Three months after the Reapers were defeated, the krogan realize something is wrong. The first batches of eggs, all fertilized after the genophage cure was released should be hatching.
Baby's cries should fill the air. Parents should be grumbling about waking up in the middle of night, but secretly smiling. Tuchanka should be full of hope.
The numbers start rolling in. Only one out of 100,000 eggs are surviving. The numbers are no different than before the cure. No one wants to accept it at first. No one wants to believe the truth.
The genophage cure didn't work.
And with Eve and Wreav dead, hope for the krogan might as well be dead, too.
While there seems to be no hope for the krogan, there is hope for Tuchanka. No one is sure why the Reapers are suddenly working for organics instead of killing them, rebuilding cities, helping the krogan whatever way they can. Even with their help, within a few generations, these new cities will be barren. The Reapers are building future tombs.
Grunt waits anxiously with the woman who agreed to mate with a tank-born. He never expected this chance. The chance to be a father. The tank is no help in that regards. It left him with no wisdom on how to raise a son or daughter.
The three months after the Reapers were changed, Grunt read every article he could, trying to learn how to be a parent. That was when he missed his Battlemaster the most. She had never been a mother herself, but she was wise in all things.
His mate used to smile at his worry on those rare occasions she let him look at her without her veil. They would figure out how to raise their children together, she told him. Before the news, he would relax into her gentle touch and believe her.
As the news spread that eggs simply weren't hatching, her smile disappeared. She had lost many children before. She told him once, after fumbling together in the dark, she didn't think she could stand to lose more.
Their eggs should have hatched five days ago.
Grunt pleads with the protectors of the Void. Please let one hatch.
His mate can't stand to be in the same room with the eggs. She tells him that she needs fresh air. She stares at the eggs, tears in her eyes, before she picks up her pistol and leaves their small dwelling.
Grunt wonders if he'll ever see her again. He could stop her, of course, but he would never be willing to keep her in a cage. He cares for her too much.
He is alone when the reports come in. The salarians are insulted that the krogan believe one of their own could have messed up the genophage cure. Documents and recorded conversations are released. The krogan always knew that the salarians didn't want the cure.
But what Grunt learns over those extranet reports is that his Battlemaster agreed with them, going so far as to kill the man that would have been savior herself.
He wants to prove them all wrong. That the Shepard he knew, his krantt, would never betray the krogan people like that. But then he receives a message from her mate, simply with the words, I'm sorry, and Grunt understands that Shepard has betrayed them all.
Half of what's left of the krogan people want to go to war, with anybody, with everybody. Better to go down fighting. The other half seems to be content to let themselves fade out slowly from existence.
And all Grunt can do is stare at the ghosts of his children and ask, "Why?"