'Now, if I can get a closer look at you, you little runt...'

Though it may have surprised a casual observer, Fortack, the Lord High Researcher to Clan Urdnot, was happy. He was bent over a human-scaled microscope, peering awkwardly through the eyehole. The microscope was sat on a bench, surrounded by clutter. The bench was no tidier than the rest of the improvised laboratory in which Fortack was working. It was inside a big canvas field-tent; the sides rippled in the wind. The drafty space was lit by lamps mounted on the tent-poles. The space smelt faintly of ozone and solvents, and also of the packed earth on which the tent had been erected.

The object of Fortack's attention was a small rectangular chunk of bluish-grey metal. Faint geometric traceries hinted at its actual nature. Fortack had received it from a courier late last evening, and he had spent most of the subsequent night poring over it.

'If I'm right,' Fortack muttered, 'and the Lord High Researcher usually is right, then you are a piece of a power-transmission system. From a Sovereign-class Reaper's main gun...'

The possibilities the little sliver of metal held were significant. Fortack's mind was filled with happy images of large explosions being detonated by speculative krogan warships as they destroyed their speculative enemies. And, taking the daydream a step further, the adulating crowds of the new Krogan Empire as their warlord paid tribute to the man whose detailed research had made all this possible... Explosions. Success. Respect. What was there not to like?

Like most krogan, Fortack found satisfaction in a good explosion.

Now if he could just make some sense of the structure of this chip...

All around him were the sounds of the Urdnot encampment beyond his tent Vehicle engines humming, guttural voices talking, feet scrunching on mud and dirt. Fortack had them all blotted out.

He was so focused on his work that he didn't even notice the Clan Chief's arrival until Wrex wrapped his knuckles on his shotgun.

The sharp sound made Fortack twitch. He turned with a murderous scowl on his face, wondering which whelp dared to disturb him. Then his eyes focused -

A massive Claymore shotgun, held with nonchalant menace in one hand. A savage omni-blade glowing sootily beneath it. Black Rage armour with red lights glowering in recessed grooves. And a face with a characteristic set of scars.

'Uh, Clan Chief,' Fortack said, quickly stifling his glare. He tried to look appropriately-respectful. 'I, uh, didn't hear you enter!'

'About time you looked up,' Urdnot Wrex said. The Clan Chief glanced at the microscope on the table behind Fortack. 'You're still puzzling over that scrap of junk.' It wasn't a question.

'Yes, my lord,' Fortack said. 'This could be the key to-'

'Well forget it for now,' Wrex said. Fortack noticed that Wrex had a datapad in his other hand. 'You have a working omnitool, don't you?'

'Yes, Clan Chief,' Fortack said. 'Working' was an arguable exaggeration - it worked about half the time, and that was after Fortack had spent weeks fiddling with the firmware and the components. Still, post-Broadcast, many people didn't even have that much.

Wrex raised the datapad. It too was alive, Fortack noted. He was unsurprised - if anyone would have access to working consumer electronics, it would be the Clan Chief. 'I'm sending you a map and some co-ordinates,' Wrex said, 'and details of an appointment. I want you to go.'

Fortack blinked. 'Uh, what is it about, Warlord?'

'You'll like it, I think,' Wrex said. 'But if you do or don't, I still want you there. The krogan need to be involved in what the other species are doing. We can't let ourselves get sidelined again.' Wrex looked around Fortack's makeshift lab. He grunted. 'And it's not like we have many other scientists, is it, Lord High Researcher?'

Fortack was surprised. 'This is about ... science?' He'd assumed there was a gun that needed servicing, or perhaps some injured krogan who needed help.

'Yes,' Wrex said. The Clan Chief pushed a key on his pad with his thumb. Fortack's omnitool beeped as it received the files - for once, the transfer went smoothly. Fortack breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was to look bad in front of the Clan Chief!

'Thank you, my lord,' Fortack said. 'I'll look at it-'

As if on cue, Wrex's omniblade flickered and burst out a shower of sparks. They crackled to the floor. A tang of ozone wafted through the room. Wrex shook the Claymore, growling in irritation. 'Oh yeah,' he added, 'and when you get back, I'll want you to take another look at this. Damn thing keeps crapping out on me.'

Before Fortack could say anything else, the other krogan turned around and stomped out of the tent. There was a brief swirl of daylight about the entrance-flap and Wrex was gone. Fortack stared after him, then looked down at the omnitool.

Now where was it Wrex wanted him to go? And why did it matter?