, Shepard," the massive alien before her started as she approached. Everything about him screamed danger, from his beady red eyes to the scar that ran the length of his face and neck. And he was pissed. "If there's a cure for the genophage, we can't destroy it."
Taking note of the shotgun firmly clenched in his hand, she treaded lightly. "I understand you're upset. But we both know Saren's the enemy here. He's the one you should be angry with."
"Really?" Wrex closed the distance between them in a few long strides, making it damn clear exactly who the target of his ire was. "Saren created a cure for my people. You want to destroy it. Help me out here, Shepard," he heaved, eyes narrowing, flit with unspoken accusations. "The lines between friend and foe are getting a little blurry from where I stand."
Great. "This isn't a cure, it's a weapon. And if Saren's allowed to use it you won't be around to reap the benefits." Shepard leaned in, transfixed. He had to see reason. "None of us will."
"That's a chance we should be willing to take," he countered, arms raised in earnest. "This is the fate of my entire people we're talking about. I've been loyal to you so far. Hell, you did more for me than my family ever did. But if I'm going to keep following you, I need to know we're doing it for the right reasons." Before the words were out, she found the shotgun he'd been gripping shoved at her, it's muzzle pointed squarely at her chest. Reflexively, she countered with a swift draw of her own weapon and found themselves in a standoff right there on the beach. So much for paradise, she sneered.
"Wrex, these krogan are not your people. They're slaves of Saren." Shepard took a chance, lowering her own firearm and leveling her gaze with the sharp, deepset crimson orbs shooting daggers at her. "Tools. Is that what you want for them?" Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Ash skirt the edge of one of the STG tents, gun raised. Even if Shepard fell, the gunnery chief would make sure Wrex did too. Shame.
Blood pumped loudly in her ears for a few short heartbeats before Wrex spoke again.
"No. We were tools for the council once. To thank us for wiping out the rachni, they neutered us all. I doubt Saren will be as generous.
"All right Shepard. You've made your point," he finally ceeded, withdrawing his weapon. The fury remained, but resolve began to bleed into his words as his anger was redirected. "I don't like this, but I trust you enough to follow your lead. Just one thing. When we find Saren, I want his head."
Satisfied, Shepard stalked off with a deft nod. Ash holstered the assault rifle she'd drawn and ducked back between the tents before the krogan noticed her flanking him. She could barely make out the footprints left in the sand.
Fuck the oasis, she fumed. I want off this goddamn planet.