Chapter 24: Asymmetric Information
1.
New people around. Smelled different. Smelled weird. Like baby, except still had less stuff on them. Could go to them. Hanging around old play area. What Food Guardian think of them?
Looked at Food Guardian and Food Guardian said Urz leave alone. Sounded like Leash Holder but more tired. Food Guardian not care about new people? New people not dangerous. Food Guardian do something if new people dangerous.
Urz walked over to new people and Blue Person first to see Urz. Looking at Urz funny, like time Leash Holder found Urz on top of Metal Giant. Other person have stuff on skin bent down and rubbed Urz head. Rubbed hard. Felt good but Urz not sure if should let New Person so close. Other person in darker colours say something and New Person rub harder. New krogan there too. New krogan not come near Urz.
Now more new people come. And old krogan. Urz remember named Wrex. Wrex come up and start saying things. Voice getting louder from new people. Urz not mentioned—nobody see Urz? Urz go back to home and wait for—
Old smell. From new person? In back, away from Wrex. Smell from salarian! No salarian around him in long long time. Salarian been here before? Urz can't remember when. Before Leash Holder leave?
Talking. Talking loud. Not about Urz—can't hear name so far. Urz not in trouble? Good good.
People leaving. Salarian leaving. Urz smelled salarian before—salarian know Urz?
Wonder where going.
Leash Holder not back still…nobody to play in play area.
Urz could follow?
Some of new people and salarian leaving quickly…Urz could follow.
Urz will follow.
Urz sniffed the air one last time and, seeing no one in the camp call him back, bounded up a rocky incline towards the top of the idle tomkah. All tomkah's had an indent towards the top that created a warm, shielded refuge for anything small enough to fit inside—and varren were just the right size.
So Urz nestled into the refuge and was lulled to sleep from the vibrations of the engine. Wherever Mordin was going, Urz would find out soon enough.
2.
Wrex had said something about not wasting a good torture session. So let Wreav and this Uvenk asshole have it out and then prolong their suffering just a bit more, that was the gist of it. Except the moment Jacob and the rest of them got close, Uvenk growled and fucked right off. Wreav did the exact same thing...gave Grunt some kinda look on the way out, but other than that? The torture session was over pretty damn quick.
Would've been a good thing, but now it was just Jacob and the rest, and the only person getting tortured was Jacob. Because that's the only thing that seemed to happen anymore. Good for Cerberus, bad for the middle manager stuck with shit-detail...or, hell, the junior officer that'd pissed the brass off one too many times. Corsair one minute, playing politics with people wearing the same damn uniform the next.
Jacob sighed, shook his head, looked back towards the hovel some people he probably shouldn't trust disappeared into. They'd been taking too long, that's what Jacob thought. 'Course there was another thought in his head that said, any second out of earshot was a second too long, but goddammithe didn't wanna be the babysitter here. Cerberus had enough black marks on its record to bend light around it, but at least it'd never asked him to babysit. Miranda hadn't ever asked him to babysit.
And here he was, babysitting a krogan toddler, a science experiment with a bad haircut, and an asari Monk of Death. And he'd worn an all-black suit on a planet hotter than a fucking afterburner.
Priorities: the main thing he was pissed about was Miranda saddling him with the most unstable people he'd ever met, and then expecting the marginally stable ones (shit that sounded too close to something she'd call them) to not have a secret conference with their old friend right under his nose. Right, yeah, thanks for the assignment: ignore my input left right and centre and then punt me off the ship with no back-up.
All right, so…maybe Joker's comment had gotten to him. Didn't change the fact that a little planning and foresight coulda prevent this whole thing. Coulda kept Jacob back on the ship so he could try to figure out how the hell he was helping Liara without getting shot. Coulda done a lot of things instead of making him be the big bad bureaucrat in front of the war hero krogan.
Great, and now a varren was walking towards them. Maybe it'd rip his throat out and save Jacob some future migraines.
Actually no, he'd just get resurrected into a cyborg. Except he wouldn't have a head or something.
He never used to have these thoughts, y'know? Or at least he never used to have these thoughts so damn frequently.
"Awwww who's a good widdle varren!" Jack said, grabbing this varren by the head and assaulting it with baby-talk. "Is it you? Is it you? Yes it is you widdle monster!"
"He seems attracted to your energy," Samara said.
"The fuck's that mean?" Jack said. "You accusing me of some shit?"
"Not that kind of attraction," Samara said, voice totally even. "I am referring to your deeper essence. This varren must see you as a kindred spirit."
"Good, cuz if you're accusing me of some shit I'll kill Jacob, swear to god."
"Don't do me any favours," Jacob said. He shook his head, watched Jack try to rub the skin off the varren's head. "You have to do that? The thing could have diseases."
Jack looked Jacob dead in the eyes and started rubbing harder.
"Seriously?" Jacob said. "Are we in kindergarten?"
"You're just mad your kindred spirit's a fucking goldfish," Jack said.
"Those things practically live inside dead bodies," Jacob said. "They're not hygienic."
"You're upsetting Grunt," Jack said. "Look at him! Poor guy wanted to keep this as a pet and you're being a total fucking narc."
"What's the point of having a battle area if you only let smaller creatures fight?" Grunt said.
"See?" Jack said. "Guy's having an existential crisis 'cuz of you."
"I quit." Jacob said. "I don't give a shit what happens to me. I quit and I'm telling Miranda straight to her face that she aged me twenty years."
"Jesus, you make it sound like the guy that hired us is gonna blow your head off."
"Yeah. Remind me to give you his address before he does."
A question (did you mean what you just said?) and its half-formed brother (tell Jack who her boss is, let her do her thing, go down swinging, you got the guts Taylor?) ate away at his grey matter just as Wrex and the others emerged from some hole in the wall. That was it—he could make those questions disappear mighty quick, just about the only mental habit of his that made life easier in Cerberus—and now he was focused on getting things back under control again. Hear from Mordin what the plan was, let Wrex and Grunt say what they needed to say, escort Joker back to the ship, then keep an eye on Liara and Samara: Liara because something just didn't sit right with the way she was acting, Samara because she could kill anybody at any second, Jacob was sure of it.
Heh…Liara's acting funny, huh? How's she acting? Like someone hiding secrets? Like someone with an ulterior motive? Jesus, can't have that in Cerberus. Might not know where the illegal black ops stopped and the people with moral restraint started, then.
Shit, that was supposed to be a joke—sure didn't feel like a joke when he ran it through in his mind…
"Best bet to get where you need to go is through Dardak, over there." Wrex was pointing towards a tomkah and a series of tents. "Might as well talk to my Chief Scout before you go, too. He's got a better idea of what's out there than I do."
"Thank you, Wrex," Liara said. "We appreciate everything."
"Might wanna save your thank you's until the end." He turned to Mordin. "Still have an inkling that I need to send someone with you. Promise to behave on me, salarian?"
Mordin didn't look phased. Jesus, tough son-of-a-bitch, wasn't he? Jacob probably woulda needed to change his…everything if Wrex was staring at him like that.
Mordin said: "Job will get done."
Wrex stared some more…then nodded.
Wait, hold on—what the hell was happening? Shit, just one thing after another with these people.
"Mind filling the rest of us in?" Jacob said.
"Mordin's gonna do what he came here to do," Wrex said. "Your boss forget to give you a rundown before you landed?"
"Yeah, sorry, didn't get prepped for a secret meeting," Jacob said, crossing his arms. "Musta left that outta the briefing."
"Admin," Wrex said. "Can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em in the face when they mess up."
"Look," Jacob said, addressing the whole damn lot of them, "you think I like being like this? We had this discussion already. I'm on your side—I just wanna know what the hell's going on. And no, I'm not talking about Dr. Solus's mission here."
Liara looked like she wanted to say something. Mordin looked like he wanted to say something. Joker? He sure as hell looked like he wanted to say something. But it was Wrex—because of course it was—that stepped forward and looked straight down at Jacob.
"I'll spell it out for you. Mordin asked me for information—I gave it to him. Then Liara and Joker and I, we sat back and talked about how our mutual friend—our good mutual friend—just got screwed out of an honorable death by a bunch of morons that've never done a damn thing right. Not once—not in their entire existence. You wanna know why you weren't invited? Because you wouldn't understand. You wanna know why Mordin was included? Because my schedule's trying to murder me and I need to find space where I can. Any questions?"
Jacob tried to stand his ground. He felt like it was working. Nobody was laughing at him, anyways.
"Several," Jacob said. "Got time in your schedule to answer them?"
"Depends," Wrex said. "Where'd Uvenk and my idiot brood-brother go?"
"Fucked off the moment we showed up."
"Sounds about right. Ask your questions, human. Just don't whine about the answers."
"You telling the truth just then?"
"That it? Yeah, the whole truth and nothing but, 'Company Man.' Don't believe me, I'd take it up with your crew. They're the ones that've got to live with you. My getting pissed at you doesn't really affect your life—for now, at least."
That it? Yeah…yeah that was it. What the hell was he supposed to ask? Not like there was any way to threaten the truth out of Wrex anyways. So…that was it.
"Fine," Jacob said, taking a step back from Wrex. He looked over the krogan's arm, back towards the rest of the…whatever Liara's group was. "Mordin, you ready to go?"
"Yes," Mordin said.
"Great, then let's get this over with." Jacob started towards the tents and the tomkah but stopped when he realized nobody was following him.
"Ah…unsure if you were joining," Mordin said. "Happy to include you—surprised, not disappointed."
"Not like Joker's gonna be much help," Jacob said, arms still crossed.
"Wow," Joker said, "careful you don't pull something reaching for all that low hanging fruit."
"Who else," Liara said, holding her hands up, "is coming with us? Everyone or no one, it really doesn't matter. We should just start moving quickly so we're not behind schedule."
"I will join you," Samara said.
"Of course," Liara said.
"Sounds boring as shit," Jack said. "No offense doc."
"Might…surprise you," Mordin said. "Mm, nonetheless, four should be sufficient. Require…delicate touch. Discretion important for…student's sake."
"Wow, sucked the fun outta it even more," Jack said. She looked at Grunt. "Whaddabout you, big guy? Feel like a stealth mission?"
Grunt, err, grunted. "No."
"Kid makes a good point," Jack said.
"In that case," Wrex said, stepping closer to Grunt, "let's have our talk. So long as Uvenk and Wreav are gone, we might actually get some quiet."
Grunt stared, then stared some more, then grunted—again. That seemed to be a yes, or at least everyone was treating it that way. Liara and Mordin and Samara were heading towards the tends, so Jacob followed. He heard Jack ask where the hell the varren went and, looking back, saw her following Grunt and Wrex. And then that was it: they said what they needed to say to the mechanic and were soon inside a tomkah, which smelled like rotten meat and looked like every corner inside was designed to gorge your eye out.
They road into the wastelands of Tuchanka and, all the while, Mordin looked nervous as hell.
Jacob started feeling that way too. Since when did someone like Mordin ever look nervous?
Shit, so much for Jack saying this was gonna be boring…
3.
Wrex and Grunt were going to have their talk, since talking was all Wrex did these days. That wasn't a complaint—that was Wrex giving his instincts a direct order. Ripping heads off whoever gave you the biggest headache? That wasn't how things were done anymore, not in Urdnot territory.
He'd pretty much said that, back in his hovel—after he'd given two old friends a quick look at how he'd managed these past two years. Joker said he'd expected more bodies in the streets, a group of kids having a shotgun fight just before lunch, something like that. Wrex had to laugh, but he couldn't help it: the laugh was bitter. Too many people with big fleets and even bigger economies had the same expectations; and if winning over the other Clans on Tuchanka was difficult, convincing the rest of the galaxy to not send in the WMD's the moment the krogan started looking more unified than a pack of headless pyjaks might as well've been written off as impossible.
"The other clans," Liara had said, after Wrex told everyone that Clan Urdnot was trying out a different look, "are you making any headway with them?"
"You mean," Wrex said, "does anybody else let you cross the street without aiming a gun at your head? A few." He looked out towards where his makeshift throne sat, in the open and as vulnerable as a damn peace treaty. "Too few. We get ambassadors from other clans every now and again, but you can't tell who's serious and who's just surveying our defenses."
"Assume other Battlemaster outside one of these…'ambassadors', correct?" Mordin said.
"Clan leader, actually. Pretty vocal that I'm an idiot, too." Wrex shook his head. "I may be an idiot, but he just handed me a year's worth of legitimacy-building on a platter by coming here to talk. Still, gotta keep an eye on him. I'm hoping the Cerberus folks out there can at least do that right."
"Shepard would be proud of everything you've done, Wrex." Liara placed a hand on his shoulder and offered a sincere smile, which he guessed had been a rare thing indeed these last two years.
Wrex blinked and, for just a second, let himself look as old as he felt. "Just paying her back, for spending all that time listening to me bitch." Like a snapping spring, out went the exhaustion. "Speaking of bitching, the guards out there are gonna give it to me in spades if I'm not around to hold the 'dignitaries' attention. More important than that, our Female Clan leader wanted to speak with me at some point. Last thing I want to do is keep her waiting."
"Ah, was…unaware krogan females had that level of power," Mordin said.
"Big surprise there," Wrex said. "The Female Clans do more heavy lifting than anyone. The ones allied with Clan Urdnot, they came up with the idea to be the…what's the human term, the vegetable and the stick in the hopes enough warlords would stop killing each other and notice the neutral zone we put together. Most important part of my job, is to lure enough traditionalists in that when they peak behind the curtain, they choke on their own cognitive dissonance."
"Fascinating," Mordin said. "Highly complex system of cooperation. Many moving parts, variables. Had…no idea krogan politics had changed so rapidly."
"Mmm, stick around long enough, you might just see it in action." Wrex moved closer to Mordin and lowered his voice enough that the rocks started shaking. "Of course, that'll all depend on what exactly you're on Tuchanka to do, salarian."
Everyone paused, held their breath, acted like he was gonna tear someone's face off if he didn't hear something he liked. Maybe that was just projecting on his part, but even that A.I. looked like she was waiting for a gun to get pulled.
Then, eventually, they filled him in. On Mordin's missing student. On the fact the Blood Pack had him. On the sneaking suspicion that terrible things were happening to this…Maelon right now, right this very instance, if he wasn't already dead from the trauma.
What they'd noticeably left out? The reason why Maelon was on Tuchanka in the first place.
"I'm going to give you all the benefit of the doubt," Wrex said, looking at Joker and Liara and nobody else, "that neither of you know why Maelon's here either. And I'm going to give the rest of you," this time he looked at Mordin, mostly, but also at EDI, "the assumption that you'll tell me if I ask politely."
Wrex kept his eyes on Mordin…and Mordin kept his eyes on Wrex. Wasn't easy to read this salarian doctor, and you couldn't accuse Wrex of not trying. That resolve, it was almost impressive. But there was a crack, and give it enough time…
Yeah, there we go. The salarian's shoulders slumped just slightly and his eyes darted away from Wrex, over to Joker and Liara and EDI.
"Rest of crew…unaware. Not keeping secrets. Omissions entirely my own."
"I'd expect nothing less from STG," Wrex said.
Heh, if only he had a picture of Mordin's face…
"Ah, STG affiliation—"
"Save it, doc. I'm sure you're a great liar the rest of the time, but even you have to know that was an easy guess. An alien? Working for Cerberus? With no prior connection to Shepard? If a racist is gonna swallow their hate and work with big-eyed monsters, they'll only do it for the best of the best." Wrex's eyes narrowed. "That who you are? The best of the best?"
And, like that, the crack disappeared. Hell, credit where credit was due, this pyjak was a tough bastard.
"Yes," Mordin said. "Top of field. Well-regarded. Compiled varied service record. Near top h-score of field. Had to be me, someone else could have gotten it wrong."
"And what would other people have gotten wrong, salarian?"
It was here, Wrex knew, where the universe could do in one of two ways. He could push and push and push, make Mordin squirm until he up and said what Wrex knew was the truth. Or…he could hold off. Not because that was the right thing to do; not because that was the kind thing to do. Because the Female Clan Leader and he, they knew things…but they didn't know everything. And right now, in this dust-filled hovel, there were people he trusted that could see a mission through, if he just wound them up and let them out into the world…
…except two of these people were dear friends, who'd come to him in a time of need. And he'd just told them, he'd just said, that he went through life asking himself: What Would Shepard D—
"It's a promise, Wrex. I'm not going to let you down."
"It's not you—it's everyone else."
Hell, why'd the krogan have to be perfect just to get a fair shot in this galaxy?
Before Mordin could say anything, Wrex sighed and shook his head.
"Just tell me this, salarian: what's a successful mission look like to you?"
"…beg pardon?" Mordin said.
"What do you call a success? Less guys dead on your side than your enemy's? Getting to see the balance of power shift in a friendly direction? A big shiny gold star on your desk?"
Mordin just blinked.
"Dr. Solus has committed a considerable amount of our discussions to moral philosophy and the intrinsic value of life," EDI said, blasting blue and orange from Joker's omni-tool. "I do not believe that he is singularly committed to outcomes, beyond whether those intrinsic values have been preserved."
Mordin looked over at EDI…and again, Wrex couldn't get a read on him.
"This is merely my observation. I do not wish to speak for him; I only wish to offer my opinion on the matter."
"Opinion…greatly appreciated, EDI," Mordin said. But he refused to look at Wrex. If anything, it didn't even look like he was looking at EDI anymore.
So there went that plan, trying to figure out how this mission would end if Mordin got taken off his leash.
Wrex sighed again. There were people he trusted on this mission…and that'd have to be good enough.
Even if he'd have to ask himself the same questions he just asked Mordin once it was all said and done.
Wrex told them, then, a bit of what he knew. He told them that if it was Blood Pack? It was probably Weyrloc—his Chief Scout had seen a few things happening at their camp. If they wanted out of Urdnot territory, they'd need a tomkah—and as luck would have it, Clan Urdnot had a tomkah to spare.
And then Jacob was added to the team and the bald one with an attitude decided she couldn't be bothered, and that left Wrex and her and the whelp.
The welp…this talk better distract him long enough to get a bearing on things again. If nothing else, it'd be a hell of a lot simpler talking to this "Grunt" than the conversation he'd just left. He could tell from the way the whelp moved: he was looking to kill something but didn't understand why.
So there they all were, standing around Wrex's throne, as guards and merchants and krogan just milling about tried their best to look like they weren't watching.
"So," Wrex said. "Where are you from…'Grunt'? Was your Clan destroyed before you could learn what's expected of you?"
"The fuck's that got to do with anything?" the bald one—Jack—said.
"I have no clan," Grunt said. "I was tank-bred by Warlord Okeer, my bloodline distilled from—"
"What the fuck d'you mean expected? Nobody should be expecting shit from Grunt."
Wrex held up his hand. Woman had the spirit of a krogan, he'd give her that. Not that that was always a compliment, mind you.
"Okeer, huh? That's a very old name…a very hated name. And as for expectations," he turned his head to directly address Jack, "Clan life is essential for a krogan's survival. That life has always come with responsibilities, even when we're at our most violent. Especially when we're at our most violent."
"Thought being the biggest motherfucker around was all you needed," Jack said. "You sure you're not just tying people down to pull one over on them? Because I've seen this song and dance before and, lemme tell you, that's what happens—one-hundred percent of the time."
Yeah…spirit of a krogan, all right.
"Ever try maintaining a bloodline without a partner?" Wrex said. "Besides, going through life assuming all you need are muscles and a big gun? That won't get you anywhere except an early grave. Tuchanka's a constant war for survival, and refusing an advantage just to massage your ego gets beaten out of you real fast. An advantage like having someone around to stick your arm back together after a thresher maw's acid ate through it? Give it time, and an arrangement like that might turn into something like a clan, maybe even a functional one if you're lucky." He turned to look at Grunt again. "What's expected of a whelp is, know who to shadow when you're not sure what's going on. Who's been your shadow, whelp?"
"Hey, how about you stop calling him that, huh?" Jack said.
"Been shadowing her?" Wrex said. "Could do worse. Not sure you're getting all the right lessons, though."
"Okeer implanted…images in me." Grunt scratched at his head. "But I'm always…looking at them from a distance. They have no meaning for me. I need to kill…but I don't know why."
Wrex shook his head. "Okeer…looks like today's just a parade of people who can't even dress themselves without screwing up."
"So what?" Jack said. "He's fucked in the head, that what you're saying? Because I'll tell you what's fucked, buddy. I'll—"
"He's just becoming a full adult," Wrex said. "Every krogan in existence gets like this at one point or another. Granted, Okeer probably had plans to make this process smoother."
"Okeer is dead," Grunt said. "Miranda won't tell me why."
"Probably because she did it herself. Remind me to wear a helmet if I ever get the pleasure of meeting her." Wrex looked Grunt over one last time, then sat back on his throne. "Krogan go through a Rite of Passage. It focuses them, gives them context, tests them. But having a krantt, is a requirement. Who's your krantt, Grunt?"
"What the hell's that?" Jack said.
"It means your most trusted allies," Grunt said. "Those willing to kill or die in your honor."
"Shit, nobody thinks a krogan kid can kill by themselves?"
"Killing's not the hard part," Wrex said. "Your krantt is there for everything else."
"'I have a krantt because I am strong, and I am strong because I have a krantt,'" Grunt said.
"Quoting Shiagur? Good start." Wrex looked at Jack. "If you survive the trials with your krantt, it means two things: one, you're tough enough to survive whatever Tuchanka throws at you, and two, you know how to surround yourself with good people. The smart ones, show their value to elders, so they can be taught the mistakes of the past and learn to be better. The dead ones bring pack mules."
"Hell, if I get to finally kill something, count me in," Jack said.
"You're not an elder," Grunt said.
"What, afraid you can't keep up?"
"I'm already liking what I'm hearing," Wrex said. He looked at Jack. "From Grunt, not from you." Back to Grunt. "You've got my blessing to talk to the Shaman, get the process started whenever you want. But you'll have to search around camp for your krantt. If I force anyone to go with you, that defeats the purpose…and you'll probably end up dead, along with one of my clan." And now, back to Jack. "You're welcome to go with—pretty sure you'll kill for Grunt's honor, no problem—but most bring a party of four."
"What about you?" Grunt said.
"Unfortunately, I'm needed elsewhere."
"Getting soft on that throne, ain't ya?" Jack said.
Wrex's eyes narrowed. "Believe me, I'd rather face down a thousand thresher maws than deal with politics. But that's not a choice I get to make anymore."
Jack eyed him for a few seconds…and then just smirked.
"Y'know what? I respect that. Takes a lot for a warrior to sit in front of politicians all day and not kill themselves."
Wrex let out the tiniest possible chuckle. "Yeah, thinking of giving myself a medal for it."
"Why are you helping me?" Grunt said. "I'm not in your clan. I'm not staying on this planet."
"Good," Jack said. "I mean…your choice but, fuck, the ship'd be hell if you left me alone up there."
Why? Because even people who didn't believe in karma sometimes figured they should balance the scales, right?
Wrex shook his head. "Some things you have to do, just on principle." He looked off into the distance, out where the other clans lay watching, waiting for his dream to crumble under the weight of reality.
"Besides," he said eventually, "it'll piss people off. It's the simple things in life, sometimes."
"Amen to that," Jack said.
Grunt looked at Wrex for a long, long time…but, eventually, he and Jack were off to into the crowd, looking for a krantt.
Wrex leaned back in his throne.
Shepard returned his smile. "They could try putting themselves in your shoes—that sometimes works."
"For a manipulative bastard, you've got a pretty big heart."
Shepard's smile vanished. "I—Wrex, no. I wasn't trying to manipulate you. What I wanted—the only thing on my mind—was for you to know I'm serious."
And Wrex looked at that serious face, contrasted it with the smile she'd worn not two seconds earlier, and…yeah. He'd thought: yeah, all right Shepard, all right. He reached out his hand and the two shook, as strong and violent as two krogan.
"Won't ever doubt it again," he said.
The thing was, he believed her. And what he didn't tell Liara and Joker was, every time he asked himself what Shepard would do, he'd always be hit with the same follow-up question:
How the hell did Shepard do it?
4.
Shaking…shaking…still warm. Leaving warm hurt. Urz stay where no stinging happening. Urz stay…
?
Urz sort of smell new people and salarian. Sort of…couldn't smell them inside of Metal Giant. Could smell them now?
Air stinging and paws hurt on ground but smell there and Urz need to follow. Need to know where salarian from. No no no smell to faint! Smell gone! Salarian leave and Urz not no wait smell back smell just left with big air burst.
Smell still faint, though. Salarian move far? Need to find salarian.
?
New smells. Meat, meat everywhere. Some smell like Screechers. Some screechers burnt. Can't smell salarian anymore too many smells need to…smell back, okay, keep following smell.
Yes smell getting stronger! Salarian not move so fast after all!
?
Something else here. Smell…smell bad. Feels bad to smell this. Give Urz headache.
No, Urz back hurt too. Like someone…like someone taking piece of wire and hitting Urz with—
Urz stopped, stared ahead, and then started to growl. There was a second smell here, all right.
And he'd kill it if he found it.
5.
All four of them—Jacob, Liara, Samara, and, of course, Mordin—exited the tomkah, some with more grace than others. The driver had told them that nobody with any self-preservation instincts went crawling around in tunnels with something as loud and heavy as a tomkah, so that was it—use your damn legs and don't expect a quick pick-up if things started going wrong. They watched the tomkah speed off down a highway littered with craters big enough to house a family, or at least they tried—the wind was flinging razor blades right into their retinas.
"Should we be wearing masks?" Jacob said over the wind. It took a second but eventually everyone else managed to decipher what he said.
"Unnecessary!" Mordin said. "Entrance to enclosed space just ahead. Avoid looking into wind to maintain eye-integrity!"
"So this shit's not radioactive?"
"Relative to which baseline?"
"Never mind! Forget I asked!"
They made it into the tunnel, but Liara stopped at the entrance, watching the wind swarm around the concrete tube as it carried Goddess knows what in its grasp. She looked through that storm of particulates and saw, with better clarity than was afforded in the soot-covered tomkah, the skyline of a Tuchanka city. What was left of the skyline of a Tuchanka city.
Some of the buildings were truly massive, an honest monument to the krogan's civil engineering acumen. But they were monuments in a very literal sense, now; they captured an alien past like statues in a forgotten temple, or corpses long-since plucked to the bone by scavengers and the march of time, each telling stories in a language that no one alive could speak. Or…no, no that wasn't true: many krogan who had survived the Rebellions were still alive today. Wrex was one of them! Was she so willing to sink to the prejudices her people held against the krogan that she'd forget how long-lived one of her dearest friends was? Plenty of people could speak the language of these monuments; they could tell of the horrible stories with firsthand experience.
She'd been told she was too young to understand the Krogan Rebellions, once—not by her mother, thank the Goddess, but by a faculty member. Tell me this, Professor: In the field of archeology, how often was it that you could find an ancient structure, buried and forgotten in a hostile landscape, and still talk to its designer? For so many other species all you could do was construct theories and test the hypotheses they produced; but the krogan could be spoken to. Don't tell me I don't understand when you refuse to listen to—
Oh…Professor Solus was standing next to her, or just a little bit aways from her. He was looking out over the Tuchanka landscape too, at the corpses of buildings and roads and the swirling dust clouds in a brown-green sky. He looked deeper in thought than she had been.
Of course he would be. Yes it…it had slipped her mind, with everything going on—meeting Wrex, reminiscing, discussing…discussing Cerberus, yes, she'd forgotten why Mordin wanted to be here—but of course he'd be deeper in thought than her.
In all this time…she'd never actually confirmed if he felt any guilt.
"It's remarkable how many of these buildings survived the Rebellions," Liara said. She moved a bit closer to Mordin, who hadn't looked away from the horizon yet, his chin resting in his hands. "And to see how many are still standing, a thousand years later, after being left in this state is…well, as morbid as it might sound, you have to admit that the krogan's architecture matches their stature as warriors, don't you?"
"Many scars predate first contact," Mordin said. He didn't turn around to look at Liara. "Cities near uninhabitable. Agriculture impossible. Water diminishing rapidly. Immigration to colonies happened rapidly after interactions with early salarian crews. Few stayed behind." His eyes narrowed. "Fewer still survived being left behind."
Liara blinked. "I…thought for sure that krogan infrastructure was repaired. Surely some areas saw repairs."
"Some did. Shroud Facility one of them. Seen as waste of resources to redevelop Tuchanka—by Citadel and krogan. Focus elsewhere."
"As in, the Citadel prioritized arming them, rather than housing them."
Mordin breathed in, then out. "Yes."
"And you agree with this?"
Finally, Mordin turned to her. "No choice."
"You weren't born yet, I understand. But—"
"Misunderstand. No choice. Putting self in shoes of decision-makers at the time. Rachni priority—need army, settlements…too logistically tricky. No time. Present offer of colonies, arms, target to attack. Understandable most krogan agreed."
"Why? Because that's all they know? Because they're brutes? Is that what you're getting at, Professor?"
Mordin's eyes narrowed further. "Deliberate manipulation of words. Krogan on verge of extinction—needed purpose, needed rescue. Galactic politics tit-for-tat, require something from krogan in order to justify giving something to krogan. Solution imperfect, but decision-making under duress frequently imperfect. Did what they had to do; negative consequences bound to follow after any choice."
"Negative consequences," Liara said, "like the Krogan Rebellions?"
Mordin took another breath. But he looked Liara directly in the eyes, more defiant than she'd ever seen. "Yes," he said.
And…she'd gotten her answer, hadn't she? Mordin's logic was: the rachni—that aggressive and destructive insectoid race marching across the galaxy—needed to be met by an equally aggressive and destructive race in desperate need of Council aid. That aid could entice them to fight, and any questions about how or where the krogan lived could be answered when we were sure that the galaxy wasn't overrun. But then the krogan wanted answers about their living situation, and that aggression that was previously praised turned into just another threat the Council had to put down. What happened next—the Rebellions, the genophage, the mission to the Shroud—may or may not have been bad, but bad things would have emerged from any action in that situation. So just accept it, was that the subtext? Or did he truly believe, with no thoughts to the contrary, that his actions—his decisions—led to the best of all possible worlds?
He still looked defiant. Yes, yes Liara had her answer.
She had another question to ask, though.
"You mentioned the rachni—did word of what happened on Peak 15 make it to STG? Did the Council ever tell you what Shepard found there?"
Mordin's eyes changed. They looked curious, apprehensive, vulnerable.
"We—I was there too, as was my mother—we found a rachni queen. Do you know what she told us?"
Even more curious, even more apprehensive.
"She, the queen, she told us she couldn't remember the reasons why the rachni went to war. Despite having a highly advanced genetic memory, she couldn't remember there being any innate desire to destroy. All she could remember were 'oily shadows' forcing all the rachni to sing the same sour yellow note. That sounded to Shepard like brainwashing; I happen to agree."
Mordin was standing there, anticipating a blow, unsure of how it would strike but knowing that it would.
"How many violent, irredeemable monsters are just victims of manipulation, Professor Solus? Do we know? Can we know? Or did we silence them before we could learn anything?"
Mordin went to say something—he wanted to say something—but he didn't. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Then he just stared at her before slowly, like he'd aged an infinite amount during these few short minutes of talking, turning towards the horizon again.
Yes…yes that would do. She hadn't meant to jump down his throat necessarily but…but it was deserved, wasn't it? And to think he was dragging his feet on the issue of Cerberus (irredeemable monsters destroying silencing what do you want Liara what do you want no shut up shut up SHUT UP) despite all the things he'd tried to argue. And—
Oh by the Goddess Samara had been watching them this entire time.
And then she saw (heard, first, then saw) Jacob come bounding out of the blackness of the tunnel.
"What the fuck? I've been shooting at vorcha for ten minutes and you three haven't even moved yet?"
"Apologies, Jacob," Liara said, starting towards him. "We're just collecting our thoughts."
"Fine, yeah, whatever. Look this isn't my mission, but c'mon, I don't wanna be here any longer than necessary, got it?"
They stopped, turned back, and looked at Mordin. It took another minute for him to turn around and start walking.
"Ready," he said as we passed them by.
"Great, glad that was in doubt for a second there," Jacob said.
He took off after Mordin and left Liara and Samara alone. Liara looked at Samara, Samara looked at Liara.
"You attempted to destroy him," Samara said.
"I said what needed to be said."
She took off down the tunnel too, towards where Jacob had said he'd engaged with vorcha, refusing to think any more about what she'd said to Mordin until after the mission was over.
Wrex was not a monster; he couldn't be a monster. And if Mordin was going to treat him like one, then Liara would step in where Wrex was politically unable to tread.
No other friend would be lost to the darkness swallowing the universe.
6.
"YO! ANYONE WANNA JOIN OUR KRANTT? THE FUCK YOU LOOKING AT—WANNA JOIN OUR KRANTT? Pussy, bet he stuffs his hump."
Jack'd been doing this for what felt like fucking hours. And yeah, she knew it hadn't been—but fuck all these krogan around here, all these killing machines, and no action? Not even a bar-brawl? Shit did they even have a bar?
You go to a place where you think you might just feel at home, and what is it? Just like every other place in this fucking galaxy. Wrex better have a good fucking plan, 'cuz otherwise Grunt'd smell "victimhood" and probably run away first chance he got. Sure as shit what she'd do, that's for sure.
Hey, speaking of Grunt—what the hell was he being so quiet for? Jack turned to look at Grunt and all she could see was a deep frown, like somebody'd snuck some fishhooks into his mouth and was using them to hold up a swing set.
"Anybody even lookin' your way?" she said. "Cuz I ain't getting any bites."
Grunt grunted. "This isn't how you get a krantt."
"Says who? What, we're supposed to hire a PR team or some shit?"
"A krantt shows you're respected, that you inspire others to take part in your trials. Wrex said that—so did the tank."
"Hey if shouting out loud that you're not to be fucked with doesn't do that, then you don't need these people." Jack looked over the crowd of milling krogan, all of them shaded by torn tents and roofs made of fallen concrete. "Christ, figured this planet'd teach you a thing or two about other people."
"Why are you still here?"
Jack just about broke her neck, whirling her head to the side like that. "The fuck was that? Go fuck yourself Grunt."
"You keep talking about not needing other people," Grunt said, her comments bouncing off him like he'd turn his shields to max. "If you don't need anyone else, why are you still around me?"
"Because you go where the interesting shit happens. Duh."
"You don't think I'm weak? You don't think I'm not strong enough to be on my own, like you're supposed to be?"
"Jesus, it's because you're young as shit," Jack said. "Gut says, you'll be a fun asshole to hang around, but only once you get used to ripping fuckers in half. So what'm I supposed to do—wait until you find fucking murder Nirvana on your own? Shit, Miranda thinks the universe is imploding or something in like two weeks—I ain't got that kinda time."
She could hear her pulse in her head, the asshole. What the fuck did he care? Again with this shit: weren't krogan supposed to shoot first ask questions whenever the fuck they got down from their blood rage? Coulda just taken the fucking compliment when she said he did the interesting shit and left it there, but nope—had to start cracking open cans of fucking worms like everybody else in the universe. And…
…shit, was Grunt saying that 'cuz he was judging her? She wasn't looking when he asked that—what was his face doing?
Ah fuck, was he being serious? Fucking hell, she didn't need this shit.
"That clear things up?" Jack said. "You got some learning to do. So I'll stick around until you can take the training wheels off. Then I'll get you laid—it'll be great."
"Minus that last part," a voice said from behind her, "you've managed to describe a krantt fairly well. Not bad…for an alien."
Jack and Grunt saw some massive krogan in silver and brown armour come trundling up their way, and…shit this guy looked familiar. Was he around Wrex earlier?
"Wreav," Grunt said. "Wrex told us to bother you."
Wreav, right. That guy. Did he matter?
Wreav spat on the ground so, great, some memories were getting jogged. Wrex and Wreav must've gotten along real swell.
"That idiot would, wouldn't he?" He stopped in front of Grunt, but gave Jack a sideways glance on the way there. "And let me guess: he gave you permission to take on the Rite? That's a dangerous idea: most krogan here don't look kindly upon tank-breds."
"Is that why nobody's come up to me yet?" Grunt said.
Jack might as well've spat, too.
"Jesus Grunt—guy's winding you up! That was a fucking insult, so you gonna take it?"
Wreav put his hands up like he was blocking a punch. "Normally, your alien would be right. A krogan born from a tank is a krogan born free from what makes us strong: the fight in the womb."
"Oh Jesus H. Fuck," Jack said.
"But you? I think you might be an opportunity. What did Okeer want from you? What was his…master plan?"
"Fucking world peace—whaddya think it was?"
"Quiet," Grunt said. And…all right, shit. Fine. Be that way. Guy wants something from you but, whatever, gotta knock the training wheels off eventually. Asshole.
"A good, commanding tone," Wreav said. "So what was it, tank-bred? What kind of future did Okeer see in you?"
"Okeer saw me conquering the genophage. He said, with me, the krogan would ignore it—laugh in its face."
"Interesting," Wreav said. "How?"
"By being strong enough that numbers wouldn't matter." Grunt shook his head. "There's no sense in that. He kept saying the krogan used to be stronger, that the newborns are coddled—weak. But the krogan of old preached of krantts, of amplifying strength with the strength of others equally worthy. I can't make sense of it."
"You're not supposed to," Wreav said. "Okeer accepts what makes the krogan strong, but believes it can be recreated in a lab. He's a bigger fool than Wrex—your teachings, whatever they might be, are faulty."
"I haven't been tested yet."
"Correct. If you complete the Rite, however, you will be. In ways you or your alien can't begin to comprehend."
"Wanna take a bet on how much I can fucking comprehend?" Jack said.
Wreav though? Wreav just chuckled. "I am taking a bet. I'm betting that whatever Okeer thinks you'll accomplish, it needs to be seen to be believed. And if nobody else is willing to see it? Then I'd be a fool not to put my name forward."
"You?" Grunt said. "You'd be my krantt?"
Jack swore she saw Wreav wince.
"I will," he said. "And I guarantee, you won't need another person with me around."
"He's got another person, asswipe," Jack said.
Grunt looked at her and…she couldn't read his face. Fuck, did he get a poker face all of a sudden? Is that why she couldn't remember shit from when he asked if he was weak?
She still couldn't read his face when he eventually said, "Jack is already part of my krantt. You said so yourself."
Wreav sighed. "I said something like that, I guess. Fine—the Shaman will probably be happier with three of us anyways. Especially if he's heard a tank-bred is on his way."
"Yeah, about that," Jack said. "How the hell'd you find out what Grunt is?"
Wreav's face? Oh, Jack could read Wreav's face just fine. Fucker was grinning. Might as well've been cackling while he was doing that.
With his massive grin Wreav said: "Maybe Wrex isn't as quiet as he likes to think? That make sense to you?"
Wreav started walking and Grunt followed suit, and all the while Jack was looking for some sign that Grunt understood what was going on.
Fucker. Fucker. Stupid fucking poker face…
7.
Through the dust and the harsh yellow light of Aralakh, she came. The leader of Urdnot's Female Clan, Urdnot Drixxia, flanked by two guards. Only two guards, huh? Well…it was an improvement. Used to be, the Female Clan would send as many as ten—not that Wrex could blame them, given what'd happened before Female Clans clawed their way into existence. Still, at least it seemed like they were given Wrex a shot now. Didn't think he was gonna start taking hostages until Urdnot reabsorbed the Female Clan, or at least he hoped that was the case.
The guards stopped by Wrex's guards and Drixxia went the rest of the way on her own.
"Wrex," she said.
"Drixxia," he said. "How's the walk?"
"Less klixen than normal. That could mean anything."
"Hopefully it means we've got less klixen than normal." He motioned to his hovel. "Inside or outside?"
"Inside. Not everything I have to share is suitable for all ears."
"Mmph, figures. Appreciate you not bringing a whole army this time."
"Don't read into it too much," Drixxia said. "We're running low on volunteers."
Mmph. She could say that, but Wrex was gonna read into it a lot. This thing wasn't gonna work if he didn't do that.
There were eyes watching them move. Everyone one of them probably had a checklist of all the times it looked like Wrex's plans were backfiring. No wonder politicians were scum of the galaxy; living a political life, that wasn't any way to treat an animal.
Once they were inside Wrex's hovel, Drixxia said, "What's new in the camp?"
"Too damn much," Wrex said. He took a stone seat and offered one to Drixxia. "Some old friends stopped by—we'll get to that—and we're being haunted by Okeer's ghost."
Drixxia took her seat. "Okeer? He's dead?"
"Yeah. His tank-bred experiment, though, isn't. And he's in my camp."
"Tank-bred?"
"I didn't get the details," Wrex said. "Sounds like Okeer though, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, sounds like him." Drixxia reached into a pouch on her armour and pulled out a bottle. "Ryncol?"
"Uh-oh."
"I owe you for last time."
"This isn't you getting me drunk before you drop a building on me?"
"I don't have explosives."
"I meant metaphorically. As in, bad news."
"I know—I was playing along." Drixxia placed the bottle on a near-by table. "I expect you know how to moderate yourself when we're having discussions like this."
Wrex shifted in his seat. "You know the really terrible thing about being a politician? There're about fifty different ways I could interpret that sentence—anything from the way I run things in the camp to the whole vision we scraped together. If I was back killing people for credits, all I'd have to assume, is you were talking about alcohol."
"I was talking about alcohol."
"I know."
"I'm as blunt as I can be with the politics stuff."
"Yeah…I know." Wrex looked at the bottle, then stood up, snatched it off the table, and hunted around for some glasses. He found one and a small vase that somebody in the Alliance gave him. "Which one do you want?"
Drixxia grabbed the glass so, vase it was. The Alliance logo was faded but you could still see the outline. Who the hell had given…right, it was Ashley.
Ash…wonder how the kid's doing out there…
"What's this about friends of yours?" Drixxia said. Did women have mind-reading powers? Seemed like it, sometimes.
"The friend part, is a long story," Wrex said. He poured the drinks, handed the glass over, then took a sip from his vase. "But they're here for Maelon. And either they don't know why he's on Tuchanka, or they're doing their damndest to prevent me from knowing."
"Some friends."
"Mmph." Wrex took another, much larger sip from his drink. "They're on their way to grab him now."
"So they think he's still alive?"
"One of them sure did. Seems hell-bent on finding him before the Blood Pack break him—at least, that's what he thinks the Blood Pack are bound to do."
"Who's 'he'?"
Wrex finished half his drink, then set it down. "Mordin Solus." He watched Drixxia and, yeah, that got a reaction. "Small universe, huh?"
Drixxia stared at her cup, then downed it. Not a good sign, all things considered.
"Let me guess," Wrex said. "This mixes poorly with your news."
"A test subject escaped from Maelon's camp," Drixxia said. "Made it back our way two nights ago. It's not going well."
"Escaped?" Wrex leaned back in his chair. "Last you told me, this was voluntary."
"It started this way. Then, the deaths got out of control. Now, it isn't anymore."
"And the deaths haven't stopped."
"What we were able to gather, Maelon's getting desperate. Pushing, pushing, pushing—no care for safety protocols or stress tests."
"Is Weyrloc holding a gun to his head?"
"Maybe. Sounds like he's doing that to himself, though."
Wrex leaned forward, then finished off his vase and refilled their drinks. They let the ryncol do its work before taking another drink, staring at the bright green liquid while their brains tried to figure out what the hell was happening.
Drixxia was the first to finish. She put down her drink and said, "Your friends—do they know what Mordin did?"
Wrex stared at the bottom of the vase and, slowly, put it down on the table next to him. "I doubt it. Even if they know why Maelon's here…I doubt it. Except…"
"Except…?"
"Mmm, just a rumor, but one of them—Liara T'Soni, you might've heard of her—apparently she's an information broker now. And if I know Liara, she'd be a damn good one. She might know."
"Did she leak it?"
"Not her style. Anything's possible, but…"
"If not her, then STG must know Maelon's here."
"Yeah. And if STG knows—"
"This is likely a clean-up mission."
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
Wrex leaned back in his seat again. "I'm still trying to get a read on Mordin. Some of the crew that he's working with, they don't see him as that type of person."
"He recreated the genophage," Drixxia said. "If your friends don't think he's capable of something like assassination, then I'm sorry, but they don't know anything."
"Easy…" Wrex said.
Drixxia held up her hands. "I'm just saying, someone capable of doing that, is someone capable of killing a colleague to keep secrets buried."
"My problem is," Wrex said, "that Maelon turned his mind around. Salarians live for four and half seconds: if they're going to change their minds, it'll happen quickly."
"Maelon's also apparently resorted to butchery," Drixxia said. "So maybe he's not the best example."
Wrex sighed. "What now, then? All this being said, what now?"
Drixxia cupped her chin in her hands. She was silent for a while. Wrex thought about grabbing the rest of the ryncol but, movement in front—Drixxia leaned back in her chair just the way Wrex had done earlier.
"I think all you can do is sweat about it."
Up went Wrex's brow. "Hell Drixxia, that's every day for me. This a different kind of sweat?"
"I just mean: from the Female Clan's perspective, if Mordin wipes Maelon out and ends the experiments, then a lot of suffering goes with him. If Maelon's found something, though…"
"How likely's that?"
"No idea. But Mordin might burry the data next to Maelon."
Wrex sighed. "Unless I convince a colleague of mine to keep an eye out?"
"Do you need to? Did you make a lot of friends with people that like what's happened to the krogan?"
Wrex snarled. "Easy, Drixxia."
"It's a legitimate question."
"I pick my friends well. If they don't do anything, it's because they don't know what they're looking for."
"Could you make them know?"
Could he make them know? Yeah…yeah he probably could.
He pulled out his omni-tool and cued up a written message. And then he hit send: Liara would be receiving it whenever she looked at her omni-tool next.
"I just did."
He didn't expect a reply so quickly. Looking at his wrist, Liara's message said: I already know.
"Hell…"
"What?" Drixxia said.
"Seems like Liara…is already on top of it."
"Oh," Drixxia said. She stared straight ahead at nothing for a few seconds before shrugging and, for the first time all conversation, started looking relaxed. "Problem solved, then."
But Wrex was already draining the rest of the ryncol into his vase.
"Not problem solved?" Drixxia said.
Wrex took a massive swig. Cleaning the sticky green liquid off his lips, he went to say something, then paused. He stayed silent for a while—for an honest, hard-fought while—before finally shaking his head.
"Maybe," Wrex said. "I just didn't think this was Liara's style…"
8.
Urz see more bodies—smell more bodies. Burnt, lots burnt. Others just dead, drained. Smell bangsticks too. Heard them. Bangsticks means new people fight. Salarian fight? Urz not remember if salarian fight.
Can still smell second smell. Back feel like whipping starting all over again. Urz growl, snap at air—can't help it. Back on fire, don't want to yelp. Yelping make fire worse, make whipping harder.
Urz keep sniffing, keep following, but stay away from bangsticks. Bangsticks kill. Urz know bangsticks kill. New people kill Urz with bangsticks? Wish could remember salarian better. Salarian didn't kill with bangstick so salarian okay. Unless salarian didn't have bangstick. Maybe salarian kill if bangstick?
Second smell so strong. Can't…focus, can't keep track of salarian, can't—
Urz's nose rocketed into the air and his entire body shuddered. That second smell was close, so close that he—
Hide, he needed to hide. He darted towards a destroyed tomkah and felt the fringes of the hair on his head get singed by the fire. It didn't matter—that'd be so much better than if the whipping started again and that second smell was getting closer and—
And across the highway, a krogan in bone-white armour rounded a large chunk of debris and craned his neck to better look in the distance. He opened the breathing holes in his mask and sniffed the air around him. Then, closing the holes, he turned around and waved his arm.
"Yeah, these are new too. Smells fresh. Probably just a few minutes old."
Four more krogan in identical armour, plus a larger fifth one in a set of bulky set coloured gunmetal grey, rounded the same debris and came to a stop in the same place. A sixth, and final krogan—bigger than all the rest and with glowing teal tubes sticking out from his arms and legs—pushed through and sniffed the air himself.
"They're here. I recognize their scent."
"We're getting deep into Weyrloc territory," the one in gunmetal grey said. "If we're spotted, we'll be outnumbered."
"And why should we fear that?" the larger krogan said. "Have you defected? Do you now think Weyrloc is stronger than Gatatog?"
"No, Uvenk," the gunmetal krogan said. "I am just providing a tactical update."
"I see," Uvenk said. And then his forehead connected with the other krogan, and with a sound like a bone snapping in half, the gunmetal grey krogan dropped to the ground. "I didn't ask for a tactical update. I asked for warriors who could tell an opportunity when they saw it. You're better than this, Rarke."
Rarke rubbed his head and, slowly, stood up. "I…didn't realize I had stepped out of line."
"We either achieve greatest or fade into nothingness," Uvenk said. "There's no longer any room for caution. Caution and cowardice are, from here-on out, the same."
"Apologies, Uvenk. I understand, now."
Uvenk looked Rarke up and down and, after a moment, snorted in his face.
"We shall see."
The group moved one, and thanks to the howling winds and the heavy footsteps of the krogan, none of them could hear the growling.
None of them could hear Urz snap at twist and rend with his jaw as he imagined ripping limbs directly out of their amour…
Huh, guess I wasn't joking about monthly updates...
Anyways, hope you all enjoyed. I'll try to be quick with this so, uh, yeah: hope the pace isn't too slow for you, hope the next update come soon, and I hope that I can come up with a better title next time!
I wouldn't hold my breath on that, though.
Thanks for reading, as always!