Duct Tape

The Normandy had been asked to transport the salarian prisoner to the Citadel to face terrorism charges before the Council. A small group of rogue STG operatives had developed a chemical weapon capable of paralyzing any levo-amino life form, and had been discovered when a 'test-run' on a human colony had been leaked – the leak due to the wily actions of an eight year old boy. Well, if there was one interesting result to come of this, it was that salarians would never again underestimate human offspring.

Shepard had been all too happy to apprehend the culprit, securing him in the lower engineering deck until they reached the Citadel.

Unfortunately, he was rapidly running out of crew members willing to guard the prisoner. Since being arrested, he had not yet stopped talking even once, using masterful skill at choosing species-specific topics most likely to irritate the guard of the moment. To Miranda, he'd talked of the humans killed in the first contact war. To Tali, he'd reminisced about the uprising of the geth. To Shepard himself, he'd detailed the beautiful intricacies of thresher maws, how evolution had turned them into the perfect killing machine, and after an hour or so, even Shepard's legendary patience had run thin, images of his battle on Akuze rising to haunt him.

Shepard had promised the council he wouldn't kill the salarian, a promise he intended to keep if only because they had yet to capture the last two members of the rogue group, and he didn't want to risk their weapon being deployed again.

In an act of desperation, he'd finally sent Grunt down, with specific instructions that he not harm the salarian, but a vague hope that the inevitable jabs about the genophage wouldn't bother the tank-bred krogan as much as they would any other member of his species.

That had been three hours ago, and he'd heard not a peep out of the pair since.

Garrus was next to take guard duty, and Shepard was waiting for Grunt with open curiosity when he arrived back in the CIC.

"How did it go?" he asked, bracing himself for the answer.

"Went well," Grunt said. "I thought maybe he'd be bored, so I recited krogan poetry to him. 'Kalros, destroyer of cities, your destruction is total. Your destruction is complete. Kalros, your children destroy, leaving rubble-"

"Okay, got it," Shepard interrupted before he could get too carried away. "Nice work. But… how did you get him to shut up and listen?"

Grunt looked genuinely surprised at the question and Shepard had the fleeting thought that whatever threat Grunt had come up with must have been harsh indeed.

But the answer was delightfully simple, as the krogan mind was wont to be.

"Duct tape."