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Childcare was a new concept to Clan Urdnot. Traditionally, Krogan societies raised their young in large groups, under supervision of the female clans. It was a necessity in times of scarcity, to band together and protect those in most need of protection.
Tuchanka, all healing scars and rebuilding rubble, had known peace for nearly a decade. But Urdnot Wrex- veteran of the Reaper Wars, slayer of gods, whip-crack of the Urdnot clan- hadn’t seen a full night of sleep for two weeks now.
Two hours into his latest attempt, sprawled on a large bed in the exterior chambers of the clan organizational building, Urdnot Wrex is woken again by a familiar VI chirp. His daughter was crying, again.
Urdnot Wrex: Your daughter requests your attention. The language of the VIs was unusually formal for the request, but the localization process to Krogan culture was proving a slow process. For now, the over-formal human standard VI would have to do.
“I heard you the first time.”
Lumbering to his feet, Wrex wiped the sleep from his eyes before looking out onto the city. It was quiet, the quiet right before dawn. A peaceful quiet, something Tuchanka was not quite familiar with yet.
In the other room, the baby wailed.
“I’m coming, I’m coming. Cool your engines, child,” Wrex called toward the door. Parenthood was a clumsy new garment, something the former warlord was still growing accustomed to.
She was awake, again, pawing at the outside gates of her crib and still a tiny thing, her cranial ridges not even stiffened up yet. Her mouth, however, was wide open and loud. Wrex reached into the crib to pull her up, cradling her in blankets and carrying her to the wide window overlooking the city.
Within a few minutes, her screams quieted to a soft murmur, and in the rocking arms of her father, she slowly drifted off to sleep again. Wrex sighed, this being only the third time in the past few hours he’d had to perform this ritual.
“One of these days, I’m going to leave you with the VIs for a night,” he chuckled, “Wouldn’t that be something?”
The sun was just barely beginning to peek over the dunes on the horizon. The soft hum of shuttle engines could be heard as the first work crews flew out to their new assignments.
“Never understood how the females could do this for weeks on end,” Wrex said as he shifted his weight slightly to rest the child on his other arm, “I suppose I never really trained for this.”
“It’s just the right thing to do, isn’t it, Mordin?”
The girl, for she was Mordin, exhaled softly in Wrex’s arms. For a moment, he was acutely aware of the fact he didn’t wear armor anymore. Everything now was soft.
“When you’re older, one of these days, you’re going ask about him.
I know you are, because you’re my kid, and my kid would want to know their namesake.”
Off in the distance, the spaceport lit up as a cruiser drifted in for docking.
“And when you’re older, I’ll tell you that Mordin Solus would’ve probably thought it was amusing that I went through with it- that I actually named you after him. Bet he’d think it was funny, in that funny way of his.
Truth is, you wouldn’t be here without him. None of this would be.”
The little Mordin opened her eyes, gazed up at her papa, her small hands clasped under the blanket.
“He was one of the bravest men I ever knew. Braver than Shepard, even.
Takes a lot of guts to run headlong into death like that, and to do with a song on your lips. That’s no easy feat.”
Wrex walked back over to the crib, Mordin still in his arms, her child fingers grasping at the air under his chin. He chuckled, again.
“That’s good, you know. Learn to grab, child. Learn to hold on. Learn when to let go, too. You’ll always need your instincts. That’s Krogan stuff, all in the blood, the plates, the rush of-” He caught himself, “Well, not so much battle anymore.
“You can be whoever you want now, Mordin.”
He lay the girl down in her crib, pulled the blankets up to her chin.
“Just know your name comes from a hero, girl. Your clan is Urdnot, and your father fought with the man who saved all of Tuchanka, and he was a pain in the ass all the way through.”
“And if nothing else, I know that you’ve got his attitude.” He smiled at the girl, then, as she squirmed her way into a comfortable position on the little bed. He sat in a chair next to the crib, and the lights dimmed in the room as the city outside the window woke up for the day.
The room was decorated with photos, of the child, of Wrex, of days gone past. No war pictures- he was particular about that, not in the child’s room- but plenty of friends. His days on the Normandy, the various locales, the first few days after the rebuilding began. The past was finally in the past. The child was sleeping soundly.
“I hope I’m doing you proud, Mordin.” And for a moment, he didn’t know to which he was speaking to, and that was all well.