Night had settled over the N7 barracks. Lights dimmed to near darkness. Corridors stretched like endless shadows, the hum of climate systems the only companion.
A single security drone glided silently down one hall, its polished sensors sweeping over the uniform rows of doors. Hundreds of identical doors lined the corridor, each promising rest, discipline, or anonymity.
The drone slowed, hovering in front of one particular door. Its mechanical gaze focused on the top frame, where a small piece of paper had been affixed.
The handwriting was elegant, flowing—the unmistakable flourish of Asari penmanship.
Team Indigo
The drone paused, lights flickering across the paper, its sensors analyzing, calculating… as if acknowledging the weight of the name.
After a moment of pause, the drone pivoted with precise grace and resumed its silent glide down the hall, leaving the door and its small paper untouched.
Inside the room, Lee rested on the lower bunk, the thin mattress barely shifting beneath him. Shadows from the overhead lights played along the walls, muted and steady.
Scenes from the T.A.C.M. training flashed through his mind—drones whirring, barricades shifting, sparks flying, and Zornim’s clipped, unyielding instructions echoing with every measured cadence.
His thoughts drifted further, unbidden: Tuchanka, the jagged red horizon, the heat and dust of Clan Urdnot’s territory, and Wrex—towering, formidable, yet undeniably alive.
A pang of nostalgia settled in him, sharp and confusing. He realized with quiet astonishment that he missed that radioactive, unforgiving rock.
Taking a slow breath, he focused on the present. He let the memory recede, wrapping it carefully in the back of his mind, and allowed himself to sink into the mattress, willing the tension from the day and the ghosts of his past to soften.
From the top bunk above him, Liana’s voice cut through the dim room.
“Hey! Are you still awake?”
Lee groaned softly, eyes shut. “Go to sleep, Liana! We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“What are you? My mom?” she teased. “Anyway… I’m having trouble sleeping. It’s only our second day here. I’m still not used to it. And this bed—so uncomfortable!”
“Just deal with it,” Lee muttered, turning onto his side.
Liana’s voice softened, a hint of curiosity slipping through the teasing. “Say… are you… a bit homesick?”
Lee was quiet for a long moment. “I’m not sure. Tuchanka was my home. I… I still don’t feel like I belong here on Earth.”
Liana was silent for a moment, letting him speak—or not speak. “I get that,” she finally said softly. “It’s… hard being somewhere completely different. Especially when everything’s built for someone else.”
Lee shifted slightly, the mattress creaking under him. “Tuchanka… it’s nothing like here. The skies—red. The ground… radioactive rock, dust everywhere. You learn quickly that nature doesn’t care about fairness. You survive, or you die.”
He paused, eyes closed as memories came unbidden. “My clan… Clan Urdnot. Everyone knows your name, your place, your strength. Wrex… he taught me that respect isn’t given. It’s taken. And sometimes, it’s stolen before you even have a chance to earn it.”
The faint hum of the barracks felt quieter now, as if the building itself were listening.
“I… miss it,” Lee admitted, voice low. “The heat, the danger, even the dust that clogs your lungs. You don’t realize how much you depend on the chaos of home until it’s gone. And yet… I don’t belong there anymore, either. I’m not Krogan. Not really. Not fully human either, in the way they expect. I’m… in between.”
Liana’s voice softened from above, a quiet bridge across the bunk space. “You’re carrying two worlds inside you.”
Lee exhaled slowly. “Yeah. And neither of them makes much sense here.”
For a while, silence hung between them, heavier than the hum of the barracks, but in a grounding, shared way. Liana’s presence felt like a tether—not intrusion, not judgment—just a reminder that maybe, in this strange place, someone else might understand.
Lee lay on the lower bunk, listening to the soft hum of the barracks. He expected silence—but Liana’s voice broke through again, quiet, reflective.
“You know,” she began, “it’s not just this place that can feel overwhelming. Growing up… I lived my entire life in the shadow of someone else.”
Lee shifted slightly, curiosity piqued. “Shadow?”
“My mother… Matriarch Liara T’Soni. The Asari Commando High Command remembers her every decision, every mission. The galaxy respects her, fears her, relies on her. And I… I’ve lived my whole life with that as the standard. Every move I make, every word, every choice—it’s measured against her.”
Lee processed that, imagining a life where one person’s presence set the expectations for centuries. “Since birth?” he asked softly.
“Yes. From the day I was born,” she said, voice low but steady. “210 years of scrutiny, Lee. 210 years of watching me grow, molding me, judging me. And I’ve barely even begun to live in my own shadow because the galaxy keeps reminding me whose daughter I am.”
Lee blinked, incredulous. “210…?”
She tilted her head, a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Asari age differently than humans. We mature rapidly in the first fifty years, reaching what humans would consider adulthood. But full maturity? Perspective, wisdom, true control… that can take hundreds of years. I’m 210 now, considered fully mature in Asari terms, yet I still feel the weight of every expectation.”
Lee’s mind traced the timeline. A human at 210 would be long gone. Yet here she was, carrying centuries of experience, and still navigating lessons, expectations, and burdens… much like he was navigating Tuchanka’s harsh training grounds, but on an entirely different scale.
“You see,” Liana continued, softer now, “when you live that long, every decision accumulates. Every mistake lingers. Every success… is always compared to what came before. Sometimes I feel… invisible, as if I exist only in relation to someone else’s shadow.
Lee was silent, absorbing her words. His own memories of Tuchanka, Clan Urdnot, Wrex, all felt raw and immediate. But her life—210 years of expectations, centuries of scrutiny—was a perspective he couldn’t have imagined.
“Your mother… Liara,” he said finally, careful. “You’re not invisible. You’re your own person. You’ve already survived centuries of… everything. This place… it’s nothing compared to that.”
Liana exhaled softly, letting a fraction of tension slip. “Maybe. But it still feels like the first day sometimes.”
Liana’s voice floated down from the upper bunk. “So… why Tuchanka? How did you end up there in the first place?”
Lee exhaled slowly, tracing the shadows on the ceiling with his gaze. “It’s a long story. And… complicated.”
She prodded gently. “I’ve got time. It’s night. No T.A.C.M. drills for a few hours.”
He let himself sink into the mattress, recalling the echoes of a planet that had been both home and crucible. “About two hundred years ago, before the final stages of the Reaper War, a group of human engineers—my ancestors among them—were stationed on Oma Ker, helping Turians with infrastructure and settlements. It was… ordinary work. Until the Reapers arrived.”
Liana’s eyes widened slightly. “Oma Ker… Inner Council space? That’s… far from Tuchanka.”
Lee nodded. “Yes. When the Reapers attacked, the engineers and about two hundred other civilians evacuated aboard a Turian transport bound for the Citadel. But during their approach, the Citadel… vanished. Part of the Reaper invasion. No safe harbor. The ship diverted to the nearest habitable world: Tuchanka.”
He paused, letting the weight of that history settle in. “At the time, krogan were fighting Reaper ground forces across their homeworld. The human refugees… we were stranded. No way back. Over time, we dispersed, some joining different krogan clans. My ancestors ended up with Clan Urdnot.”
Lee’s gaze drifted upward, the ceiling lights dim against the night. “They helped with reconstruction, worked alongside Wrex and Bakara. Over the next two centuries, that partnership became… stable. Human and krogan living and working together—a rare thing on Tuchanka.”
Liana’s voice was quiet now. “And you… you’re the result of one of those unions?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “My mother was from Clan Urdnot. My father from another krogan-aligned human settlement. Wrex himself… supported their union.”
A long pause. Shadows in the room seemed to hold their breath.
“Your parents…” Liana asked softly.
“They died when I was very young,” Lee continued. “A thresher maw attacked our settlement. They… diverted it with a seismic thumper so others could escape. They didn’t survive. Wrex… adopted me. Raised me alongside his own krogan children. I grew up as one of them. One of the few humans fully integrated into a krogan clan.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy and reflective. Liana let it linger. “That… that’s incredible,” she finally said. “To grow up among krogan, live through that… I can’t imagine it. You’ve already survived more than most people will in their entire lives.”
Lee exhaled, a small, almost imperceptible shrug. “It made me who I am. It taught me discipline, patience… how to endure. But it also means I carry two worlds in me—Tuchanka, and… wherever I am now.”
Lee shifted on his bunk, gaze fixed on the ceiling. “210 years… that’s a long time. What did you do all that time?”
Liana’s voice softened, carrying the weight of centuries. “When I was a child, my mother traveled constantly—as an Asari science ambassador, she helped reconstruct Mass Relays. I spent most of my early years alone, or with tutors, learning… everything. Asari culture, science, intergalactic relations, the subtle politics that govern the galaxy.”
She let out a faint, almost wistful sigh. “Decades of biotic training with the Asari Commandos followed. Discipline, control, precision. It was… busy, but stifling. Most of the time, I felt like I was living someone else’s life.”
Lee remained silent, listening.
“The only thing I ever really looked forward to,” she continued, “were my mother’s stories. Tales of her exploits alongside Commander Shepard. Ferros. Noveria. Virmire. Ilos. I became obsessed with them. Those stories… they gave my life meaning.”
She paused for a moment, the faint hum of the barracks filling the space between them. “When the N7 program finally opened to interspecies training, I knew I had to go. I begged my mother to let me.”
Lee’s voice was quiet but probing. “Was it… to escape?”
“Partly,” she admitted, a shadow of a smile in her tone. “But mostly… I felt I needed to be here. To test myself. To learn. To become more than just the daughter of someone else’s legacy.”
Lee considered that, eyes narrowing slightly. “So… all those years, all that training… it wasn’t wasted. It led you here.”
“Exactly,” she said softly. “It gave me the tools, the perspective. But I had to step into the world myself to make them matter.”
For a long moment, silence hung between them—no need for words. The weight of their pasts, their legacies, and their hopes for the future settled quietly in the room.
Lee exhaled, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Then I guess… we’re both here for a reason.”
Liana chuckled lightly, the sound warm in the dim barracks. “Seems that way, doesn’t it?”
The two lay back in their respective bunks, letting shadows and memories mingle as sleep slowly crept in.