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ME 2 16 - Tuchanka Woes
🕑 Added 2025-10-25 22:38:51 +0000 UTCAralakh System
Tuchanka
After the dreadnought was handed over to the Citadel research teams and escorted to a secure research facility by a fleet of mixed ships, Shepard decided to head to Tuchanka.
Grunt, since he was tank-grown, was going through a delayed rite of passage, a biological drive that all krogan experienced when they came of age.
Krogan teenage phase, in other words.
One of Mordin’s old teammates had also gotten lost in Tuchanka, and the krogan did not look kindly on outsiders, especially salarians.
He also wanted to get away from all the publicity due to what happened with Morinth.
“Come on, you can’t be angry at me for this.” Shepard complained. Tali was giving him the cold shoulder after the dreadnought, and she was quite stubborn about it.
“I am not angry at you; I am angry at everyone else.” Tali grumbled, studying the blueprints of the microfusion cells.
“Why doesn’t it feel that way?”
She suddenly stopped, turning to Shepard and poking his chest with her finger. “You know what? No, I am angry at you too. How could you sleep with a killer asari sex demon and not know about it?”
“I have never met someone more dangerous than myself.”
Tali let out an unintelligible scream of frustration and quickly walked out of Shepard’s quarters.
—
Tuchanka was a hot, humid, radioactive ball of dust with clans constantly warring with one another.
Landing on the ruins, which was the base of Clan Urdnot, Shepard was swarmed by krogan.
One certainty in the galaxy was that if a krogan horde surrounded you, it was to kill you. Yet, this time, they gathered with the intent to see the legendary Commander Shepard.
“The clan leader wants to see you.” The krogan at the entrance said, looking at Shepard with something akin to respect.
“Then get the hell out of my way.” He pushed past the krogan, who was ready to faint.
Shepard hoped it was from fear and not adoration.
—
“Can you believe this?! I just got glared at by Shepard. Ah, this will be a tale for the ages.”
“That’s nothing. He threatened to throw me to Aralakh if I insulted his krantt again.”
“What?! You lucky son of a pyjack.”
—
Grunt’s first impression of his species’ homeworld was that it sucked.
But they weren’t here to appreciate the ruins of Tuchanka.
Wrex, the leader of Clan Urdnot, sat on a throne that looked more like debris that had fallen together into the shape of a chair, listening to another krogan prattle on about something, bored out of his mind.
The guard tried to stop him at first, before realizing who he was, and lowered his head.
“Shepard.” Wrex saw him coming and got up, pushing past the annoying krogan yapping at him.
“Shepard, my friend.” His first krogan friend grasped his arm, giving him a firm squeeze.
“You look well for someone who spent the last two years sleeping.”
“A man has to rest. Good to see you too, Wrex. How is being the clan leader working out for you?” He had never been on Tuchanka before; as such, he didn’t have any previous knowledge to comment on the current state of the planet.
“Good enough. We are making real change around here.” Wrex was proud of what they had accomplished in such a short time.
As always, there was a dissident, not out of any genuine concern, but because things did not go their way. “You abandoned many traditions to get your way. Dangerous.”
“No one asked you, so shut up while the grown-ups are talking.” Shepard scolded the krogan, who shrank back in fear.
Even on Tuchanka, Shepard’s kill count was well known.
Or rather, that it was too high for anyone to be able to count.
“How is the Normandy?”
“Got blown up, but I have a new and improved version.”
“Hah. Takes me back to the old days. Us against the unknown, killing it with big guns. Good times.” Wrex grunted, patting his laser minigun, still in pristine condition.
“Yeah. Listen, Grunt here is getting angsty; he needs to go through the rite of passage. Think you can manage something?”
“Where are you from, whelp? Was your clan destroyed before you could do the rite?”
“I have no clan. I was tank-bred by Warlord Okeer, my line distilled from Kredak, Moro, Shiagur….”
“You recite warlords, but you are the offspring of a syringe.”
“What the fuck did I just say about interrupting the grown-ups?”
“I am pure Krogan. You should be in awe.”
“Okeer is a very old name. A very hated name.”
“He is dead.”
“Of course. You’re with Shepard. How could he be alive?”
“Is this going to be a problem?”
“A vicious warlord responsible for many deaths. Who apparently toyed with genetics. A clone undertaking the rite?...” Wrex scratched his headplate, considering how the clans would react to this.
Uvenk looked ready to erupt, but he did not want to test Shepard’s patience and stomped off.
“Dumbass.”
“Well, you said he is your krant, and I don’t think anyone will mind having a krogan trained by Shepard, except idiots like Uvenk.”
“So, Grunt, do you wish to stand with Urdnot?”
Grunt turned around, his mind stormy over the choice, gazing at the pile of debris that was the home of Clan Urdnot.
“It is in my blood. It is what I am for.”
“Good boy. Speak with the shaman—he’s over on the second level. Give him a good show, and he’ll set you on the path.”
“You too, Shepard. How many times have you stepped in a mess for your crew, huh?”
“I am looking for a Salarian; I need him for something. I heard he has been caught by the Blood Pack.”
“Talk to my Scout Commander. He’ll get you whatever you need.”
“Alright, thanks, Wrex. Don’t let the throne soften you now.”
“Hah! Never.”
—
“You again? Boy, if I see your face again, I am going to grate your face on the ground until it's smooth like your brain, is that understood?” Shepard glared at Uvenk, who was complaining to the shaman of Clan Urdnot, trying to find a way to bar Grunt from going through with the rite.
The shaman pushed past Uvenk, inspecting Shepard with a bloodthirsty grin. “Ah, the legendary Shepard graces our lands. Word of your battle prowess has the people convinced you have the spirit of a krogan.” Then again, if they had a krogan as successful as him, they would be ruling the galaxy now.
“So this is the tank-bred? It is very lifelike. Smells correct as well. Your protests ring hollow, Uvenk.”
“If this must stand on ritual, then I invoke a denial. My krantt stands against him. He has no one.” Shepard rolled his eyes, about to bitch-slap Uvenk to the next century.
The shaman grunted, looking mighty displeased. “My patience is tested, but Uvenk invokes correctly. Grunt, who is your krantt? Your allies are willing to kill and die on your behalf?”
“Grunt will strengthen Clan Urdnot. Name our target, and it will die.” The way to communicate with most krogan was simple.
Violence.
“Spoken well. Most aliens—and some krogan—do not understand our ways. But I believe Shepard does.”
“Aliens don’t know strength—” Uvenk began to whine again, and Shepard had enough.
Enhanced by biotics, his headbutt knocked the krogan out.
The shaman liked it, laughing like a lunatic at the sight of the downed leader of Clan Gatatog.
“If only you were a krogan, I could imagine the heights we could rise to.”
The krogan’s smile fell, and the atmosphere suddenly changed. “However, there is a problem with you joining the rite.”
“Why is that?”
“Everyone knows that Shepard is the mightiest warrior in the galaxy. Your presence will cast a shadow on Grunt’s victory.”
Thinking about it, Shepard agreed that it was a valid concern. Anyone against Grunt could easily claim he had finished the rite because Shepard was there.
“How about I sit this one out then? Send someone else.”
“That would be for the best.” The shaman agreed easily.
Anyone fighting for Shepard would be mighty warriors indeed.
“I wanted to fight with you.” Grunt sounded displeased, like a child denied candy, and Shepard patted him on the shoulder. He understood the significance of the rite for Grunt, but he had to sit this one out for the tank-bred’s own good.
“Grunt, do you think there could be a fight in Tuchanka greater than the one aboard the dreadnought?”
“Good point.”
—
He left Grunt’s rite of passage to Garrus and Jack, taking Mordin and Tali to find Maelon. The Scout Commander had directed them to the territory of Clan Weyrloc, reporting that one of his scouts was already lost.
They even provided an APC to the border.
It took the three of them a while to encounter any krogan, since the Blood Pack preferred to use vorcha as cannon fodder, while plenty of klixen were scurrying around and did not hesitate to attack.
Inside the building, which was a krogan hospital, they found human bodies with signs of forced experiments, assumed to be in an effort to develop a cure for the genophage, using the diverse genetics of humanity.
The hospital was eerily silent, but a member of Clan Weyrloc, one who liked the sound of his own voice a bit too much, broke it, kissing up to his clan chief, Weyrloc Guld.
Shepard cooked him and his soldiers with the microwave beam.
Only corpses with signs of experiment weren't humans, as they also found krogan females, dead as the result of failed attempts.
It had the benefit of giving Shepard more insight into Mordin.
The Scout Commander was lucky, since his scout, a rather small krogan, was alive, though he too was experimented on.
Sick or not, seeing Shepard had invigorated the krogan, and he had run back to Urdnot territory with all haste.
“The Shepard effect on krogan is fascinating. Seen as a perfect warrior. Useful.” Mordin actually considered if Shepard could be used to bring krogan to compliance with galactic law and instill changes into their culture that otherwise would take centuries.
Tali saw a target and took the shot. “Almost as useful as your healing powers, isn’t it?”
Shepard groaned.
Clan Weyrloc were more berserkers in a field than a unified fighting force, choosing frontal assault, forgetting that they could not replenish their numbers so easily anymore, and drowning the enemy in bodies did not work when you did not have a significant numerical advantage.
When it was done, Weyrloc Guld stood alone. Shepard’s biotic attack stripped his barrier, Mordin burned the krogan’s armor, and Tali fried him alive.
Turns out, Maelon did not need rescuing.
The salarian, haunted by his conscience, had come to Tuchanka to develop a cure for the genophage.
Mordin wasn’t happy that Maelon had such a change of heart when they had all agreed that the modification to the genophage was necessary in the first place, and even less so at his student’s brutal methods.
“You can’t face the truth, can you? Can’t admit that your brilliant mind led you to commit an atrocity.” Maelon panicked, pointing a gun at the team before Mordin punched him.
Mordin, as livid as he could be, pointed the gun at his former student’s face, ready to kill him. “Unacceptable experiments. Unacceptable goals. Won’t change. No choice. Have to kill you.”
“Lower that gun, Mordin. You aren’t going to kill your student in cold blood. You are not a murderer.” If Mordin had wanted to shoot Maelon with a clear head, Shepard would not have stopped him, but he knew the professor would regret it.
“No. Not a murderer. Thank you, Shepard.”
“Finished, Maelon. Get out. No Weyrloc left. Project over.”
“Get the hell out of here before Mordin changes his mind.”
In the end, Mordin suggested to Maelon to try Omega after the student did not know where to go.
The younger Salarian’s words on the genophage had clearly affected the professor.
Ensuring that Mordin was fine and taking the data just in case, they left the now empty base of Clan Weyrloc.
—
“Grunt, Garrus, how did the rite go?”
Grunt smacked his fist to his palm, feeling the rush of battle wind down. “It was great. That coward, Uvenk, showed his hide once you weren’t around.”
“One less headache for Wrex.”
“Damn straight.”
“How did things go on your end?” Garrus could see that Mordin was troubled, and it was never a good thing when a salarian as smart as him was troubled.
“Long story, and best told out of krogan earshot.”
“That bad, huh? Alright, I am going up with Jack; call me if you need anything.”
“Tali, you return too; I don’t think your suit filters can handle the air here any longer.” Shepard advised.
He had enough of her needling comments for one day.
—
“Clan Weyrloc is gone, and so is Uvenk.” Shepard informed Wrex, who looked mighty pleased.
Several krogan chiefs, who had gathered in Clan Urdnot territory to see Shepard, whispered furiously among themselves.
“Yes, I heard the news. We already adopted the females and children of Clan Weyrloc, and with Uvenk gone, Clan Gatatog fell in line.” EDI had already reported it to him, surprising Mordin with the change in krogan.
“Here for less than a day, and you already solved two of my headaches. At this rate, we’ll just make you the Overlord of the Krogan and call it a day.”
“No thanks, too irradiated for me.”
“Guess this is what it takes to replace me. You are now Urdnot; welcome.” Wrex praised Grunt. He would not be around forever, and the clan would need a leader who understood what it meant to be one.
—
Having said their farewells and helped several krogan, whether by retrieving something or helping them see a new perspective—like Fortack—Shepard, Grunt, and Mordin got ready to leave Tuchanka.
Except there was one problem.
Several dozen krogan females, at least Shepard assumed they were females, surrounded the exit and locked their eyes on Shepard.
“Commander, I was hesitant to inform you, but there are more breeding requests for you than there are for Grunt.” Even with all her computational power, EDI could not find an answer to this predicament.
How the fuck was she supposed to anyway?
“Thanks, EDI.”
“Commander Shepard, may we talk?” One of the females asked, and Shepard got ready.
“About?”
“Our offer.”
Not to be one to judge a person by their look, but the krogan females were as ugly as the males.
Shepard blinked, realizing they were actually serious, and grabbed his teammates, taking off with the help of the anti-gravity generator and his biotics, since reaching the shuttle while on land was out of the question.
Grunt and Mordin were laughing as the shuttle pilot picked them up midair.
“I expected nothing less from you, Battlemaster.”
“Shut up, Grunt.”
“Tali will be displeased. Still, it’s impressive how you attract females from all races.”
“Not all races, thankfully.” Shepard grumbled. The volus and the elcor were too different to have any interest in him—thank god for small mercies—while the batarians were scared to death.
Salarians did not have sexual desire either way, which was weird as far as evolution went, but he welcomed it.
“I see. Unaware of it then.”
Dread settled into his stomach, but he asked the question nonetheless. “Unaware of what?”
“Several salarian heiresses have a fan club dedicated to you.”
Grunt howled, shaking the shuttle by accident, slamming his hand on the cabin plating.
“One more word, and I am crashing this shuttle.” Shepard shuddered, wanting to puke his breakfast.
God damn it.
