"So that's Tuchanka." Said Shrub Velik. The bruises that Karla had inflicted where long healed but he had since developed an unfortunate tic of tightening the muscles around the left side of his face. It always looked like he was grimacing.
This time Claire wouldn't have been surprised if he was. It had taken them forty six days to get to the DMZ. Six weeks and four days without real air, an extranet connection or human food. It had been a long journey for Claire and while the scarred face of Tuchanka did not look particularly welcoming she was itching to see fresh faces and have a sun over her head. Even if it was a searing ball of radioactive death hot enough to boil eggs at dawn.
From what Karla had told them the first impression the world gave from here in orbit was pretty much dead on: a wounded, monster ridden wasteland.
Claire and Shrub had both scrambled to the cargo hold as soon as they had dropped out of FTL & spent the last twenty minutes watching the Krogan home world grow steadily larger through the blue tinged mass effect field that covered the bay.
"We should be safer here at least. If the Reapers have come back then I won't say no to an army of Krogan between us and them." Claire said with more confidence than she felt. She strained to recall the rest of what Karla had told them about Tuchanka.
'Don't drink any ground water that hasn't been radiation filtered.' Had been the first thing.
'And if you do watch out for Knak snakes. They're not poisonous but they have a nasty bite. Oh and be sure not to question anyone's strength or honour unless you are prepared to headbutt your way out.'
It didn't paint the prettiest of pictures.
Before the struggle between the cabin feverish and practical sides of Claire's brain could come to any meaningful conclusion the lift arrived with a thump and Kelron & Karla stepped out laden with kit bags.
"You ready?"
Claire looked down at herself: she had borrowed an old ox blood red Mercenary hardsuit from Karla, she wasn't mad on the moulded breastplate but light kinetic barriers were better than none.
"As I'll ever be." She said.
They spent the next ten minutes loading up the Deserts Tears shuttle, an Asari Dar'shi model. It was not nearly as durable as the alliance's Kodiak but was much faster and more manoeuvrable.
Claire (who had left all her worldly possessions back on Omega) helped Kelron with his bags.
Once they were all safely seated in the passenger compartment Kelron parked himself in the pilots chair and spent a further ten minutes going through the rigmarole of pre-flight checks.
That done he fired the thrusters and teased the shuttle out of the hold. There was a brief feeling of disorientation as they left the Deserts Tears artificial gravity field and started to be affected by the shuttles own eezo core.
The three passengers watched through the portholes as star speckled blackness gave way to dirty ochre clouds.
"Clan Ravenor settlement in sight, distance ninety klicks." Said Kelron, still playing the soldier.
The only thing that Claire knew about clan Ravenor was that they had the oldest inhabited settlement of all the clans. Looking out the window at the landscape below it was easy to believe. They were coasting into the mouth of a dusty steep sided valley about eight hundred metres wide. As they swept over the valley floor, raising a pillar of sand beneath them, a squat stone fort came into view at the gorges end. Hunkered against the mountains at its back it looked sturdy enough to withstand almost any bombardment.
Shrub craned his neck to see from his place in the middle seat. "It's not that big." He said.
"Most of it is underground." Karla replied. "When I was here in the twenty one tens Ravenor was fighting border skirmishes with clan Urdnot. In the tunnels you couldn't even feel the artillery."
"What kind of people use artillery for a skirmish?" Claire's enthusiasm was slipping slightly, open warfare was definitely outside her comfort zone.
Karla's smile was one of the least reassuring expressions she had ever seen.
"Welcome to Tuchanka." She said.
Kelron executed a smooth landing atop the forts main building, four fully armoured Krogan with assault rifles were waiting for them when they stepped out of the shuttles back hatch. Kelron came first then Shrub & Claire with Karla bringing up the rear. One of the Krogan let his weapon fall to his side when he saw the Asari.
"D'mel?" His rumbling voice was harshly distorted by his helmet speakers. Karla pushed to the front of the group and squared up with him.
"Yeah? Is that you Brek?"
He reached up and undid the seals on his collar, removing his helmet. The other Krogan kept their aim steady.
A flash of recognition passed over Karla's face.
"Ravenor Norn, it's been a while. Are these your men?"
Norn nodded and patted himself on the arm proudly. He was clad in the same heavy white plate as the others but he had three black bands around his right bicep.
It's battlemaster Norn now."
"Congratulations."
"Thanks. Anyway I guess it's Brek you're here to see; you have that right but remember I'll be watching you and the Quarian."
Karla frowned. "This isn't still about that Varen thing is it? I told you a million times that it was an accident. What about the others, not worried about them?"
Norn shook his head ponderously. "An unarmed female and a Salarian? I think I'll be fine. You remember the law D'mel: you can bring whatever you want into the tunnels just don't wave a weapon around unless you're looking to start something."
"I remember." Said Karla sulkily. Norn said something gruff into his collar and a metre thick trapdoor opened in the deck behind him. The Krogan welcome party parted to let the newcomers pass. As soon as they entered the hatch, descending the steps into the tunnels, Karla turned to Claire.
"Don't listen to him I bet you could kick his ass if you wanted."
Claire laughed but it was mostly nerves. Her versus a Krogan battlemaster? That was so one sided that it wasn't actually funny.
They were currently trudging along a long tunnel, with no side passages, that sloped steadily downwards. As the minutes dragged by with no end in sight Claire tried to block out the bag straps digging into her shoulder by imagining how that fight would go. Quickly obviously, all she had to her name was an omni-tool. 'There's only one arse being kicked there.'
They heard the end of the tunnel before they saw it: it sounded as if they were nearing a city junction. That impression was only reinforced when the archway at the end of the tunnel came into view and they seemed to walk through an invisible wall of exhaust fumes. They all started coughing simultaneously except for Kelron who was safe in his enviro-suit, he just looked at the others in surprise.
All of them however forgot about their mild discomfort and pulled up short a the sight of the colossal chamber that yawned below them.
They were about a third of the way down the side of a cylindrical shaft so wide that the Krogan moving around on the walkways opposite were tiny specks.
Peering over the railing Claire quickly counted thirty one other floors, all with about a dozen or so tunnels coming off them like the spokes of a wheel.
Karla took the lead and followed the wall around clockwise. The walkway they were on was easily five metres wide but several they had to squeeze against the concrete to let a massive six wheeler truck pass.
"This place used to be a nuclear missile silo." Karla said as they walked. Kelron looked up at the domed ceiling, clearly impressed.
"That must have been one hell of a missile."
Karla made a sour face. "One of the many that the Krogan used to turn Tuchanka into the lovely tourist destination it is today."
Claire glanced around nervously but luckily there was no one around, that had sounded like a headbutt worthy offense.
"Where do they actually live?" Shrub asked.
"These tunnels lead off to secondary domes for families and tertiary pods for individuals. My contract lives down here." She nodded to the mouth of a tunnel passage that looked identical to all the others and pointed at the runes stencilled over the arch.
"See: vent shaft seventy four." They moved to single file and set off.
"I think I speak for all of us when I say that Krogan pictograms mean nothing to me." Kelron's filtered voice echoed down the corridor.
"Shush. We are almost there so I'd better do all the talking form now on, just in case."
They walked in silence until the geometrical concrete sides gave way to rough hewn stone that looked like it had been chipped out with hand tools. Karla held up a hand, pulling the group up short.
"Brek Ravenor, Durgar Karla krantt." She called down the hall in a guttural tone."
Claire checked her omni-tool settings to se if her translator was still working, it was. The Krogan words she was using must have some private meaning that they didn't share with outsiders.
What sounded like a surprised yell answered her. Moments later a Krogan with a grey head plate came charging round the corner, arms outstretched.
"This is a good thing right?" Said Shrub just as the Krogan collided with Karla, sending them both careening backwards and onto the floor, pinning the unfortunate Salarian under them.
Kelron's gun was up and trained in an instant, a red laser sight playing from the barrel of his Incisor sniper rifle to the back of the Krogan's head. His aim faltered but did not fall when the sounds of Krogan and Asari laughter reached him from the pile of tangled limbs.
"Brek you old psycho! How have you been?" The Krogan (Brek) stood and pulled Karla into a crushing bear hug.
"Not bad! Better now that you're here."
Claire (who had deftly sidestepped the head on collision) bent to peel a battered Shrub off the floor.
"Put that thing away Kel, you'll have somebody's eye out." Kelron grudgingly followed his captain's command but his posture remained tense.
Karla and Brek walked ahead arm in arm. Then came Kelron pacing warily and Claire brought up the rear supporting Shrub.
"Fat bastard must weigh half a ton." He muttered.
They rounded the corner where they had first seen Brek and found themselves in a low ceilinged cavern about ten metres across. a massive bonfire dominated the centre of the space. The smoke drifted up to the apex of the roof where it was sucked up by a trio of silver extractor fans.
Two other Krogan turned from their places by the fire to stare. The first was obviously ancient, his eyes were milky and his skin hung off him in sheets making him look even more like a rhinoceros than the rest of his species.
The other was young, about the size of an adolescent, with a head plate sporting none of the ridges present in older specimens.
Brek gripped Karla by the shoulders and steered her over to the waiting pair.
"Grandfather I would like to present Karla D'mel, first of my krantt, called 'Durgar' in honour of her thirst for life. Durgar I would like you to meet Curthor, my fathers father, called Aralakh tongue in honour of the shame he can bring on his foes with words alone."
Karla and Curthor exchanged respectful nods as Brek moved onto the youngster.
"And this little Pyjak is Jrell, my son. He has yet to earn any honour names but I know it can't be long now."
A dirty smirk crept across Karla's features. "A son! You dog, does that mean you finally crack it with Shel?"
Brek smiled back. "Yes. A long courtship but well worth the wait for our miracle." As he said this he patted Jrell on the head.
Curthor stirred as if from a great sleep. "Bah if there is one bad thing to be said about the genophage cure it's that it devalues Krogan life. Before each child was precious but now Jrell is one of the last of his kind." He lapsed back into melancholy silence.
"The genophage is cured?" Claire blurted out. The others all turned to stare at her and her shock quickly morphed into embarrassment. There were suddenly a lot of alien eyes fixed on her.
"Who are your friends? Come over to the fire so we can have a Telling." They all found seats around the bonfire, dumping their bags in a pile off to the side. Jrell led a tottering Curthor diligently by the hand.
"This is Claire Perry, Shrub Velik and Kelron'Baj." Said Karla, pointing to each in turn.
"What happened to the polite Batarian and that surly Turian?" Asked Brek.
Karla rolled her eyes. "That was seventy years ago Brek, none of them are even alive anymore."
"So this is your new crew. Let's start the Telling. It is a hallowed tradition of clan Ravenor, it is why our oral history stretches back further than any other clan. Traditionally the host would start by boasting about his achievements but I'm more interested in what you've been up to and getting to know your new friends. How did each of you spend the last months? It's not often something as glorious as a galactic war comes along, a chance for great glory."
The three Krogan lent in intently.
"Well I guess we have time for a few stories." Said Karla.