Wrex
Wrex pressed his palms into the stone slab and leaned forward. "Where are we at with the planned preparations?"
Tired and weary, he met the gazes of the other krogans standing closest to him before pushing off the makeshift table to look out over the rest. Representatives from the clans he'd managed to successfully negotiate with and bring into the fold gathered with Clan Urdnot in the Hollows. He'd chosen the Hollows because the sacred ground was considered neutral territory, a place where violence was forbidden by all krogan.
Clans not yet convinced to join with his union were invited to join him for the meeting regardless of their current standing. He hoped seeing the progress made, the way the other clans prospered under his protection, might help to sway some of those still hesitating to embrace the change. Few showed, and it didn't help his mood any. Aralakh bore down heavily on them all, the heat baking their humps and scorching their hide. It did little to soften anyone's mood.
News of Kalantha's death left Wrex angry … and … sad. But also determined. Well, more determined. He would convince all of the clans to unite and get ready for the reaper invasion whether they liked it or not, no matter how many skulls he needed to crack in the process. And, maybe more important, he'd make damn sure the krogan were deserving of the gift Shepard planned to give them. He didn't just want to see the genophage cured. He wanted the galaxy to respect the krogan, not just fear them. Fear was good, it had its purposes, but it also came with obstacles. Obstacles which nearly brought about the genocide of his people.
"Trade routes have been reinforced between Clan Jorgal, Clan Wik, Clan Hailot, Clan Dahmbra, and Clan Ganar." Jorgal Crik let out a low growl and shifted his weight. "We're having some trouble getting the materials we need to repair the bridge to Clan Quash. Some pyjak blew up two Tomkahs in the process of clearing debris from the road. Clan Jorgal lost six of our own and almost the entire shipment of supplies." He crossed his arms over his chest, brow furrowing as he glared at one of his fellow clansmen.
Must be the pyjak responsible.
It wasn't what Wrex wanted to hear. Getting those supplies together hadn't been easy, but as much as he wanted to curse and punch something or someone—he looked at the krogan cowering under Crik's stare—it wouldn't serve him well just then. He turned his attention to Thrax Halvak.
"Clan Thax has finished expanding our bunkers, and we're ready to take in the new arrivals you wanted to send to us." Halvak rolled his head on his shoulders, the sound of joints popping filling the air. "Not everyone understands why you're redistributing the clans' populations, though. Some see it as a move to take over Clan Thax, bury us completely because we're one of the smaller clans."
Oh, for the love of ….
"Clan Thax won't be the only clan taking in people from other clans. The new krogan won't become members of Clan Thax, and Clan Thax won't become members of any other clan." Wrex huffed, wondering just how many more times he'd have to explain it before it actually soaked through their thick skulls. "These migrations help everyone. It helps to feed our people, protect our people, and cement the trust between the united clans. When the reapers come, there won't be smaller clan holdings for the enemy to pick off first, and there won't be clan holdings that are too overpopulated for their territory to provide for them, weakening their ability to defend themselves. It's good strategy."
He thought it was, at least.
Thrax shrugged and grunted. "Don't tell me, Wrex. I believe you, I'm just passing on the message. Thrax is with Urdnot, and I'm here, aren't I? We're working on getting the others to see reason."
Wrex hated to admit it—Ha! He'd never admit it—but he still didn't feel entirely sure he had a good grasp on how to hold the whole thing together and make it work. He wished Shepard was … Shepard. Being able to talk to her about his plans, see what she thought, would've made a world of a difference. She wasn't krogan—though she came damn close—but her opinion and insight mattered. He could only do so much with what Jane passed on to him through her, and Shepard told him to build on it and make it even better.
She didn't tell him how he was supposed to do that.
Thirteen clans already agreed to unite, and several others were close. Additional AA guns were being installed on the surface of Tuchanka at strategic points. Silos had better defenses to keep both the pyjaks and raiding clans away, not to mention make it harder for reaper troops to destroy their food supplies. The female clans agreed to survey and reinstate old farmlands whenever they found them viable, and hunting parties were restricted on what animals to consider quarry dependant on age, population, and overall usefulness. Food, water, weapons, building supplies, and medicines were being redistributed throughout the united clans according to need. What else was there for him to do?
He had to look outside of Council Space to secure the weapons and a lot of the materials they were using to build and reinforce key structures. He may not be the smartest krogan to have ever lived, but he sure as hell wasn't the stupidest, and he knew if and when the Council got wind of the krogan amassing such heavy artillery, they'd piss themselves and declare it an act of war.
Tuchanka was a heap of ruins, the krogan a poor people, but they were fearless, strong, and never short on ammo. Trade agreements offering krogan labor in lieu of supplies weren't especially easy to make, generally speaking, but in the Terminus systems and Attican Traverse, people were a lot more willing to try and keep the krogans happy. But with the Council's announcement about the reapers, even supply lines from the Terminus and Traverse were drying up.
Scouts reported in, alerting Wrex to trouble at the Shroud. The Tomkahs got there just in time to see krogan clashing with krogan—not salarians as he'd expected. Throwing himself into the fray the moment the Tomkah rolled to a stop, Wrex let out a bellow of rage and pumped his shotgun. Word long since spread throughout the clans that he had a cure in the making. In fact, it'd served to bring in a couple of new clans to his union, but he never suspected those against him would be so petty as to attack the Shroud and sabotage a cure benefiting all krogan.
Blasting his way through the flood of bullets and biotics filling the air, he moved in to flank and provide covering fire to his scouts. "Leave at least one alive. I want to know where they're from," he ordered with a snarl. "Their clan leader will answer for this!"
With his head! Cowardly sonofabitch.
He'd missed the heat of battle, the thrum of his blood pumping through his veins, hearts beating in rhythm which each pump and blast of his shotgun, but he hated fighting against his own. Krogan pitted against krogan. Their numbers were low enough. He wanted to convince the rest of the galaxy that krogan could be civilized, could contribute to the larger galactic community in a constructive way, yet there he was, sending mass effect accelerated slivers of super-heated metal into the thick, stupid skulls of his own kind.
Having pushed the attackers back far enough for his shotgun to lose efficiency, he switched to his assault rifle and held his ground. A few of those he'd brought with him for backup succumbed to their blood rage and charged forward. A krogan slipped past his men, moving straight for Wrex, shotgun lowered at his abdomen. Wrex rushed forward, meeting the krogan and slamming the butt of his rifle into the idiot's head with a satisfying crack. When the enemy stumbled back, Wrex filled him full of holes, making damn sure he'd stay down before moving on to the next.
Clan Weyrloc. He should've guessed. Chief Weyrloc Korax's predecessor was a thorn in Wrex's side, and it looked like Korax planned to make himself every bit as much of a nuisance as Guld. Weyrloc was too big of a clan for Wrex to take head-on, not without substantial losses, and it wasn't something he was willing to risk. A few years ago, yeah, sure. It would've been fun. But, he worked to uplift his people and something so brash endangered the progress he'd already made. He couldn't do that. No matter how much he wanted Chief Weyrloc Korax's head.
He paced back and forth in front of the Weyrloc captives, growling a little louder with each pass. His blood sang to him, the battle cry of his ancestors demanding he give in to his nature and rip Korax limb from limb. And use those limbs to bludgeon to death anyone who'd tried to stand in his way. Then crush their skulls and piss on their corpses. Being civilized seemed a little overrated just then.
"You want us to invade Weyrloc territory? Tear up a few things? Knock a few dozen heads together?" Urdnot Chardon sneered, checking over his shotgun. "My krantt and I are happy to handle the situation for you."
It was tempting. Damned tempting. Not to send Chardon, but to go in charging with his shotgun ready himself. He needed to cool down, think things through. He had to handle it with care. He needed to send a message that Clan Urdnot was not to be messed with and the Shroud was off-limits, but he had to do it the smart way.
The Shepard way.
"No." Wrex paced again and shook his head. "Gather their dead, put them on a travois. Make the prisoners drag it back to their camp. Escort them to the edges of Weyrloc territory and no further."
He stopped in front of one of the captives and bent down a little, bringing his head closer to the other krogan's to stare him dead in the eye before speaking, "Tell Korax he has until the end of this cycle to agree to unite Clan Weyrloc with the others on his own, or I'll take him out and put someone in charge of Weyrloc who's smart enough to know what's best for our people."
Shifting his gaze to one of the other prisoners, he added, "In the meantime, any further acts of aggression against Clan Urdnot or any of the united clans and I'll personally ensure all trade and travel between Clan Weyrloc and all other clans are terminated. Including passage to the female camps. And then, when he's ready to prove he has more than two brain cells in that ugly ass head of his and wants to talk terms to join the united clans, I'll consider entering into negotiations with him."
"Mordin, Clan Weyrloc sent some thugs to attack the Shroud. I took care of it, the Shroud's fine, but if you want to come look it over, I'll clear the way for you," Wrex said as soon as the salarian appeared on his omni-tool's screen.
Old hatred made him feel sick at the idea of trying to ensure a salarian's safety, but that particular salarian was going to save his people. And Shepard liked him. Wrex supposed it counted for something.
Mordin blinked twice. "Will come once certain remaining females will survive."
"Is that Wrex?" Garrus' flanging voice cut through before the turian shifted into view. He chuckled, a grin spreading his mandibles. "Wrex, how's it going?"
"Garrus." Wrex bobbed his head, keeping his tone gruff despite the smile playing at the corners of his mouth. There he was, making nice with a salarian and a turian. Shit. Maybe he had gone soft. "What are you doing on Sur'Kesh?"
"Work to do. Will transfer call to Garrus' omni-tool," Mordin said, voice dry as he waited for Garrus to accept the call.
The screen flashed as the call changed locations, and Garrus flicked a mandible, walking away from the salarian's desk. "Jack was … hmmm …" He flicked his mandibles again, brow plates drawing in. "… captured by Cerberus while going after the Illusive Man. We got her back, but they put something in her head, a control chip like they did with Shepard. We needed Mordin to take it out."
Wriggling a little as he leaned back on his throne, Wrex brought the bottle of ryncol to his lips and took a heavy swallow. "That rotten sonofabitch isn't dead yet?"
"Not yet." Garrus chuffed and took a seat, reaching up to scratch at one of his scars branching out over his hide. "Miranda's still going after him, though. I'm starting to think it's a fool's quest. Tali and the other quarians went back to Rannoch. Legion, too. Jack's here with me now. Just leaves Miranda, Jacob, Grunt, and whatever Cerberus crew she thinks she can trust enough to have her six. Well, and EDI."
A grumble slipped out of Wrex before he took another drink. "So why aren't you helping? Shepard wants him dead, right?"
"I—well, I thought they'd take care of it, and I wanted to be on the Citadel with Shepard. Plus, don't know if you noticed these incredibly striking new scars of mine," he said, a smirk on his face as he pointed at the lightning bolt patterns sweeping over his throat, "but they weren't the only injuries I sustained."
Wrex had seen the scars the last time they talked, and he knew Garrus got them while fighting the old Shadow Broker. He didn't really understand what the turian was whining about—obviously he wasn't on his death bed, so why wasn't he out fighting? "My mistake. I thought you were the same Garrus Vakarian who I fought beside to take down Saren, a horde of indoctrinated, rampaging krogan, and the geth."
"Trust me, Wrex, I want to see the Illusive Man get what's coming to him, but … damn it." Mandibles flattening against Garrus' jaw, he chuffed and shook his head before running a hand over his crest. When he spoke again, his voice came out a little higher, a little rougher. "I'd be a liability out there right now. I can barely handle wearing light armor. My heart stopped on that ship, my brain damn near fried. I don't have redundant systems or cybernetic implants to speed up my healing processes."
Taking in the obvious signs of frustration written all over Garrus' face, Wrex let the silence sit a minute before sighing. "That bad, huh?"
"That bad," Garrus agreed with an agitated flick of his mandibles.
"Huh." Wrex guzzled from the bottle of ryncol before letting out a loud belch. "Your batarian friend can't help them?"
Garrus hummed and nodded, the plates of his face relaxing once more. "He's working on it, but he's already got his people doing a lot of other things to get the galaxy ready for the war. Still, once they track the Illusive Man down again, Grundan Krul will send support."
Popping both shoulders up, Wrex let them drop again and asked. "So what are you worried about?"
Chuckling, Garrus tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling. Laughter shifting to a low groan, he looked at Wrex again. The grief in his eyes aged him about three-hundred years. "Everything."
And by 'everything', Wrex knew he really meant 'Shepard'.
"She'll pull through." Wrex said, adding a little more conviction to his voice as he added, "She's strong. Almost as strong as a krogan, and she's got an iron will."
"Yeah," Garrus said, lowering his gaze and fluttering his mandibles. "Yeah, she does." A heavy sigh drifted out of him before he looked up again, eyes clear of the pain but seeming somehow colder than a moment before. "Anyway," he said with a chuff. "Trouble with Weyrloc?"
Lip lifting in a sneer, Wrex grunted and took a swallow of ryncol before answering, "The new leader has the mentality of a pup about to take his Right of Passage. He can't look past his blood lust to see what's good for him. What's good for his clan and all krogan. Still, I think Korax will be easier to wrangle than Guld would've been. He'll come around."
"And if he doesn't?" Garrus lifted the brow plate above his visor.
"If he doesn't, I'll replace him with someone who will." Wrex grumbled, shifting around on his throne again, trying fruitlessly to find something resembling comfort. "It's important for the clans to retain their individuality despite being united as a people, and we can't afford an all-out war between clans right now."
Garrus hummed, mandibles relaxed. "And the planetary defenses?"
"It's slow going. There's only so much we can do with no real economy, but we've got a few new AA guns, and we're shoring up structures." Wrex took a deep breath and shook his head. "The Council's announcement that the reapers are real and coming has actually made it far more difficult for me to keep the flow of supplies coming into Tuchanka. Everyone's keeping everything to themselves, trying to stock up. Then again, it also opened the door for trade within Council Space since I don't need to worry about the Council having a panic attack over krogans seeking out anti-aircraft weapons."
"Hmmm. I'll talk to Grundan Krul. He might be able to get some resources reallocated." Garrus glanced over to the side. "No promises," he said, turning back to Wrex, "but I'll see what we can do."
"I won't turn down the help," Wrex said with a grunt. Pride colored everything every krogan did, making a part of him want to insist they'd handle it on their own, but he had to learn to work diplomatically.
"Good." Garrus flicked a mandible and smirked. "It'd be stupid to turn it away." He shifted back in his chair, draping an arm over the side. "I've met the female krogans. Mordin's wearing himself thin hawking over them, but they're looking good. Spirits know they look far better than the bodies Maelon left in his wake. I'm no doctor, but I think Mordin may actually be able to keep more than just the shaman alive this time."
Wrex huffed. "He damn well better."