The smell of grime, sweat, and various bodily fluids filled the air, while various light sources turned on and off in hypnotic patterns. Around, the air was filled with music or shouting in equal measure, depending on where one turned one's ear, and in a few places, the muted staccato of gunfire echoed clear amid the din, and another thud would sound the quick, clean end to a long, dirty life.
"Just like home," mused Wrex to himself, as he downed another glass of...orange stuff some stupid batarian bartender had served him. He wasn't sure what it was, not ryncol that was sure, but still, it had punch, and he liked that in a beverage. Sipping at the next glass, he turned towards the sight of a few turians making eyes at one of the dancing asari girls, before finding his eyes attracted to a new sight. Into the room came a group that seemed to draw the eyes of everyone in the bar to them, though most would turn away without a thought.
It took Wrex's brain a moment to catch up with his eyes as he stared at them. It took far less time than that for his brain to get mad at the sight, and utter a blasphemy under his breath as he stroked the end of his shotgun, debating just how many people in here he'd have to kill for looking on the sight before him. After thinking on that for a few seconds, he decided it was best not to draw attention to the group in that way, and just sipped at his drink as he waited to see what they would do.
They were priestesses, cloaked in the robes of their gods. One was black, probably that destruction goddess who's name he'd never been able to get right. Two of the others were a deep green, the god of growth and power, probably, though he had long since forgotten that one's name. The final one wore red, a deep red that symbolized no god in particular, but instead a faith in the power of fire itself, the power that made weapons of war, and allowed one to go beyond themselves.
These four figures, soon ignored by the rest of the bar, took seats in an out of the way booth, then waited. Wrex watched as one of the asari came up to them, then walked away, probably to get whatever it was they had ordered. Then the first of the bar's toughs came up to their table. He was some damn fool salarian, so drunk he was barely standing up straight, and being egged on by a batarian behind him. Grunting, knowing his duty, the krogan battlemaster rose to his feet and walked over to the idiots.
"So, any of you ladies looking for a good time?" asked the slimy toad with a slur to his speech, and an odor on his breath, that told anyone listening that he was not going to remember this in the morning. Feeling a bit of pity for the drunk, who was probably one of those dock workers who was going to wind up dead at the end of some merc's gun, Wrex didn't say anything to him, or his friend, instead using a slight biotic pull to yank them both away, knocking the pair down, and then staring right into their faces.
"I think you should leave here, now," he told the drunks, and the pair sobered up real quick, as a krogan grinned that toothy smile at them. The salarian was the first on his feet, only to stumble over himself trying to make for the door. Still, they were both gone in seconds, and that left the battlemaster with the four priestesses.
"Holinesses, what are you doing here?" he asked gruffly of the four, grabbing a chair from a nearby table and sitting on it so he could face them.
"We could ask you the same question, Urdnot. What are you doing here? Why are you away from the clan that bares your name, a clan that needs your strength," asked the red garbed female, and Wrex nodded. They knew his name. That meant this had to do with him in particular, that this wasn't some chance meeting. He thought briefly about walking away. If they were here for him, it couldn't mean anything good, but then he felt a sigh forming in his throat, and let it out in one big breath, before facing them.
"Not much I can do for them. I'm no leader, and I'm too old to be a great warrior. Let the young have those jobs," he told them bluntly, and the four turned to each other, their hands moving in the way of hand talk, a woman's trick. This allowed them to speak without being overheard, and more importantly, without the men having a say in their discussion.
"Would it change your mind if you learned that the Urdnot Clan is one of those that has been rounded up by the turians? Those stone faces now walk our lands, and police our people, all because Guld and his stupidity," said the red again, and this time Wrex did react. His hand went to his gun, both at the mention of Guld, and more importantly the news of the turians. That last was something he hadn't heard about, probably some kind of information black out regarding it.
Guld, Chief of the Weyrloc Clan had called in every favor he could, gathering forces on Tuchanka from all over the galaxy. He'd even hired from outside his own Blood Pack merc corps, including their Eclipse rivals. Why had been a good question, as there was nothing on Tuchanka worth fighting for, but Wrex had been trying to ignore that news, including the offers of work from the group. He had no desire to return home to see the blasted plains and wastes.
"What happened?" he asked at last, as the battlerage faded a little.
"Guld offered a hope to his people, a hope of freedom and rebirth, a hope that far too many of us took up. He assaulted the Cleansing Tower, believing it to be the source of the genophage that infects our people, promising it was the first step to reclaiming homeworld. The turians, whom he had expected to remain busy with the Terran border, came down on him hard, cutting him and hundreds of other warriors down, before taking full control of the surface," this was said by one of the priestesses wearing green.
"Idiot," was all Wrex could say to that, glad that Guld was gone. It did explain those times he'd seen a vorcha in charge of the Blood Pack companies on these recent jobs.
"Indeed. The blow to our people though, has been severe. Almost all feel this was the last gasp of the krogan race, a final glorious charge onto the guns of our enemies, and now we shall fall into darkness," the red robed one spoke again, and Wrex nodded gravely. It wasn't wrong, after all. His people had been dying for a millennium and a half now, since the Rebellions. Perhaps he should have taken Guld up on his job. Maybe he would have been one of those to die in glory, rather than waste away like this.
"But what if this was not the end? What if this was the sign that a new light, a new leader, could rise up and band the krogan together in ways that have not been seen since before the great wars?" asked the other green of him, and Wrex scoffed at her.
"That's the job for a young one, one with hope. I haven't had that in years," he told her simply.
"What if there was hope, though? If you could bring life back to the people of our world, would you be willing to go back then?" asked the red, and Wrex, without thinking, nodded in answer. In a single beat of one of his hearts, he'd rush back to homeworld, if it could be saved. That wasn't likely to happen any time soon however. The four priestesses then descended into handtalk again, gesturing emphatically at each other, before the one in black robes finally raised her hand, silencing them.
"We have business then, Urdnot Wrex," she said in a grave, older voice than the others, holding our her hand. One of the greens pulled an ampule from the sleeve of her robes, a small vial with a needle on it. Wrex backed away a bit at the sight of it. A battle hardened soldier, he'd learned not to trust the things, but then the black robed woman stabbed her hand with it, drawing a large amount of her blood into the vial, and sliding it across the table to him.
"This is the hope we offer, the hope that the krogan can have a future. Take that vial to a doctor, one you can trust. Ask him what's different about it compared to every other sample of krogan blood in the galaxy. When you have your answer, these is an extranet address on the vial at which you may contact us," she said, and then rose. The others followed suit, rising like a wave of silk, before walking straight out the bar's front door, leaving Wrex staring at the ampule before him, knowing what must be in it, allowing that one small glimmer of hope into his mind.
OoOoO
"Get on the table and just wait, you'll feel better, and I won't have to look at you," said the batarian who was sitting in the chair in front of his equipment. He had a bottle in his hand that was obviously whatever weak alcohol his people could stand. Wrex, used to doctors telling krogan to just suck it up, came in anyway, and slammed his palm onto the table the four eyed bastard was leaning back against.
"I don't need healing, you hack job. I need information," he demanded in his most intimidating voice. The batarian flinched a bit at it, but no more than that, as he set the bottle aside, and stood up to face the angry krogan.
"If you want info go to someone at a bar, I heal the sick and injured, I don't play job contact for mercs," said the doctor, only to stop as Wrex pulled his hand back from the table, having left a chit for over five thousand credits there, more than this idiot would see in a month.
"Not a job, I just need some blood looked at. Got a friend of mine who's sick, and we need to know what he's got, discretely," said Wrex, smiling evilly at the last word, while flashing three more chits of similar value at the batarian, along with the ampule of blood.
"Now that, I can do," was all the batarian said, quickly pocketing all four chits, and then sliding his chair over to some microscope thing, and pouring some of the blood onto the dish under it.
"Any idea what he's got?" asked the doctor, as he adjusted several knobs.
"Not like anything I ever saw, so you should probably be able to tell something right away," said Wrex, his hand going to his side as he waited. Said waiting seemed to last for a thousand years, as the batarian kept adjusting his view, and then writing something on a pad next to him. When he was done there, he pushed away from the microscope and shoved the rest of the ampule into a rather disheveled looking, but still functional asari medical scanner.
The first sign of trouble was that the thing's readout instantly turned red the very second the blood was put on it. The next was the batarian, who looked at the red, and then quickly pushed some buttons, getting the same red result. Finally he walked over and literally unplugged the thing, then plugged it back in, and yet it didn't change, the red flag from the scanner coming up the same every time.
"This isn't possible, the scanner says you're friends fine. Better, he's got none of the geno-*BLAM*" the batarian's words were cut off as Wrex's shotgun blew a fist sized hole through his chest. The doctor's head turned slowly towards the krogan, but his eyes were already glazing over, and he slumped wetly to the floor.
With the skill of a krogan that had done this before, he then trashed the lab, making sure the computers were in such a state that any bytes of information that could be gleaned from them would be as close to worthless as possible. The whole job was the work of less than three minutes, and when he left, he took note of the doctor's name, mentally noting that he needed to send a few thousand credits to any family he might have.
The next job was a bit harder, but Wrex was old, and though not as skilled as some, he knew the tricks to tracking the net addresses from the information, to the material plane. This soon gave him a dock number that was in an unused part of Omega, which then got a visitor. He stealthily, for a krogan, made his way into the bay, going in through one of the doors that had not opened the whole time, and then hiding behind one of the metal boxed in front of him, peering over it to find out who was behind this.
The sights in the bay told him instantly. The Terrans. Those giants from the galactic rim were walking everywhere. At least a dozen of them, moving huge pallets of things. From where he stood he could see at least half the bay was loaded with those pallets, and squinting slightly, he could see the symbols on the side. They were eezo canisters. The raw stuff that you could use in just about anything. This much of it must have cost these new bloods a pretty credit, but given what he'd heard, they could afford it.
Just as he was getting a plan in his head, the crate he was hiding behind moved. Not slowly, but like a truck, and thanks to the way he was standing, it clipped him in the jaw hard, causing him to fall back with a grunt. Still, his body allowed for him to roll onto his side as he fell, his hump becoming the center of gravity and spinning him around so it was facing an enemy, while he drew his gun, and on instinct, fired at the crate, causing everything else in the bay froze.
"Ah, Mr. Urdnot, we've been expecting you," said a booming voice from above, and Wrex took a look to find his shot hadn't even dented the crate in front of him. It had scuffed it a bit, but damaging it was beyond his weapon. Then he looked up. And up. And up a bit more, until his eyes met those of a Terran. What he had mistaken for a crate of goods was in fact, the armored foot of this giant, who wore no helmet, leaving her face exposed, and revealing that asari like skin, which was brown rather than blue, though it had green hair atop its soft face.
"Ladies, I believe this is your cue," she said, and the nearby ship opened a small hatch, out of which soon came the four priestesses, who made their way as quickly as decorum would allow to the side of the bay with Urdnot and the Terran woman.
"Thank you, Claudia. If you could, we'd like a few moments alone with him," asked one of the red robes, and the Terran woman nodded, carefully stepping over the four of them, and then clapping her hands at the others of her kind.
"You heard her! Everyone back in the ship. We'll finish loading once their business is done," the order seemed to snap everyone out of the dormant state they'd been in since the shots, and everyone piled back into the ship, the door seal shut behind them, leaving the five krogan's standing there, staring at one another.
"So, you got in with the newbies?" asked Wrex finally, and the black robed female shook her head.
"Originally, we were with Guld's group. While most of us knew it was a losing proposition, it was better to die in a final glorious stand against our enemies, than simply fade away into nothing," she answered, a good krogan answer too.
"So then how did this come about?" he asked, gesturing towards the ship with his hand.
"We were caught, by a batarian raiding party that had slipped through the turians' defensive fleet over homeworld, and then were being dragged off to slave camps along with a hundred of our defenders. The slavers were trying to keep clear of those patrols, and got a bit too close to Terran space, and the Terrans were quick to capture their ship, along with most of the crew," this came from the red, and Wrex stroked his chin a bit at the mental image of it.
"You were in the forward hold, where they kept the good slaves. The others were in the rear, and got spaced at the first sign of trouble," he said this as fact, and even through the masks the priestesses wore, he could see a dark shadow cross their as as he spoke. It was the slavers standard operating procedure. Even if the bodies were recovered, the batarians would claim they were a medical transport, and a seal had blown out when they stopped for the patrol ships.
"The Terrans took the bridge staff, and executed them. Not slowly either. It seems they have little love for slavers," this last was said by one of the greens with a bit of admiration in her voice. Good, the krogan tended to hate slavers too. Power over another should be earned, not bought.
"That was four months ago. We were told the surviving batarians would be the first prisoners of the Ward, some prison planet they were setting up. They then offered us a choice. Return to Tuchanka, be simply four voices against the encroaching darkness, or be something more. A flare of light that could send that darkness scurrying away forever," as she spoke, the one in the black robes pulled out another ampule, and filled it with her blood again. Wrex, interested, just watched as she did this.
"Over these last few months, they tested us, observing and recording how the genophage worked. Within a month, thanks to those cloning tubes of theirs, they'd discovered a way to cure us. Two weeks ago, they had made it so not only were we immune to reinfection along the same vectors, but that we could do this," and with that she whipped her hand out, stabbing the ampule into Wrex's hand, and causing the battlemaster to wince as the blood went into him, while his free hand went to his shotgun, only to pause as it touched the handle, and realize that he was about to shoot a holy woman who was the hope of his people.
"Heh, you're getting slow, Battlemaster Urdnot. Two centuries ago you would have been able to dodge that," she said as she withdrew the ampule back into her robe, and let Wrex rub his hand against the numbness it felt.
"What did you do to me?" he demanded.
"You are, or will be within the hour, cured of the salarians' great weapon. Sadly the curative properties are one of the few things not passed on," she answered, and he stopped rubbing at his hand as he stared at it. A cure...not just a female fertile again who could become the mother of a new generation of krogan as he had expected, but something that could undo the damages they had suffered so long ago. Something that would make them a great power again. That thought had never even crossed his mind in all his wishes for the future.
"Why?" was his next question, as he continued to stare at that hand, dreading taking his eyes off it that he might awaken from this dream, and find it all a fiction.
"Why did they do this? I will be honest, I don't know. The Terrans are masters of genetic engineering, those cloning pods of theirs allowed them to do in weeks what should have taken decades, if not centuries. In all that time, they were only kind to us, never did they ask anything for what they did. It was only seven days ago that one of them laid out their plan," said the one in the red robes.
"And what plan do they have in mind?" he asked, thinking over everything the krogan's could offer for such a prize, and always coming back to the same thought. The Terrans were better. Stronger, faster, smarter obviously considering this cure. No resource the krogan had could ever match something the Terrans did better, so what possible payment could they offer.
"They simply want us to be more than what we are," she told him, and Wrex looked at her like she'd just said the sky was full of tables. That line of thought didn't follow through to any logical conclusion he could make.
"In the fifteen centuries since we left the homeworld, what has been asked of us? To learn? To build? To be? No, everyone who has asked something of the krogan people has asked one thing. For us to fight. So that is all we have, all we are, now. Before we were uplifted, we created art, forged cities, and made our world beautiful. Now all we are is hired guns, guns that are slowly rusting away, and will be nothing but dust all too soon," this was said by the two greens, trading off each line, like they had rehearsed it, and yet with a sincerity that came from the hearts.
"The Terrans know what that is like. They are the fusion of two races, one as we were before, and one as we are now. They have grown from both sets of experiences. The one who knows how to grow, who knows more than war has taught them to expand their horizons, to go farther with each hour. The one who knows how to fight has made them a unified whole. Their culture acts as a unit, even if they are not a universal military. They know how to grow, and how to do so safely, and now they offer us the chance to join them," said the black robed one at last, and Wrex stood there.
He'd heard a similar story from others, so he believed them, and everything they had done since their arrival said the Terrans meant what they said. They ended the cold war between the geth and the quarians. They refused the war that the Council seemed intent on dragging them into. Heck they'd actually brought a measure of peace to a section of the galaxy that had been lawless before.
"Why come to me then? Why not go right to homeworld and tell them of this? Plenty of young would rally around anyone offering a cure," he asked this, while finally looking up from his hand, and staring into the faces that would give his people a future.
"Because we are spiritual leaders. We can guide our people in the ways of the soul, but this task, breaking a sword so long covered in blood, and turning it into a tool for building, will require a leader of the physical world. They gave us a list of the active battlemasters, those who might lead our people, and of them all, only you have the youth to know how to change, and the age to know wisdom," offered the red, and Wrex nodded, before finally looking towards the ship.
"So, how do we begin?" he inquired, and the four priestesses, despite their masks, could be seen to smile, as the black robed one pressed a button on an omnitool he hadn't even noticed her wearing.
"Claudia?" she asked, as the thing chirped.
"Has he agreed?" came a quick reply from the voice of the Terran woman whose foot he shot before.
"He has, please open the hatch again, and you may resume loading the last of the supplies," she answered, the small and large hatches of the transport opening. Wrex felt the shudder of the deck as the Terrans marched out to grab the last few pallets of stored eezo, while that Terran woman came over to where they stood, crouching down so she wasn't quite so towering.
"Mr. Urdnot, we have to make a stop at the Factory, to deliver this eezo, but once we've done that, my ship would be pleased to escort you to Tuchanka. Would that be acceptable? Or would you rather get back on your own?" offered the giantess.
"Heh, might as well travel in style while I can," he said with a smirk, and then let the priestesses guide him towards the opening for them, while Claudia rose and began directing her people on where to place their loads.
"So, what do I call the four of you?" he asked as they walked up the ramp.
"We gave up our names when we donned the holy garb to lead the souls of our people in these dark times. Those names we took after we have given up as well, for we are no longer as we are. We asked the Terrans for names that would fit, and they have given the name Eve to me," said the black robed one.
"My sister and I are Mary and Lilith," offered one of the two clothed in green.
"And I am called Naamah," said the one in red. Wrex nodded at these names. They weren't good, sharp, krogan names, but they fit somehow, for these four who would be the ones to light his people's darkest hour. Still smirking to himself, Wrex walked with the four into the door, joining himself and his people to the fate of the Terrans.