I am more than usually indebted to themarshal for this chapter. It would be very different and much worse without him.

Dear Diary, Rachel typed, and immediately erased the line. Who actually starts a journal like that? Then again, what would I know about it? I'm only doing this because Miranda put me up to it. Never was much for the touchy-feely crap. But she says journaling is something I can do to help slow the rate of cognitive decay, and it beats taking up stamp collecting. Personally, I'm not sure this isn't just Miranda being sadistic.

So you want to know how I feel? Like hell. The Reapers are breathing down our neck, and our only hope is some Prothean device except no one is really sure what it does. For all I know, the thing is a huge Reaper trap. But we don't really have another choice. Sovereign wiped out a third of the Alliance fleet on its own. Intel figures there are four thousand Reapers. Hackett's right: there is no way we're winning this conventionally. So I'm playing diplomat because that's what the galaxy needs. Doesn't mean I have to like it.

And I'm dying. Well, maybe not exactly. Miranda says the decay won't actually kill me for a good twenty years. But I've got six months, maybe a little more if Miranda is as good as she thinks she is, of being normal. I always figured that I'd get my reward after the Reapers were taken care of. Not a quiet life -who wants quiet?—but a life. I haven't had a girlfriend in three years. No time. The mission took priority. The mission always takes priority. I'm not like Miranda. I have to know the person I'm sleeping with. And now… Well, I remember how it was with Dad. Mom ran herself ragged when she was on leave towards the end, trying to take care of him. No time for herself. Everything revolved around him. I'm not doing that to anyone. Getting involved, seriously involved, knowing what I know is just selfish.

But I wish I was like Miranda. I miss sex. Kissing. Cuddling. All that stuff. Stupid with the war, but it's true. I miss having something to come back to.

"Commander, the krogan and salarian representatives are here." Traynor's voice cut through her self-pity and gave Rachel an excuse to cut off the computer.

"Show them into the briefing room. And pray they don't start another war."

Victus, Wreav, and Dalatrass Linron were already there. Rachel fought the urge to stand beside him. She was supposed to be an impartial mediator, but Linron made her hair stand on end. Mordin and Kirrahe had been staunch allies who she could count on thinking outside the box and coming up with a plan before she had even realized there was problem. But politicians were politicians, and salarians were more conniving than most. Wreav was much as Rachel remembered him, but there was a smug gleam in his eye that made her even more uneasy than Linron.

"This clan chief is a glorified thug. What gives him the right to speak for the krogan?"

"Same thing that gives any krogan the right. I'm the strongest, and if somebody doesn't like what I do with my power, they're welcome to take it from me." Wreav jabbed his finger in the direction of Linron's face. "You will show me respect, salarian! And explain why I should give a piss about the turians? They're getting themselves wiped out. Don't humans have a word for that? Karma?"

"Wreav…" Rachel said warningly.

"I've got Reapers in my own backyard. You want me to help, you going to pay for it. A lot."

Victus glared at him. "Neither of us are politicians, and none of us have any time for your theatrics. Just say what you want so we can get on with it."

Wreav's lips curved into a facsimile of a smile. Rachel shuddered. She had caught Wrex and Grunt smiling in irony or sheer glee at the violence about to be unleashed, but this was malevolent. Like a cat who had caught a mouse by its tail. "I want a cure for the genophage." He inclined his head in Rachel's direction. "Seems only fair, considering that that was what Saren was willing to offer us."

Linron's eyes went wide. "No! Absolutely not! It would lead to a disaster nearly as bad as the Reapers themselves."

Of course it would be that. Are you laughing wherever you are, Wrex? "Something I should know, dalatrass?"

"The salarians uplifted the krogan, and we know them better than they know themselves. They were inducted into galactic society for a single purpose: war. It's all they know. They're incapable of being anything but bloodthirsty brutes. Only the genophage kept their urges in check and prevented them from overrunning the galaxy."

"You needed us, and then you neutered us when we tried to take what was rightfully ours! The only reason the Citadel is still around is because of us. We weren't going to be content with table scraps."

"He's got a point. People don't generally take well to being used as tools, no matter what their species."

Linron turned to her. "Exactly my point. We made a rash decision once in uplifting the krogan. Now you want us to do it again. There are worlds ravaged by the Rebellions that are uninhabitable to this day. You cannot make a desert and call it peace. And that's exactly what would happen if the krogan were allowed to expand again."

Victus raised his hand in a dismissive gesture. "It's all theoretical anyway. The Reapers will have destroyed us all by the time a cure is viable."

Wreav's laugh was even worse than his smile. "That's where you're wrong. A cure already exists. Isn't that right, dalatrass?" Wreav moved to the head of the table and pressed a button on the console. The room went dark, and grainy security camera footage was projected onto the bulkhead. Rachel's eyes widened. It was a prison complex of some kind. The cells were bare and flooded with a harsh light. And each of them contained a single female krogan.

"Maelon was a twisted little pyjak, but his experiments did work. Some of the females survived, and they're immune to the genophage. Of course, the salarians couldn't have that, so the dalatrass ordered the STG to kidnap them."

"Where did you get that? It could be a fabrication!"

A half-forgotten bit of trivia, something Miranda had mentioned in passing a year earlier wormed its way into Rachel's head." One of my crew has experience in forging video evidence and recognizing the same. I'm sure she would be able to ascertain the veracity of this evidence. Of course, kidnapping krogan is illegal. It would be very embarrassing if the Council were to get wind of this."

Linron hung her head. "They're at one of our bases on Sur'Kesh," she muttered. "But why should we help the krogan?"

Rachel rubbed her temples. Three years later with the Reapers at the door and nothing had changed. "Because if you don't, you'll be facing in the Reapers alone. You won't have the element of surprise. The Reapers are more advanced. How do you think your fleet will do against them? The human fleet has been decimated, and I saw the turians losing ground on Menae. Because we tried to go it alone."

Rachel could see the exact moment when she'd said registered with Linron. The dalatrass' shoulders slumped, and Rachel could almost pity her. "Face extinction now or in one hundred years. What kind of choice is that? It will take time," she said, more loudly.

"So you can move the females somewhere else?" Victus slapped the table with his palm. "The transfer happens now. Shepard is a Spectre and a neutral party. She can oversee the transfer."

Why am I always the one being thrown in the middle of diplomatic incidents? Is there something about being able to move things with my mind that just screams ambassador? "Of course, Primarch."

"You'll regret this, Commander. A bully has few friends when she needs them most. The consequences of a resurgent krogan—"

"—will pale beside the consequences of the Reapers killing us all."

"Listen to the human. All I want is what's mine by right. For somebody who claims to know so much about krogan, you don't understand us at all. We'll assume our rightful place in the galaxy with or without your help. But if you do help us, you might just live long enough to see our glorious renaissance. No guarantees about after." And, with that, Wreav marched out. Victus and Linron followed behind, leaving Rachel alone.

"Is it just me, or is Wreav the best argument for the genophage ever?" Wrex might have done something, but Wrex was dead. She laughed bitterly. Destroy one cure to save the galaxy from the Reapers and facilitate another to do the same. Her childhood priest had always said that God had a keen sense of irony.

She felt old and tired. If she closed her eyes, she would be able to feel the Virmire sand beneath her feet. The one time it had actually mattered, she hadn't been able to talk Wrex down. And now Wreav—bloodthirsty, cruel, reactionary Wreav-was the one who would determine whether the krogan helped the turians. And the turians would determine whether this ragtag coalition would have the manpower to take back Earth. No choice.

There's always a choice. And you chose to save Maelon's data. That seemed like a stupid bit of idealism, a way to atone after what she had done on Virmire. The krogan would be cured eventually and gradually so that they didn't overwhelm the galaxy like last time. And maybe someone smart like Wrex would rise up. In time. She was supposed to have so much longer than six months before the Reapers got here. But no. Wreav was still in power. And the Council races were just as greedy, selfish, and self-absorbed as they always had been. For all she knew, Linron would stab them all in the back the moment they touched down on Sur'Kesh. Or Wreav would get a little too bloodthirsty. He might be plotting a second Rebellion right now.

She had always had someone to bounce ideas off of, a sounding board who would help her see what she was missing. But Kaidan was dead. Garrus was dead. James knew even less about politics then she did. Ashley wasn't exactly unbiased when it came to the krogan. Liara…Liara knew everything now, didn't she? That was part of her job. She'd know if Linron was planning a double-cross and how much danger Wreav would be. The Shadow Broker would have charts, graphs, projections. Something so she wasn't flying blind.

But Liara wasn't alone in her office. Miranda stood over her desk as if it still belonged to her. She had her back to the door, but Rachel recognized the tension in her shoulders and the ramrod straightness of her spine. "You're the Shadow Broker," she said icily. "Controlling the flow of information is what you do. Leak a fake cure. Wreav will never know the difference. Linron and the salarians will be happy, guaranteeing their support for your precious Prothean device. Everyone wins."

"Everyone except the krogan. It's past time we atone for the mistake we made in sterilizing them."

Rachel folded her arms in front of her chest, torn between amusement and irritation. "Well, I see nothing remains secret around here."

Miranda looked over her shoulder. Her smile was almost as frightening as Wreav's. "I might've brought you back, but I spent most of my time in Cerberus' intelligence division. You should have thought of that before you brought me aboard."

Liara shrugged. "I am the Shadow Broker." She fixed her gaze on Miranda. "When we sterilized the krogan, we took away any hope they had for the future. As long as they're teetering on the brink of extinction, they have no motivation to integrate into the larger galactic society. They'll just keep fighting each other for dominance. I believe the human variation is slightly different, but the krogan have a proverb: 'Eat, drink, and slaughter each other, for tomorrow we die.'"

"And the fact that they even have a proverb like that doesn't tell you anything? The krogan population would be stable if they would just stop killing each other. At some point, they have to take responsibility for the state of Tuchanka. You don't give a child his toys back until he proves he can behave himself. If the krogan population starts expanding, it's only a matter of time before overcrowding leads to conflict. Among themselves, and with other species. Basic biology and sociology, really."

"Exactly how soon are we talking?"

Liara punched something into the terminal. "Wreav has stockpiled more WMDs than any Urdnot leader of the last hundred years, but he's also used more. Given how many of them are going to be dying against the Reapers in even the best case scenario, it would take over three hundred years for them to return to the population levels of the pre-Rebellions era." Her features softened and Rachel saw, not the Shadow Broker, but the young woman who had managed to find compassion even for Saren. "You say that you don't give a misbehaving child back her toys, but you do show compassion to an abused child long before she's done anything to deserve that compassion. When we sterilized the krogan, we inflicted a lasting scar on their psychological makeup. We wronged them, so we have to take the first step at reconciliation. And you of all people should be more sympathetic to the horror of forced infertility, breeding or not breeding at the whim of another organic. Henry—"

The rigidity in Miranda's shoulders worked its way down her back until she was stiff as a corpse, and the temperature dropped until it was as cold as a Port Hanshan winter. "You know? But of course you do. I'd forgotten how very godlike the Shadow Broker could be." Miranda shook her head. "Yes, knowing that you will do nothing but miscarry is horrible. The salarians should have just reduced the potency of krogan sperm or the number of eggs a female could carry to term without making those females entirely infertile. But they didn't. And we can't let empathy override facts."

Miranda turned back to Shepard. She had gone pale, and her eyes were as hard as glass. "And the facts are these: the Reapers are currently very far away from salarian space. As long as that remains true, the Union will see the krogan as the greater threat. The krogan are going to be indispensable to any liberation of Palaven, but the salarians are the ones with both a fleet and the technical ability to help us with this Prothean device. Wreav, frankly, isn't that bright. It would take time to create and distribute a cure. We could string him along for years."

Rachel groaned. "Remind me never to come here asking for advice." She straightened her shoulders. "Suit up, Liara. I want you with me groundside. Lawson…just stay here and try not to let on that you know what's supposed to be classified intel. Williams isn't the only one who wanted you confined. Whatever needs to be done, the first step is getting those females."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "And after that?"

I have no idea. "Don't I always come up with something?"

Dear Diary,

Today I either saved a species or doomed the galaxy. God help me, I am not busting my ass to save the galaxy just so the krogan can trash it. I want to live. I want to take my daughter to the park someday and have her laugh at the sheer absurdity when I try to tell her about the Reapers. I want the peace and prosperity Cerberus always promised they were working for. I want my last memory of Earth to be something other than it burning.

I'm not going to get all that. Kenson saw to that, the bitch. So I'll settle for this being the last war any of my crew fight. I want Miranda to reunite with her sister, maybe grow a kid of her own. I want James to go back to San Diego. I want Ashley to be a better Spectre than I ever was. I want Liara to be a Shadow Broker who can use her influence for something besides making money.

I want…