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As they sped across the galaxy to intercept the derelict Collector ship, everyone seemed keyed up. Grunt was tearing apart the cargo hold and putting it back; Daniels and Donnelly in the engineering room were flying around trading quips at lightning speed, and thoroughly annoying Jack, who said she could hear their chirpy voices echoing above her head while she worked out.

Jacob was also hitting the weights obsessively, spending hours in the exercise room. Shepard considered telling him not to wear himself out, but then she'd have had to give the same advice to Jack and Grunt, and she wasn't about to tell either of them to calm down.

Mordin's lab was so littered with the detritus of his research that you could barely walk into it, and he struck everyone who came in with such a stream of incomprehensibly fast speech they usually just stammered something apologetic and left.

Joker and EDI were wrangling constantly in the cockpit. The AI wasn't supposed to be able to feel emotion, but Shepard noticed EDI was more sharp with Joker than usual. Not for the first time, she wondered about the AI and its abilities. It seemed very advanced.

Miranda was spending most of her time pacing her office and, though she wouldn't admit it, chewing her fingernails while she read reports. And Garrus had taken his guns apart and reassembled them so many times Shepard wondered if they still worked.

The only oases of calm on the ship seemed to be Samara, who meditated in the starboard observation deck, and Thane, also meditating in the life support bay. Shepard wished she knew some meditation techniques. Her nerves had never been a problem, except that everyone else was now getting on them by not being able to relax.

At last, she took a cup of tea to the port observation deck, hoping at least to be alone. And she was—blissfully, peacefully alone, for probably an hour before the door slid open behind her. Twisting in her seat, she found to her surprise that it was Thane.

"I am sorry. I thought no one was in here; I just wanted a change of scenery."

"I suppose the view of the life support systems does get a bit tedious."

"Largely I ignore it and lose myself in memory, but occasionally even that gets tiresome." He gave his courteous nod. "But I'm sure your moments of peace are hard-won—I will not disturb you."

If he had been anyone else, Shepard probably would have sent him away. Even if Kaidan had been aboard the ship, she might have preferred to be alone—although Kaidan would have been exercising as furiously as Jacob was, she imagined. But Thane's quiet thoughtfulness was nearly as restful as solitude, all things considered. "No, please, stay. I'd appreciate someone to talk to. I've worn out all my topics of conversation with myself."

"Have you? I would have thought you'd have quite a bit to say to yourself."

"Usually I do. But today it mostly revolves around what's ahead, and I try not to have those conversations. Too hard to do the job if you've worried yourself sick about it."

"I understand." He took a seat farther down along the bench Shepard was sitting on.

"Should you be here?" she asked. "Or should I ask EDI to turn down the humidity?"

"No, no." Thane lifted a hand as if to wave away her concerns. "I cannot remain locked away in a room in the mere hope of adding a few weeks to my time. I will be careful, but I intend to continue living my life." He glanced at her with a small smile. "Not to mention that I would be of very limited use to you if I refused to leave the life support bay."

"True enough. All right, then, I won't worry about you."

"I appreciate that. There are few things more irritating than having someone continually second-guess your decisions in the name of health. I can name a few hanar physicians who fall into that category. Don't you find that so?"

Shepard gave that some thought. "Not really. I don't think anyone's ever hovered over me or really even expressed much concern."

"For you are Shepard, the mighty and indomitable?"

She laughed. "Something like that."

"How did you come to be a soldier? Is it simply that there was nothing else that would have suited you so well?"

"That was a long time ago." It had been years since anyone had asked. "And I think you're right, it's where I'm best suited to be. But … well, I'm sure you've heard the official story, about the colony on Mindoir?"

"Something about it, yes."

"It was attacked by slavers. Parents, friends, home … I was lucky to have survived and not been captured."

"How did you?"

"Potting soil. I hid under it. My parents were botanists," she explained. "The soil and fertilizer masked my smell, and the potting shed was dimly lit, so it was easy enough to hide. After that … I admired the soldiers who came to the colony to pick up the pieces, and I had nothing, nowhere to go, so training for the Alliance navy seemed like my best option. From there, I just … did what I do."

"Get things done."

"Yes."

"Quite successfully, it appears."

Shepard nodded. "But of course the problem with succeeding is that people just keep handing you more challenging tasks and expecting you to succeed at those." That line of thought was getting her dangerously close to the Collector ship that lay ahead of them, so she turned the questions around. "And you? How did you come to be an assassin?"

"Like you, I was trained for it. The hanar selected me for the training when I was six years old."

"Six?" Shepard asked in disbelief. "You've been killing since you were six?"

"Of course not! I didn't make my first kill until I was twelve."

She looked over at him to see if he was joking, but he appeared perfectly serious. "That's still young."

"I was ready. The hanar had put a great deal of time and effort into my training—I was an investment, not to be used and thrown away."

"An investment?" she echoed. "You were a child."

He seemed surprised. "It appears I've given you the wrong idea. Yes, they valued me as a resource, but they also developed me as a person. No part of my training or education was neglected. In fact, they regretted their need for me."

"It seems strange to think of the hanar needing assassins. They're so polite, and their religion seems to based in peace and light."

Thane shook his head. "Every species needs assassins, Shepard. They all have enemies, within and without, who must be dealt with. The hanar are only unusual in that they need other species to do the killing for them. They have a strong grip and natural toxins, but have you ever seen one move quickly outside of water, or fire a gun?"

Shepard had never thought of it that way, but of course it was true. Off their homeworld, the hanar were often at a disadvantage, if not somewhat helpless. "Maybe it's the hanar's influence that makes you seem so different from the typical assassin."

"The typical assassin?" he repeated, amused. "There is no such thing. And, if you'll pardon my saying so, I believe you've spent too much time fighting thugs who think custom-painted armor makes them professionals."

"That's true enough—although from my end of the gun, I prefer them that way." She smiled at him. "I'm glad I never had to go after you."

Thane smiled back. "As am I."

For a moment, as they looked at one another, the atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, as though something had passed between them without their knowing. Shepard looked away in confusion, searching for another question to get the conversation back on track. "Why did your parents agree to this training?"

"The agreement was made under the Compact. It was an honor for our family."

"What's the Compact?"

"You know very little about my people, I see." When Shepard began to apologize, he raised his hand again. "You are not alone. There are so few of us, we're a rather obscure topic of discussion. You see, the hanar rescued us from extinction. We owe them our lives. Thus, the Compact."

"Why were your people going extinct?"

"Overpopulation. That must sound trite to you—humans developed the mass effect drive before the problem became acute. Our homeworld, Rakhana, had few resources. We hadn't even developed fusion power when the soil began to fail from overuse and pollution. The hanar found us a century ago. They sent hundreds of ships, evacuated thousands of people." He turned to gaze out across the galaxy. "Billions more had to be left behind."

"What's Rakhana like now? Have you ever been there?"

He shook his head. "No. It is dead." Looking back at her, he asked, "Do you read your philosophers? Thomas Hobbes. 'When all the world is overcharged with inhabitants, then the last remedy of all is war, which provideth for every man by victory, or death.' As Rakhana died around them, my people slaughtered each other for mouthfuls of water, crumbs of food. The hanar saved those of us who remain from that. We are grateful."

"Thus the Compact," she said. Thane nodded. "What are the terms of the Compact?"

"There are many things the hanar can't do, even with mechanical aid. They ask the drell to assist them."

"Like they 'asked' you to become an assassin when you were six?"

Thane turned to her swiftly, half-rising from his seat, his black eyes sharp. "Don't insult me, Shepard! We owe our existence to the hanar. We are proud to repay that debt! And they do ask, they do not insist. My parents agreed, knowing I would be well taken care of and given a future, a set of skills. Anyone can refuse to serve; few do." He stood up all the way, some of the anger fading from his face. "You see the hanar as ineffectual blobs of light, but if you could see them in the Encompasssing, the oceans of Kahje, you would see them as they were truly meant to be." Something changed in his face, as though he had retreated to somewhere behind his eyes, as though he was no longer present in the room with her. Whispers escaped him, and Shepard got up and walked toward him to hear him better. "A stream of silver in the dark. Looping, diving. So fast the eye can't follow. Laughter like the squeals of a child vibrates the water. They fly over the back of the seabed like birds, plumed with the light of heaven."

She could almost see it, the way he described it, and she closed her eyes, trying to form the picture in her mind.

When she opened them, he was watching her, with interest and something softer in his face. "Do you begin to understand what the hanar are, what we owe them?"

"I think so. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"No, no. It is not atypical. It's rare to find someone willing to listen to another point of view. Perhaps that's what sets you apart, makes you the person you've become."

Shepard shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. "Maybe. I like to know what all the options are, maybe that's taught me that there's more than one side to every story." Abruptly she realized how close she was standing to him, and she took a few steps away, closer to the window. "So if you were trained by the hanar, how did you end up freelance?"

Thane sighed. "I was asleep for a long time, yes. I paid no attention to what my body was asked to do, but then …" His face changed again, as it had when he was speaking of the hanar, and Shepard found herself moving closer again to understand what he was whispering. "Laser-dot trembles on the skull. One finger twitch; he dies. Then … the smell of spice on a spring wind. Sunset-colored eyes defiant in the scope. The laser dances away."

There was silence, and Shepard realized she had closed her eyes again to see the vision, if that was what it was, more clearly. She opened them, finding him on the other side of the room, near the door. "Was that one of your assassinations?"

"Yes. My apologies—drell slip into memories so easily." He cleared his throat. "Perhaps we can discuss it later … I've wasted too much of your time already." And he was gone, leaving Shepard to wonder what had happened in that memory to upset him so, to hope that one day he would trust her enough to tell her … and not to look too closely into why she wanted to know.