22 November 2580, Talat/Sur'Kesh

The first wave of the attack looked overwhelming for a moment, a wave of salarians flooding toward us from the direction of a nearby canal. I counted well over a hundred in a glance, and crouched down behind my cover in apprehension.

Then I realized that none of the salarians had fired on us.

"Check fire, check fire," said Shepard in haste. "I think they're all civilians. Look like they're running to get away from something."

"Yeah," rumbled Grunt from his position. "None of 'em armed, unless they've jammed holdout guns up their cloacas."

"That would be awkward," muttered Kamala. "Not to mention painful."

A hundred frightened salarians poured into the courtyard, then another hundred, milling about, interfering with our sight-lines. They became even more agitated when they saw us, asari and humans and krogan, all armed to the teeth.

Grunt took decisive action. He stood up and roared.

The entire swarm of salarians stopped dead, staring with wide black eyes.

"This is gonna be a fire zone!" he shouted, pointing vigorously. "Not safe for you here! Move along, that way, now!"

Just like that, all the krogan males rose from cover and began directing traffic.

"Come on, move, that way."

"Clear the courtyard. Clear the courtyard."

"Down that street, quick now, move."

A rumbling growl, followed by a surprisingly gentle shove.

I glanced at Shepard, saw him looking at me, and I knew we both thought the same thing.

It's a diversion. One we must respond to, but a diversion nonetheless.

Shepard's head snapped up, so he could scan the tall buildings bordering the courtyard on three sides.

"Snipers!"

In hindsight, I think it took about three seconds.

A wave of information slammed into my daimon, Shepard dropping targeting data to me with crash priority, silhouettes and reticules appearing in my field of vision.

Salarian silhouettes, positioned in dark, open windows about fifty meters up, aiming weapons at us. Six of them.

Shepard's weapon began to describe a wide arc at the full extension of his arm. Crash . . .

Kamala opened fire with her assault rifle.

Crash . . .

Kalan turned with his own sniper rifle and made a snap-shot.

Crash . . .

Vara and I didn't need to glance at each other to consult. Neither of us had long-range weapons on hand in any case. Instead our biotic coronas surged into life, each of us making a hands-out gesture to erect a force bubble over as much of the courtyard as we could. Many hours of practice helped us synchronize at once.

The bubble snapped into existence.

Just barely in time. Or just an instant too late, depending on how you think about it.

Shepard had spotted the snipers just before they were ready to fire. He took out three snipers in as many seconds. Kamala accounted for a fourth. Kalan missed a fifth, but by such a small margin that his target flinched away. Before the salarian assassin could recover, Kalan corrected and put a second round through center of mass.

The last sniper had just enough time to take his shot, before Shepard's weapon smashed him.

I didn't realize at first who had been targeted. I was watching Shepard for any sign of injury. When Bakara grunted, clapped a hand to her chest, and then fell to her side on the pavement, it took me a moment to realize what had happened.

Not so the krogan. First one of them saw, and a deep-chested growl rose to a roar. Then another, then another. All around me I could see male krogan brandishing weapons, staring at the last few salarians in the courtyard with overt hatred in their eyes.

With a single exception.

"Stand down!" shouted Grunt. "You, you, you, get the last of these salarian civilians out of the line of fire. Don't break any of them. Azarr, help shore up that biotic thing the asari are doing. Buzgan, help your mother!"

I glanced at Shepard, who still scanned the buildings with an intent stare. No more targets appeared for the moment. Then, still doing my share to hold the barrier in place, I walked over to where the krogan females huddled in a knot. Miranda hurried past me, throwing herself down beside Bakara to lend a hand.

"How bad is it?" I asked.

Miranda shook her head, working furiously in tandem with the krogan medic, her hands already covered with oddly colored blood.

Goddess, lend a hand here. Bakara doesn't deserve this.

Shepard opened a comm channel. "All right, Tachar, don't lurk in the shadows."

Grunt turned from supervising his men, staring at Shepard for a moment.

"What kind of warrior hides behind civilians and uses snipers to take out his target?" Shepard dropped contemptuous scorn into his voice, but his face looked entirely calm. "What's the matter? Don't you have the quad to face your enemies like a real krogan?"

"What's going on, Shepard?" Grunt looked around, as if to find an enemy crouching behind one of the vine-laden trellises. "You think Varag Tachar is involved in this?"

"It had to be someone who knew krogan and salarians both, to set this up. Someone pretty damn clever." Shepard keyed his comm again. "Come on out, Tachar. I promise to give you a fair fight, for a change. You might even win."

Suddenly I heard a hiss on the open channel, and a distorted voice: "Not now, Shepard. Too many witnesses. I want to enjoy your death in private. Maybe next time."

Grunt lowered his head and growled, looking ready to lose his temper for the first time.

"Damn it," Shepard muttered.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

"You and I know Tachar was here. Probably Nerinn too, although she didn't show her face this time. We won't be able to prove it. He was using a voice distorter, and a good one."

"Won't keep me from ripping his arms off and beating him to death with one of them," said Grunt. "Can't believe he's gone renegade this badly."

Shepard shook his head. "He's probably under the Adversary's influence. Just like the President."

"Hope so. Hate to think he was always this stupid."

"Warmaster!"

All of us turned. I breathed a sigh of relief, seeing Bakara sitting upright on the edge of a fountain.

"Hah!" Grunt grinned. "I knew one salarian with a scope wasn't going to be enough to take you down."

Bakara shook her head in mock-despair. "Hmm. I love you too, Grunt."

An STG platoon arrived a few minutes later, our friend Captain Anarro in command, followed by Valern troops in force. They secured the courtyard, rather overtly not taking any action against all the armed krogan on the scene.

The incident had been surprisingly bloodless. No more than a handful of salarian civilians had been injured, none of them seriously. Bakara had been hurt badly enough to return to her ship rather than the hotel, but the physicians on hand both seemed satisfied that she would make a full recovery. None of the rest of us had been more than frightened.

Shepard still seemed very thoughtful as we returned to the hotel. "Someone on the other side has read Sun Tzu," he observed.

I blinked, having to think a moment to recognize the reference from the memories he had once shared with me. "The human philosopher of war?"

"Yeah. Yao quoted him to us a few days ago. Which doesn't surprise me. Sun Tzu was Chinese too. I suspect the President is well-read in the classics."

"Do you think the President planned all of this?" asked Vara.

"Seems likely. Either that, or he's handed the Art of War on to the Spectres, and Tachar took an interest." Shepard's voice changed, as he began to quote from memory. "The highest form of generalship is to balk the enemy's plans. The next best is to prevent the junction of the enemy's forces. The next in order is to attack the enemy's army in the field, and the worst policy of all is to besiege walled cities."

"Hmm." I reached up to fidget with my crest in thought for a moment. "That does fit their strategy here on Sur'Kesh. They did their best to ruin our plans, by releasing information about your nanotechnology. That didn't work as well as they might have hoped. Then they set up tonight's incident to set salarians and krogan at each other's throats, to prevent us from adding them both to our faction."

"That one just about worked," said Shepard. "If we hadn't hurried those snipers, or if you and Vara hadn't put up that bubble in time, or if Grunt hadn't kept a level head on his shoulders . . ."

"One of the most important krogan leaders in a thousand years, dead on the salarian homeworld," Vara said bleakly. "We'd have been lucky to avoid an all-out interstellar war. At least the opposition won't get an opportunity like this again."

"We hope."

By the time we returned to the Ovadurr Hotel, I had already composed an angry comm call in my head. Then I discovered that I had been pre-empted. Almost the moment we arrived in our suite, dalatrass Valern called me.

"Good morning, dalatrass," I said, rather frostily.

"Good morning, Dr. T'Soni." The fleshy salarian face peered out of the screen at me, more visible than usual with her hood down. "I understand there has been an incident. I am grateful that you and your allies were not seriously hurt."

"Aside from a high-caliber bullet through Urdnot Bakara's upper left lung."

"Yes. My information says she will recover. A very grave misfortune has been averted."

"Dalatrass, I'm very tired and I just got finished being shot at in the middle of your capital city. May I respectfully request that you get to the point?"

Valern produced an actual smile, a tightly controlled but clearly pleased expression. "Certainly. I have two pieces of news for you, and I think you will find them good."

I leaned back in my chair, trying to ignore my fatigue. "Go on."

"First, thanks to Mr. Shepard and the STG, we have been able to capture several of the attackers. Almost the entire demolition squad that had been assigned to blow up the Ovadurr Hotel, in fact. Elite household troops, belonging to the Linron bloodline."

Cold shock went down my spine. "Linron?"

"Yes. Long out of power here in Talat, but still a faction to be reckoned with in some regions of Sur'Kesh. They still resent their fall all those years ago, and they still mistrust outsiders, especially Mr. Shepard and the krogan."

I nodded. "I can well imagine. It surprises me that they would be so bold as to launch an attack in the heart of Valern territory."

"They were strongly motivated by your demonstration yesterday. No doubt they also had advice and assistance from certain parties high in the Confederation government. Unfortunately, the STG officers assigned to the investigation have not yet been able to prove that."

"I doubt they will. We have reason to believe two Spectres were involved, among the best of the corps."

"Yes, the krogan tactician and the turian cabalist. The STG is aware of the possibility. In any case, the involvement of the Linron bloodline is clear beyond any reasonable doubt. Which gives me the pretext I need to . . . demonstrate my displeasure with them."

I flinched slightly. It sounded as if Valern intended to set aside the usual restraints on competition among the most powerful salarian bloodlines. I did not envy the current dalatrass Linron.

"That brings me to my second piece of news," said Valern. "Considering tonight's events, I have decided to alter my stance on the current controversy between you and President Yao."

A younger Liara T'Soni might have smiled in delight at that. I had spent too many years in politics. I maintained my poker face and said, "Interesting. Do you plan to support our position?"

"No." She paused for a moment, watching my face. "As I explained to you a few days ago, Valern, and the Salarian Union as a whole, must remain neutral in this matter. However, I have been persuaded not to issue any decree binding on individual salarian members of the Confederation Parliament. They shall be free to vote as their consciences dictate, even those who owe fealty to Valern. As I will publicly announce later today."

Now I permitted myself to smile. "Thank you for making your intentions clear, dalatrass. Will you indulge my curiosity, so long as we are in private?"

"If I can," she said politely.

"Did you plan all of this?"

She moved slightly, as if to recoil from the question, but I had gotten enough practice reading salarian body language to know she wasn't serious. "Now, Doctor, how could I possibly have planned any of these events? I was not the one who invited the krogan into the debate, thus creating a flashpoint. Nor do I have any significant influence over President Yao, or over dalatrass Linron, to control how they would react."

"True." I cocked my head at her. "On the other hand, at any of several points, you might have intervened to disarm the situation. You chose not to do so."

"For reasons which seemed good to me." Valern smiled. "For all that we salarians and you asari have been partners for thousands of years, you sometimes forget how different we are when it comes to the exercise of political power. You asari must endlessly debate everything, persuade one another to take action. I, on the other hand . . . may simply act, and justify myself to no one."

I sighed, and shook my head ruefully. "That would make a great many things simpler."

"You pursue your objectives in a manner that makes sense to asari, while I pursue mine in a manner that works for salarians. If our objectives align properly, and we both manage to attain them, what more needs to be said?"

"Nothing at all." I gave her a grave nod of respect. "Thank you for your time and attention, dalatrass. It is much appreciated."

She made a tiny bow in return, and then closed the connection.

We found our negotiations much easier that day, one salarian leader after another suddenly more than willing to see our side of the dispute. For all her official neutrality, Valern's move communicated her intentions quite clearly.

By evening we had wrapped up almost all our discussions. What negotiations remained could easily be carried out over the extranet. Normandy prepared for departure from Sur'Kesh.

About an hour before takeoff, a visitor arrived at our docking bay: massive, with a tall hump, startling blue eyes, and a dull-silver skull-plate that looked solid enough to break granite. Armed and armored to the teeth.

"Hello, Grunt." I smiled and stepped forward to embrace the krogan, remembering Urdnot Wrex for a wistful moment. "What brings you here? Is Bakara well?"

"She's fine. Probably going to be grumpy for the next few days. She always is, after she gets banged up a bit and has to sit on her ass for a while to heal up." Grunt peered at me, looked over my shoulder to where Shepard watched from Normandy's cargo ramp. "Think you could use an extra pair of hands, wherever it is you're going next?"

"Turian space," I told him. "Out on the edge of the galaxy first. The Hierarchy has asked us to investigate a Reaper sighting out there. Then probably a visit to Palaven, to talk to Primarch Ardzarun and a few others. And yes, Grunt, you're more than welcome. If you won't be needed at home?"

"Nah. Bakara can keep the females in line, and I've knocked enough heads among the males that they won't give her any trouble. Besides, if the Warmaster comes along on your quest, that tells everyone the krogan are behind you. Might be useful."

Shepard loomed up behind me. "Glad to have you with us, Grunt. You and I have a lot of catching up to do."

"Yeah, yeah. More talk. You've been spending too much time around all these asari, Battlemaster." Grunt gave a deep-chested laugh, his eyes gleaming with delight. "Other hand, I've gathered a lot of good stories to tell since the last time we were on a Normandy together."

"Can't wait to hear them." Shepard clapped Grunt on the back, and then reached out to slip an affectionate arm around my shoulders. I felt a moment's trepidation, and then decided to relax and enjoy the moment. The three of us turned to walk up the ramp and into the staging bay. "Maybe some things can be just like old times after all."