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Shepard came down the stairs raking her hand through her hair. Since retirement, she’d let it grow out from the short crew cut she usually sported, but it was getting too damn long. She brushed the bangs from her eyes to find Wrex seated at her kitchen table eating her cornflakes.
“Shepard,” he grunted.
“Wrex,” she returned a tad bit grumpily. “What are you doing here so early? I thought we weren’t heading out till noon?”
“I saw this ad on your human media for something called ‘cereal’. I had to try it,” he answered, shoveling a spoonful into his mouth.
She walked over to the table, but even before she was two feet from it, she could smell the alcohol. “What did you pour into it?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Ryncol,” he answered, lifting the bowl up to his face and taking a big gulp.
“You poured Ryncol in with corn flakes?” she asked in disbelief, looking over his shoulder at the soggy, yellow mess, and trying not to gag. The smell of the sugary cereal and alcohol was not one her brain wanted to process so early in the morning.
“Yep. It’s pretty good!” he enthused. “This ‘cereal’ is so full of sugar it ends up tasting like those fruity ‘cocktails’ you like to drink. But, you know, as food. You humans do have some good ideas,” he explained.
Shepard sat down on the far side of the table, as far from the smell as she could get, and chuckled, “Let me tell you about Saturday morning cartoons,” she said.
“Sure,” Wrex said and lifted the bowl, “you want some?” he offered.
“No. Absolutely not,” Shepard shook her head. “Don’t suppose you made any coffee?” she asked hopefully, looking around.
“Hell no. That shit is vile. Don’t know how you humans drink that stuff.”
“That’s rich, coming from someone that dumped 200 proof alcohol into breakfast cereal,” she snorted, and got up to start brewing a pot. “So, is it just you and me today?”
“Yep, Tali is doing governmental crap. I’m glad I’m retired. That governing shit was annoying,” Wrex answered.
“But, you could play with your kids,” she said.
He snorted, “Never thought I’d get to be a father, but let me tell ya, Shepard, that shit’s hard.”
“No kidding. Tell me more,” she answered snarkily back as she watched the coffee pot fill.
“Say, you’re a human female…”
“After all the years, you just noticed?”
“It never came up before. I mean, you’re Shepard. I kinda forgot,” Wrex answered.
Shepard sighed, “I may not be the vainest or most feminine of women, but even I like being noticed.”
“Well, it’s not like I was gonna mate with you, or something. What do you think I am, an Asari?”
“An asari with quads, now that’s a visual,” she chuckled as she poured herself coffee and dumped a liberal amount of sugar into the mug. She leaned against the counter breathing in the scent as she listened to Wrex laugh.
“I’d take that on,” he roared with laughter.
“I’m sure you would.”
“Anyway, why didn’t you ever have kids? In all the years, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with someone,” he asked.
She shrugged, “I had my career. And now I have my retirement. Honestly, I’m not interested in romance. Not my thing.”
“There is something to be said about being single-minded,” he nodded, then tipped the bowl and gulped down the last of the cereal. “So, what are we doing today? You said you wanted to introduce me to more human activities. If it ain’t sex, then I’m not sure what human activities are that interesting.”
Shepherd raised her eyebrows, “Now I gotta know. Do you know if any humans and krogans have ever had sex?”
“Ho, ho, ho,” the laugh rumbled from deep within his chest, “some have tried. It didn’t end pretty.”
“C’mon, Wrex, spill the beans. I want deets,” she wheedled.
“I thought you weren’t interested in relationships?” he looked in askance at her.
“Yeah, relationships. Not sex. Two totally different things,” she answered.
“You’re telling me!”
“So, give me the details! The juicier the better,” she demanded as she started rooting around the closet that was adjacent to the kitchen. As he was talking, she pulled out an old, metal, hinged box that looked like a toolbox for an engineer.
“First, you got the size problem. And, I don’t mean, you know…that size,” he started, gesturing to his groin.
“You can say genitalia, Wrex, or penis,” she admonished from the floor of the closet. “Wait, do krogan have dicks? Cloaca maybe? I think that’s turians.”
Wrex shook his head, “Yeah, krogans have penises, not so different from humans. How do you think we mate?” he asked, walking over. “You need some help there?”
“Nope,” she grunted as she pulled out another metal box, “found what I needed.” She stood up and lifted the boxes by the inset handles on the lids and placed them on the kitchen counter. With an almost reverential gentleness, she undid the clasps holding the lids in place and lifted them. Both lids squealed loudly in protest.
Wrex walked back to stand behind her and look over her shoulder. He saw a box containing many small compartments filled with small objects, some colorful, some metal, with a movable tiered shelf that evoluted over the lid. “What is that? None of those things look like tools.”
“These, Wrex, are tackle boxes, and those are fishing lures and hooks. You asked what human activity is fun? I’m taking you fishing.”
“What the hell is fishing?”
Shepard smiled enigmatically, “You’ll see.”
An hour later, after a run to the new quarian market for supplies, and a drive into the wilderness, Shepard found what she’d spotted while doing some surveying for the new government: a wide, fairly deep, lake nestled amongst some hills. She parked the rover about a half klick from the lake and gathered up the tackle boxes and fishing poles, then she and Wrex hiked the rest of the way.
“Back to the original discussion,” she started, but Wrex cut her off.
“What’s a cloaca?” he asked. It was a word he’d never heard before, and he had done a fair amount of reading about humans.
“A cloaca is an organ some animals from earth have, specifically birds and some lizards. It’s both a sex organ and…well, an organ for waste,” she tried to explain.
“I ain’t no lizard, Shepard,” Wrex said bristling in umbrage, “I got the quads to prove it.”
“I’m more than aware of that, Wrex,” Shepard shot back, “that’s why I mentioned turians. I think they evolved from birds, right? Maybe they have a cloaca.”
Wrex stopped in his tracks, “You thought about mating with that turian we used to work with? Garrus?” he asked.
She laughed and gave him a side-line glance, “He does have that amazing voice…” she started then shook her head, “no, I didn’t. I don’t mix work and pleasure. Bad combo, that. Emotional entanglement can really fuck with your judgment, especially in the heat of battle.”
“And we were always in the heat of battle back then,” he answered. She nodded. “But we’re not now,” he said, and if krogans had eyebrows, he’d be waggling them.
She shook her head, “Nahhh, besides, Garrus is married with kids now.”
It took a moment for Wrex to put two-and-two together, and he circled back, “Wait a minute, sex organ and waste? How does that work?”
Shepard paused for a moment, “Ya know, I have no idea,” she said, then continued walking. “Wait, I think some birds have a penis. Like ducks, because ducks have a spiral penis.”
He shook his head, “That only gives me more questions. I’m thinking about taurian sex more than I ever wanted to.” They continued walking until a new idea popped into his head. “Oh, what about Liara? You two got real close.”
“I’ll be honest, I did think about it…” she started.
“Who didn’t think about it?” Wrex chortled.
“Exactly. But, Liara is my best friend. Sex just complicates things.”
“Not if you do it right.”
“And I probably wouldn’t do it right,” she said.
“You and me both,” Wrex responded.
They walked in silence for a while enjoying the day. The Quarians’ home planet was beautiful and lush. For several years after the war, Shepard acted as a liaison for the Earth government, and during that time she’d decided to settle there. In the intervening years, a full diplomatic embassy was created and staffed, and Shepard stepped aside, but remained in an advisory position. However, she spent much of her time these days roaming around, ostensibly surveying for both Earth and the Quarian government. She didn’t think that she’d take to retirement as well as, well, as well as a fish to water. But, she did.
“What about you?” Shepard finally asked. They had reached the top of a hill, and the picturesque oxbow lake was nestled at the bottom of the valley. Either erosion or drought had cut it off from the river that snaked along its east and west side.
“Sure is pretty up here. Don’t like it. Makes a body soft,” Wrex said, half admiring, half annoyed.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she prodded.
Wrex grunted, “What do you want to know? I thought being leader of the Krogan made my life an open book,” he evaded.
“Liara, of course.”
“Wouldn’ta made a difference. We needed our females fertile. Mating with an Asari would be pointless.”
“Wrex, most sex is pointless when you think about it,” Shepard retorted as they descended the hill.
They walked in silence for several minutes as Wrex chewed on what Shepard said. They stopped about three meters from the lake’s edge, when Shepard sat down and opened the tackle boxes.
“Wonder if there’s worms here,” she muttered to herself as she examined her lures.
“I mean, I love sex as much as any sentient being. Probably more than most,” Wrex finally replied, watching her over her shoulder.
She snorted, “I think everyone thinks that,” she replied as she pulled up a finely tied fly-fish lure. She held it up to the sun and turned it around, examining it for loose thread.
“Do you think that?” Wrex asked, staring at the lure. “What is that?”
“Yes, and it’s a lure,” Shepard answered, “you use it to catch fish. When I was out surveying, I found this lake, and found it has fish, or something like fish, that are freaking delicious. These,” and she handed the fly-fish lure to Wrex, “are supposed to look like little insects that fish eat.”
“Yes, huh? I never saw you with anyone on the Normandy,” Wrex said, giving the lure back. “Getting freaky, I think you humans call it. I know I read that somewhere.”
Shepard attached the lure to the line, stood back up, and walked to the water’s edge. She examined the pole for a moment, before casting the line in the lake.
“Well?” Wrex demanded.
“A deep subject,” she replied.
“Is that a human joke?”
“Yes. It’s called a pun. It’s a bad pun, I’ll admit,” she answered, and tugged on the line.
Wrex picked up the other pole and tacklebox and walked up to her. “How do you do this?” he asked, showing the pole to her.
While she was picking a lure and attaching it, she started mumbling, “You were my crew. Why would I tell you what I did?” she asked, examining the tackle. “Plus, shore leave,” she said and gave the pole back to Wrex. “This is how you cast into the water,” and she demonstrated for him.
He took the pole back with a grin and, clumsily, cast into the water. “Oh yeah? Smuggle anyone on board?” he asked.
A sly smile quirked at the corners of her mouth. “CO’s prerogative,” she said, then smiled a big, shit-eating grin. “That big bed in the captain’s quarter saw more action than some of the crew. It was a very nice bed.”
“Ho, ho, ho! I wondered. But, why didn’t any of us ever see anyone?”
She shrugged. “You don’t pay for sex; you pay for them to go away. The pros are very discreet.”
Wrex’s low chuckle grew into a loud guffaw, “You’re worse than me!” he roared, slapping his hands on his thighs.
“Shhh! You’re going to scare the fish!” she reprimanded, but the shit-eating grin remained.
“OK, OK, sorry,” he said in more hushed tones. “You gotta tell me, what’s your type?”
Shepard shrugged, “I don’t have a type. It’s anyone that looks interesting. Has an interesting voice. Interesting physicality.”
“Males, females?” he started.
“And anything in between,” she finished the sentence.
Wrex nodded. “I can see that. Not that I can tell sexes in humans, anyway.” Just then, Wrex’s line tugged and started spinning. “What happens next?” he asked, slightly panicked.
Shepard grabbed the pole and started reeling in the line. “Wooh! This must be a big one!” she said as she pulled and reeled, and the pole curved precipitously. After battling for over five minutes, she finally landed the fish. It glistened pearlescent with an odd number of fins, three eyes, and about a half meter long.
Wrex stared at the fish in askance, “That’s what we’re spending all of this time and effort for?” he asked, then nudged it with his boot. “It’s tiny,” he said dismissively, “barely a mouthful.”
Shepard gave him a look, then kneeled down and extracted the hook from the fish’s mouth. She held it up by the gills to the sun, grinning, “This is a beaut!” she declared.
“Seriously, Shepard?” he said skeptically, then grabbed the fish from her hand and tried to swallow it whole.
“What are you doing?” she yelled and slapped the fish out of his hand. “You have to cook it first!” The fish fell to the ground with a large bite out it.
“Hmm…” Wrex said, chewing, “this is actually pretty tasty. I don’t think you need to cook it.”
“You don’t know what’s in there! There could be parasites; it could be incompatible with your biology!”
“Nahh, krogans are made to digest anything that was living and made of carbon. Even some things not alive. But still need to be carbon-based,” he said. “You humans are the delicate ones.”
“Just don’t eat the fish before I have a chance to cook it, OK?” she said exasperatedly.
“Whatever. You humans can be so touchy. It was pretty good raw though. You should try it.”
“No thank you,” she replied. “Only time I eat raw fish is if it’s prepared by a professional chef.”
“Suit yourself.”
Shepard rolled her eyes and threw the remains of the fish back into the water. Wrex cast out his line again and stood waiting patiently. Shepard occasionally tugged on the line of her pole, but nothing caught. The two stood staring at the lake for another half hour in silence.
“Shepard.” Wrex said.
“Wrex.” Shepard replied.
“I’m bored. Is this what you wanted to do today?” he asked.
Shepard reeled in her line in disgust. “I remember this being much more fun when I was younger,” she muttered as she removed the fly from her line. “OK, Wrex, we’re packing it in. I’m bored, too.”
“That’s because you have some sense. For a human.”
“Why thanks, Wrex. That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Shepard carefully put away the flies, and packed up the tackle box. She eyed the hill back up to where she parked the rover. “I forgot about this part,” she said.
“Yeah, you humans tend to forget that sort of thing, I’ve noticed. Krogans remember every hill. Makes ya stronger.”
She sighed, “This won’t make me stronger, just more annoyed.” She turned to Wrex, “Sorry this didn’t go like I planned.”
Wrex emitted a low, growly chuckle as he grabbed one of the tackle boxes and started the walk up the hill. “Seems like this is one of those human metaphors you all like to toss around,” he said.
“Which one?” she asked.
“Hell if I know. Krogans don’t go in for metaphor.”
This time Shepard chuckled, “Copy that.”
About twenty minutes later, they arrived at the vehicle, only slightly winded, put away the tackle and poles, then leaned against it, both staring at the oxbow lake.
“Sure is a pretty sight, though,” Wrex said.
“Yep. Reminds me of home,” Shepard replied.
After a few moments past, Wrex turned to Shepard, “I got an idea of an even prettier sight,” he said with a grin. “You ain’t been the only one exploring.”
“Oh yeah? Show me what you got,” she responded. “This time, you drive,” and she tossed him the control key.
A half hour later found Shepard and Wrex outside a building with flashing lights and music with booming bass leaking into the street, and a beautiful asari bouncer at the door. The asari smiled when she saw Shepard and Wrex, and waved them in without a word.
The interior was dim with bright flashing, strobing lights. Three raised thrust stages were placed equidistance from each other, each with poles near the apex of their elongated forms.
Wrex grunted in satisfaction as he sunk down into a plush chair in front of the center, largest stage. “Reminds me of Afterlife,” he said smiling, as a taurian in very little clothing came up to him. “Ryncol,” he said to her, and she nodded.
“I hate to admit it, but I miss Afterlife, too,” Shepard replied, then turned to the turian, “whiskey. Straight,” she ordered. The taurian silently nodded, and left.
“I thought you hated Afterlife,” Wrex asked as he settled in and waited for the next dancer.
“I did at first. Then I got to know Aria,” Shepard answered. “She made visiting Omega much more… pleasurable.”
Wrex bellowed laughter, shaking his head, “You’ll have to tell me the details sometime.”
She shook her head, “Perhaps.”
Finally, the lights came up and flashed, as a song with a pounding rhythm started. A krogan female in nothing more than a tiny sash across her waist came dancing out.
“We should do this again next week. Not the fishing part. This part,” Wrex said, as he gestured to the krogan who was shaking her rear at him.
“Sounds good.”