by Cole Price
“What will happen is that the krogan will reproduce out of control. We uplifted them specifically for their violent nature, not their diplomatic skills. Another war is inevitable.”
“Evidence.”
Linron’s image blinked. “What?”
“Where is your evidence?”
“Please. Remember who you are speaking to. I have access to the best sociometricians in the galaxy. Every study they have performed on the krogan . . .”
“Was done in a context that doesn’t include the Reapers. Or the presence of krogan leaders who understand the mistakes of their past and are ready to push their people in a new direction. Or the possibility that a new relationship between krogan and the rest of the galaxy could be forged on the basis of gratitude and mutual respect.” Shepard cocked his head. “Dalatrass, there’s no getting around it. We need the krogan now. Curing the genophage and getting a krogan alliance against the Reapers is worth the risk. My judgment stands.”
“What if I could offer you a course of action that preserves the krogan alliance against the Reapers, but offers no risk of a new Krogan Rebellion for us to deal with afterward?”
Shepard hesitated, frowning. Acting on instinct, I opened my omni-tool silently and set it to record.
“What do you have in mind, dalatrass?”
“Long ago, STG operatives sabotaged the Shroud facility to ensure what you’re planning couldn’t be done. Left to his own devices, Mordin will likely detect this sabotage and repair it. If you ensure that he doesn’t, then the cure’s viability will be altered just enough so that it fails. No one will notice the change.”
I could see Shepard’s features, carefully controlled, a blank diplomatic mask that revealed nothing. “You mean, trick the krogan?”
“Let Urdnot Wrex believe for now that you have fulfilled your promise. He need not be any the wiser, so long as this war continues. While the male krogan are away fighting the Reapers, they will not be on Tuchanka attempting to breed. After the Reapers are disposed of, the krogan will be as they were, their numbers reduced still further, posing no threat.”
Shepard stood absolutely motionless, a sign I could read but that the dalatrass probably could not. “This all depends on Mordin,” he said. “He would never stand for any of it.”
“How you deal with Mordin is up to you, Commander.” She peered at Shepard, a slight smile on her face, clearly believing her persuasion effective. “We can provide you our very best scientists to build the Crucible. The support of our fleets. Think about it, Commander. The choice is yours.”
The salarian leader’s image shimmered and vanished. Shepard stood alone, his head bowed, his right hand clenched into a fist at his side.
I turned off the recording. “Shepard?”
He turned to glance at me. Suddenly I was very glad that I wasn’t dalatrass Linron.
* * *
4 May 2186, Urdnot Clan Territory/Tuchanka
The Kodiak shuttle had a roomy passenger compartment, big enough to deploy two whole squads of Marines with all their armor and gear. Today it felt almost crowded, like an emergency at a diplomatic conference. Two humans, two krogan, a salarian, an asari, a Prothean . . .
“I’ve ordered the clans to assemble at the Hollows,” said Wrex.
Shepard nodded. “I remember you telling me about the place, while we were chasing Saren.”
“It’s a natural mustering point. From there our forces can set out for the Shroud, and the Reaper.” Wrex seemed to grow, standing taller than I had ever seen him, his head held high with pride. “This will be the defining moment of krogan history.”
“Krogan history full of defining moments,” observed Mordin. “Most bloody. Hope this one better.”
Wrex snorted, and turned to sit down for the rest of the descent to the surface.
“Commander?” Eve peered at Shepard across the shuttle’s cabin. “You seem troubled.”
I blinked in surprise.
I know how to read him because human body language isn’t that different from asari, and because we asari are very good at reading others in any case. How did a krogan manage to detect it?
Shepard shook his head, but not in disagreement. “I got a message, from the . . .”
The shuttle jolted, hard. All of us had to grab for something and hold on.
“Cortez?”
“Reaper ack-ack from the ground, Commander. Not much, just enough to force me to evade. Looks like the landing zone may be hot.”
Wrex had a hand up to the side of his head, listening to a radio transmission. “The Reapers are already at the Hollows. We’d better be ready to come out with guns blazing!”
“Take us in, Lieutenant!”
“Aye-aye, Commander. Hang on tight. We’re almost there, and I’m going to land us fast.”
Cortez was as good as his word. Moments later the shuttle dropped below the AA fire, the ride smoothed out, and we could stand and prepare our weapons.
Wrex opened the hatch just before we touched down. A husk stood just outside. It howled and turned to charge at us, and Wrex blew its head off with his shotgun. We could hear more of them, not far away. Many more.
“At last,” growled Javik, his grip tight on his ancient beam rifle.
Wrex jumped out of the shuttle, glancing to all sides to take in the situation. “Shepard, keep them away from the female! I’ll sort out what’s happening with the other clans.”
Then the krogan warlord went running, and Shepard led us into battle.
I didn’t have time to get much of a first impression of Tuchanka. Ancient stone and concrete rose on all sides, worn down by time, shattered girders and metal mesh standing out like exposed teeth. Shepard led us down a short ramp, through an enormous steel door, and into the great open space of the Hollows. Once this must have been a huge amphitheater, but now it apparently served as a burial place for the honored krogan dead. Krogan bones scattered thickly across the floor and up into several broken rows of seating, the skulls in particular set in places of honor in the open air. Only a great dais in the center of the space stood clear of bones, apparently some kind of ceremonial platform.
Now krogan fought desperately against husks on all sides, some of them already horribly injured and covered with blood, turning the already-grotesque place into a foretaste of hell.
Husks turned, saw us at the top of our ramp, charged us by the score.
The Reapers must have gotten word of our attack, I had a bare instant to think. Then, with the others, I had to fight for my life.
“Everyone pick your targets and keep an eye on our six!” commanded Shepard. “Now move!”
“Asari! Take notice!” Javik made a gesture, a green-white corona springing into being around his shoulders and arms. Then some kind of biotic effect, one I had never seen before, rushed down to swallow three of the leading husks. It clung to them, slowing their movements, eating away at them from the surface inward.
Instinctively I called up a biotic warp and sent it down after . . . whatever it was the Prothean had done.
Wham! My warp detonated his effect, as if it had been an ordinary pull-field or a singularity, scattering husks far and wide.
“Good job,” muttered Shepard, just before he blurred and vanished into a soaring flash-charge. Right into the middle of the momentary hole that Javik and I had opened in the crowd of husks. Then he set off a nova, his shout and the crash of the explosion echoing off the distant roof like the sound of imminent thunder. Husks and ancient bones scattered broken to the four quarters.
Then he did it again.
And again.
The husks tried to swarm him, but he never stayed in one place long enough for them to crowd close. Every time he charged, it was like lightning striking in their midst. The crash of his shotgun, smashing husks that didn’t quite fall within the blast radius of his charge, seemed almost an afterthought.
Goddess, how is he maintaining that level of biotic output?
“Shepard, this i
s Wrex. It’s getting ugly over here. Whatever you do, keep them away from the female!”
Javik and I hadn’t had any chance to drill together – something I knew we would have to remedy – so we were clumsy at first. I missed the smooth partnership I enjoyed with Shepard, or with Kaidan. Still, it didn’t take us long to work out our timing. The Prothean deployed his weird green-glowing miasma over a clump of husks, and then I detonated it with a warp field to shatter the enemy into gory shreds. In between, we both advanced slowly and kept up a steady stream of weapons fire into the enemy’s seething mass. We concentrated on picking off husks that evaded Shepard’s charges, preventing them from climbing the ramp to reach our shuttle. Protecting Eve.
In my few free moments, I found myself admiring Javik’s skill in combat. At once, he recognized that the husks had no ability to attack at range, so he didn’t bother to look for cover, instead moving freely across the broken ground. Without having to discuss the matter, he immediately divided the battlefield with me – watching his quarter, trusting me to watch mine, and cutting down every target he saw with grim efficiency. I could see him prioritize his targets from moment to moment, exhibiting situational awareness to match anything I had seen from Shepard.
Shepard, of course, served as a living bomb. He mowed husks down by the dozen. Javik and I may have destroyed twenty or thirty husks in that battle. I suspect Shepard destroyed over a hundred.
It seemed to take forever, but in truth it probably lasted no more than five or six minutes. Finally the mass of husks thinned out, the surviving krogan able to deal with their last few foes. Shepard, Javik, and I assembled at the foot of the ramp once more. Shepard looked tired, as well he might, given the sheer power he had just finished exerting. I felt the need for a short rest and an energy bar myself.
Javik, on the other hand, grinned. “A good fight, Commander. Even before a lavish meal, one always enjoys the appetizer.”
“That must be your first time in fifty thousand years,” Shepard observed with a weary smile. “These husks seem familiar to you?”
“The Reapers used similar creatures in my cycle. Not precisely like these. They appear to be corrupted humans?”
“Yes.”
“Rrrh. I am glad you do not permit that to hold you back, Commander. Once the Reapers have worked their will, nothing remains. They are already dead. All that remains is to enforce that status upon them.”
“We’ve fought them before. More times than I care to count.”
“Very effectively, I see. Your biotic abilities are most impressive. As are yours, asari.”
Goddess help us, he’s being positively magnanimous. If all it takes is for him to be thrown into a battle, I hope Shepard does it often.
The door where we had entered the Hollows banged open. A dozen krogan came pacing down the ramp, all of them with Urdnot clan markings. Wrex led them, absolutely covered in blood, although apparently little of it was his.
“They’ll sing battle songs about this someday!” he shouted. “Reaper blood has finally soaked our soil.”
Krogan gathered down on the floor of the Hollows, coming down the ramp, climbing down from the seating, all roaring in vigorous agreement. Thirty of them. Sixty. I found myself surrounded by more excited krogan than I had ever before seen in my life. Their scent, and the smell of blood and dead husks, was overpowering.
Shepard hurried to meet Wrex. “We have to get moving. We’re behind schedule, and that airstrike is on its way.”
Mordin appeared at the back of Wrex’s group, eager to report. “Female krogan safe, Shepard. Vitals are strong.”
“What’s a salarian doing here?” someone bellowed.
I turned to watch the newcomer, walking at the head of a dozen Blood Pack krogan, all pale face, brown crest, and burning red eyes. I thought I saw a resemblance to Wrex, although the newcomer lacked our friend’s extensive network of scars.
“Nobody said anything about this!” he shouted, staring at Mordin with naked hostility.
“Multiple hostile krogan,” muttered the salarian. “Problematic.”
“Who are you?” demanded Shepard.
“Urdnot Wreav,” snarled the newcomer. “Brood-brother to our illustrious leader.”
Wrex grunted in disgust, while the krogan at his back growled. “Wreav and I share the same mother. And nothing else.”
“For which I’m thankful. At least I remember what it is to be true krogan.”
Another round of growling, this time from the krogan at Wreav’s back. I unobtrusively checked my weapon, wondering how long I might survive in the middle of a krogan civil war.
“We flay our enemies alive and drown them in a geyser of their own blood,” Wreav continued. “We don’t invite them into our homes.”
Shepard stepped forward, not quite placing himself between the two sides. “This salarian is not your enemy. He’s here to help cure the genophage.”
“His kind gave us the genophage! Why should we trust him?”
Wrex shifted his weight, and then pounced into a ferocious head-butt that rocked his half-brother back on his heels. Much growling and shouting followed from both sides.
“Because I do,” said Wrex, quiet danger in his voice. “And so will you, Wreav.”
Wreav’s tolerance seemed exhausted. As voices on all sides rose to echo off the roof, he snarled and reached behind him for his shotgun. With a great clatter, dozens more followed suit on all sides.
Oh Goddess . . .
“Enough!”
All of us turned to look up the ramp.
Eve stood there alone, staring down at the fractious crowd of male krogan, her stance one of confidence and pride.
It seemed like magic. Male krogan filled the space, just finished with a terrible fight, all fizzing with hormones of anger and aggression. Yet every one of them immediately lowered his weapons and backed away. Even Wreav and Wrex glanced at each other for an instant, and then stood down from their dominance-postures. All growling and roaring ceased, and a still silence spread. Every single krogan in all that vast space seemed to lean forward, waiting for what Eve had to say.
One female shaman, speaking a single word, and a battle is ended before it can begin.
I began to realize the sheer power female krogan might wield within their society. I began to hope that the krogan could change their ways, once the genophage no longer remained an issue.
Eve began to stride down the ramp.
“You can stay here and let old wounds fester, as krogan have always done.”
She moved right through the crowd of males, between Wrex and Wreav, never looking to either side, perfectly confident that they would part to let her pass.
“Or you can fight the enemy you were born to destroy, and win a new future for our children.”
She stepped up onto the ceremonial dais, paused for a moment, and then turned to glare at all of her people.
“I choose to fight. Who will join me?”
My bondmate knew a dramatic cue when he heard one. He stepped forward at once, standing directly between Wrex and his half-brother. “I will.”
“And so will I,” growled Wrex, taking command of the situation. “Now hold your heads high like true krogan! There’s a Reaper out there that needs killing!”
Now the growling and roaring began once more, but I could sense a difference. I no longer saw two bands of hostile krogan at odds. Now all of them aligned themselves like iron filings between the poles of a magnet, Wrex at one end of the field, Eve at the other. Standing between their leaders, they unconsciously fell into a cohesive whole, ready to march against a common enemy.
Even Wreav felt it. He looked around, saw which way the wind blew, and gave his half-brother a firm nod to a chorus of growled approval.
Shepard turned and strode away, leading us all up the ramp and out of the Hollows. The first unified krogan army in over a thousand years followed.
Chapter 18 : The Krogan Legacy
4 May 2186, Urdnot
Clan Territory/Tuchanka
“Krogan ground convoy, this is turian wing Artimec. Our flight vector to the Shroud is locked. We’re ten minutes out and counting.”
“Copy that, Artimec,” said Shepard over his helmet radio. “We’re on our way, trying to make up lost time. James, are you and Garrus in position?”
“In position and ready to go, Loco. Just give the word.”
“The word is given. Link up with the krogan and start pressing forward against the Reaper right flank. Be careful, conserve your men, but make lots of noise.”
“They’ll hear us back in San Diego, I guarantee.”
“Good. Shepard out.”
Six of us sat crammed into the passenger compartment of a tomkah, rolling along and jostling in our seats every few moments. I opened my omni-tool and examined a map of the terrain. Twenty kilometers behind us lay the Urdnot clan center where we had mustered, located amid the ruins of an ancient krogan military installation. We followed a broken road that meandered generally northward through the ruins and wasteland, gradually descending onto a vast desert plain where the Shroud facility waited for us. We had four or five kilometers to go.
Eve shifted in her seat, glancing across the cabin at Wrex. “Wreav isn’t the only krogan who will want revenge for the genophage, Wrex. You’ll have to find some way to placate them.”
“I’ll demand the Council return some of our old territory,” said the warlord. “Plenty of worlds out there that no one else wants, but still better than Tuchanka. With the genophage cured, we’ll need room to expand. Recapture the glory of the ancients.”
“Glory of ancients led to Krogan Rebellions,” observed Mordin. “Countless deaths. Creation of genophage. Expansion plan problematic.”
“What were the ancient krogan like?” Shepard wondered.
“Tuchanka wasn’t always a wasteland,” said Eve. “In the old times the krogan were a proud people. We had art, literature, scientific achievements of our own. We had dreams, a future to look forward to.”
“Until salarian interference,” said Mordin bleakly.
