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John woke up, back aching and arm sore, in a dark, empty room made of old, cracked stone and lit by light embedded into the ceiling and protected by old and worn metal grates. He was laid on a stone slab twice as big as he was, covered in several sheets and a heavy sort of blanket for padding that didn't do a lot to keep the chill off of his nearly bare, bandaged chest and arms. Another slab like his, with the padding bunched against the wall, sat against the other wall, but otherwise the room was empty. No sign of medical equipment or his gear, or anyone that had been minding him.

Standing, he wobbled a bit unsteadily before he got his bearings and sighed, muttering, "That's the last time I try and sit through a nuke, I guess…"

Wrapping one of the smaller sheets around him, he stepped out the door, his heavy boots echoing in the silence as he went

The hall he emerged into was angled, with ancient, worn and cracked stairs descending down, lined by wide openings that let into small rooms like his and outcroppings that stuck out into the stairway and then cut in to meet the door, providing cover from anyone descending. But, interestingly, providing nothing to anyone ascending, to strike back. Which spoke to a purely defensive design philosophy.

Had this place been a bunker then, he wondered? Somewhere meant to shelter civilians, or important leaders? The former seemed a touch more reasonable, considering the rough accommodations, but he couldn't really know for sure.

Each door was twice as wide as he was, lined by broken stonework covered in carved letters he couldn't read, and depictions of animals, Krogan and weaponry. Scenes of battles, of hunts, decorated the doors as he turned, descending down the stairs to look at them in the dim lighting. But, soon enough, he started to see more than just those. One mural showed Krogan kneeling to another, who held a flag aloft. Another was of a rocket launching up, curving along the axis to where it stopped and Krogan climbed out, hanging around it, attached by cables.

"A space mission…" He muttered, looking up at it, "I didn't know they ever had those."

"We haven't, not for a long, long time." A light voice spoke from above him. He turned, looking up at another Krogan dressed in the same sort of veil and robes as Ona. She bowed her head gently as she descended, hands clasped in front of her, and explained, "You are at the Hollows. An ancient, ancient place of Krogan pride and history. One predating even the nuclear winter your Salarian friends 'uplifted'," she nearly growled the word, "us from, so long ago."

"I see…"

"I hear pain in your voice."

"Where I come from, many places my people have called home for… A long, long time were turned to rubble." He murmured quietly, "Not by us. By… Enemies, intent on eradicating my people."

"All of them…?"

"To the last man, woman…" He flicked her a look, grimaced, and added, "And child. And they were good at it, too."

"Then you know some of our pain." The Krogan woman hummed, cocking her head a bit when he nodded. "As Wrex said."

"He told you about me…?"

"Only that you come from far away, and have survived a great war to reach us, here." She answered quietly, turning and stepping aside to wave a hand up the ancient, time beaten stairs. "He and the Commander are speaking now, in fact, about the next stage of the fight you joined here."

"Alright…" He murmured, blinking, "Wait, Shepard is here? Since when?"

"Since around nineteen hours ago." The Krogan answered, curling and uncurling her fingers meaningfully to beckon him ahead. "You were rather badly hurt, and rested for two days and a night."

"And Wrex…?"

"Unharmed, now." She chuckled, "When he got here… Less so, but Krogan are hardy."

Well… They were both alive, and that was what mattered, he supposed. That aside, he turned to walk ahead of her and asked, "What about the valley?"

"The city you fought in was devastated." She answered, "But that aside… Well, the rest of the valley is intact, and my people are gathering there in a celebration even now."

"I see…"

"You should know our Shamans are forming something of a movement there, along with the majority of the Female clans." She added, sounding… Coolly happy about it, somehow, as she spoke. "Thousands of Krogan, uniting in common, good cause to resettle and reclaim the valley they so nearly lost."

"Reclaim it?"

"Clear the rubble, and do their best to resettle and cultivate." She answered quietly, walking beside him and eyeing him through her veil. As if gauging his interest, or the ODST himself. Regardless, her stoic, firm gaze was almost… Chilling, to be under even as she went on warmly, "The Kelphic Valley is among the most fertile lands of all Tuchanka, and with numerous aquifers to draw from."

"Krogan farmers…"

"There are already many of them." She hummed as they ascended, "Is that so odd?"

"I guess not." He answered, "I just… Had never heard of Krogan farming communities."

"Just wait until we start importing livestock." She chuckled quietly, "We know of a few breeds the Volus trade in that can survive here, with proper shelters."

"Indeed…" It was hard to imagine it lasting long, in all honesty, but… He decided he liked the image of fields of wheat and corn, split by whatever cattle they brought in. Cows, his mind supplied, even if he knew they were as likely to be what they went with as wheat and corn.

Shaking the comfortable, nostalgic image off, he said, "I didn't catch your name."

"And you won't." She answered as the hall began to brighten, every single one of the entrenched lights on now rather than the intermittent ones below, and voices began to reach them. "But… Your doctors and Commander call me 'Eve', and that will do."

"I see…" He frowned, having to push aside a spike of alien oriented paranoia to nod his head. "A pleasure then, Eve."

"Hmph." She snorted, "We shall see."

The rest of their walk passed in relative silence, as the hall steadily began to fill. First with one or two Krogan coming out of what he was beginning to suspect were simple barracks rooms, bare of all but the necessities of a Krogan warrior. Until they reached an end to the steady incline and the ground levelled out, and they began passing larger rooms. Armories, maintenance bays, even a vehicle bay he could see the bottom of Tomkahs in through a long, cracked window. He could even see a couple Kodiaks being work on by a handful of Alliance soldiers and a couple Turians.

Something had happened while he was on the mend, it seemed…

The Krogan they passed by ignored them, for the most part. The most courtesy either of them received were tired sounding grunts of acknowledgement or the occasional nod.

Except for one, leaning against the outside of a heavily reinforced door with his eyes closed. He cocked his head and turned as they approached, though, smiling toothily, "Doe."

"Tar." He smiled, taking the hand the Krogan offered and clasping him by the forearm. "Good to see you."

"The same." The warlord rumbled, eyeing his bandaged chest and humming. "I heard your run with the Chieftain got… Hairy."

"People are talking?"

"You nuked yourself." Tar snorted, "People are talking."

"Yeah, well." He shrugged and eyed a particularly nasty burn along the side of his hunch's carapace. "You don't look like you were lounging about, exactly."

"I was pushing with one of the fronts." Tar chuckled lowly, rolling the same shoulder as the hand he'd lost fingers on. They were still missing even now, but he didn't seemed bothered, smiling and going on. "Had to pay 'em back for taking a piece of me, you know. Besides, letting them nuke where my Ryncol comes from didn't seem… Fun."

"I imagine." John nodded, "Was it a hard push?"

"Like tryin' to mate with a Matriarch." The warrior snorted, shaking his head when John's brows furrowed. "Krogan saying, you wouldn't get it."

"Female Clans are lead by matriarchs, who are usually infertile and… Not very open to relationships." Eve offered gently, sounding amused in that cold way she had the whole time. "Trying to mate with one would, then, be a frustrating experience with very little forward momentum to gain."

"Yeah." Tar snorted, "That."

"Ah…"

"Explainin' a joke always ruins it." He sighed, turning to pick up a box leaning against the wall beside it. He held it out and nodded, "A gift, from what's left of Aralach."

"And the Female clans that call the Kelphic Valley home." Eve added, "We have expressed our gratitude to all who fought, including Wrex, but you were asleep. And I hardly think you'd enjoy their thanks anyways."

"No?"

"I mean…" Tar shrugged, "Not unless you fancy a visit from the Females."

"A visit…" He put two and two together quickly enough and snorted, shaking his head as he tugged at the ropes tying the box closed. "No, I think this is… Probably better for me. Les shattered bones, right?"

"Ha!" Tar snorted, "Too right, Doe. Too right."

Inside the arm-length box were two things. The first was a simple grey cloth, with two arm-holes and a hood sewn in above them. The skull and drop-pod had been stitched into its back in dull bronze and white, with his name sewn in where 'ODST' would have been on the proper symbol. He handed Tar the box and pulled it on, and it hung down to his thighs, with a few simple metal hooks and loops down the chest to keep it closed that he did up, smiling and rolling his shoulders to check the fit.

"It's warm…"

"It's the same material we use for our armor linings." Eve explained, "A sort of… Wool analogue, which grows from trees in the north and south."

"Where it's colder."

"I see…" The second thing in the box was smaller, but heavier. A simple, black plasma-torch with a curved head. The kind used for metal cutting. He held it up and hummed, "What's this for?"

"Was told you liked carving and burning." Tar shrugged, "So Krant added it. You'll find our symbol on the back of the head."

He looked and found it, a simple blue fist holding a hammer. Attaching the torch to the mag-plate on his left side, he smiled and said, "Thank you. But… You didn't need to do any of this."

"We know." Eve nodded, "And yet, we did."

"Krogan are a petty lot." Tar added, "But most of us at least try and pay down our debts."

"That's always a good approach." Or at least, it was in his opinion. Moving on, though, he asked, "What's been happening since I was asleep, then? Aside from you partying, Tar."

"Heh…"

"Talks with the Turians have advanced to a proper, signed agreement regarding our aid for Palaven and our… Compensation for it." Eve answered quietly, "The Salarian representative is having words in the Hollow's main chamber right now."

"You brought her to Tuchanka…?"

"She's on holo." Tar grunted, crossing his arms, "Her ship is in orbit. We invited her to the Urdnot clan-hall, but…"

"She does not particularly trust Krogan, it seems."

"Ah." John hummed, thinking back to what little he'd seen and heard of the Dalatrass and frowning. "That's… Probably wise, at least for her."

"Heh." Tar grunted, sauntering by and shaking his head. "You get it, Doe."

"With that settled…" Eve sighed, gesturing at the door, and the shouting coming through it now. "Shall we?"

"What even is this place, really?"

"A sacred site." She answered, "Wrex chose it because, once his plan plays out, so long as he holds it, his plan stands. And the Krogan will have to follow, at least for a time. We just have to hope it's long enough to finish the Cure and dispense it."

"It's ready, then?"

She nodded and he did too, waving for her to lead the way.

Through the open door was a short hall and another, thinner, closed door that opened as they approached. And past it was a wide, open room, with a large stage set in the middle of a stone floor with gaps between it and the walls. Five rows of wide, concrete and metal reinforced viewing galleries. Most of the galleries were full, with metal partitions dividing them up and thick cloth in a variety of colors and symbols hanging in front of heavily armored Krogan flanked by advisors and body-guards. The floor around the stage had dozens more Krogan in dozens more colors, including a wide variety of mercenary groups scattered about in little clusters, including a bunch in silver surrounding a completely unperturbed Mordin Solus, but the stage was mostly empty.

Just the new Primarch, Victus, Wrex in a heavy set of red armor with a ceremonial looking cloth hanging from a shoulder, and Shepard in her full N7 set, helmet hanging off a hip and rifles bristling on her back. She noticed him emerging, stepping onto the wide platform across a small bridge, and turned to give him a nod that he returned. But then her attention turned back to the holo in the center of the stage, projected from a tall console a Turian was working at.

"I will not grant you access codes to the Shroud." The Dalatrass frowned deeply, "The Krogan have done nothing over the last few centuries to fill me with confidence they have learned from their mistakes."

The Krogan assembled muttered and snarled and grumbled amongst themselves, but they fell silent as Shepard spoke, "With all due respect, it seems you are the one that hasn't learned from her mistakes, Dalatrass."

"Pardon me?"

"I don't think I will." Wrex grunted, explaining quietly before the Salarian could respond to the snark, "You needed us against the Rachni, because you were too soft to beat them yourselves. Even with all the Turians could muster, you still didn't stand a chance. And when all was said and done, what did you do?"

"Put down your uprising."

"An uprising implies you were our rulers, Dalatrass." Wrex rumbled, waving a hand at her and asking. "Did we sign some treaty to that affect? I can't recall."

"Cal Ratatatok-"

"Is not a representative of Clan Urdnot, or myself, or any modern clan." Wrex barked, waving the matter off with a hand and going on almost boredly, "And died in the Rachni Wars anyway. Whatever agreements he signed died with him, and with his clan when it was annihilated on Umba. I am not bound by any of it."

"Palaven burns." Primarch Victus added quietly, "As one of the signatories, I wave the treaty regardless."

"The Shroud still belongs to the Salarian Union." The Dalatrass argued, "And I am under even less obligation to consider Krogan demands without the treaty."

"Then by all means," Wrex rumbled, "come defend it from us."

"And why shouldn't I?" She argued lowly, flicking a wary eye around the room at the mumbling, grumbling Krogan and frowning as she turned back to the Krogan warlord. "I have a thousand Salarian shock troops in my flotilla, fitted down to the last in our best armor and stealth systems. You won't see half of them if you assault the Shroud."

"Turian ground forces will be leading the reoccupation of the Shroud, Dalatrass." Shepard stepped in, voice echoing around a room that suddenly went incredibly silent at the words. "Not Krogan. Turians."

"You're free to fire on my people." Primarch Victus added breathily, "As long as you understand that would be a declaration of war, and warrant intervention from the Council itself."

"You're attacking a Salarian facility!" The Dalatrass barked, "The Treaty of Par'Vol states very clearly that in such a case-"

"And the Treaty of Farixen states very cleanly that occupation of foreign home-worlds in any way, including a facility such as the Shroud, which has been used for war purposes against the natives, must be consented to by the Council and the local government." Wrex argued smoothly, sounding so much more like a politician than a warrior for once - even if he also sounded agitated, presumingly at having to be a politician at all. Turning, he spoke, "Do any challenge me as the representative of the Krogan Provisional Government, founded here today with your assembly in the eyes of representatives from two Council races?"

He could hear and see some shuffling from Krogan who were less than pleased with the question, and in that second John realized Wrex's brilliance.

He had spent years slowly solidifying his place in Tuchanka's politics, forming alliances and absorbing weaker clans. That had made him an opponent many here would no doubt want to depose, to take over themselves. But by posing the question here and now, he forced them to make a stand - with him, or against the Cure. And almost any warlord that risked the Cure would soon find their own clan turning on them, forcing them to bend the proverbial knee to Urdnot and Wrex. And, after, they'd be bound by a promise made at what he knew was a sacred site - something they could break, of course, but which would brand them as someone who didn't even respect their own most sacred traditions.

And what clan would stand with them then? They'd face war…

So, everyone kept their silence, even if their animosity practically filled the air. In that quiet, Wrex turned and asked, "What of the Human and Turian representatives?"

"As Primarch of the Hierarchy," Victus said, voice suddenly firm and booming, "I recognize the provisional government and leader, Urdnot Wrex."

"As the designated ambassador of Admiral Hackett, interim representative of the Human Systems Alliance, I recognize the provisional government and leader, Urdnot Wrex."

"And that means," Wrex smiled, "that I own the Shroud, until you can have your Councilor call a vote for official recognition."

"Even then," Victus added, "he'll have two votes in support. At best, you'll earn a tie. And in a tie, the provisional government will remain. And you still won't have a right to the Shroud."

"I think the Humans would call that 'check mate', Salarian." Wrex chuckled, watching the Dalatrass' face twist in anger and distaste.

"You will live to regret this." She promised, cutting the feed a moment later.

For a few moments, the Krogan finally let their emotions free, bellowing accusations, challenges and insults back and forth. Some stood to leave.

But, before they could, the Hollows trembled as something shook Tuchanka itself. Shepard was the first to recover, yanking her helmet on and barking into her comms, her voice echoing in the sudden silence that had descended on the Krogan around the room, "What was that?"

Whatever the answer, they didn't need to wait for her to relay it as the wide, main doors at the top of a grand set of stairs suddenly exploded inward.

Human Husks and Cannibals rushed down the steps as Krogan guards tumbled in, ruined by the attack that had destroyed the entrance, and Krogan mercenaries and warriors turned to rush into the fray. They did well, beating and ripping and tearing at the beasts while Warlords were rushed out, but the wave of grey dragged some down by sheer weight. And larger, hulking Brutes waded in shortly, ignoring the small arms fire Krogan from the galleries poured into them as they ripped and tore at the Krogan defenders.

"John!" He turned as Shepard reached him, grabbing him by the arm, "We need to go."

"No, we can't lose this." He frowned, knowing with certainty that if they ran from the Hollows then everything they'd gained was at risk. Shaking his head, he turned to a familiar, scarred old Krogan as he came charing out onto the floor and barked, "I need a weapon."

Tar just smiled, all teeth and Krogan energy.

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And the final push for Tuchanka begins…

There's still a lot left to this arc, but it's wrapping up, and I hope yall enjoy it lmao.

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