Chapter Five: Still Dreaming
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I never knew how strange the ending of a battle could possibly be. Now I did.
It was as if the silence itself were a sound, sweeping in on the carnage to humble every survivor on the battlefield with its sobering presence. It made me realize what I had just done as I stared out at the smoldering corpses and wreckage. I'd fought in a large-scale battle and actually fought an enemy that would pulverize me without a second thought, fought alongside aliens, trapped and threw a grenade back to the enemy like some foolhardy World War I hero, and got shot twice-
More importantly, I killed. That revelation was not something I was proud of but was borne of necessity. After the shock wore off I vomited once, twice. Adrenaline faded from my system and I became sober again. Despite being covered in tiny cuts and bruises, I felt much better. But now, unsure of where I stood with this mysterious faction of reptilian bipeds, I grew very uncomfortable at the thought of the future, of what happened next.
Would I be relegated the wastes, doomed to scavenge for the rest of my twisted life and avoiding the deadly sun for eternity? Or would I join them and go wherever they were going? They could also just kill me for fun- I wouldn't put that one past them.
There was also the issue of how I got here.
Contemplating the carnage, I wished to join them. But the problem was how the krogan would feel about it. Something told me I was incredibly lucky to not have been blown to bits the moment I was found; they seemed more accepting than a clearly warlike race ought to be. It could go one of two ways.
Everyone left alive on the smoking battlefield came together in the center, some quickly, others were wounded and made their way. Night had fallen. Under the spotlights of the six remaining vehicles the krogan stared at me. Since their body language was a total mystery to me I had no idea what they could possible be thinking; the only thing I sensed was uncertainty.
Krogan styled in very different garb than the others emerged from the larger vessel. Two of them. They met with the leader whom I now could see quite well; other krogan gathered around him- even Garrmarek. He held the title 'Overlord Kresh'. And I could see why… even the most torn up, battle-toughened sonofabitch here couldn't hold a candle to this Kresh dude. I was downright terrified of him.
He eyed me up and down, saying nothing, then conferred with one of the ornately dressed krogan. All others, especially me, braced with premonition.
Don't kill me for fun, don't kill me for fun, please for frig's sake…
"You will come with us, human. You may leave at anytime, however, if you aid any one of our enemies, we will hunt you down and skin you like a varren."
Well, that was as close to an invitation as I would get. I was elated.
I was to accompany them on their 'Exodus', which meant they must have been travelling for a great deal of time. Apparently since I had 'honored my word' I was deemed worthy enough to travel with them for the time being and I was granted safe passage so long as I defended the convoy. At least, that's what their so-called Shaman felt. Some of the warriors were visibly displeased I was tagging along, others- including those I'd met so far- were indifferent. Once they reached their destination they would decide what to do with me further. I accepted without hesitation, knowing that I might actually survive this whole ordeal.
Kresh allowed me to gather my things from the cave. The ice in the cooler melted completely into water and had been leaking out. I drank some and zipped it up. Upon returning outside, the small army of krogan had already taken their places on the convoy, hanging on to the sides of the vehicles or perched on protected positions at the tops. It reminded me of the sandcrawlers those pesky jawa's liked to use… I wondered if I'd bump into them along the way. The krogan's reaction would be priceless.
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Ever since I was a kid I'd wanted to be the guy who rode on the back of the garbage truck in the morning, instead of going to my classes. At least in middle school I did. Not even the guy who threw all the trash into the compactor, but the one who always seemed like he was doing nothing but putting the cans back. It just looked so much more fun than learning about things I'd later learn was simply just western indoctrination. Ever since those days, I'd wanted to ride on the back of something going really fast.
This was not how I pictured it to happen.
The treaded 'crawler' I clung to zoomed through the outskirts of the dystopian cityscape at over fifty miles per hour. Many more lights were on in the decrepit buildings, until at such a distance they merged into a kaleidoscope of twisted remains and polluted colorations under the moons. Detritus covered the few accessible routes and blown out roads.
I'd found a comfortable place to sit against a desultory chunk of metal jutting out of the crawler's main hull that served as my lopsided seat. Above it was a railing I held on to with one hand, my weapon in the other laid across my lap. The heavy wind dried the sweat from my face.
I drank most of the water within the first two hours of bumpy travel; this place was drier than the Mojave on a good day. Since I didn't know what the krogan drank I could only assume it was something that would make my insides rupture, so I switched to semi-cold beer and a protein bar which I ate first to absorb the alcohol. It tasted like a peanut butter chocolatey coconut heaven, reminding me of some wondrously tropical place that was entirely polarized from this torrid world. Blue skies and vistas for days.
Well, I guess there really is a party at the end of the world, I jokingly mused to myself as I cracked open another cold-but-not-that-cold one. The foam dripping over and the aroma of yeast brought nostalgia of the 21st century crashing back into me. I instantly missed earth. My wonderfully sheltered life. I missed Ann, my dog Otis, friends and family, clean air, everything. I never thought beer would actually give me memories.
But this was my reality now, and I had to own it.
An hour later I finished my third beer. Then my fourth. I started loosening up, getting chatty. No one had said a word since our departure. Krogan didn't like words it seemed, but I was full of potential questions.
I asked the krogan next to me- the same one who had saved me from sure death- what this city was. He had no qualm answering a simple question like that, and it actually gave me the most perspective I'd had since arriving here. This was the capital of Tuchanka. The damn capital was a destroyed pile of rubble. I realized then how tribal, warlike, and naturally aggressive this species was, no doubt this planet's apex predator, destroying each other over and over again until their version of 2012 happened, then, after they demolish everything they have, they just continue to beat the shit out of each other in their own ruin. To me it was all quite remarkable.
By the end of my fourth beer I was back to drunkenness. It dulled down the edge of being stuck on a barren alien world at least. I inquired as to how they were considered Clanless if they were travelling in such a large pack. He didn't respond. Probably a touchy subject I shouldn't have brought up but hey, that's what inhibitions were for right? I pressed him, seemingly unaware that he could just grab my head and crush it like an egg. I didn't care.
"Does all your kind ask such useless questions?" The scout asked flatly.
"All the time, really." I had no problem talking to him without a sober mind. "Am I the first human you've ever met?"
He hesitated to answer.
"Yes."
"Then why are some of the others angry I'm here?"
He shifted in his spot. "As krogan we thrive off of the traditional values put forth by our ancestors. Your presence here makes us weaker, and makes many warriors wary of change, even though we now seek it."
I deflected with another question, as if familiar with this strange world I was now part of.
"So change is dangerous to a species like yours, but you still need it?"
"Change is what doomed us in the first place-"
Another krogan at the top of the Crawler cut him off.
"Shut him up already, Runt! You're both talking too much." His voice was calloused and deeper.
"Dahg. I'm disappointed you haven't died yet."
I couldn't help but laugh at the perfect comeback. The krogan didn't take it so lightly, though. Ignoring Runt's remarks he bend over the railing and snarled-
"Silence, whelp! If Kresh didn't forbid me force-feeding you ryncol and shooting you, I'd have done it by now."
The threat sent shivers that ran down my spine, sobering me for a moment. This krogan was particularly nasty looking. Beady little black eyes, mottled gray skin- a glasgow smile scarred through the sides of his wide mouth. Ascertainable hatred in his pupils. Tiny black holes.
"I- I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend-"
"YOU being here is the greatest insult of all!"
"The human is not forced to abide by our rules. Leave him alone."
Dahg didn't say anything- he grumbled back to his post on the other side of the crawler.
We moved deeper and deeper into the city, facing more congested roads, digging farther into the carelessly designed urban sprawl. Distant booms and sporadic gunfire echoed with no rhyme or reason.
Eavesdropping on a conversation another krogan was having over the radio led me to believe that we were linking up with a primary highway system. Kinda wish we were just leaving the planet instead. Suddenly Runt spoke up again.
"You are right about change: we need it now to save all krogan. He is a prime example of why."
I was glad it was just him and myself talking again- by now we were some of the only ones outside. I actually started to like him.
"Save from what?" I asked.
"Ourselves. You must know nothing about us to be asking all these questions."
There was a million ways to answer that question and I had no idea which one to pick.
"We continue to mire in the consequences of something that happened fifteen hundred years ago. Instead of adapting like we should have, like we were born to do, we chose this," he waved his free hand out towards the endless city stretched before us. "We chose bitterness."
"What happened here?" I asked with genuine wonder.
"Heh. We split the atom is what happened. You ask all the wrong questions, human."
"Oh?"
"You should be focused on your survival, not things you could find in a codex."
A piece of metal kicked up by the crawler bounced over Runt and right in my direction. My heart rate spiked- I raised my gauntleted arm and blocked it before it decapitated me.
And then even more abruptly, our convoy came under fire.
Fucking fuck…
"Finally! Suppress these vorcha squatters with me. May they cower before the Shreshoc!"
My adrenaline flared up, senses heightened to the now-familiar war state. The intense introspection of fight-or-flight. My fist tightened around my rifle as I isolated the source of the muzzle flashes: small figures a few stories up a big skyscraper. It was sturdy and well-built, wide at the base and relatively intact in retrospect to the others that surrounded us. Heavy wind picked up and cascaded finely silted sand across the broad avenue, sheathing us from their presence as well as them from ours.
I let my hand off the railing, used it to support the fifteen pound weapon, aimed through the clear sights- nothing. The floodlights didn't reach their positions. I fired anyway, single shot, along with the other krogan. The door tucked into the back of the crawler creaked open and more krogan made their appearance in full battle gear, climbing footholds on the craft to combat positions while the cannon primed to fire.
This time the vehicles didn't stop. The main weapons covered us enough to hassle them while we kept our pace. The cannon on the lead tomkah jammed due to sand buildup and couldn't fire so the crawler drew off more attacks.
As soon as it started, the sandstorm vanished- and we were ravaged with a hailstorm of bullets.
I endured as long as I had to. I was on the exposed side of the crawler, teeth clenched with worry the entire time. Runt deflected a shot with his shielding and aimed his semi-auto sniper at the towering edifice, firing methodically.
"Heavy munitions! Redirect the forward battery!" Kresh bellowed off to my left- hanging off the back he shot his gigantic rail weapon with only one hand and barked off strings of commands. Meanwhile, I held on for my life. Helpless to the bullets that got a little too close.
A rocket fired by an enemy suddenly spiraled into view with fear inspiring inaccuracy. It twisted and turned with a shrieking hisss that made me want to hide behind the convoy like a little kid. I knew the krogan didn't respect desertion though, and I'd come too far to wuss out. Within seconds the missile made a final corkscrew and tunneled into the ground ten feet away from us. The explosion was huge. Our vehicle's weapons retaliated with superior firepower.
A round plinked right off the rusted metal above my head, making me jerk down- I shifted and felt something slice my foot. Between being drunk and high on adrenaline I didn't feel a thing, but it still managed to instill anger in me.
"Fuck. You."
I hefted my assault rifle in my hands, balanced on the makeshift seating and let loose a dilugence of gunfire. I reloaded. Sprayed again. By then we were mostly clear of the enemies in the building; at its flank they had no leverage in which to fire at us.
It looked like I'd just survived my second battle of the day.
I was spared the earth-shattering silence this time, though I trembled just as before. This was all nightmarish. The entire planet probably looked like this… a damn hellscape. The same clan warfare covering the entire surface dotted with squatters of a scavenger underclass. Poisoned oceans. Dead cities. But none of that was the worst part-
It was the fact that I'm living it.
Three blocks ahead and the sky began to lighten, touched by a morning that came quicker than on Earth. It instantly reminded me of sleep. The lack thereof. Fatigue, having been present the whole time but masked with other feelings, now comforted me with thoughts of solace. Droopy eyelids and fuliginous dreams.
Adrenal fatigue set in. I knew what to expect with it; lethargy and the urge to sleep. I asked Runt if there was anywhere I could catch a few Z's. I expected a rebuke about how I was 'weak' or something along those lines, finding myself pleasantly surprised when he simply pointed over me at the trailing support vehicle, bridged together by a rickety, poorly welded hitch. Much smaller than the crawler I wearily held onto, it looked inviting under the dull headlights. But getting on it would be difficult, with constant bumps and impromptu weaves to avoid the wreckage. These krogan were like sailors. Fully accustomed to their vessels, as if extensions of themselves, perfectly in tune. Me? Not so much. Getting across the eight foot long platform- just wide enough for a human at the widest edges- gave me a very special kind of anxiety.
Ahead of the convoy, I noticed a tunnel appear that stretched as far as the eye could see. My stomach sank.
Easing myself down to the narrow strip that served as the bottom platform of the crawler was simple enough. From there I shuffled my feet without crossing them, hands stretched out to either side for support and made it to the back landing that connected to the hitch. Wind whipped through my hair. I looked through a slit of glass at the top of the crawler's bolted door that led inside: the Overlord, Shaman, Garrmarek, and a few other krogan were hunched around a table in what looked to be a lively debate. I wanted to go in (and not cross the platform to the other vehicle) but I knew interrupting them was a terrible idea, so I settled with taking a drunken piss off the side of the deck. Then I set my eyes on the other vehicle.
I stepped on. Walked. The rudimentary walkway creaked and swayed back and forth. Wait for a straightaway. I shuffled across, the pale purple sky emerging from the night was the only thing I had to comfort me. The tunnel loomed.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shiiiiiiiiit! The crawler hit a massive bump and I went over a foot into the air. I was screwed. Dead…
My face slamming into metal told me otherwise. Nearly unconscious from the impact, I clutched the metal crossing and pulled myself to the other side. I was drenched in sweat. Rolling off me like I just got out of a swimming pool. I leaned against the side of the small transport for a moment, taking breaths of capricious air. Then I climbed the short ladder and slid open the bulky door with both hands.
The interior wasn't what I thought it would be. It was much more cleaned up. Organized. Eyes squinted in adjustment to the light I glanced around to find no one else was here in the washed out green room. They really needed an interior designer, but for a species clearly simpler than my own, it was impressive. The sides were stuffed with curious alien tech; some worked, others looked rather questionable. I heard warped radio chatter, bleeps of various machines, and a set of stairs led down to the darker recesses. My feet pressed softly on the metal floor as I went down…
My eyes feasted on the sight of bedrolls sprawled out across the floor of the cozily lit room.
And without thinking any further, I collapsed into one of them, cooler strap still draped around my shoulder.