Khaela. Tuchanka.
The place Wrex led us to is clearly a massive, circular amphitheater. It could hold ten to fifteen thousand Krogan, and below the stands, in the center, is an arena. The building itself, like everything around it, is made of light stone—white, yellow, and orange hues. Considering we're talking about Krogan, this is definitely an arena. The layout is classic: a circular floor at the bottom, stands beginning at a height of ten meters above it, and the dome of a stone roof even higher up.
The structure, like the rest of the city, is old but looks intact. Not new—there are no chairs, no tech, no electrical signals. Only stone and wind-blown sand. But there's no visible damage; no collapses are imminent. According to the Krogan, this is one of the neutral meeting places. Of course, it's assumed that no one will attack anyone here. But we're talking about Krogan, who don't go anywhere without weapons as a matter of principle. In this case, a weapon is a guarantee of politeness.
Wrex, through the Shamans of his Clan, arranged a meeting with Krogan who, as he promised, "will be of interest to you." If they show up, of course. There's no guarantee, but it's necessary to try. It's faster and safer than rushing across the planet searching Clan by Clan for extraordinary personalities and specialists. There are few of them, almost always Krogan who have lived for centuries and remained on Tuchanka. Their leaders, who aren't particularly interested in listening to soft-bodied outsiders. Therefore, the presence of Wrex and representatives of Clan Urdnot simplifies the task. Otherwise, we would likely have killed off the promising Krogan before we could reach an agreement.
On our side, the negotiators who flew in were my combat Avatar, Wrex himself, Bakara—a Shaman of a female Clan allied with Urdnot—and a Geth. We are waiting for representatives of Clan Nakmor. According to our accompanying Krogan, they are interesting because...
"Clan Nakmor is small, almost a family affair. But mighty, respected by all Krogan. They live in the desert, and I think you understand what that means."
...It means they are sitting on something important. Seventy degrees Celsius in the sun is a bit much even for Krogan. Plus, they have vehicles, Tomkahs. Which means they need maintenance, just like weapons and armor. They need shelters, warehouses, food, spare parts. And they have all of this in the middle of the desert. There's only one conclusion:
"They have a base. With technology and machinery. Possibly hydroponics or something similar, a water source. Hidden well enough that they haven't been found."
Wrex nodded.
"No one knows where they live. No one who went looking ever returned. But you're right, there has to be one. Especially considering their leader."
Shaman Bakara, dressed in a gray-blue-silver fabric suit over armor with only her eyes visible, added:
"Technicians, scientists. Our culture. Clan Nakmor preserves all of it. Are you sure about them, Wrex? About the Humans?"—and the fact that I'm standing right there doesn't bother her.
The Krogan chuckled, glancing at me and the Geth. I tilted my head slightly, flicking my ears. Wrex nodded and turned to the Shaman.
"They are our chance to solve many problems. An opportunity to learn the truth and make a decision. I want Drack to hear them out. We can always kill them later if need be."
There's another reason for Command's interest in this Clan. Nakmor Drack. According to Wrex, this Krogan body has fifteen centuries of active life. Born after the Rachni Wars and even before the Krogan Rebellions, he lived through them entirely and traveled the galaxy. He's been everywhere and fought against everyone, except perhaps the Covenant. Now he's returned and looks after the Clan. He is older than any living being in Citadel Space and the oldest Krogan known to Wrex. But the negotiations won't be easy.
An old man with character. Smart and dangerous. And unlike Humans, Krogan don't grow frail from old age, so he's as strong as a two-hundred-year-old, just with fifteen hundred years of experience. This will be an interesting experience.
Bakara didn't appreciate Wrex's ideas.
"They want to use us in their war, right? Otherwise, they wouldn't have appeared on Tuchanka. Humans, like the others, need Krogan to use us as cheap infantry. Cannon fodder. And then what? We've already lived through the Genophage, Wrex."
A third voice served as her answer. Gruff, low, commanding. And here comes the second party of the negotiations.
"Shouldn't you know, Shaman, that our path is battle? It is the life of every Krogan, from birth to death. If we can buy a cure with the blood of enemies, is that bad? To give the young a chance for their own battle? Krogan do not run from a fight, woman. Never."
Everyone turned to the newcomer.
I detected the Nakmor Clan Tomkah in advance but didn't show off my capabilities too much. Thanks to the sensors of the Pelican we arrived on. The pilot landed his ship on a nearby roof and is moonlighting as a sensor suite.
Four arrived from Clan Nakmor. The driver and presumably a gunner stayed with the vehicle, while a Krogan and his companion entered the structure.
Nakmor Drack is imposing. Two meters tall, wearing a yellow hardsuit decorated with bones, very wide even for a Krogan. Moreover, while normal Krogan have their heads protruding forward from the suit, Drack's helmet is recessed inward, providing extra protection. And there's clearly more armor on the chest than usual. I suspect this isn't just armor, but a protective complex. The first I've seen on Tuchanka.
And this is interesting! It's likely armor from the time of the Rebellions. And I really want to find out what interesting things are inside. For normal Krogan, armor is... well, armor. Airtight, but without any special mechanisms. But this is clearly something much more. If we don't reach an agreement, I'll kill him just to study the unique equipment.
A massive Shotgun hangs at Drack's waist, but nothing special there. Just a large weapon.
It's clear that both the weapon and the armor are actively maintained; they look like new. On Tuchanka, that's a rarity; even if a Krogan has access to spare parts, they are almost always second-hand. But not in Drack's case; his suit was either well-restored or is supplied with new, intact components. The Krogan himself shows no signs of aging you'd expect in a Human, just more scars and a thick, slightly faded hide. On his head are bony growths with spikes, fused into a monolithic bone cap.
His partner—or rather, female partner, to be precise. A female Krogan in more classic armor, also in desert colors, but with bone spikes in a semi-circle over the helmet notch. Her armor is also in excellent condition, as is her weapon. More and more interesting. And what does the driver have outside?
"Pilot, zoom in on the camera image. Thank you."
Let's see. Black, seemingly new armor. Expected. Just like the vehicle they arrived in. I'm looking through the Pelican's camera; at first glance, no defects are visible—the tech is dusty but intact.
"Nakmor Drack," Wrex grinned, "you came after all."
He nodded, eyeing our squad.
"You're interesting. You come with Geth, you take that station of those weaklings in orbit by storm, then the Shroud. Wrex is with you. You rush across the planet looking for adult Krogan. And now you call for me. I've come. I'm here," the giant grumbled.
Interestingly, all the Krogan present are positioning themselves so as not to turn their backs to anyone. And it's mutual; we're doing the same. Introductions were made; Drack's companion is named Nakmor Norda.
By the way, in orbit of Tuchanka, there's a fleet of Geth ships and six of our stealth frigates with Mass Effect Cores. We are currently busy on the surface searching for surviving and cooperative Krogan scientists, keepers of culture, and simply rational individuals. The task is difficult; the Clans are spread over a vast territory, and communication is very tenuous. Rational individuals are rare, one in a million Krogan. And even among them, there are plenty of different characters with different views.
Recently, we tried to negotiate with Warlord Okeer. Unsuccessfully; this Krogan scientist dreams of Krogan greatness, a repetition of the Krogan Rebellions in which his "perfect Krogan" would defeat everyone. We had to resolve the issue radically and expropriate his research. To avoid trouble. A pity; he was a promising geneticist. For a Krogan, that's a double achievement.
Generally, my analysis says that most scientists among the Krogan are representatives of the so-called "first post-war generation." When the Krogan had already suffered defeat in the Rebellions, but access to technology and education still existed. The current generation simply no longer has such opportunities. There's nowhere for them to learn and no one to learn from.
And now we look at Clan Nakmor and realize: this Krogan, as shrewd as a supply squad, is clearly sitting on a mountain of gear. And he has enough knowledge to maintain and repair what he has there. And possibly train subordinates. He is absolutely necessary to us!
I assume the Krogan was stockpiling technology and information. Which means that to ensure Krogan cultural and scientific growth, teachers and keepers of traditions are needed. A rare commodity; I'm not sure there are even a million of them for two billion Krogan. Ten thousand is more likely. And here is such an opportunity. Sorry, Drack, we need you. In any form and in any case.
Bakara doesn't trust us, though she trusts Wrex more than not. But Dr. Catherine Halsey needs female Krogan for research. The Shaman's behavior is logical; we have to negotiate with her too. Or with other women—the planet is big. For a chance to have children and be free of the Genophage, there will be volunteers. Unlike Drack, who is sitting on a pile of information, there are plenty of women.
Bakara is interested in the cure, interested in what we found regarding the Genophage. But the very idea of leaving Tuchanka is perceived by many Krogan as a defeat. Not just leaving with a gang or as a mercenary for a while, but moving to live in another world, choosing it as their home. And that causes difficulties.
What we'll get with Clan Nakmor will soon be clear. I hope more educated Krogan will be more inclined to cooperate. I think if we give them the information, they'll understand more than even Wrex.
"Our specialists decided to study the Genophage. Found a lot of interesting things. Both about the Genophage and the Shroud, and how it affects all Krogan. Interested?"
Drack chuckled, and his companion asked:
"Decided to compete with the Salarians in genetics? That could be interesting. And fraught with a big firefight. Entertain me."
We've already started. Not just the competition, but the firefight. Both the Salarians and the Asari actively dislike that Tuchanka is effectively controlled by a fleet hostile to the Citadel. Scouts and saboteurs are trying to sneak onto the station or the planet's surface, to Council bases.
There's no strike fleet yet, but we're also expecting guests from the direction of the Mass Relay; we have to act fast. And deploy large forces to find all potential allies. Yes, it leads to conflicts and misunderstandings, but we work with what we have, not what we want.
Well, then followed a long story about our research on the Genophage, the role of the Shroud, the Hierarchy, and the Salarians. And the bomb Wrex was looking for was mentioned.
"It's clear why we need this," Norda said, "but what is your interest in such a risk?"
And she's boring her eyes into us too. It seems for Krogan, this is a kind of emotional pressure intended to provoke or check for lies.
"Our scientists and specialists are no worse," I replied to the Krogan, "and as for why? Those the Turians encountered at Oma Ker and Palaven—we've been fighting them for years. And we are losing, slowly but surely. We need troops, a fleet. Everyone ready to fight. If we have to pay a price for that, we can reach an agreement. If you are ready."
Drack listened to all this, nodding slowly.
"I was thinking of heading to Palaven as a mercenary. I haven't shot at enemies like that before; it'll be interesting. But going with you is an option too. And you've taken a thorough approach. Rushing across the planet, looking for those who haven't lost their heads. Studying the Genophage."
While Wrex told them about the Genophage, we hadn't mentioned the first part. Of course, he could have guessed. Or perhaps Drack is sitting on good enough equipment to find out for himself. If they aren't being caught by the station above them, their cloaking and scanning equipment must be good.
"You know a lot, Nakmor Drack," Wrex grinned, "too much for a Krogan sitting in the desert on a hollow planet."
Drack just spread his hands.
"I know how to listen. I'm fifteen hundred years old. You know what our weakness is? Krogan got relaxed. Soft. Got used to others doing everything for us. And here we are. I don't wait; I do it myself, I listen myself. I draw conclusions myself too. And I kill those who get in my way. Myself as well."
An interesting position. Bakara got interested too.
"Explain."
And Drack was only too happy to.
"After the Rebellions, they gave us planets. We felt power; we became the victors over the Rachni. Krogan got everything and defeated everyone. We were the strongest, getting what we wanted at the first demand. And at 그 moment, we lost. This belief that everyone is obligated to give Krogan whatever they want at the first demand is our weakness. Not the genetic defects you're talking about, Human. We stopped fighting, only demanding. Weaklings. Meat for the slaughterhouses. And that's how others got used to seeing us. They don't respect us; they only see strong and stupid cannon fodder. Today's Krogan won't build a city like this," he gestured to the space around him, "never. They'll only whine."
Wrex nodded.
"Tuchanka is our home and our prison, Drack. As long as there is the Shroud, there will be the Genophage. Without the Shroud, Tuchanka will die from hundred-degree heat. As long as we cling to the past, we are doomed."
"To follow who-knows-who, taking their word for it?" Bakara countered, "You want to believe, Wrex. That there is a choice, that the Krogan will be reborn. That we'll be allowed to."
Drack and Norda exchanged glances. Drack remarked:
"Exactly what I said. Fools grow weaker generation after generation and die, and those who remember are too afraid of losing everything. What do you need, Human? Hmm?"
This is... unexpected. But I must take advantage.
"Krogan—everyone we can recruit. Preferably not just warriors, but specialists, whoever is left. Dr. Catherine Halsey is certain she can solve the Genophage problem through a compromise method. You get a population; we don't get new Rebellions."
Bakara growled.
"I'm talking about caution, Chieftain! There are few women! We cannot take such a risk!"
The radio crackled; I immediately patched it to the external speakers. I saw on the scanners the same thing our pilot did. We got something that might play into our hands. A common enemy, as these guys weren't invited to the gathering.
"This is Pelican-03. Khaela, six Tomkahs are moving toward you. With markings of different Clans. Are you expecting guests?"
We aren't. And we didn't warn anyone about the negotiations. Someone helped them find out.
"No, Three. We aren't. Don't expose yourself, but don't attack first."
"Copy that."
Wrex grinned, racking the slide; the Geth also grabbed its weapon. Everyone grabbed their weapons. So much for peaceful negotiations. I also gripped my Gravity Hammer more comfortably. Drack took notice of it.
"Where'd the weapon come from?"
I turned the hammer in my hands.
"A trophy. The Covenant has a race of massive hairy bastards. Their Chieftains love this kind of hammer. It's a pain to charge, but it's powerful."
Drack chuckled.
"I'll have to find one of those for myself."
The female Krogan pulled a hammer from behind her back. For a Krogan, it's a hammer; for a Human, it's a full-sized sledgehammer, albeit with a short handle. Wrex noticed this.
"Bakara, take cover," she froze and looked at the warrior, "you said it yourself, women must be protected. The warriors will handle the problem."
She growled back.
"Shut up, Wrex," and reloaded her Shotgun, hanging the hammer on her belt, "I decide for myself."
And no, we didn't start shooting immediately. After all, the arena really is a place for gatherings. It's just that, as quickly became clear, the Blood Pack are aggressive expansionists. And their smaller Clans don't like them, fearing absorption. Or simply an attack, because they can.
"Gatatog, Weylock, Ganar, Jortag, Vruuzr, Jorgal. All of them are Clans belonging to the Blood Pack," Wrex explained, eyeing those entering the arena.
Unlike Wrex or the representatives of Clan Nakmor, these prefer bright red gear with Clan signs and an emblem of a skull and a fist. The gear is uniform, but scanning and observation show it doesn't reach the quality of Drack's armor and weapons. Chips, crudely hammered-out dents, plates not sized correctly. Only the paint hides the defects visible to an AI. I don't think these are important representatives. At least most of them.
Or it's confirmation of my theory about Drack's armor—his suit is unique. Krogan Space Marines, or something like that.
We all repositioned so that Drack and the Avatar were in front, Wrex with his machine gun slightly to the side, and the Geth and the female part as the second line. We are few—six against nearly fifteen targets. But a sorcerer with a machine gun is on our side, and I've gathered plenty of grenades.
"Now there will be negotiations, Krogan-style," Drack chuckled, "let's see what you're worth."
A Krogan in bright red armor painted with skulls stepped forward. The only one without a helmet, revealing his scarred face. Unlike Drack, who uses actual bones, this one only has drawings on his armor. Otherwise, it's standard armor like the others. The other targets positioned themselves in a semi-circle. The enemy commander spoke:
"What are these soft-bodied ones doing here? Drack, Wrex? First, in the best tradition of those weaklings, they bomb us, and now you drag them here? Why is this Pyjak shit even being listened to? Eat them and be done with it!"
Wrex grinned.
"Garm! I don't know who your informant is, but I'm absolutely sure we would have noticed a thermonuclear blast. And no one invited your ass here. Not yours, nor your friends'. Get out of here and go lick some Klixens!"
Drack burst out laughing.
"We'd definitely hear it!"—and made a gesture. I don't know it, unfortunately, but I prepared for the "click."
This time Garm turned to the old Krogan.
"Drack! Crawled out of the desert to kill soft-bodied ones? You were a pirate, you sold, killed, and robbed a ton of people. And now you listen to them? What were you thinking?"
The old Krogan grinned. Not in a good way.
"Humans offer much more for Krogan than you think, Garm. You have nothing to offer my Clan except yourself."
Garm took a step forward, then another. Now he's only seven meters from the giant.
"Then we should take it from them," he looked at the Avatar, "never seen one like that. Batarians would pay good money for her. And a working Geth too. Sell them and our Clans will get a nice sum and tech. What do you say? I know the right traders. Maybe even the Collectors will be interested."
Drack looked at me, holding the Gravity Hammer and watching Garm with my head slightly tilted. Grenades are hidden in my tails, ready to be thrown. The lizard might not have understood everything, but it was enough for him.
"What do I say..." Drack muttered, "interesting idea."
He turned to me, as if considering, and winked. I pulled the pins on the grenades; the timer started. We looked at each other for two seconds, and then it began.
My tails flicked, throwing grenades at the Krogan standing in the semi-circle. Drack spun around, slamming a load of buckshot from his Shotgun into Garm, thrusting it under his arm, and it shattered against the Kinetic Barrier. A second and third shot followed the first.
Wrex was covered in the purple glow of Biotics and began spinning up his machine gun. Bakara launched herself into the enemy formation, pulling the hammer from her belt and bringing it down with force mid-flight directly onto a Krogan's skull, shearing off half the head along with the helmet. Judging by the purple flash, it was something biotic. A new skill, interesting.
Norda unleashed a burst into Garm's face. It didn't break the shield, but he was distracted.
The enemy reacted quickly. There are more of them, and they started moving at the same time as us. Ten meters is a short distance for assault weapons. Our advantage is reaction speed, better armor, and protection. But the space has no cover, so it's no panacea.
The grenades that reached the enemies exploded. Two "Pack" Krogan went down for good; the others are moving. I tried to throw the grenades at their faces; Krogan are resilient after all—if the brain isn't damaged, they can regenerate. Bakara, in melee, crushed the skull of another attacker with her glowing purple hammer, and Wrex began stuffing one enemy after another with bullets. Caliber matters. Another strike, a burst. Bakara's shield dropped, but Wrex is covering her.
I also flew into Garm, delivering a strike with the Gravity Hammer. He parried the blow with an armored bracer. It would have been enough for a normal cold weapon, but the Gravity Hammer released an impact pulse.
Space shuddered, and the Krogan's arm disintegrated into shrapnel of flesh, metal, and bone. The armor crumpled, spraying blood, but the suit held. Though Garm's right half now looks like a cutlet with metal shrapnel. He'll regenerate if he survives. If.
A roar came from behind. The Geth also took a grenade and is now, deprived of its legs, acting as a turret. It managed to gun down one before the Krogan finally finished it off. No big deal, there are plenty of spares.
Bakara faltered on the third enemy when a pair of Krogan with Shotguns began blasting the woman at point-blank range. She took off another one's head; the hammer punched through the armor with a squelch. Wrex killed the second with a burst.
Wrex's biotic field is flashing, but it's holding for now. Drack reached the enemy line a second after me, discharging his Shotgun into the enemies at point-blank range.
While Assault Rifles aren't the best weapon at this range, a Shotgun is a problem. Armor can, at the cost of a crumpled plate, withstand one, maybe two hits if you're lucky. A shield can take another one or two. But it still hurts.
I delivered another strike to Garm, this time with the blade. He tried to put up his other arm, but it was simply sliced through, and with a crunch, the blade entered the Krogan Chieftain's head. Even then, he spent several seconds trying to pull it out. Unsuccessfully; his strikes provoked another pulse that tore off his second arm and drove the hammer deeper into his skull.
Bakara fell, shredded by buckshot at point-blank range, and isn't getting up. It seems we have another casualty.
Wrex saved the situation. The warrior realized that in a firefight he'd likely shoot us with the machine gun, put it down, and charged into melee. And then he used the same trick he used on Yellow. He made everyone around him levitate, disorienting them. Life got better; life got more cheerful. Especially when the Krogan found themselves pinned to the ground by a massive force, unable to move properly.
"Finish them!" the warlord barked.
Pulling the blade from Garm's skull (I'm not spending a third charge on this one-armed body in crumpled armor), I lunged at one of the remaining ones who managed to somehow raise a weapon from a prone position under the pressure of Wrex's power. A Shotgun blast took off two-thirds of my shield, but a combination of a grenade and a gravity strike sent the Krogan flying into a wall, where he slid down, leaking fluids from his crumpled armor.
Wrex also switched to a Shotgun, as did Drack and Norda. All three look battered, but for a Krogan, that means nothing. If he's breathing, he'll survive. But Bakara clearly has an unplanned hole in her back. And the Geth is destroyed. And Three is silent on the comms; he engaged the Tomkahs. I can't connect to the Pelican's camera. Bad.
The Avatar—or rather, the armor—also took some damage, but it's manageable. I'll have to replace a few plates and joints. The arm moves slower than it should; the glass is cracked. But I'm still combat-capable. But the Pelican isn't responding; not good.
We surveyed the battlefield. The Krogan are finished; Bakara is dead. Magic is cheating after all; without Wrex, there would have been more bodies on our side. Bakara and Drack with his Shotgun and grenades took down the most; I took down the fewest—Garm and only one other enemy.
Wrex himself remarked:
"The Clan won't like that the Pack killed a Shaman. Can we try to get her out?" he asked me.
The Avatar shook its head.
"The Pelican isn't responding. I think the Tomkahs shot it down."
Wrex growled, while Drack kicked Garm's corpse.
"Good fight. Just what's needed to seal the deal. And the hammer is good. I want one for myself."
I turned at those words.
"So, you agree? And I'm not giving up the hammer; get your own trophy, gramps."
Drack grinned, pulling shrapnel from his armor.
"Not yet; I need to see what you brought. I'll show it to our mechanics, look at it myself. But you know how to fight. It'll be a shame if you just vanish in the desert or get taken out by Pack reinforcements. So come on, I'll give you a lift."
As it turned out, a battle had taken place outside. The Pelican managed to destroy four Tomkahs with missiles, but was shot down itself. Urdnot and Nakmor vehicles also helped, as did Geth aircraft approaching from our side.
In the end, the Blood Pack Tomkahs were finished from the air; their burning husks remained here, nearby. They'll burn out, then local Clans will scavenge them for parts.
As we walked, Drack asked about the hammer. The weapon itself, the charging, the Brutes who carry it.
"Good hammer; I'll have to find one for myself. I'm not a Biotic to use a Shaman's 'Biotic Hammer Strike.' This little thing doesn't require that."
I noted:
"But it requires plasma charging."
Drack chuckled.
"I'll show it to my granddaughter. She's very capable. I think she'll manage."
So we went outside, where a fight had also occurred. Urdnot and Nakmor Tomkahs against the Pack plus the Pelican. When the shooting started, the drivers also got into a firefight.
In the end, our side managed to fight them off, but some of the enemy vehicles retreated. Urdnot Clan vehicles stayed to repair and collect parts; we, supported by Geth gunships, headed out of the city on a Nakmor Tomkah, and so we parted ways. Drack and Norda received the data, a communication device, and promised to send a message when they decide what to do.
"The fight was interesting. If the Clan is against it, I'm not against fighting as a mercenary against this Covenant. But weapons are on your tab! Your hammer," Drack nodded to me, "and Wrex's machine gun—I liked those."
The Avatar grinned.
"Deal."
And so we parted. He's an interesting one, that Krogan old-timer.
***
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