Tank Krogan
The tank was silent. It had been silent for a long time now. There were no images of battles he was forced to watch, no specie's weakness he was forced to memorize, and no enemies he was forced to remember.
No. Everything that happened now occurred outside the tank, and the krogan was only vaguely aware of what happened out there. Currently, there were two forms out there. One, the smaller of the two, moved around while the other remained in its position. There were noises, voices, coming from them. What they were saying, the krogan couldn't understand.
The small one left, and outside the tank was silent again. Then a hand appeared on the tank, and a voice spoke.
"We must be ready to leave. Jedore does not like my rejects. She is too weak to use them, too weak to control them."
The tank krogan knew that voice, the same way he knew about the battle of Giralk and the flavor of salarian livers. The tank had imprinted the knowledge into him. The voice belonged to Warlord Okeer. The name brought with it a rush of achievements, battles won, odds overcome, and his own creation.
Outside the tank was quiet again. He didn't know how long the quiet lasted. The krogan knew of time but had never experienced it. It got lost in the sameness that was the tank.
More forms entered the space outside the tank. This time it was the largest of them that moved about the room. The krogan knew it was Okeer this time. Anxious was the word that his mind supplied when he searched for a reason for the movement. The forms spoke much longer than the first two did.
Eventually, the new ones left, and Okeer moved around the room quickly. Frantic was the word for it. A loud klaxon sounded, increasing Okeer's pace. He then created a message.
"You gave me time, Shepard. If I knew why the Collectors wanted humans, I would tell you. But everything is in my prototype. My legacy is pure. This…" His breathing grew strained. "This… one soldier, this… grunt. Perfect."
The message repeated, but the large form was no longer there. The krogan didn't wonder where Okeer went. He didn't care.
The three forms from before came back, and outside the tank grew lively. Many forms moved around the tank, and the dull colors outside the tank changed from Brown to Silver. Then, it was silent again.
Then, there was only one form. It was smaller than Okeer, but it held itself like the old krogan. It talked with two voices, one higher than the other, and it asked questions only to answer them with the higher voice. Insane his mind provided.
Suddenly, the krogan felt himself grow heavier. Inside the tank became thinner, and the tank hissed opened. He fell to his knees and heaved once, fluid from his lungs and stomach spilling out of his mouth. His chest expanded, drawing in the first breath ever.
He slowly stood, his legs feeling the full weight of his krogan size and wanting more. As his vision cleared, the krogan looked up and realized the form that was standing in front of the tank was a human. The form showed no fear and approached him defiantly.
The krogan took the challenge. He charged, lifting the light human up easily and slamming him into crates. The krogan held him off the ground effortlessly with a forearm to his chest. The tank imprints told him he just had to lean in with all his weight to crush his ribcage and heart. The krogan fought the urge. He needed some answers first.
"Human. Male," he stated, his voice deep and foreign to him. "Before you die, I need a name."
"I'm Commander Shepard, and I don't take threats lightly. I suggest you relax," the human said.
There were no imprints about a Commander Shepard. He must not be important. But that was beside the point. He didn't answer the krogan's question.
"Not your name. Mine. I am trained. I know things, but the tank…" Now that he was outside that glass tube, the connections seemed to form. The tank was simply Okeer's work. "Okeer couldn't implant connection. His words are hollow." He went through the last of the words he heard. "Warlord, legacy, grunt… grunt. 'Grunt' was among the last. It has no meaning. It'll do. I am Grunt. If you are worthy of your command, prove your strength and try to destroy me."
It felt good to have something of his own, something not given to him by the tank.
"You wouldn't prefer 'Okeer?'Or 'Legacy?'" the human Shepard asked.
Insane seemed to fit the human better and better. Who would ask such a question when a krogan forearm at your neck? Still, he had asked, and Grunt felt compelled to answer.
"It's short," he tried to explain. It was difficult to find the words. The connections were slow to form. "Matches the training in my blood. The other words were big things I don't feel. Maybe they fit your mouth better. I feel nothing for Okeer's clan or his enemies. I will do what I am bred to do – fight and determine the strongest – but his imprint has failed. Without a reason that's mine, one fight is as good as any other. Might as well start with you."
The human wasted no time. "I have a good ship and a strong crew, a strong clan. You'd make it stronger."
It was a… decent answer. Still, words were pointless. Even strength was pointless without enemies to test it.
"If you're weak and choose weak enemies, I'll have to kill you."
The insane Shepard smiled. "Our enemies threaten the entire galaxy. They are worthy. No doubt about that."
"Hmmm." There was little reason to doubt him. If he had lied, Grunt would simply kill him and move on to the next fight. "Hmph! That's… acceptable. I'll fight for you."
The insane's smile was still there. "I'm glad you saw reason."
He nodded down, forcing Grunt to see what he was acknowledging. In Shepard's hand was a pistol aimed directly at his armored chest. It was small and wouldn't have been able to kill Grunt, but it was impressive all the same. He backed off, letting Shepard's feet finally hit the ground.
"Ha! Offer one hand, but arm the other." It was an old krogan saying. "Wise, Shepard. If I find a clan," he said as more connections formed, "if I find what I… I want, I will be honored to eventually pit them against you."
"Yeah, let's try to put a hold on that until after the mission. Then we will see about fighting an entire clan of krogan." He walked to the door and waved at Grunt. "Come on. Let's see about your quarters."
Grunt sniffed whatever the human behind the counter slopped on his tray. It smelled decent enough, but there was no telling what it was. The tank, Okeer, left no imprints on human food.
One imprint it did leave was the smell of fear. Grunt looked up and noticed the wary glances the other humans gave him. The fear rolled off them, and none of them dared to sit by him. These humans were weak. Smart to be afraid of him, but weak nonetheless.
He turned his attention back to his dinner. The imprints had taught him how to eat, so he followed their example. What surprised him was the intense flavor and texture his tongue was met with. It was an amazing sensation, one the tank never fully prepared him for. Grunt shoveled more into his open mouth, craving the new experience.
Before he knew it, he was staring at an empty plate and was left wanting more.
"I guess Rupert's new menu is better than the unknown concoctions he called food before," a voice said.
Grunt looked up to see Shepard standing there with a tray full of food. He sat down on the opposite side of the table.
"Did you like it?" he asked.
The question confused Grunt. He didn't have any particular tastes. Not yet at least. "I… I'm not sure. I would have to taste other food to see."
Shepard nodded. "It's easy to forget that you spent your entire life in a tank before today. Speaking of which, are you sure you're okay with sleeping down there?"
They had searched the ship for a place Grunt could stay, but none of the rooms were large enough for him. Besides, the tank was down there. Even though he hated the imprints that were forced on him, it was the only thing he was truly comfortable with here.
"The room is fine," Grunt said dismissively. He was still enthralled with Shepard's food and watched hungrily as the human took a bite.
"If you say so," he said past the mouthful. "I want to take you on the next mission, see what you can do. You should head to the armory after your done eating to see what weapons best fit you."
"Shotguns. I like shotguns." They were effective and deadly weapons. He remembered watching shotgun's devastating blast rip through whatever enemies it faced. It was the one of the few imprints he actually enjoyed.
"That doesn't surprise me. I'm sure we have some to spare."
He took another spoonful of food. Grunt followed it closely with his eyes and licked his lips as he remembered the flavor. Shepard must have caught him because he moved the spoon in odd patterns before finally setting it down.
"You know, Grunt. There're no rules against seconds here."
"Seconds?" he asked. He never heard of the term from the tank.
"Yeah," Shepard answered with a nod. "You know; where you can go back up and get another plateful."
Grunt leaned in closer. "You can do that?"
"Yeah. You're a big guy, Grunt. No one is going to fault you for-"
Whatever else Shepard said was lost in Grunt's mad dash back to the counter with his tray ready for more food.