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"I have the plans, Admiral, I just…" She sighed and shook her head, unsure of how to phrase what she wanted to say as well as she would have preferred. Instead, rather than ask him to wait, she said, "I worry about interference, Sir."
"From?"
"The Salarians."
"At this point, I pity the Salarian that tries something." Hackett chuckled quietly, shaking his head and turning to look at something out of Shepard's view. Whatever it was, he typed away at while he went on, "Particularly on Tuchanka. We're already suspicious, after Sur'Kesh, which, being the Union, they'll be well aware of."
"That makes the Doctor worry they'll employ more… Underhanded, instant means."
"Solus?"
"Yes, Admiral."
"Hmm…" He was former STG, and she'd made Hackett well aware of the fact.
She didn't doubt his loyalty, of course. But his expertise was more than worthwhile, and Hackett always needed time to properly trust someone. Especially a non-human. And she'd already burnt her one real 'take it on faith' recommendation on Doe. Not that she regretted doing any of that, of course.
Not that she was capable of regretting it, now…
"If you trust him, then put him in your security detail." Hackett finally said as he dealt with whatever issue he was managing, drawing Shepard's attention back to him."I don't want him to have security access, and any time he is in a sensitive area I want two guards posted. Standard reporting procedure and response protocols."
"I understand, Sir." Standard protocols meant that, if Mordin did do anything, the soldiers would just shoot him. She didn't like that, not at all. But… "He won't be a problem, Admiral. You have my word."
"Good." He sighed, shaking his head, "I can't believe this nonsense… And now, when the Reapers are here? How irresponsible."
"They'd say the same about us, Sir." She pointed out, "How we're handling the Krogan."
"Yes, well…" He sighed, frowning and flicking a look at someone else off screen before he waved them off and went on. "When the Salarians can supply the same kind of infantry power the Krogan have on offer, we can field their complaints. For now, I'm happy to trade a maybe extinction event for a definite one."
"Definite if we're lucky…"
"Indeed." Hackett rumbled, "I'd prefer it to being the next Collector analogue."
"Yeah…" And, unless she died fighting, she knew she'd be right on the list of people to turn into one of the pitiful things, too. Especially given how much of a thorn she'd been, and how much they seemed fixated on Humans as a whole. Shaking her head, she sighed, "I'll meet with Wrex, then. Finalize the landing and infrastructure plans."
"Do so, Shepard." He nodded, "And one other thing…"
"Sir?"
"The first prototype pod and launcher system is being installed on a badly damaged suviving Kowloon class ship retrofitted as a sort of… Heavy infantry transport." Hackett explained, "It's old name was the MSV Terracotta, but it's captain and most of its crew were killed in the escape from Sol. I want you and Doe to utilize the opportunity that is Tuchanka to see it redesigned for combat dropping using the pods and their launchers, and test its viability where feasible."
"Understood, Sir." She nodded, "The name remains?"
"You two may rename it." He nodded, "It will arrive shortly after you reach Tuchanka, as part of a service fleet to aid in reconstruction in key areas to prepare for the Reaper push into the system."
"Understood." A Kowloon was more or less just a freighter, used by merchants and as logistics support by larger, military fleets. Weaponizing it would be hard, but… They couldn't exactly gamble an Everest class on prototype testing, she understood. "Will that be all, Sir?"
"It will." He nodded, "Dismissed."
She waited a polite moment until the blue of the QEC faded and turned, leaving it behind to head to the War Room. Wrex was already there, talking through preliminary plans with Garrus while they transitted. Both turned to her as she came over and looked at the holodisplay of Aralakh system. Dozens of little fleets, no more than a dozen frigates and a few dozen freighters, worked to salvage whatever ships in the debris fields throughout could be brought back to flickering life and set out sensor buoys, nav beacons, and mines. The ships wouldn't see combat, of course - they were centuries old, often, and barely mobile - but enough cobbled together could make for a decent freighter or logistics ship.
Or, so Wrex insisted - though she had a feeling the valuable materials that the Krogan had left derelict, more interested in merc work or clan conflict on the homeworld, had a hand in the decision.
"How goes it?" She asked, leaning on the display.
"Better than I thought it would." Garrus chuckled, "According to Trax, one of the scavs leading the work, they're considering building a space station to process the scrap."
"No joke?"
"Only a handful of Krogan over the centuries have bothered scrapping the debris fields. Old thrusters move as good as new ones, at least in-system. And a few patches can keep a hold sealed. Hell, raw scrap doesn't even need to be sealed in to move around until we want it down on Tuchanka." Wrex interrupted with a gruff sigh and a weary shake of his head. "Wasteful Varren… Trax is an idiot to think about making a station like what he wants, though."
"Yeah?"
"He wants a war-station." Wrex explained, "One of those won't last, though. Reapers'll pop it as soon as they approach. A damn waste of time, that."
"Fair…" Garrus sighed, "It'd be nice for morale, but…"
"Morale alone doesn't win a fight." Wrex nodded, "Right, Shepard?"
"Mhm." A properly manufactured from design station could be useful, but she knew better than to expect that to be what would come from all the scrap. It'd be cobbled together from hundreds of ship remains, with power systems left out of balance and easily overloaded. No power, no barriers. No barriers…
Well, Reaper weapons didn't much care about their ideas of 'armor'.
"We'll need an anchorage, at least." Shepard pointed out, waving at one of half a dozen ideal anchoring points in space over Tuchanka. "This one is solidly in Urdnot territory, right? It'd be ideal to put it in synchronous there."
"An anchorage?"
"One of a dozen." She nodded, gesturing at all the other locations. Smiling, she explained, "In synchronous orbits over all the clan homes, starting with yours. Somewhere that simple ships can haul scrap to be packed away in-situ, and then sealed up for delivery to the ground. Sort it in space, send it to where it'll be best used, and let the Clans feel like Urdnot is already leading them to glory and power."
"You know," Garrus sighed, "you're scary when you get all 'power and glory' and smile like that with those… Weirs pointy teeth of yours."
"My teeth are normal Human teeth…"
"Uh huh." Wrex rumbled, "And I'm a Varren. Everyone knows half of 'em are probably made of titanium or something."
"Rude…" She sighed, shaking her head, "Regardless, with this plan, you could reasonably build up Tuchanka before the Reapers feel they can pull out of Turian space. It would take time, but-"
"We don't have the ships." Wrex sighed, "That part is what will take time. Once we start getting the ships we need, it'll snowball. But getting there…"
"I can have a Volus expeditionary fleet here in a week." Garrus cut in, leaning on the console and punching in a series of commands, and then punching a few more into his Omni-Tool. Nearly forty new ships joined the others, clustered over the Urdnot homeland, and Garrus pointed at them. "Logistics, refueling, cargo, orbital construction specialists- I was given this thanks to the old Primarch's allowances, to prepare for the Reapers. They're still under my authority."
"And the Hierarchy will allow you to send them here?" Wrex asked, "To Tuchanka?"
"Let me task a handful of ships to an extra anchorage for emergency repairs and resupplies by the Relay nearby," he said, "for Turians to use, too. Do that, and I can guarantee it."
Wrex was quiet for a long moment, drumming a heavy finger on the console. A Krogan trusting Turian warships in their space was a big ask, she knew. But Wrex also had other things than whether to trust Garrus or not on his mind - even if she knew that, at least, was as foregone a conclusion as a Krogan and Turian trusting each other would ever be. No, he had to consider the Krogan as a whole, too. Whether they would respect his decisions, or trust his leadership after them. The fallout if just a handful of Krogan decided to ignore Wrex's promise and sack the station and any Turians that were there…
It was a lot to consider, and she didn't envy him.
Finally, he said, "Your vessels will remain, wherever possible, within two hundred kilometers of the station. Which will be built at the closest it can to the Relay. The Hierarchy will also pay a stipend of one million credits monthly for the space, for all your ships and the station, as well as another million monthly as reparations for the Genophage. Both will persist for as long as the Genophage itself did."
"That's… Steep."
"I can delay payments until after the war, at thirty percent interest." Wrex offered, frowning deeply. "And… I know I'm gouging. That is what the Clans need to see, Vakarian. If they think I'm a Turian puppet…"
"It'd be civil war." Garrus sighed, pursing his mandibles unhappily. "Fine. I agree. Draft a contract and I'll sign it and pass it to Primarch Victus. Along with your explanation."
"Do it on comms." Shepard offered, "Use the QEC, so it can't be traced. If we're doing this, I won't have the Salarians catching wind and selling the secrets to an opportunistic Chieftain."
"Good idea."
"Then we have a plan." She finally smiled, "Now… We get to work."
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Tuchanka was… Well, a rubble heap, for the most part, to be short and to the point. Entire cities worth of beaten down rubble, heaped on and around what structures had survived in part or in whole, that stretched out for miles. Beyond that, much of the world was arid and sparse. He'd been told there were plants elsewhere, towards the poles particularly, but they were rare. Apparently, most of the oxygen came from fungi, a few species of cacti, and the miniscule amount of a kind of grain plant that an equally miniscule amount of Krogan farmers grew towards the poles. The rest was maintained by an ancient Salarian construct a few hundred miles from where they were, which kept the atmosphere recycling.
Which was… Impressive.
"It's like Aket…" He murmured, kneeling at the top of a ramp of dirt, rubble and rock that lead down into the Old Camp - or, as his borrowed memories told him, the Urdnot camp from a few years prior. Shepard had come here a few times, he remembered.
As much as it made his head throb…
"Aket?" He turned, looking up at the red-armored Chieftain as he came over. Crossing his arms, he said, "Ain't heard that name. New colony?"
He thought about what to say, for a few long and quiet seconds. Lingered on the false trust he inherently had in him for the great alien. Stolen faith that sent ripples of ache across the ever strengthening barrier between him and the others' memories. How much would Shepard tell him, he wondered? Probably all of it, unless Hackett or Anderson ordered otherwise. But what should he?
Finally, he settled on, "It was…"
"Reapers?"
"You could say that." He sighed, shaking his head slowly, "I grew up there. It was the capital city. Then the- They came, and slaughtered everyone. Just for being Human."
"And…?"
"And you got this," he grunted, lifting up a fist-sized rock of rubble, "for being Krogan."
"Bit more to it than that…"
"How many of Urdnot today were alive for the Rebellions?"
"My brother and I." He rumbled, pursing his scaled lips and nodding curtly. "Point made, Human. But we don't want for pity."
"I'm not pitying you." He said, shaking his head and standing. "I'm remembering… And getting pissed off."
"Hah!" A heavy hand clapped him on the back and he stumbled forward and down the hill, only managing to catch himself for training doing exactly that. ODSTs had to know how to move on rubble, after all - odds weren't zero they'd land on buildings. The warrior pointed a long finger at him and sighed as he came down the slope, "I knew I liked you when I read your file."
"My… File?"
"I don't work with anyone I don't know." Wrex rumbled, leading the way through the compound, around and up to where the Shaman had once dwelt. And, now, where Krogan engineers were clearing rubble, reinforcing walls, and adding layered walls to run conduits behind. Quietly, for him at least, Wrex went on, "Sounded like a hell of a lot of crazy, when I read it, but… Well, for Shepard, it tracks."
"Seriously?"
"Between the ancient metal death squids, the psychic message from the past carried by a huge metal stick, the Rachni… Existing, still, and you jumping dimensions?" Wrex shrugged and wagged his head to the side, "You're competing, sure. But every god damn other thing turned out true, so… I'm just going to run with it."
"Alright…" That honestly tracked, with Wrex. Still, he asked, "Keep it quiet, though?"
"Not my story." Wrex shrugged, stepping up to a low wall that looked down on the clan grounds they'd just passed through. "But word of advice? Shit like that won't stay secret forever. Best to get it out when you want."
"As opposed to letting an alien warlord do it for me?"
"Yeah." He grunted a laugh as Alliance work crews emerged from the busy shuttle port and set about finding places to set up their equipment, plan out the expansion efforts, and designate waste disposal. "As opposed to that. More importantly, right now, though… It's time we get to work."
"Yeah." John nodded, watching Shepard herself emerge a moment later and smiling thinly behind his helmet. "It's time."
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Njgronlund :
I choked on my drink lmfao