45 Days ASR
Wrex bellowed loud enough for the Collectors to hear him two kilometers away. "He did what?" Setting the mud trembling under his feet, he stormed up next to Shepard and grabbed the young merc by the collar.
The kid shrank into his armor until he hung from Wrex's hand, quailing in the face of krogan rage. "Okeer turned all his tank-grown krogan—his failures—loose. They've gone berserk." A frantic, begging gaze flitted from Wrex to Shepard and back. "One minute we were setting lines against the bugs, the next … krogan berserkers came charging out of his lab. They overwhelmed the inside lines in minutes. It was a rout, so we pulled back, set new lines."
"Wrex." Shepard laid her hand over the large one gripping the kid's collar. "Put him down." She looked up into the krogan's carmine eyes, stretching a veneer of empathy over a solid floor of command. "He's cooperating, and he isn't responsible for what's going on." She stabbed the kid with a dagger-sharp, iron stare. "Complicit absolutely, but not responsible."
Wrex dropped the merc, who stayed half-slumped in the mud, and pushed in to loom over Shepard. "There's a reason Okeer is hated, Shepard. The things he's done to my people in the name of saving them from the genophage are barbaric." A low growl finished the sentence. He jabbed a thumb toward Bakara and the battlemasters. "Are we supposed to follow you as we shoot our way through a hundred innocent krogan to get to him? Help me out here, Shepard."
Shifting to blockade the kid, Shepard held Wrex's stare, refusing to back down from his fury. "Haven't I always?" She waited for him to take a breath, then lunged into him a little, brows raised. "Stop forgetting that everyone here is on your damned side, Wrex, before they do. Of course we're not going to just mow our way through them, not if we can help it." She slapped a hand against his shoulder.
Shepard nodded toward the way ahead. "Or better yet, not if you can help it. If they attack us, try to talk them down. You'll have better luck than the Suns or the rest of us." Watching him, Shepard waited for the fury to calm enough that the knot in her stomach untied. Suddenly, getting the krogan past their paranoia and 'us against the galaxy' mentality seemed next to impossible if she couldn't even convince Wrex to set it aside for longer than two minutes at a time.
When he nodded and stalked back to keep an eye on the path ahead, Shepard turned to the kid. "And we can't just kill all of you, either." Looking to Garrus, she shrugged, making light of the weight that draped itself over her shoulders at the thought of mowing down a couple hundred more mercs. "I've committed more than enough atrocities in the last few weeks without my adding another to my tally." When the general nodded, she held out a hand to the kid, helping him back to his feet.
"Thanks," he muttered, staring at the ground. "For not killing me, I mean."
Shepard gave him a push toward the krogan rear guard. "Barl?" When the largest of the three nodded, she continued, "Make sure he's not packing, and then keep an eye on him. If he puts a foot out of place, shoot him."
The krogan bared his giant, chiclet teeth in a grin that waxed the kid ten shades of alabaster. "My pleasure." One huge hand thumped down on the merc's shoulder, squeezing a yelp from the kid that sounded a lot like the bleat of a squeaky toy.
Shepard snapped her wrist, gesturing toward the path forward with two fingers. "Let's keep moving. We've got a long slow trip until we're out of this mud."
Garrus dropped back next to her, the expression on his face matching the tone of the whispers in the back of her head. "We're not going to be able to handle many prisoners before they become a serious security risk, Shepard."
Nodding, she set herself to concentrating on her feet, following the trail of bigger footsteps as much as she could. "If more surrender than we can safely handle, I'll bring Team Two in, and they can take custody of prisoners."
A silence so pregnant that it bordered on needing a midwife fell between them, but she left it to the general to say what he needed to in his own time. It took nearly five minutes before he cleared his throat and said, "It's going to be a brutal war, Shepard."
Shepard bit down on her lip to keep from snapping back at him. Damn and she'd really been enjoying the day. How dare all this crap rear its ugly snout from the mud to stomp on her good mood? Brutal? Of course it was going to be brutal. As if she didn't already have that stamped into every nerve cell in her body. All the more reason to avoid brutality wherever possible.
His hand gripped her shoulder as he continued, "We'll do what we can, but if you try to save them all, you'll drive yourself crazy."
Shepard nodded for him to retake his position on point. They could debate the intricacies of war crimes another day and far away from Korlus. When he squeezed her shoulder and returned to his position, she let out a long sigh and set in for the slog to the next rest point just their side of the closest Blue Suns line.
When they hunkered down behind cover nearly thirty hard minutes later, Shepard turned to Garrus. "We're moving too slowly." She checked the updated scans from EDI, the fact that the Collectors hadn't moved tying another knot in her gut. "And the Collectors aren't moving at all. That means they're either waiting until we've cleared a path for them through the Suns and the krogan, or they intend to pull us in then vaporize the lab from orbit."
Garrus shook his head. "According to Wrex, Okeer said that the Collectors had come to claim his research. They won't strike from orbit."
"Unless they would rather no one had it," she said, staring straight into his eyes until he looked away. The feeling of being herded into a trap burned at the base of her skull, an itch buried too deeply to scratch. Complicating things by taking prisoners and trying to save the tank-grown krogan just poked it until she couldn't remain still. She guzzled a bottle of water, choked down a dried fruit bar in three bites, and turned up the cooling system in her armour before looking to the path ahead. The Suns had set up a staggered line along the next hundred metres or so of path. An effective ploy that would slow her squad down even more.
Before she signaled for her people to move out, she opened a channel to Kaidan. "Alenko, how's it going up there?"
"We've got our eyes on you from high left," the LT reported. "The Suns are focused on you, so we're not meeting any resistance. Ready to provide cover and suppressing—"
Gunfire erupted from the furthest positions in, cutting him off. "More of the tank-grown are attacking the Suns from the rear," Kaidan reported a moment later. "The krogan have two of the merc lines engaged. You aren't going to get a better shot to move up, Captain."
"Roger that, Sparky. We'll give you a minute's head start so you can cover our approach."
"Roger that. Team two out."
"We move out in sixty, people. Focus on the Blue Suns when we engage." Shepard nodded toward the krogan clan chief. "Wrex wants to see if he can get the krogan berserkers to stand down, so let's give him a shot."
When the clock in her head counted down sixty seconds, Shepard pushed herself up into a shaky crouch. "Come on, people. Let's move." Shepard stood, lifting her Mattock into high ready, and took point. "Wrex, Garrus, on my four and eight. Jack on my six. The rest of you maintain a four metre spread. They've got heavies, so don't bunch up."
Keeping low, she ran forward, the mud growing more shallow as they ascended up toward the mountain of wrecked ships. Here and there, it had even dried into large, cracked sheets. Thank the Enkindlers' glowing backsides. If the ground kept improving, her boots might even get down to weighing five or six kilos each.
She paused to glance back, ensure her people were ready before she turned the last corner. When they all nodded their confirmation, she took a deep breath and popped her head around the wall to check for cover. Steel knee-walls and crates provided excellent cover, but the squad faced an uncomfortably long run to get to them. She ducked back.
"Decent cover fifteen metres up," she said, tossing the words over her shoulder.
Another long breath and she slipped around the corner, bolting for a line of crates halfway across the open area. As soon as she appeared, a storm of bullets rained down on her from an elevated walkway opposite. The mercs were dug in good and solid, but then Sparky's team opened fire from above, pinning them down. Shepard waved her squad into cover, keeping back far enough to help negate the Suns' elevated advantage. A rocket slammed into the top of Shepard's cover in the same moment she dove behind it, the blast flipping her ass over tea kettle.
"Shepard?" Garrus called from behind and to her right. "You all right?"
The captain dragged herself in behind the crates, sitting with her back pressed to them for a couple of seconds as she waited for her vision to focus and her ears to stop ringing. "Yeah, I'm fine. It didn't hit me … just gave me a good shove." She scrambled up, trading her Mattock out in favour of Ingrid. Looking through the scope, she spotted six inches of helmet peeking above the metal railing. A long breath out, a slight squeeze of her finger, and the helmet shattered like a dropped melon.
The heavy popped up, sending another rocket sizzling through the air toward Shepard, but then a sharp crack from behind her sent the heavy spinning and toppling to the deck. Thank god for turians with impeccable aim. With the enemy entrenched so far above the squad, the krogan proved useless, the limited range on their shotguns leaving the work to Shepard and Garrus.
Even so, they'd thinned the mercs down to three when the first krogan appeared, charging doggedly from around the corner.
"Concentrate fire on the mercs," Shepard said, shouting into her radio. "Let's give Wrex a chance to take control of the tank-grown." She sighted down another heavy, taking it out with two shots. "But Wrex, if you can't talk them down before they become a problem, we have to take them out. I can't risk the mission."
"I hear you, Shepard. Just take care of yours and let me take care of mine." The clan leader thundered up next to her, his footsteps shaking the sludgy ground as he slammed into her cover hard enough to knock the crates over."
Anger and frustration reached their boiling point as Shepard landed on her ass in the mud again, the chill, stinking slime splashing up the back of her neck. Cursing a streak that would have once resulted in a week of washing her mouth out with soap, Shepard clambered back into cover on all fours. Resting Ingrid on the crate, she set up her shot, enjoying the fantasy of lining up Wrex's backside in her sights far too much for comfort. The second last trooper fell.
When Wrex stood and strode out of cover, the one remaining Sun popped up and unloaded a heat sink worth of shots. The battlemaster just ignored those that penetrated his barrier, calling out, "Krogan!"
Shepard sighted down the solitary merc, missing what Wrex called to the tank-grown as Ingrid's hard, sharp bark sent a bullet straight through the unfortunate bastard's faceplate. As she lowered her weapon she saw the tank-grown turn their shot guns on Wrex. "Wrex, get behind cover!" she screamed over the comms, knowing his chances of hearing her over the weapon fire was slight.
Wrex opened fire on the closest of the tank-grown, aiming low, trying to disable by the look of it. Still, the krogan bulled forward, Wrex's words drowned in gunfire. The tank-grown didn't even hesitate to turn on one of their own. It looked as though the kid was right: Okeer's failures had been set loose, mindless except for the kill.
"Okay, Wrex," Shepard called over the comms, "you tried. I'm not going to let you kill yourself over this." She swapped guns and brought the Mattock to bear on the first krogan. With no mercs to distract them, they'd all moved in on Wrex, and the fool wasn't pulling back.
"Enough!" The shout startled Shepard, mostly because it was Bakara's voice. The female strode out into the line of fire her hands held out. "Krogan, listen to me! We are not your enemy!"
"Hold your fire!" Shepard called into the radio. "Everyone hold your fire. Garrus, keep an eye on her vitals." Bracing herself, Shepard readied to race out and throw herself between the shaman and the hail of bullets.
Note to self: Get yourself a damned visor and then wear it everywhere except bed.
Shepard's breath froze in her lungs as the gunfire hesitated. Maybe it was going to work. She crossed her fingers. "Shout if she shows the slightest sign of taking too much damage," she whispered to Garrus. "Wrex, you'll have to get her into cover while everyone else takes them out."
Her concentration riveted on the shaman, Shepard barely heard the squad's affirmations. The krogan female's presence transformed the field of mud into a sacred space, the sheer power of her freezing everyone in their tracks. For one, pure, breathless moment, Shepard thought the shaman had broken through, but then whatever shock had stopped the bullets dissipated, releasing hell once more.
"She's taking too much fire, Shepard," Garrus called, but the first bloom of blood on the shaman's robes had already shoved Shepard out into the fray.
Hitting her Garrus-overclocked shields, Shepard threw herself in front of the shaman, pushing the female krogan back toward cover as she opened fire. Her eyes flicked toward the clan chief then back. Stubborn ass. Even though nearly half of the tank-grown lay dead in the mud, wide swaths of orange flowed, garish against Wrex's red armour. "Come on, Wrex. It's not working. Pull back."
The shaman let out a gasp of pain and stumbled, going down onto one knee, dragging Shepard's gut along with her. Tearing herself away from Wrex's little melodrama, Shepard hung up her Mattock and called out, "Garrus, Jack, keep them off us." Wrapping an arm around the krogan female's back, Shepard helped heave her out of the mud, supporting her as they half hobbled, half ran to the nearest cover. Shepard eased the shaman down behind the crates, then took a knee next to her. "Are you okay?"
The shaman looked into Shepard's eyes. "I have endured and recovered from far worse, Captain. I'll be fit to continue in a moment."
Shepard dove into her belt pouches and pulled out a bottle of water, passing it over before she drew her assault rifle and leaped over the crates, wading back in. She thrust herself between Wrex and the krogan he was trying to save, refusing to move even when Wrex tried to ram her out of the way. Thus, her shield alarm was flashing by the time the last tank-grown went down, three of her rounds punching a hole the size of a fist through his headplate.
The clan lord stood over the corpses, his entire body vibrating with what felt very much like rage. Spinning toward her, Wrex loomed, an avalanche needing only one snowflake to send it crashing down the mountain, destroying everything in its path, namely her. His face scrunched into a vicious scowl, his mouth opening and closing as his battle against his rage left him beached. After a moment, his shoulders dropped, and he reached up to scrub his jaw with the back of his wrist.
"You've got to fight smarter than that." Shepard said, keeping her voice low. She reached out to grip his arm and hit his medigel a couple of times. Even Wrex's impressive regeneration ability could use a kick start. "You can't sacrifice yourself, and you certainly can't sacrifice the shaman to this. As painful and sharp as killing these krogan is … they are a handful of krogan bred and turned insane by a renegade warlord on a mudball in the middle of fucking nowhere, Wrex."
She lifted a hand to the rest of the squad and waved for them to go ahead even as she continued. "There are millions of krogan back on Tuchanka who are relying on you to show uncommon intelligence and foresight. Are you willing to trade the future of all those females and babies for your righteous anger?"
As she said the last, a bright spark of understanding flared behind her eyes. When she spoke again, the words came out absent, her focus staring into that spark, trying to draw out the meaning it illuminated. "The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned."(1)
"What?" Wrex grunted, looking back over his shoulder.
"The lines are from a poem by Yeats back at the dawn of the twentieth century." The threads of connection continued to weave their elusive pattern inside her head. "Something Garrus tried to tell me an hour ago." She swiped at the trickles of sweat rolling down her face. "He told me that we were headed for a brutal war. I thought he meant the death toll, but he was talking about another death entirely.
She looked up, meeting Wrex's stare. "We're both going to have to suffer a few deaths, Wrex." A sigh trembled along the edge of tears. "As much as we've seen and done and suffered, we both hold onto what Yeats called ceremonies of innocence … ideals that worked wonderfully before the Reapers." Walking over to him, she nodded to the path ahead. They couldn't afford to be left too far behind.
Wrex grunted and brought his shotgun up into high ready. "You're not making sense, Shepard."
Shepard lifted her Mattock and nodded, a soft, self-effacing laugh turning over and burrowing deep into her throat. "The picture is still forming in my head, but we both want to save everyone, and the hard cold truth is that we're going to have to let our saviour complexes die. We are responsible for a fuckton of lives, and that means we're going to have to sacrifice pieces of ourselves so our people don't need to." She waggled her head.
"Still don't know what you're talking about." The krogan bulldozed ahead, moving fast enough that Shepard needed to run to keep up with him.
"Okay," she said, "I'll be blunt. As much as I hate having to kill all these krogan, I will sacrifice them and the chunk of my soul that slaughtering them will carve out of me. And I'll do it because you and the shaman are more important on a galactic scale. A few more fighters won't tip the balance, but the two of you are invaluable in this war." She slapped the back of his upper arm. "Hate me if you need to." Running ahead, she relieved Garrus on point and pushed into the wreckage.
As they made the last turn, Shepard spotted a single tank-grown krogan standing in the center of yet another muddy clearing firing up at yet another small squad of Blue Suns. Ducking into cover, she pulled Ingrid, and with two headshots, dropped half of them while Garrus took out the others. The tank-grown just stood in the center of the space, gun held cradled in his hand.
Shepard signalled the rest of the squad to keep back, then crooked a finger for Wrex and the shaman to follow her forward. Holding her hands out from her body, she stepped sideways, circling around the krogan as she closed the distance.
The tank-grown krogan stepped toward her, the familiar music of a squad's worth of guns cocking greeting the movement. She held up a hand and let him close until he leaned into her, his helmet bumping gently off the top of her head.
"Seven night cycles," the krogan said, his voice a soft, deep tumble of sound, "since I was told I was imperfect and flushed from glass mother. Since, killing is all I have known, but you are different." His face bumped against the top of her head again. "You do not smell of mud and garbage."
Shepard took a step back, surprised. She should reek of the place having bathed in its filth more than once. "We're not from this planet. We came because the warlord, Okeer, called for help when the Collectors attacked."
Wrex pushed up next to her. "Imperfect? Do you mean you aren't free of the genophage?"
The behemoth stepped back a couple of steps and rolled his shoulders a little. "I know only that the voice in the water stopped speaking, and I was flushed from glass mother. The ember did not spark, and so I fight. I am not what Father needed me to be."
The shaman moved up on Shepard's right. "The ember?" Reaching out, the female placed a hand on the tank-grown's head. "This father is disappointed because he believes your ember didn't spark?"
"Ember?" Shepard asked. "You mean, this father believes this krogan was created without a soul?"
The shaman nodded, but stayed focused on the young male under her hand. "I am the shaman of Clan Urdnot's females. Do you understand what that means?"
The tank-grown nodded, bowing so deeply that he went down on one knee. "The voice in the water called you the 'ever-burning ember of the krogan', the heart of the people."
"Yes." She crouched and shifted her hand to his chest. "Can you feel your hearts beating, child?"
The young krogan looked up and nodded.
"And what do they tell you? What do they whisper to you about the spirit they feed?" She pushed off her knee and held out her hand, pulling him up when he took it.
Feeling a sacred sort of hush fall over the muddy, stinky pit, Shepard backed away, giving the krogan their space. She waved the others forward, sending them to take positions along the road ahead. They were nearly to the tangle of wreckage that Okeer used as a base. Only Garrus remained behind, standing pressed against the back of Shepard's arm. She leaned back into him a little, grateful for the moment's peace.
"They say that I am alive, that I must fight … struggle against the enemy of all krogan." His head fell. "But I failed."
"I am the guardian of the ember, and I say that it is not so." She slapped her palm against his shoulder, shoving him back a little. "You are not perfect, but as long as those hearts beat, you are krogan. That is all you need to be." She shoved him again. "Your ember burns as true as mine, child." The shaman turned and headed out to follow the others as if she expected to be obeyed. "Walk with us away from this place and learn what it means to feel the fire of being true krogan."
The krogan looked at each of them, then turned and followed the shaman in a manner that made Shepard think very much of a puppy. She punched Wrex in the arm as he followed, his early rage cooled.
"That's one." Glancing up at Garrus, she gave him a thin-lipped smile. "Let's get this done and get the hell out of here."
"Can't be soon enough for me," he agreed, running a glove over her crusty, gritty hair. "And you need a shower. Seriously." He fanned his talons in front of his face and stepped away. "The stench coming off of you … ."
"Careful there, General, I'm armed and rumor has it that I'm occasionally dangerous as well." She grinned and shook her head. "Sweet baby Jesus, you're lucky I love you." She bumped him with her shoulder as she jogged past. They made excellent time up the long, shallow slope, following a makeshift road of plywood, sheet metal, and pallets toward the corpse of a massive dreadnought.
They stopped for a lengthy rest inside one of the cabins, scrambling the locks on the doors entering and exiting the space. Along the inside, the deck had been sheared away, leaving a fifteen metre drop that provided an excellent lookout.
Once she ensured her squad was settled, Shepard leaned against the railing and looked out over the drop, the line of sight clear all the way down the hull of the old behemoth. She pressed her lips together and shook her head then glanced toward Garrus as he stepped up beside her. "This day has just gone from pretty cool to massive suckage." The words tumbled out along a heavy, weary sigh.
"Pretty cool? It started with our shuttle being shot down." Garrus reached out and rested his hand on her shoulder. "You might need to do a little life experience reclassification."
The sound of his voice, his gentle teasing, spread through her like warm water and drew her closer until their arms touched. "I never thought I'd say this, but I miss chasing Saren." She felt rather than saw his reaction to that, a mixture of surprise and understanding. "It was so damned easy. It was an adventure and … ." She shrugged again. "It was fun. Yes, we had our share of tragedy and terror and all sorts of horrible crap, but it was the dream team against the bad guy. And we kicked Sovereign's ass most soundly."
Garrus turned to half sit on the railing. He looked down at her for a moment before returning to watch the room. "It was clear cut, that's for sure. We knew we were the good guys. Saren was the bad guy. We had a firm target lock on our destination: stop Sovereign from letting the Reapers back into the galaxy."
Reaching out, he guided her around and tucked her under his arm. "This fight is just so huge, and so many shades of grey that it's impossible to get a handle on."
Shepard leaned into him and crossed her arms over her chest, dropping the gates. "What that tank-baby said about not having a spark … that's the same damned thing the Reapers are in a tizzy over. That's why the Collectors are here. Somehow Okeer broke the code, and the Reapers are desperate for what he's discovered."
He gave her a squeeze. "We'll make sure they don't get it, but for now, go hose down and rest. The Collectors definitely aren't going to vapourize the Reapers' metaphysical angst cure from orbit. We have time."
Shepard rolled her neck, wincing as the mud inside her collar abraded her neck. "Yeah, okay. You've got the watch for the next hour?" When he nodded, she pulled free of his embrace and headed over to the improvised hose they'd hooked up to a sink.
It really had started out as a pretty great day.
(1) W.B. Yeats 1919 (The Second Coming)