The youngling she'd brought, Grunt (and if ever there was a more aptly named krogan, Wrex had yet to meet him), was having a hard time with his emerging blood rage and needed to go through the Rite to balance it out. Gatatog Uvenk was predictably outraged at the idea of allowing a tank-bred to go through the same rite of passage as a true-born krogan, and he stormed off while Wrex was distracted.
He'd been watching Shepard as she went to see the shaman and, soon enough, Uvenk appeared behind Shepard. He shouted something that Wrex couldn't quite hear, although he was pretty sure it had something to do with those traditions he was touting a few minutes ago, and Shepard rolled her eyes. When Uvenk turned his attention to her and started getting in her face, her eyebrows pulled down into a furious frown and she slammed her head into his.
Wrex burst out laughing along with the shaman, and when his scout turned around to see what was happening, Wrex just pointed up to Shepard and said, "Bomb the pyjack." The scout shook his head and turned back to his guns.
Once the Rite had been arranged and set in motion, Shepard came to bid Wrex farewell for the time being. A tattooed woman in nothing but a pair of low-slung pants and a few straps around her upper half sauntered into the camp, looking around with feigned disinterest. She carried herself with the air of someone who knew she was powerful enough to wipe out everyone in the room, but most of it was swagger that Wrex recognized immediately. It was exactly the way every youngling fresh from the Rite and given his first assignment behaved—like the world was his, and no one was going to tell him otherwise.
The tattooed woman was drawing a few glances, probably because of her challenging sneer that begged every krogan in the camp to just try and fuck with her. By contrast, Shepard blended into the background (as much as a human could blend in on Tuchanka, that was), but the truth of it was in her eyes. They were as old as Wrex's, and Shepard had learned the hard way what the woman, Jack, had yet to find out—that those who were truly strong didn't need to show it. Their actions spoke for themselves, and no amount of bravado and machismo would help when the shit hit the fan.
The salarian went to wait in the Tomkah while Grunt greeted Jack with a laugh and an enthusiastic slap on the back that caused her to stumble and scowl. Jack fingered the gun holstered at her side, but after a glance around at the heavily armored and armed krogan surrounding her, decided that camp Urdnot wasn't the best place to start a firefight.
"We're heading out," Shepard said, and punched something into her omnitool. His own pinged at him a moment later. "That's the frequency for our channel, just in case . . . you know . . ."
"Thanks. I'll call. You know, just in case." Wrex winked at her and she gave him a sheepish twist of her lips in return. Giving him a little wave, she bounded off to the Tomkah the shaman had commandeered and climbed into the passenger seat. He breathed a sigh of relief; at least she wasn't driving this time.
There was a vid screen built into a pedestal near the varren pit, and Wrex fired it up to watch the live feed from the training grounds. It was the closest thing they had to entertainment these days, and soon the screen had attracted a small group of curious onlookers. It was a rare occurrence for a participant to bring along a mixed-species krantt, and this marked the first time a human had been allowed to join in the Rite. Now there were two, and both females to boot. This was bound to get interesting.
They passed the first round with no incident at all, and the two women hung back to let Grunt take the lead. He fought hard and well, and Wrex could see Shepard's influence all over him. Shepard hopped up on a wall and took pot shots at the incoming fauna of Tuchanka, barely taking the time to aim but hitting her mark every time. Jack threw her biotics haphazardly at anything that came near her with graceful finesse that spoke of years of practice. Shockwaves brutally hammered into the varren and left them in smoldering pieces. It was impressive, to be sure, but Wrex knew she had to be feeling the drain by now, and the third round was yet to come.
One large pack of varren and a herd of klixen later, the maw hammer fell again with a thunderous boom and silence descended on the grounds. Wrex looked around and saw that the vid screen was surrounded by nearly everyone in camp, all of them offering appraisals of the fighters in the coliseum. All of a sudden, the acrid dust churned and rumbled and a wavering blue tentacle scented the air. Jack tossed a blue mass effect field at it, and there was a horrible screeching sound followed by a fully-grown thresher maw that burst out of the ground in a shower of rubble. Jack's jaw dropped, Grunt roared, and Shepard's eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas.
"Oh, Wrex, is it my birthday?" she breathed into the comm.
He chuckled. "Thought you might like this part."
She gave a loud whoop of excitement and dove for cover under a flying gob of acid that burst in a hissing spray on the ground. The fight was a confusion of bullets and Wrex could tell that Shepard was deliberately missing some easy shots to let Grunt be the star of the show. Three of the pillars that were supposed to provide cover had disintegrated under the maw's assault and Jack was flagging by the time Shepard brought out a grenade launcher and, shouting all kinds of obscenities, let off a shot directly into the maw's mouth, blowing off a chunk of corrosive flesh. Grunt rushed forward while it was distracted and gave it both barrels of his modified shotgun, finally bringing the huge monster down with a long, pained scream.
The assembled krogan stared unbelievingly at the thresher maw's death throes, some of them casting glances at Wrex. No one had killed a maw in the Rite since he'd run the gauntlet himself centuries ago, and he felt a surge of pride that Shepard had been there to help bring it down.
A human. His human. May wonders never cease.
Wrex happened to glance back at the screen just as Uvenk and his thugs showed up. Wrex groaned and put his face in his hands—the man was like scale itch, only more irritating. He pinged Shepard and she held up a finger to Uvenk just as he was expounding on the glorious half-life Grunt could expect as a sort-of member of clan Gatatog.
"Would you get a load of this guy?" He could see her cock her thumb at the assembled krogan before her, and Uvenk frowned at her. Evidently, he was unused to being dismissed, especially by a female. "Want me to kill him?"
"Up to you. On the one hand, he's been pissing me off all day and he hasn't joined our camp yet, so he's not subject to the 'no killing' rule. On the other, if you only wound them, we could stitch them back up and absorb their clans. We need the numbers for the Reaper war."
"You have a good point." She stared daggers at Uvenk and growled, "I really want to kill this guy."
"I know. Believe me, I know."
"So what do you think?"
Wrex sighed and rubbed his face. "We really could use the muscle, Shepard."
There was a long pause followed by an exasperated exhale, then Shepard said, "How many hearts do your people have?"
"Two."
"So I could blow a hole in one and he'd survive?"
"Theoretically, yes."
"Can I still shoot him in the kneecaps?"
"If that's what makes you happy."
"Okay, I won't kill anyone." She started to shut off the comm, but stopped at the last minute. "What if they're being really, really annoying?"
"Shepard—"
"Yeah, yeah, no killing people, got it." She disconnected, then immediately turned around and fired three rapidfire rounds directly into one of the thugs' feet, turning it into a bloody, pulpy mass. The krogan howled and fell to the ground, and the fight began.
True to her word, she and her squad didn't kill anyone, but the battle was no less bloody because of it. In fact, the spectators that had stuck around to see Uvenk get what was coming to him—the same ones who had growled in indignation at the emissary's insult of an invitation—winced in sympathy when Jack pulled a krogan from his feet so hard it nearly yanked his arm off, or when Grunt turned his shotgun around and hammered in his opponent's face with the butt. When Uvenk was the only one left standing, Shepard leaned out of cover and managed to fire a round right into his thigh. He stumbled, and bellowed when another bullet lodged in his knee. Breaking cover, Shepard walked calmly over to him and aimed the gun at Uvenk's chest.
"You're a disgrace," she sneered, and pulled the trigger, blowing apart one of his hearts. Uvenk gasped like a fish then fell still, unconscious. Wrex ordered a team out to collect the wounded, and another to take over the much-diminished Gatatog encampment.
When they arrived back at the camp, Shepard released Grunt so he could bask in the adulation of his new clan mates, and she sent Jack back to the shuttle so she could rest and reenergize. After making a call to the Normandy, the shuttle left and then came back bearing a scarred merc with mismatched eyes. He took one appraising look around, then his gaze lit on Wrex and he started toward him.
"Zaeed?" Wrex asked. "That you?"
"Course it is, you ancient bugger. Your eyesight going? Not uncommon for a man of your age."
Wrex shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder. "You're one to talk about losing eyesight. Been a long time."
"Yeah . . . Omega, wasn't it? Running out a bunch of slavers for Aria?"
"Wait a minute," Shepard said, trotting over. "You two know each other?"
"Oh yeah, me and the big guy here go way back," Zaeed answered. "Been on a few jobs together. Strong, silent type if you're into that sort of thing." He winked at her and she had to look away before her cheeks gave her away.
"How's Jessie?" Wrex asked, and knew the answer when Zaeed's face fell. "Damn. Sorry. I know you liked that rifle."
"Yeah, well this one here is still thirsty for blood." He hoisted his new Lancer and kissed the barrel. "Haven't thought of a name for her yet. Helluva girl, though. Kicks like a proper bitch. I should get going, Wrex. Meet you at the tank, Shepard."
After he left, Wrex turned back to Shepard and what he saw surprised him. It hadn't been so evident before, but in the lowering light and growing shadows her eyes looked sunken, her cheeks gaunt, and the tendons of her neck were more prominent. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked like the homeless waifs that lived on the Citadel.
"What have you been eating?" he asked.
"Ration bars, mostly. I don't really have a lot of time for sit-down meals these days."
"Those things are meant to be eaten until you can find real food, Shepard. You're too skinny."
"Human women don't usually like it when you comment on their weight." She was trying to joke, but it came out awkward and uncomfortable.
"I'm serious. You need to eat something more substantial than ration bars. I'll see what I can scrounge up—we must have something here that your species can digest."
"Wrex, I'm fine. Really."
He put a hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him with something that wanted to be defiance but didn't quite get there because she knew he was right. "For me?" She paused for a few beats, then nodded. "You're rotating your team, but if you need to take a break—"
"I'm fine." He raised an eyebrow at her, and she smiled reassuringly. "Really, I am. These new implants Cerberus gave me kick ass. I've got enough energy for this mission, and after that I promise I'll eat whatever you put in front of me, okay?"
"All right," he allowed.
"What's with you? You were never this concerned about my health before."
"You were never dead for two years before." That was too close to a confession, and he couldn't have that right now, in front of all these people. "We'll talk later. I'll figure something out."
"Looking forward to it." She trotted off to the Tomkah and left with a plume of dust kicking up from the back.
He sat back down in his throne with a flumph and resumed hearing the cases that had been brought before him. As it happened, there was only one left—a whole slew of new breeding requests that had been filed for Grunt, the newest member of the Urdnot clan. The ambassador to the female camp waited for him to give the okay, and it gave him an idea. He keyed something in to the datapad she'd handed him and gave it back. It had been a long time since he'd filed one himself, but he remembered the total discretion with which the females handled breeding requests. The envoy looked at his entry, then glanced up at him and nodded. His secret was safe with her.
Once the envoy had gone, he leaned back and closed his eyes. This had definitely turned out to be a mind-blowing day. Tonight, though . . . tonight would be for catching up. He thought he'd be able to convince her to dock the Normandy and stay for a while. Just thinking about it made his scales tingle and he had to shimmy around a bit to find a comfortable position due to the tightening that was going on behind his codpiece. He looked at his omnitool for a moment, then switched on the comm to hear her voice again. Hopefully she was in the middle of a fierce battle—she always made the sexiest noises when she was fighting.
He really wished he had left the comm off.
Because she was not fighting. She was talking to the salarian about why they were there—Maelon's research, the genophage modification project, the females who had sacrificed themselves for the children that others after them would bear.
And he heard it. He heard it all.