"You remember Anthony Simmons, Mr. Koenig? Known as 'Tony' to his friends. VP of Operations at Chimera for three years. Before that, he was a general parts manager at Nissan-Honda for seven years… and worked at BluLight prior to that."
Sen. Edelman – Israel

"Now we're slinging Tony's name through the mud too?"
Erich Koenig, CEO – Chimera

"As far as we're concerned, Mr. Simmons has already doused himself with enough mud that we could not possibly sully his name further. No, his tenure at Chimera was lively enough that we would be hard-pressed to tarnish his reputation, even in such a forum like this. Just to provide some context to this committee, Mr. Simmons had a reputation for spending lavish amounts of money, using Chimera funds, on personal items not related to his work for Chimera. Designer suits, sojourns to strip clubs, using company transport for personal vacations—this is only scratching the surface. Communications between several execs show that not only was the board knowledgeable about this sort of behavior, it was encouraged."
Sen. Edelman – Israel

"Senator, I'm not going to beat around the bush here. Tony's spending habits were known by everyone at the top level, but this was all a mistake on Tony's part. You see, he kept frequently mixing up his personal account with the company account. He paid Chimera back when this mistake was brought to light, every single credit spent."
Erich Koenig, CEO – Chimera

"And so you never thought to have a serious discussion with Mr. Simmons after the fifth time he 'mixed up' his personal account for yet another frivolous spending adventure?"
Sen. Edelman – Israel

"Tony is a good man. We didn't want to lose an experienced man like him."
Erich Koenig, CEO – Chimera

"We are talking about the same man who spent three million credits of company funds to add a genetically modified cheetah to grace his house?"
Sen. Edelman – Israel

Tuchanka Orbit

If there could have been one word to perfectly describe Tuchanka, it would be desolate.

A far cry from the humid and temperate climate zones of the asari homeworld, Roahn reckoned. The patchy clouds in Tuchanka's atmosphere were light and wispy, easily dissolved by the rays of the nearby sun. The UV radiation baked the planet's crust, causing it to crumble under a swath of heat. Any dribble of moisture could not exist on the surface for more than a minute, as the temperature anywhere on Tuchanka would fry it right up. A harsh, uninviting world. Only those fit to survive the trials and tribulations present on the surface and beneath it would stand a chance at conquering the planet.

There was quite the contrast between Thessia and Tuchanka in just about all aspects, visually and socially. While Thessia had been a lush world, filled to the brim with fertile jungles and expansive oceans, Tuchanka was a dust bowl, the reddish-brown color of dirt. Seas and forests were nonexistent upon the planet's surface. There were no stretches of green or plains of blue to break up the monotony of the jagged, vicious landscape. It was just one continuous desert, craggy and dotted with mountains and canyons.

It was a fitting home for a race as hardy as the krogan.

Despite its appearance, Tuchanka had not been a desolate world since the dawn of time. Many centuries ago, Tuchanka had been able to support thick tangles of forests and shallow silty oceans, but those land features had vanished a long time ago. Had history played out differently, Tuchanka would still be a world teeming with life, humid and ripe for harvesting, but the krogan's insatiable lust for war had only spelled disaster by upending their homeworld in disastrous fashion. War defined the krogan race and dominated their lives. Clans split the planet as despots continuously battled for new slivers of land to control, never completely satisfied with the amount of land under their control. Enough was never really enough for the krogan. These clans were always inventing new ways to kill, to dominate, to further bring Tuchanka under the control of one body.

An ambitious goal. A fruitless goal.

If left to their own devices, the disparate clans would merely have fought each other to a relative standstill, but the inventiveness of progress merely proved to exacerbate the issue at hand. Everything was changed when the atom bomb was created on Tuchanka. The contest that was war had been forever and irreparably altered by this one discovery. When the krogan discovered the destruction that nuclear weapons could bring, they were transfixed instead of humbled. They were short-sighted to the long-term problem that these bombs could bring; the krogan only saw them as tools of total annihilation—a means to bring their enemies to their knees in one fell swoop! Unlike the humans, who had initially balked upon creating their own analogue for these weapons, the krogan seized their chance almost immediately. Unlike every other race who held back in senselessly displaying the power of splitting the atom, the krogan had never even given a single thought to what would happen if they had decided to push that fateful button.

They summarily paid the price in just as rapid of a fashion.

The nuclear blasts proved too great for Tuchanka to handle. Firestorms and freak winters decimated all plant life. Cities were doused in radioactivity, rendering them unlivable. Craters upended towns, blowing them to smithereens. Ash choked and killed the livestock. The seas either dried up to become salt flats or were poisoned so greatly that they became alkaline in nature. The krogan, now without a viable homeworld to sustain them, scattered around the galaxy as Tuchanka died, finding themselves lost as the universe swallowed them up, as befitting its cruel nature.

For a while, scant few krogan continued to occupy Tuchanka while every else became outcasts. But as the radiation dissipated and after a few fresh water wells had been drilled, Tuchanka was soon able to support the bare minimum for life once more. The krogan returned, still carrying the same animosity to those not within their own clan, but also continuing to entertain the idea that one banner would soon fly over the world, for better or for worse.

However, in recent years, Tuchanka was going through a new renaissance of its own. In a few sparse locations, plant life was revealed to be returning, and more underground springs of fresh water were being found and welled. Under the guidance of clan Urdnot, Tuchanka's reigning faction, the krogan were beginning to make headway towards reconstructing several of their cities and building up their population numbers. Ironically, the krogan had managed to come out from the Reaper invasion in a better position than they had been previously. Clan Urdnot's more moderate nature was definitely helping in that regard as the clan leader prized cementing the krogan as an economic power above petty squabbles with rival clans. Both he and his mate had brought upon an idealistic revolution within the krogan, which was summarily translating into a promising recovery period for the species.

At the very least, the newfound attention the krogan were receiving from the galactic community was definitely rendering out to have some immediate visible impacts, such as the queue of Alliance warships congregating above one area of the planet proved. Fifteen gargantuan destroyers, their engines running cold, each a kilometer in length, hovered above Tuchanka, the lights from each individual deck glowing like stars.

Shepard, looking through the main deck, spotted the cluster almost immediately as his craft started to take a nosedive into the stratosphere.

"They've certainly got the consideration of the galaxy now," Shepard noted in awe before the ships melted away once the shuttle speared into the top anvil of a cumulonimbus cloud, leaving a swirl of vortices behind in its wake. "There any reason why the Alliance is staking out Tuchanka right now?"

"That's right, I keep forgetting that you've been out of the loop for a bit," a voice from behind Shepard muttered and he turned around to find Garrus standing over his chair, also staring at where the Alliance group had been through the flight deck. "The Alliance negotiated a good-faith deal with the krogan a while back. They've got a five-year agreement in which they lend the krogan aid for their construction projects, provide military support, and organize food shelters. In return, the krogan promise future provisional support once they get their own government up and running. I think the Alliance is treating their involvement as an investment of sorts, hoping that it will pay off in the long term."

Shepard blew air out of his mouth, impressed. The krogan had definitely been one of the more downtrodden races in the galaxy for their perceived brutish notions. At the very least, he had been proved that they had the capacity for deliberate consideration thanks to all of the experience he had working with them in the past. This would definitely help give them the recognition they needed if they were to become a serious galactic power. Good on the Alliance for taking a leap of faith.

"Well, at the rate things were going when I last saw the place, I'll bet the Alliance will see a definite return on their investment."

"Here's hoping."

By the time the ship had landed in the main district near what constituted as the capitol city, a crowd had already began to form near the landing pad. Unsurprising, given that Shepard had relayed his intent to visit ahead of time, but even he was surprised at the jubilation just waiting beyond the docking ramp. Wrex certainly did not spare any expense, nor waste any time.

As they lined up to exit, Shepard did notice that Roahn was making an effort to stay at a good length away from him. She was not fleeing his presence outright, but she had adopted a weary sort of outlook towards him ever since she had gotten it in her head that coming clean during his deposition could have potentially saved the both of them anguish and heartbreak in the future. Shepard felt for the girl—he really did. But there was no way that he could think of that would be able to dissuade Roahn from what she was considering—he just did not have that power. Roahn was just scared, is all, and the fact that she had held up this long was a testament to her strength. Hell, Shepard was proud of his daughter for making it this far and holding her own… but he could not say that to her out loud because he knew he could not make it seem sincere to her. Children at her age had an uncanny ability to sniff out bullshit.

Right out of the gate, Shepard spotted two familiar faces as the ramp finally lowered. The first was a female named Urdnot Bakara, mate to the chief of clan Urdnot. Bakara was a shaman and had been instrumental years ago in helping to eradicate the salarian-inflicted genophage using her modified tissue to generate a cure. Bakara wore an elaborate blue and gold robe and headpiece combination encrusted with a variety of symbols that managed to cover her entire body, sans her reptilian eyes and nostrils. Bakara was a pragmatic sort, one who prized intellect over brute strength. Like all krogan, she had a deep voice and was blunt to a fault, but spoke very pointedly and had a better moral compass than most people that Shepard had met.

Her mate, standing right beside her, was a little more animated than she was.

Urdnot Wrex roared a laugh as soon as he saw Shepard descend the ramp, his gargantuan mouth open wide as he spread his arms out as far as they could go, as if he were hailing welcome heroes straight from a field of victory. Wrex was decked out in a set of blisteringly red armor, polished to a high sheen, the scars upon it cleaned so that they were displayed prominently as badges of honor. The krogan raced to meet Shepard as the human set foot down upon Tuchanka, grasping Shepard's shoulders in a firm embrace, but about as delicately as a krogan could manage. Still, Shepard was shook around a bit from Wrex's exuberance.

"Shepard!" Wrex bellowed in delight.

"Wrex!" Shepard similarly grunted, trying to mask a grimace as Wrex bent his spine out of proportion from his jostling.

The krogan ceased in his reveling just enough for Shepard to catch his breath back. Wrex was still grinning like a lunatic, though.

"Almost didn't believe it when you mentioned that you were going to swing on by," Wrex said through a toothy grin before he gave the human a once-over, noting the human's beard and gray hair. "Damn, you look just as old as I am."

"I've been hearing that a lot, you senile bastard," Shepard resisted rolling his eyes, yet no malice laced within his words at all.

Wrex heartily laughed. "Senile? You shit! I've got at least 400 years left in me!"

"The scars are not as prominent on my face, though."

The red-eyed krogan gave Shepard a sour look before it rapidly dissolved into a genial expression. Wrex's most prominent markings were a series of four deep lines that ran down from the crest of bone atop his head, down his face to cross his right nostril, trailing off all the way down his neck—the result of an errant strike from a varren that had ventured too close for comfort on a far-away dustball a long while ago.

"Point taken," the krogan maintained. Wrex had always been proud of his scars, though. He was fond of the effect that they had with intimidating other people unused to dealing with him.

Wrex would jokingly maintain in the years after the war that Shepard had been a "bad influence" on him as a way to deflect any criticisms from the direction that he was pulling krogan society in. Wrex was one of the few krogan who had maintained a careful eye towards the future instead of fully miring himself in the blood and gore of his enemies, a trait that most krogan would have been happy to continue following. As the leader of Clan Urdnot, Wrex had ruled over his people with an iron grip but with a sober calculation. Reason and logic was not a common combination that fully gelled within most krogan, but somehow, it had been instilled in Wrex. Despite his natural affinity for seeking out a good fight, Wrex had always been more focused on rebuilding krogan society instead of continually glorifying violence. Bakara, his mate, shared in that sentiment, which had spearheaded the period of rejuvenation the krogan were currently undergoing.

Despite Wrex's fearsome appearance, Shepard had found the krogan to have a rather keen intelligence. Wrex never minced words and had a tendency to speak his mind all the time. Conversely, it was hard to make Wrex furious beyond belief as the krogan maintained a rather even temper for the most part, but considering his brutish presence, pissing off Wrex would be suicide for anyone foolish enough to attempt such a thing.

The krogan then turned to spot the people following Shepard behind the ramp. Wrex could barely stop grinning once he spied Garrus and Liara standing just a few paces away, clearly energetic at the sight of his friends.

"My favorite turian and asari!" Wrex said in his booming voice as he grasped Garrus' and Liara's arms in turn, a brotherly gesture.

"Good to see you, you big lug," Garrus smirked. "You certainly haven't changed one bit."

"Heh, well, I see you haven't added any more scars to your collection. I suppose that I'll be having the better array until I die." Wrex then turned to the side to face the asari. "How are you doing, Liara?"

Liara appraised the krogan warmly while Garrus ruefully shook his head behind her. "I'm doing quite well, Wrex. It's good to see that you've been keeping busy here. The place looks better than I remember."

Such an observation was not an example of idle talk. Tuchanka had been a planet of disrepair for everyone here who was not a krogan. It was not an uncommon sight to venture into a bombed-out neighborhood or to come across a highway overpass that had collapsed from intense krogan-caused earthquakes. At least here, all signs of debris had been cleared away, giving the boulevards back their original widths. A thick layer of dust still caked over every surface, but that was par for the course for a regular Tuchanka day.

"You think we've just been sitting on our asses all these years?" Wrex smirked as he mockingly reared back. "Someone's got to keep up appearances over here. But it seems that you all have found ways of attending to your boredom… or have I been missing something? Is Shepard getting the gang back together again? Couldn't resist signing up for another suicide mission, is that it?"

Liara and Garrus shared a look. "It's… something we can explain later," Liara said. "Shepard thought we'd visit for another reason entirely."

"Bored out of your minds so much that you decided to join back up with him once more?"

"Well, that's one reason why I'm here," Garrus said proudly as he mockingly polished off a section of his chest with his knuckles. "I also had this interest in seeing just how fat you had gotten while acting as a king."

"Keep up your yapping, Vakarian, and I'll knock your head off," Wrex grinned. "Better yet, I'll force you to compete with the hatchlings in a ryncol-swilling contest."

"Ugh. Please, no," Garrus grimaced, trying not to recall bad memories. One of the last couple of times that Garrus had been dragged along to Tuchanka on one of Shepard's adventures, he had been pressured by Wrex to take a shot of ryncol, a krogan liquor, as part of a dare. Being young and cocky, he had obliged to the request almost immediately only to spend the better part of an hour in a fetal position on the ground, curled up from nausea. Apparently, ryncol tasted like an oil field to any alien other than krogan. Wrex had later revealed to Garrus that he had only consumed the cocktail variant of ryncol—had the turian drunk pure ryncol, the acidity from the drink would have dissolved his stomach lining.

"I can tell that you're all keeping me in suspense," Wrex knocked his fists together as he appraised his three friends. "And I'm rather doubtful that you'd come all the way over here just to say hello. Tuchanka's home, but it's not exactly a prime vacation spot. So, what the hell would possibly bring all of you to—,"

From between Garrus and Liara, Wrex tilted his head as he spotted a diminutive figure timidly hiding behind the cluster of legs. Wrex gave a slow blink as Roahn finally edged out, the blue colors of her suit slightly muted by the dim lighting of the cavernous landing area. It clicked with the krogan almost immediately as to who this was and he dropped to a knee, bringing his head to Roahn's height, softening his expression so that the girl would not be frightened of him.

"Ah," was all Wrex said at first as Roahn gingerly edged her way forward. The girl was unsure of how she should be feeling right now. She had never seen a krogan in person before and although her instincts were screaming at her right now to run away, she held her ground. This was Wrex, the famed krogan leader and a close friend of her father's. What did she have to be afraid about?

"H-Hi," Roahn squeaked out as she raised a hand, already cursing herself for being so tongue-tied. Why was it that every time she met a new legend she always made a fool out of herself?

Wrex did not seem to notice the girl's embarrassment and instead held out a large hand reminiscent of a paw. The appendage was more than three times the size of Roahn's own hand and coated in the shining red armor of the krogan warlord, but Roahn eventually placed her hand quite easily into Wrex's palm. The krogan delicately closed his fingers, never taking his eyes off of Roahn.

"I watched your mother grow up," the krogan spoke to Roahn, tenderness now overtaking his words. Shepard, who was standing by, froze up at hearing Wrex speak so softly and intimately. "She was unique. She was one of the very few who never treated me as a simple brute. I adored her like she was my own daughter." Wrex took a gentle pause. "I have a feeling that I'll love you the same way."

For Roahn, it felt like something had switched on within her that had never been thrown before. A key moment that she had been yearning for it to pass for so long, now upon her. Her eyes watered and the edges of her vision blurred.

No one but her caught the very simple gesture it had taken to activate this change in the girl.

A piece of her soul had been missing for the last two years. A type of pain that had wrenched her terribly far more than enduring the death of her mother. It was this absence that had wrangled her so awfully, that had made her feel like her gut was twisting itself into knots. And only now did that pain start to lessen, now alleviating itself. A part of her was allowed to relax.

Knees trembling, Roahn jumped forward and instinctively hugged the krogan around the neck, even though her arms did not even wrap halfway around the dry skin of his throat. Wrex chuckled affectionately and patted Roahn's back, almost making her stagger in place but she managed to hold on. The krogan then ducked his shoulder slightly, and with a little push of his arm, managed to surprise Roahn into sitting upon the wide shoulder plate. A tiny squeal escaped Roahn's lips as Wrex then stood back up to his full height, with her perched upon his shoulder. She towered several feet above everyone else and her legs dangled in midair.

"Wow," was all she could say in such a mad moment.

As she continued to balance herself upon Wrex's shoulder, Roahn managed, for a few important seconds, to nab her father's eye and connect their magnetic gazes together. Roahn, remaining silent, tried to sum up all of her fears and hopes into whatever scraps of light could pierce through her visor and slam straight into Shepard's own eyes, to bash him over the head with her unsaid plea. To make him understand what it was that she was missing within herself.

Blankness only clouded her father's features. Roahn had to turn away in disgust.

Everyone else was forgotten as Wrex now spent every iota of his attention to dote upon Roahn, whom he bounced with every step he took. "I must show you what your parents made possible!" the krogan beamed as he stared up at the quarian girl. "Do you even know what we've been able to achieve after all this time?"

Roahn truthfully had no idea and she shook her head as such.

"My girl," Wrex rumbled in anticipation, "you're about to get a better education in an hour than any of those stuffy quarian academies could ever teach you in a year! Come!"

Somehow, Roahn was a little apprehensive at the fact that Wrex could possibly stuff an entire term's worth of material into such a short period of time, or that she had any choice in following him because she was still nestled upon his shoulder, but she found that she really did not care. Suddenly and unexpectedly laughing as Wrex broke into a playful gait, the two of them raced through the dusty hallway as they approached the clan hall just past the next section.

Shepard had no qualms about Wrex temporarily looking after Roahn as he watched them depart. After all, who else could protect the girl better in this galaxy, other than her own father? Now finding themselves forgotten, though, Shepard decided that it was better that he follow the two to wherever it was they had taken off.

As Shepard proceeded on his way, with Garrus and Liara in tow, he had to stop for a second as he was nearly barreled over by what appeared to be oversized pill bugs rampaging their way through the large corridors, bumping into everything and not really caring at whom they were charging at. It took a little while for Shepard to realize that he was in the presence of krogan children once he managed a closer look. They were not all that cute—they had stubby legs, tan colored skin, and at this age, the bone plating upon their back looked like uneven rock as it had not been smoothened with time.

Bakara, watching Shepard have to jump in all directions to prevent himself from being run over, laughed. "You'll want to watch your step around here, commander," she said, unintentionally using Shepard's rank to identify him. "The hatchlings are restless and they don't run out of energy easily. We may be able to take the knocks when they run into us, but soft aliens like you might receive some broken bones if you don't keep yourself alert."

"Thanks for the warning," Shepard panted as he clumsily hopped around on one foot. "I take it that breeding's been going well for you guys?"

Bakara shrugged. "We're not back to our normal clutch sizes just yet, but 250 eggs per season is nothing to gripe about."

Shepard gaped for a second, certain that he had misheard the shaman. "I'm… sorry? You said 250?"

"We used to get up to a thousand before the genophage was put into effect," Bakara said mildly, not at all affected by Shepard's dumbfounded reaction. "You could say that we're taking things slow around here."

Behind Shepard, Garrus similarly wilted. "Now I know why people back then were so concerned about the krogan population spiraling out of control," he whispered to Liara, who shushed him.

"Myself, I'm just going easy for now," Bakara said as she rotated in place. "I had lined up the fifteen kids from my clutch to greet you, as Wrex wanted to show them off, but they all seem to have wandered off by now. Typical. They never settle in one place for very long. They'll be back when the scoutmaster brings in the next kill from the field, though. They do manage to still themselves when you ply them with food."

"Fifteen?" Liara now interjected. "Now I'm understanding why Wrex had gotten so much better at his parental skills."

Shepard understood as well. Wrex had been a little rough around the edges, metaphorically and literally speaking, when he had met the krogan for the first time, but it seemed that Roahn's first meeting with Wrex had been starkly different from his own experience. The krogan had become affectionate with the girl as quickly as flipping on a light switch. It had taken a lot more effort on Shepard's part to earn that kind of trust with Wrex, he recalled with some bemusement, reminded that he and Wrex had held each other at gunpoint for a few moments many years ago. A fragile relationship back then. An unbreakable bond now.

"Trust me, parenting came rather naturally for him," Bakara said matter-of-factly. "I hardly needed to goad him to make time for the little scamps. Like we promised, we named the first one Mordin. But that name is not all that uncommon on Tuchanka—a lot of females now have a tradition of naming one of their clutch Mordin."

Garrus gave a slight guffaw. "I wonder how that old salarian would have liked to have known just how highly held in regard he would be in krogan society."

That was something that Shepard was wondering as well. Mordin Solus had previously tinkered with the krogan genophage to bring its effectiveness back up after its degenerating properties had waned over the centuries. However, Mordin would summarily be responsible for creating the cure to the genophage years later with Bakara's tissue, having gone through a crisis of faith with his work, no longer certain that the krogan deserved to be punished for their sins anymore. Mordin was not all that sentimental to be concerned about leaving a legacy behind, but Shepard was certain that Mordin would have been amused at just how uplifted his reputation would be from his final sacrifice. In a sense, the krogan had ensured that the memory of Mordin would last for millennia.

Bakara's yellow eyes then bored straight into Shepard's head as she considered him thoughtfully. "We still haven't had a girl yet, but when I do, I know just the name to give her."

Shepard blinked. "What name do you have in mind?"

If Shepard could have seen beyond the veil shrouding Bakara's expression, he would have seen the wide grin grace the krogan's features.

"We'll tell you when the day comes."

A grand outdoor staircase ten meters wide paved the way downwards towards a deep canyon etched out of finely shaped rock, a gorge deliberately constructed brick by brick as a monument to the krogan people. A reclaimed ruin, once abandoned, was now the de facto base for the main Urdnot clan as well as the other clans underneath its protective wing. From where she was still perched upon Wrex's shoulder, Roahn had a clear view towards the market square on the lowest level where she could see a bevy of krogan mill about several meters below her.

The sky was the color of dead leaves, heavily draped by dust clouds in low orbit. Occasionally the clouds would break to give Roahn a glimpse of the sandy sky, but it was overcast more often than not today. An icon in the corner of her visor was calling her attention every few minutes or so—the level of particulates in the Tuchanka air was rapidly clogging up her air filters. She would need to clear it out next time she was on board a ship with a clean room, because at this rate, she would have an unworkable filter within a few days when it should have lasted her months.

Ornate pagodas speared the sky in deference to the crumbled remains of what had been a metal spire a few miles away. Rushing sand blown from storms had weathered the rock to be entirely smooth, ironing out the roughness that had been present when the original builders had laid the foundation. There was a distinct harshness to the architecture here, as if the designers had fabricated everything here with a survivor's mentality. Everything here was built to last, each standing structure was heavily supported with buttresses and extra thick columns. Any building that was in a deteriorated state was only that way due to what looked like outside impacts, not structural failure.

No doubt that the krogan were quite the hardy sort of people.

Below her, Wrex lifted an arm to indicate something to Roahn. He had been exuberantly showing her around the area, obviously thrilled at the chance to guide the daughter of perhaps his greatest friend around his home. The krogan probably thought that he was providing a worthy tribute of his services to Shepard by acting as a temporary guardian for the girl. Whatever the real case, Wrex's paternal instincts were out in full force today.

"A few kilometers that way," Wrex said, "is the Shroud. To the right is the Hollows, our most sacred meeting ground. Clan Urdnot pushed all this way from our usual nesting spot during the war and it seemed only appropriate that we make our new camp here, out of respect for the old ways."

"The Shroud," Roahn repeated. "That's where the genophage was first deployed and then cured, right?"

"Correct," the krogan rumbled thoughtfully. "Did you learn that by yourself?"

"No. Mom told me."

Wrex scratched at his chin. "Yes… your mother. Tali was one of the most brilliant people that I've met in my long, sorry life. I know what you're thinking: an old, decrepit krogan like me somehow being influenced by a young and peppy quarian? Shit, even the rest of the whelps here would scoff at such a thing, little bastards." Wrex then looked up as if he suddenly remembered the age of whom he was talking to. "Ah, sorry for the cursing. Get me going on the state of things around here and something's bound to slip out. I'm not perfect."

"I don't mind," Roahn honestly said as she kicked her legs a bit as they dangled.

"Neither did your mother. She was no prude, that was obvious. It looks like you've inherited her brains, though. But, it's interesting… when I look at you, I'm reminded of—,"

Roahn gave a withering sigh, interrupting the krogan. "I know, I know. Everyone says it. I remind you of her, right?"

Wrex gave a quick grumble before continuing. "Actually, I was going to say that you remind me more of your father."

That was not the answer that Roahn was expecting and she was thrown so hard that she nearly pitched right off of Wrex's shoulder. It was only through pure reflex that she managed to cling onto the armor pad supporting her as she performed a rapid double-take.

"Wait… what?" she could only say.

The krogan amiably shrugged. "I would have thought it was obvious."

"How?"

"Don't know," Wrex murmured. "It's… how you carry yourself. The two of you have a lot in common, actually. I've been around long enough to take one look and just know. The both of you have a lot of self-confidence and determination within you. You tend to have the same upright posture as your father, all tall and forward-thinking. It's an unconscious tic, that, when you're mimicking the little idiosyncrasies of your parents. Plus, you've got the same intense look in your eyes that he does. It's an uncanny resemblance."

"But you've only known me ten minutes!"

"I'm just that good," Wrex rumbled, his laughter jostling the girl on his shoulder. "Nah, it merely comes with being a parent and having a lot of accrued experience. You'll understand it yourself when you get older. But take it from me, Roahn, you're probably the luckiest girl alive to have a father like Shepard."

As much as Roahn wanted to correct the krogan, she kept mum on the subject, relegating herself to being led towards the bottom of the valley with her still riding atop Wrex's shoulder. The sentiment from Wrex was not something that Roahn could honestly agree in and she was overtly wary about conforming to such a blanket statement when she possessed mixed feelings about the whole sorry thing.

How many times was she going to have to endure people telling her what a wonderful father Shepard was? Did they really know this man? Were they aware of what kind of a father he was?

A perfect father would not have kept his own child in the dark about his past for nine years.

A perfect father would not have had to resort to sullen silences to deal with his daughter.

A perfect father would go to great lengths to tell her just how much he truly cared about her.

Even though Shepard had professed to be trying so hard to amend his bad habits, Roahn could not truly shed her chilly instincts, nor forget many an empty moment when she had reached out for his support when she was younger only to grasp at bare air in return. Shepard had been a phantom for most of her life, even though his presence had been so near to her. It was like she had no effect on him. His newfound interest in her now seemed almost insincere, brought on from adversity rather than a spontaneous necessity.

If people knew just how close Shepard had come to ruining her family, would they still hold him in the same light?

"Hmm," was the only utterance to come from her mouth lest Wrex would think that she had not been paying attention. Unbeknownst to her, the krogan detected the hidden animosity in her tone and did not press her on it, already focusing on new topics to peruse.

Shepard and the rest of the gang had taken a shorter path to the ground level, beating Wrex and Roahn there. Everyone was glancing in the direction near the western wall, where a pair of young krogan were squaring off within a raised and tiny circular arena, squinty-eyed and slowly stalking in side-stepping maneuvers.

Wrex slowed to a halt and lowered himself down so that Roahn could finally slide off his shoulder. "What are they doing?" she asked, referring to the krogan who were intensely appraising the other.

"They're just engaging in a little competition," Wrex said, clearly not at all alarmed by the inherent violence brewing between the two krogan males.

Roahn blinked as she stepped up beside her father, with Wrex taking her other side. "What are they competing for?"

"What every male on Tuchanka is after. Females."

"I… I don't… what?"

"All males who complete the Rite of Honor are deemed eligible for breeding with the females," Wrex explained to the girl. "In the old days, we used to keep our females as prizes of war, to be bartered or fought over. Now, with the genophage cured, the females have integrated their way into our clan, meaning that the males have to go through a new rite of courtship to win over a female. Most of the time, this just means that if two krogan are fighting over a female to breed, they will spar with one another. And…"

"To the victor go the spoils," Shepard muttered beside them.

"Not all the time," Wrex corrected. "The female can still deny the male if they remain unimpressed. But that only acts as more motivation for the winner to earn her, so to speak."

Just then, one of the krogan in the circle let out a short bellow before rearing his head and ramming it down in a fierce headbutt. The resulting thwack created a miniature shockwave that sounded like a thunderclap, shaking Roahn's ribcage in one fierce jolt. Amazingly, the krogan on the receiving end of the blow staggered but did not drop to a knee. The attack had not even cut the alien's skin and no blood marred his face. Instead, the wounded krogan ground his teeth and lowered his stance, already preparing for the next move.

The two krogan then lightly bounced on the balls of their feet before embarking into a rapid charge. Their heels dug channels into the earth—two tons of raw muscle and power translated into an enormous amount of kinetic energy. The krogan collided once more, emitting another earsplitting crack. Their fists pummeled the other's face, causing hot blood to splash to the ground. But before either one of the krogan could reach up and claw the other's eyes out, they abruptly disengaged with a harsh bark, panting and weary as they formulated their next attack.

To Shepard, this sort of fighting was different than the krogan battle styles he had been exposed to before. The males here were not looking to kill or to maim, but to wear the other down through attrition and perseverance. The longer they lasted, the more respected they seemed to earn. A vast difference from the quick, dirty, and ultimately brutal method of attack that the krogan loved to employ during combat.

"I would have thought this fight would go by faster," Roahn said, a bit awed at the spectacle, also finding the circumstances to be out of her realm of expectations.

Next to her, Wrex chuckled. "That only happens near the end. A fight like this can last more than a day, if they so choose. It's actually a bit more meticulous than it seems. Each combatant is squaring up their opponent, probing and testing for weaknesses. They want to learn which moves fatigue them and where the cracks in their armor lie. It's a lengthy process and when both combatants have learned all about their opponent that they need to know, they will go at it like a varren to a pyjak nest." The krogan rubbed his hands together, almost salivating at the prospect of such a vibrant and ferocious battle. "The reason these mating fights are so slow is that each krogan knows what's at stake. They don't want to rush this moment if it finally means that they can pass on their genes to a future generation."

Still watching the krogan, Roahn was a bit nonplussed. "But wouldn't it be easier if the krogan chose each other based on how they felt for each other? Do they really have to do all this fighting?"

Again, Wrex laughed. "Ah, kid, fighting is something that all krogan inherently enjoy. Our feelings aren't all that much use to females, and they know that better than we do. We're expected to act a certain way, and that's because our society is more conducive to such a method of thinking. Ask Bakara—even she gives me shit on occasion whenever she does not believe that I'm acting like a prodigal krogan. Women. Sometimes, I believe that they hold more power over the men. Ask your father, he'll confirm it."

Roahn laughed. She knew just how strong-willed Tali had been when dealing with Shepard. If she had been right on a particular subject, she would press and press until her opponent would finally give. She had been remarkably resilient, right up until the end.

Everyone's interest in the fight seemed to be dwindling rapidly. In contrast, there was an even bigger crowd surrounding a much smaller and sunken pit over near where the exit ramp led to the main highway, which had been dug into the ground by a few meters. Krogan lined the rim of the pit, laughing, roaring, and jostling each other in a raucous manner. Money changed hands, bottles clinked to the ground, and venomous curses were exchanged. Roahn, her curiosity piqued once more began to check out what all the hubbub was about over there, but she caught a look from Liara, who was subtly shaking her head at her.

"You don't want to see what's over there," she warned the girl. When Roahn only gave a confused blink, Liara jerked her head over in the direction of the pit. "They're doing varren fights over there."

Now understanding, Roahn solemnly nodded her head, now able to pick up on the frenzied growls and high-pitched yips coming from over where the pit was. From the sound of things, like the scuffling of claws on bare rock, and the rabid snarls escaping the throats of the massive beasts, the fight was proceeding quite violently.

From the glimpses that Roahn could get between the tangle of krogan legs, every so often a varren would jump the height of the pit, the other combatant at its throat. It was hard to tell which varren was winning because both were stained with so much blood that their very skin was slick and black. Choking gurgles finally wafted upward as one varren's jaw managed to pierce the neck of his opponent. Krogan simultaneously cheered and groaned. Vials of ryncol were smashed in anger. A fight broke out between three krogan, ostensibly because one of them lost a bet. Dust clouds were kicked up as quick jets of blood sprayed out.

"So, how long are you guys planning on staying in town?" Wrex asked Shepard, ignoring the brewing melee that was going on behind them. "I also heard that you were having a little trouble on the homestead?"

Truthfully, Shepard was getting pretty tired of having to explain his situation over and over to people who were not privy to the whole story, but he resisted the temptation to sigh and roll his eyes, recognizing that Wrex was just being courteous… or as courteous as it was possible for a krogan to be.

"We're working on things," Shepard said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Trouble's just coming all at us from the places we least expect. And… I don't know… we might stay for a couple of days. Not too long. Just to give us enough time to come up with a plan for what to do. Things have gotten a little crazy since I've been away."

"Hmm," Wrex considered. "Perhaps it's been a while since you've been out in the field. The Shepard I knew would've had a plan already."

"Yeah, well that Shepard hasn't existed for more than twelve years," he slightly snapped a bit more aggressively than necessary, and he turned his head away shamefully.

Only that was the wrong way for him to look, because immediately Shepard spotted a painted depiction that had been colored directly upon a smoothened rock wall. An ancient mural laid down by the krogan before they had bombed their world to oblivion. Hues of dark red and brown came together to form an image of a segmented creature, worm-like, with a complex arrangement of tentacles, proboscis, and antennae adorning its head.

Shepard recognized that the krogan who had created this work of art were merely paying a tribute to Kalros, the so-called "mother of all thresher maws." Thresher maws were enormous subterranean carnivores that rarely ventured above ground unless their territory was disturbed. Kalros was the largest thresher maw ever recorded in history and had so impressed the original krogan who had laid down the painting in her honor. She had laid territory around this area at one point, but ever since her scuffle with a Reaper years back, Kalros had retreated to a less hectic home near the mountains. Kalros was a part of krogan legend, meant to both inspire and terrify those who would seek the presence of the maw.

Shepard could not stomach looking at the mural any longer and he gave a shiver, abruptly storming off to clear his head.

Roahn watched her father leave and glanced between him and the painting that he had been looking at. Somewhat perplexed, she turned to Liara for help. "I don't get it. It's just a picture of a thresher maw."

The quick dart of the asari's eyes to the side immediately drew suspicion upon her.

"What am I missing?" Roahn pressed.

Liara tentatively bit her lip, uncertain how she wanted to proceed. "Did… did your father ever talk to you about thresher maws before?"

"No, he didn't."

Of course he didn't, Liara thought in dismay. Well, if Shepard was going to get mad at her for telling her this, then he should have explained it himself a long time ago. "A little more than twenty years ago, Roahn, your father's team was attacked by thresher maws on Akuze. He was the only survivor."

Roahn quickly whirled to catch another glimpse of Shepard, but he was nowhere to be seen, having temporarily vacated the presence for some peace of mind.

"He rarely talked about it with anyone else," Liara added, hoping to assuage the girl somewhat. "It was something that he tried to keep locked away for years. He's never been completely okay when he had to face off against the maws later in his life. It's the one thing that has haunted him ever since I knew him. Trust me, you're not the only person he's kept secrets from."

"And…" Roahn began in a shaky voice, "…and how did you find out about it?"

Liara's smile was sympathetic, but melancholy. As if she was ashamed to be privy to such an important piece of information that was at her purview to disperse. A huge responsibility—one she felt she was not ready to shoulder out of respect for the man she intensely cared about.

It was that same care and love that surrounded her protective instincts for his daughter. In the face of such yearning, would there be any other alternative for keeping secrets from Roahn?

Probably not.

Liara then shrugged almost sheepishly, as if she was trying to lighten the mood by brushing off the weightiness of the implications. "There was only one person your father truly opened up to back when we were working together on the original Normandy. Getting her to shed light on him after they had talked was not nearly as hard. I probably don't need to say any more, do I?"

"No," Roahn mustered with a shaky laugh, the answer quite obvious to her. "You really don't."

Something was wrong.

For the past hour, Tali could pinpoint a decisive note of dread lingering within the walls of the clinic. Quarians bustled to and fro, engrossed in their duties down the multitude of hallways. Gone were the cheery and confident attitudes of the resident staff that she had been introduced to today, now everyone seemed to be intensely absorbed in thought as they worked to check and re-check their findings.

This was had always frustrated Tali with doctors: they were always so cagey with their refusal to state things outright. They would rather analyze their data ad infinitum instead of getting right to the point.

In the absence of straight answers, Tali's own fear swelled.

Tali clenched a suited hand. She was still in her enviro-suit as her checkup did not require her to step out of it at all. All the diagnostics the doctors would be able to perform would be done with exterior scanning tools and simple blood tests. Risk of infection here was minimal, but that was not of any importance to Tali right now. There were other things she was worried about.

A sudden stab erupted near her gut—fresh pressure bloomed inside her, causing Tali to wince a little bit. The pain had been getting steadily worse for months now. But… this could not have been the same agony. She was so sure that she had successfully endured her illness. Yet she still hurt. The night sweats had been returning. Her appetite had waned. One morning, she could not even keep her breakfast down and she had vomited it into the sink. Tali's joints ached something fierce and she shut her eyes, refusing to believe that things were devolving like this.

She just could not believe it. She knew she must not give in.

At least she was not alone anymore, which did provide Tali a modicum of relief. Shepard was sitting in a chair next to the medical bench upon which she was perched in the room. He had been shuttled up here just a few minutes ago by Shala'Raan—he had intended to be present when the doctors would make their final diagnosis. Tali had been in the clinic since the early morning and had endured hour after hour of being poked, prodded, and having her blood drawn. She had steadfastly gone through this supposedly final procedure, her tiredness warping the remains of the day away.

Shepard looked up from the screen of his omni-tool, a six-day growth of stubble lining his cheeks and chin, and gave Tali a smile. A loving smile. A sign to silently tell her that everything was going to be all right.

In the face of optimism, how could Tali possibly despair?

Finally, the lead doctor entered through the door, a datapad clenched in a hand. Both Tali and Shepard instinctively straightened, anxious to receive the news.

There were many moments in Tali's life which she would look back upon time after time again. The list in her head was filled with many of these important instants, nearly innumerable. Tali would conduct a thorough analysis of a few particular memories more often than not, wondering if there could have been anything that she could have done in order to make the end result better.

Today would create enough of those memories to satisfy a lifetime.

Her heart sinking, Tali gazed through tortured eyes as she listened to the doctor cut straight to the point, thankfully not extenuating the terrible meaning that he had been bidden to share. The throbbing noise in her ears threatened to pop and bleed, flooding her with deafness. Her lungs seemed to shrivel up, depriving her of air. Her skin felt like it was melting off of her as she lost all control of her body, descending into a shaking mass as the doctor's words hammered into her skull again… and again… and again…

Her mind resonated with the revelation. Tali's own imagination was torturing her.

"It has returned," had been the doctor's curt yet somber declaration.

Tali squeezed her eyes shut as she placed a hand on her abdomen. Now she knew why she had been feeling sharp cramps there for the past month, but she had hoped—no, prayed—that it had not been as she had feared. That she was not getting sick again. Why was this happening to her? Why?

"That can't be possible," she heard her husband protest as he stood up from his chair, aghast. "No… no… that doesn't make sense. She beat it. Tali beat the cancer. I… we… we all saw it! We had the results! It was in remission! The therapy killed the cancer. It… it was in remission…"

The doctor's pained expression could only be discerned from the look in his eyes through his visor. He proceeded to blast up a hologram of Tali's body, and after he flitted a few filters away to look at key organ systems, he gestured to an area in Tali's abdomen for the benefit of the couple.

"When cancer is in remission," the doctor explained, "especially with such a violent growth like this, there is always the chance that it could make a comeback. But Tali, your outlook has worsened, I'm afraid. The cancer… it has metastasized."

The word was familiar to Tali yet she could not grasp its meaning. She lifted her head up as a fresh stab from her gut sent a slew of tears to her already watering eyes. "Metastasized?"

"To put it simply, it has spread at a furious rate. The cancer is no longer just in your ovaries, Tali, but it is now in your fallopian tubes, your abdominal lining, lymph nodes, and your liver. You have serous carcinoma—tumors—localized in your ovaries. The speed of its aggression is unlike anything we've ever seen and is considered to be classified as high-grade serous carcinoma."

The doctor gestured to areas on the hologram of Tali's body where reddish clouds of infection were propagated within the representation of Tali's abdomen. The red coloration was described as a portrayal of the cancer—a simple visualization—and based on the screen, the cancer looked to be completely overwhelming Tali from within. Where the marked disease was indicated, Tali's body looked decayed, withered. There was no doubt in Tali's mind what was happening—she did not need a visual to indicate the truth to her.

"How long do I have?" Tali whispered as she hunched over, still keeping a hand firmly plastered to her belly.

Not proceeding beyond sealed lips, Tali was thinking instead: how long do I have with my daughter?

"Tali!" Shepard exclaimed sharply before he firmly placed his hands upon her shoulders, denying her from moving. "You can't say that! You're going to get through this, just like you did the last time." To the doctor, Shepard now turned his attention. "What can Tali do? What can I do? There's got to be a way to make her better. We can't just give up right now."

The doctor bore the expression that he was the inevitable bearer of bad tidings, a role he would have begged to have delegated to someone else. But in his position, reality needed to take precedent. The worst thing that he could possibly give to Tali and Shepard now were false hopes.

"Unfortunately, because the cancer has recurred and because it has specifically recurred at a certain time frame, this means that your wife's illness will be difficult to treat. Recovery is possible… but I'm afraid that the chances at making a complete comeback is significantly worse than before."

"I don't understand. We've been able to treat cancer effectively for more than a century now. This shouldn't be a new development. How is this any different? Why can't Tali get better?"

Tali realized that Shepard was even closer to losing it than she was. She could tell that his voice was ever so slightly beginning to crack, that his eyes were darting all over the place, and the grip on her shoulders had been slowly tensing more and more as he spoke.

The doctor took a breath and raised a hand to calm Shepard down. "Despite all we know about cancer, it is still a disease whose very characteristic is its adaptability. One treatment for a certain type of cancer will only work on that one type of cancer and the problem is increased tenfold when each species reacts to cancer a little differently. The issue is compounded even more when you take a recurrence into account. When cancer recurs, it has evolved to resist certain drugs—unfortunately, which happen the types of drugs used for treatment that are less invasive and less toxic to the body. The cancer has therefore adapted to the prior treatment, which may make things problematic in the near future."

"But there is a treatment for this, yes? Let's not wait any longer! Let's start her on chemotherapy right away!"

The doctor shook his head and sighed. "Chemotherapy will not be the first line of defense here. Like I said before, the cancer has built up a resistance to platinum-based drugs, known as platins. Those drugs are typically the first line of defense only because they don't have as many side effects. Because of this newfound resistance, any chemotherapy we enact will have to utilize such drugs like vincristine or dactinomycin, and these contain all the horrible side effects that you want to avoid. Vomiting, ulcers in the mouth, bone marrow being suppressed, loss of hair. Some of these compounds might even cause new types of cancer in the future if we decide to go down that route. Yet that isn't even my choice to make, but hers."

The doctor gestured to Tali at that and blinked sympathetically before proceeding.

"You don't need to make a decision right away, but the sooner you do make your choice, the better. But I strongly suggest the first thing that must be done is to have Tali booked for debulking surgery immediately."

"What will that do?" Shepard asked.

"We will surgically remove as much of the tumor in her body as we can. In its current form, it will be impossible to remove it fully, I must warn you, and because of its extensive nature, we won't be able to debulk the tumor more than once. However, the what is left of the tumor afterward will be more sensitive to chemotherapy, so the line of thinking is that it will be more receptive to any treatment we do… if you decide to bulk debulking surgery."

Shepard cursed under his breath and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. The man was staggering in place while Tali stared off into space next to him. Shepard felt like he had aged fifty years in five minutes. Raw, gnawing pain began clawing under his flesh, making him itch and prickle.

"Where did this come from?" he muttered through the hands that were covering his face. "We had been so careful. We triple-checked every single thing. I thought she was doing so well…"

"Most cancers tend to have very subtle early warning signs," the doctor explained in a regretful manner, obviously upset that he could not provide more concrete information. "Some are so subtle that they tend to get misdiagnosed for other illnesses. Even the early stages of cancer can be painless, all things considered. There are just so many risk factors and so many other aspects to consider that identifying the one thing that caused the cancer to crop up is, honestly, not going to be possible." The quarian doctor then consulted his notes on his omni-tool before proceeding again. "But what I can tell you is that this cancer was definitely influenced by outside components. Based on the speed of how much the cancer has spread, it does not seem likely that this is a normal form of ovarian cancer, but I cannot determine anything other than that."

"Then… what's the prognosis going to be like?" Shepard asked. "I don't want to hear any sugarcoating of this thing. Can Tali get better?"

There was a noticeable swallow from the doctor. "No sugarcoating?"

"That's right."

The doctor could not bear to make eye contact for very long and he looked away for a critical moment. "Tali has a 90% chance to succumbing to the disease."

The room became so quiet you could have dropped a speck of dust onto the ground and everyone would have picked it up. Shepard stood, his mouth agape, as his grip on his wife finally relaxed in shock.

In denial, Shepard's head began to rapidly shake back and forth. "No… no…" he whispered, the word barely able to escape past his lips. "Not acceptable. That's not acceptable. I… I want… I want a second opinion."

"I am the second opinion," the doctor emphasized, backbone steeling his words. "Colleagues from two different hospitals—one on Earth and one on the Citadel—have both concurred with my conclusion. I have their testimonies to view right now, if you wish."

For a long time, nobody spoke. Even the muted chatter of conversation outside the room had become silent. Shepard stood, not knowing what to think. The doctor kept his ground, his frosted expression mournful and helpless. And Tali…

"Can you give me a minute?" she whispered, her voice so faint it might as well have been a feather riding the wind. She clenched a hand around Shepard's wrist. "Alone with my husband."

The doctor nodded at once, grabbing back his datapad before edging out the door backwards. "At once, Tali. Just… let me know when you're ready to continue, okay?"

Tali did not utter one more word for five more minutes, long after the doctor had left her presence. Her grip on Shepard's wrist flexed and trembled, her emotions unable to process themselves into clear thoughts. Her breath heaved and fluttered. She tried to focus on Shepard's face, to look straight into his eyes and to see that ever-present confidence that lived within his very gaze. Yet when she stared straight at him, only despair was reflected back at her. For the first time in Tali's life, she saw her husband completely at a loss, unsure of how to proceed.

She reached up to touch his face, but suddenly pulled her hand back when the haunting laughter of a child flitted into her ears. In a stupor, Tali glanced over and immediately realized she was hallucinating as she saw Roahn sitting patiently on the floor, looking up at her as the girl let out another cheerful laugh.

The laughter lingered in Tali's brain, building up and up in volume until it became a full-bodied roar. The image of Roahn continued to shriek in revelry, now holding out her arms and constantly calling, "Mommy! Mommy!" Tali moaned and fumbled at the switch to turn off her auditory sensors, but the voice of her daughter persisted. It burrowed into her mind, digging through gray matter to reach the vulnerable core of her thoughts. It infested her very being, clawing away the tumorous rot to reside in its place.

Roahn still laughed long after Tali could no longer see her.

Giggling.

Taunting.

The last lingering vestige of normality, the cruelest insult that could ever cut deep at Tali. To not be able to watch her daughter grow up.

In that second, Tali snapped.

Shrieking hysterically, Tali flew from the bench, past her husband's arms, and hurled herself at the wall of opaque glass. She slid helplessly down its surface as she frantically beat her fists upon the thick surface. Her blows were methodical, yet carried enough power to crack the glass. Spiderwebs of fractures began to form from where she hammered the wall, spiraling out of control and threatening to bring everything down.

All the bile that inhabited Tali, all of the rage, the pain, and regret flowed out of her in the form of her miserable screams. Her voice ran hoarse in seconds. Her throat tore and Tali could taste blood. Still she screamed. She screamed because she knew she had no future, that she would not be there for her husband, for her daughter, when all she had ever wanted in her short, sorry life was to have a family, to come home to people who loved her.

She had even been denied that.

When Shepard finally pulled Tali away from the wall, she fell limp almost at once. The world became grayer for the quarian as her breathing became shallow. Tendrils of milky light rolled over her, encroaching with the blackness, bringing upon the solid dark.

Tali could not even hear Shepard calling her name in a panic.

She wanted to tell him that she was so sorry, but unconsciousness fell upon her before she had the chance to do so.

Shepard was then cruelly ejected from his thoughts in that moment, the memories too painful for him to fully sit through. A faint flutter of hot wind mustered a pathetic push across his face, along with the burnt scent of baking sand. He tasted sour dust on his tongue and the stimuli of Tuchanka finally tore him from that terrible day, returning him to where he was sitting upon the grand staircase, able to perceive the magnificent canyon below him where clan Urdnot resided.

Shepard then opened his eyes again as the sound of footsteps crunched up toward where he was sitting. He tilted his head down to face Wrex as he ascended the stairs below him, Garrus bringing up the rear behind the krogan. Wrex was carrying a tray of something in one arm that looked to Shepard like a piece of diseased meat, for it was a reddish-white slab that had a slight green tinge to it. Whatever it was, it looked unappetizing.

"Bad time?" Wrex intoned as he climbed the final steps to reach where Shepard sat. Shepard shook his head, which gave Wrex the opening to sit down on the step beside the human. "Hungry? I can get you something from the scoutmaster," the krogan lowered his tray down into his lap, allowing Shepard to get a more detailed look at the meat that Wrex had chosen to consume. He certainly could get a better whiff of it, that was for sure. Smelled like burning rubber mixed with the rotting stench of carrion.

"Not really," Shepard said honestly—his appetite had not really been raising too much of a stir today and the remains of it had practically fled when Wrex had shoved… whatever this was in front of his face. "I had a bite to eat on my ship."

Wrex chuckled as he tipped the tray upwards and swallowed the meat in one bite. "If you change your mind, let me know. I wouldn't eat this, by the way. Not saying it's bad but it's probably too much for you to handle. Thresher steaks aren't really good for humans to ingest. They're still chock-full of thresher acid in the meat. Burn a hole right through your stomach if you have too much."

"Now I don't feel bad for not partaking. Thresher steak isn't exactly something that I'm looking to cross off on my bucket list."

"Hey, this thresher should have some sentimental value to you. After all, you were the one who brought it down."

Shepard started to laugh but quickly quieted once he realized that Wrex was being serious. "Wrex, the last maw I killed was fifteen years ago."

"Maws have a lot of meat to them, didn't you know?" Wrex asked genially, obviously deriving a lot of glee from Shepard's horrified expression. "Couldn't just leave a good carcass like that out in the sun to go to waste."

"How the hell have you kept the rest of it preserved for so long? That steak should've been completely rotted by now."

"Hey, Tuchanka might not have a great many natural resources to dish out, but one thing that we do have a ton of is salt. We have so many salt mines we can produce more than a trillion tons of salt in just a couple of weeks. Might as well put that salt to good use, eh?"

Shepard was inclined to agree, but his stomach was twisting itself up in knots right now that he was finding it hard to concentrate except on the idea of consuming a fifteen-year-old steak. The prospect was not all that pleasant to think about.

Between that and his recent recollection regarding his wife, Shepard was so distracted that he almost did not hear Wrex's follow-up question right away.

"Kids. They're a struggle, aren't they?"

Shepard jerked and twisted around, shaking off his lethargy as Wrex placidly stared back at him. "I… I guess. Why do you ask?"

"Eh, it's something that I noticed. You and Roahn seem to be on… less than ideal terms right now."

Shepard dimly nodded and folded his hands over his lap as he stared out off into the valley. "It's tough to explain, Wrex. Tougher even to understand. It's just… I expected things to be easier, is all."

Wrex now procured a flask of ryncol from his hip and took a swig from it, a gesture of relaxation. The krogan leaned back slightly and tapped his fingers upon an armored leg. "I hear that. Parent to parent, Shepard, dealing with kids is never an easy task. Trust me."

"No, I don't disagree," Shepard said as he abruptly stood from the steps of the staircase and paced furious upon the dusty ground. "It's just that Roahn expects me to be perfect all the time. Perfect. Me." Shepard snorted in derision. "To her, being perfect means that I should not possess any flaws that she can easily discern. Every time I do disappoint her, it's like I'm killing one of her dreams. In her eyes, I'm 'Commander Shepard.' No matter how many times I tell her, she has difficulty shedding her mental image of me. I apparently should not make mistakes. But when I do, she's horrified by the fact that I'm human. She expects me to be a hero and yet I consistently fail her when I give her proof to the contrary. I can't be the father she expects me to be, Wrex"

Wrex took all this in with a pensive nod. "Kids like having role models to latch onto. It's something that goes away with age. However, it's a bit easier for krogans because we have so many warlords and warriors to celebrate in our culture. To my kids, fighting in the war doesn't carry all that much weight. It takes a lot to impress them."

"But you don't have that many obstacles to overcome," Shepard sighed. "Especially when I'm being endlessly compared to Tali. Now, she was a saint through and through. She was the closest thing to perfect that anyone could ever imagine. And… and Roahn recognized that! That girl adored her mother. She was the one Roahn loved the most… for good reason. I'm the one who's been fucking up time after time again. I can't replace what Roahn has lost… and because I'm such a shitty parent I don't have a chance at giving her an ideal life."

The aged krogan finally raised a hand and pointed at Shepard after giving a slow blink. The enormous alien rotated on the step slightly with a grinding noise, the stone grumbling under the intense weight.

"If you're looking for someone to help justify your self-pity, Shepard, sorry to say that I'm not the one you should bemoan yourself to," Wrex indicated sternly. "You do remember that you're talking to the same person who ended up killing his own father? That was a shitty parent. Less than half a mile away is the spot where I put him down in self-defense, all because he had become a tyrannical lunatic. It was either him or me in that one moment, and I spilt his blood without hesitation. I don't feel any remorse for the man, because I never truly knew or understood him. In the end, he'd be a stranger to me if we didn't share blood. He was nothing to me then and he's still nothing to me now. But you, Shepard, are not like my father." The krogan emphasized that with a hefty prod to Shepard's shoulder. "That is a tier you will never reach in your life, because you're so radically different."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Wrex, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm still failing that girl."

Wrex gave another excruciatingly long blink of his blood-red eyes. "Are you? From where I sit, the fact that you're recognizing that you still have areas to improve upon and are making determined steps to fix them is not a sign that you're failing. If my father is as low as one could sink, you're not even halfway down the shaft."

Idly picking at his jacket, Shepard shook his head. "If I keep up with the way I'm going, I'll reach the bottom in no time at all. I helped save the universe, Wrex, and yet I'm unable to live up to the standard Tali set. Roahn doesn't know it, but she does have a point. If I really was able to do all the things that I did, why is raising a kid so difficult?"

Across from Shepard, the krogan pondered for a moment as he decided how to delicately broach the situation with Shepard. "I'm not the authority on parenting, Shepard," the grizzled krogan said to the seasoned human. "I can't pretend to fully understand your problem because I've never had to deal with something like it before. Nor can I offer a solution that will fix everything in your life."

"I know," Shepard said morosely but Wrex was not finished.

"But even I'm sure that if you continue to do what you're doing, to be honest and forthright with Roahn, she will start to see that you're being sincere. You can still be a role model for your daughter, Shepard, but it won't happen overnight. Sometimes… sometimes kids need to figure these things out on their own. Forcing them won't help anything. They need to come up with their own determination for who you are as a person. Simply telling them what to think won't change anything."

Shepard threw out his arms in exasperation. "So what do you suggest that I do?"

Wrex then gave a shrug before rising to his feet to meet the human. Reaching out, Wrex provided one last, lingering poke to Shepard's chest, forcing him back a step.

"Don't just tell Roahn who you are. Show her who you are. If you're at all the virtuous and empathetic son of a bitch I've always known you to be, there's no doubt that Roahn will see you that way very soon."

Completing its arc through the air, a rock sailed above the ground before finally impacting upon a sunken bed of boulders. Ferrite and pyrite momentarily clashed, sending out precious few sparks to briefly alight. The force from the violent friction was rapidly eradicated and the rock nestled into a dark crevasse between the bigger stones.

Her arm following through with its motion, Roahn continued to scowl as she summarily bent to pick up another rock, trying desperately to amuse herself as she occupied the peak of a shallow hill. Roahn tossed the next stone up and down a few times, dirt rubbing into the material of her enviro-suit as she clenched it tightly between her three fingers. Her eyes then hardening, Roahn took a giant lunge and simultaneously hurled the missile, letting it sail from her fingers to make a sharp clap as rock smashed against rock less than a second later.

"Bosh'tet," she muttered to herself as she stumbled on the hill, kicking up dust clouds as she went.

"Something bothering you, Roahn?" a light voice behind her floated.

Roahn turned around to see Liara T'Soni cresting the hill to stand beside her, an affectionate grin on her face. Roahn sighed as she bent down to pluck another stone from the ground again, biting her lip to quell her inherent fury.

"Yes," she merely said as she chucked the rock, no longer paying attention to where she was aiming. "You could say that."

"You don't need to tell me what it is," Liara took a seat on a rectangular stone block that protruded from the base of the krogan temple that had been set within the valley. "Something's been going on between you and your father since Thessia."

"Longer than that," Roahn corrected. An idea soon came to her and she twiddled her fingers as she turned to face the asari, her nervousness with speaking to the famed doctor no longer impacting her so harshly anymore. "How long have you known my dad, Liara? Do you think that trying to keep his whole life from me was a good idea? I don't know how I could justify such a thing, to be honest."

Liara looked pained as she tried to speak frankly without being insulting. "I don't know if I can say anything about your father—,"

That was not the answer Roahn wanted to hear and she rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Typical," Roahn snorted savagely as she chucked another rock in anger. "You can't even talk about him in even the slightest critical tone."

That only made Liara's face flush and her expression momentarily darkened. Roahn then felt a twinge in her throat. She might have gone too far just then. Did Liara really deserve to be on the receiving end of all the barbs that Roahn had thrown her way? Immediately, Roahn wished she could take the comment back.

But instead of making a quip right back to fuel the girl's unpredictable animosity, Liara just clenched her hands and took a breath before returning her gaze to the girl. "Roahn, I realize that you're frustrated that your father has not told you everything about his life just yet. But I know he has his reasons. He hasn't been deliberately keeping you in the dark simply out of cruelty, you know."

"Easy for you to say," Roahn retorted. "But for years, I've had to endure the whispers and stares from my friends all because they knew more about my father than I did. In the past couple of weeks, I only just found out that my mother had once been accused of treason by her own people, that my father had died over Alchera and had been resurrected by some criminal organization, that it was his choice that caused Ashley Williams to be killed on Virmire, and that he helped the asari government cover up their crimes on Thessia! How else could I possibly react to that?! Liara, my father—your friend—hid his entire life from me! Can you at least give me a reason why he would do something like that? How come I have to be the last person to find out why my dad is considered to be a hero? Why should his daughter not be privy to all of this? Why, Liara? Why?!"

There were a lot of questions the girl had just posed and none of them were easy ones to answer. Only now was Liara beginning to get an idea of just how astute Roahn was. The girl missed nothing, it seemed. She was keenly aware of her role and heritage… but she was struggling to comprehend how she fit into the whole picture. On top of that, Roahn was still trying to justify decisions her father had made apparently long before she had ever been born—what further insight could Liara possibly hope to provide that would not seem like she would be stepping on Shepard's toes? Was this really an issue that was within her domain to solve, or would she be denying Shepard his own chance to make his daughter understand?

There was an overhang nearby that provided a curtain of shadow from the punishing sun of Tuchanka. Liara's head was starting to feel overwhelmingly hot and she scooted over to give herself some respite from the intense rays, motioning for Roahn to follow at the same time.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Liara asked the girl as she leaned against the cold stone of the temple.

"Yes," Roahn pressed insistently, blinking to adjust her eyes once she was out of the sun as well.

"In all the years I've known your father, he's never been one to act without some form of a plan. Perhaps he's been biding his time with you, Roahn, trying to see if you're mature enough for some of the things he so desperately has been wanting to tell you."

Something that the asari said did not click right with Roahn and she did a double-take. "What do you mean… he's been wanting to tell me? That… that's not it at all. He would have kept silent about his life for as long as he lived if not—,"

"I'm just telling you what I think," Liara said as she made a gentle yet direct motion of her hand, cutting Roahn off. "I've known your father for more than a decade, Roahn, and I have trouble believing that he would seriously consider completely keeping you in the dark about his entire life. You remember what I told you about the maws?"

Roahn would have trouble forgetting that. The flash of tightness upon her father's face. His shaking fists, his wandering gaze. His abrupt departure.

"Your father is a very emotional man," Liara said to Roahn gently. "But he's always had trouble opening himself up to people. He prefers to conceal his fears by building up this exterior of a calm and collected commander, effortlessly projecting an air of determination. Make no mistake, Roahn, the reason why your father has probably waited for so long to tell you about himself is that he was never trying to hide anything from you… but that he was afraid of what you might think of him when he did."

Confronted with this knowledge, Roahn did not respond right away. Instead, she crossed her arms as she strongly considered Liara's words, her eyes slanting downwards and she intensely mulled over her thoughts.

"Your father knows how smart you are," Liara emphasized as she knelt down to speak to the girl at her level. "He would never think that he could possibly keep the truth of who he was from you forever. I just think that he wanted to tell you when he felt that you were absolutely ready, to have you learn at your own pace. He's trying, Roahn. Believe me, Shepard is trying."

"He should have tried harder," Roahn sulked as she raised her head up a bit, staring off into the valley as she refused to meet Liara's eyes. "He waited too long. Mom would've told me everything a long time ago, at least."

Roahn kicked at the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust, before she started to stomp back out into the sunlight, the glare reflecting off her visor.

After making it a few paces, she suddenly whirled and pointed at Liara, particulates orbiting around her in a chalky swath.

"If you were in my father's position, would you do the same thing?"

There was a noticeable period of time that elapsed—a bracket in which it would have been considered a decent opportunity for Liara to respond, to profoundly refute Roahn's accusation to assuage the girl, to tell her the answer that she was obviously expecting to hear.

Instead, the moment slipped away from Liara as she faltered, weak in the face of defying her friend. To keep up such a tiny lie for the sake of his daughter.

Unfortunately, Roahn saw right through it.

"That's what I thought," she bitterly sighed as she turned smartly on her heel to make it down the ramp, seeking to be alone.

Lost in the shade of the temple, Liara could only look away from the departing girl, worried that she too had fallen down a few pegs in Roahn's book.

A/N: If you thought you were spoiled when RedCenturionG recently released his latest chapter for "Equilibrium: Crusader," then consider this to be a double whammy for any of your Talimancer folks out there. A nice thing to kick off the weekend with. Except that, in his story, Tali is alive and well whereas with Cenotaph... she isn't. Still, at least you've got a couple different perspectives out there. The well of creativity has not dried up yet, mind you!

As always, to the people who take the time to leave their critical thoughts, you have my appreciation. I hope that I have been able to answer any questions or concerns to your satisfaction.

Playlist:

Cancer: "Should You Choose To Accept..." by Lorne Balfe from the film Mission Impossible: Fallout

Parental Advice: "Halfway to Hong Kong" by James Newton Howard from the film The Dark Knight

Roahn Talks to Liara: "Temptations" by Austin Wintory from the video game Journey