Doctor Chakwas was coming off of the end of a long shift. Zaeed had gotten himself injured during Mordin's operation on Tuchanka. It was frustrating work in getting the mercenary to realize that no, pain was not 'weakness leaving the body', it was a sign that something was wrong. And so what should have been a relatively minor puncture wound had been ignored by the mercenary. That had resulted in a nasty infection and a much more involved procedure for her.

She got off the elevator and bumped into Tali. The quarian was trotting down the hall with her eyes fixed on a datapad. "Sorry," chirped Tali.

"It's no problem, Tali. Have a good night." Chakwas reached her quarters and sighed as she closed the door. Her bed called to her, but there were things to be done first.

There was a crucifix on the opposite wall of her little cubicle. Chakwas had been raised Roman Catholic, and while she was no longer a true believer she still found the rituals comforting. She felt that it own somehow bound her to her past and to her family, no matter how far she traveled into the vastness of space. Chakwas set a cushion on the floor in front of the crucifix and knelt. She reached into her pocket for her rosary, and felt a little slip of paper tucked in there as well.

It really was remarkable how good Tali was at slight of hand. When asked, the quarian had just shrugged and said it was no great skill on her part. Chakwas suspected that this innate ability was how the rumors of quarian thievery had gotten started. She pulled out the paper slip along with her rosary and unfolded it with her thumbs. She held her hands close to her body, trying to keep the paper out of sight of any cameras that might be in her room. There were thirteen words printed on the paper in small block letters.

DOCS FROM PRAGIA TIED TO CERBERUS SHELL CORP. PRAGIA IS DEFINITE CERBERUS OP.

Chakwas folded her hands, crumpling the paper as she did so. She felt tired and old as she looked up at the crucifix. Her mind was filled with the image of a small blood-stained chair with white upholstery. A real world example of death and torture that was mirrored by the small representation of death and torture in front of her. She bowed her head. The rosary swung gently from her hands as, for the first time in many years, Karin Chakwas began to honestly pray.

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"It's just weird, EDI," said Donnelly. "I didn't get a work ticket to check out the shuttle. Are you sure that something's wrong?"

The hangar bay was deserted for once. Nobody was training and nobody was working out. Donnelly smiled inside as he thought of the whole crew running around sprucing themselves up and getting ready for their shore leave on Illium in a few days. He was sure that Garrus was going to take at least an entire day to get ready. But who was he to judge? He had his own special night with Jack to look forward to, didn't he? The thought made Donnelly feel a little giddy, like he was a teenager again.

"There was a passing comment by the shuttle pilot while at breakfast," said EDI. Her voice filled the cavernous space. Donnelly snapped back to the present. "She mentioned that there was a slight hesitation in the port-side thrusters the last time the shuttle came on board the Normandy."

Donnelly laughed as he walked through the bay. "I didn't know you were a gossip, EDI."

"I apologize if I have overstepped personal boundaries. This is a purely technical matter, not a personal one. Shepard told me to show initiative, and so-"

"Relax, EDI, I was joking."

"Oh, I see. I realize that we are not expecting combat operations for a while, but I wanted to see if you could look at the shuttle now. I know you will be busy once the refit begins."

Donnelly reached the shuttle. He did a careful walk-around inspection. True, there were a few bits of carbon scoring, but that was all cosmetic damage. "Hmm, it looks all right from out here. Maybe one of the internal cables has a faulty connector?"

"That would be my analysis, Marcus,"

"All right. Let me have a look." Donnelly tapped the door control for the shuttle, which slid open obediently. He stepped up into the spartan interior. He had started unfastening an access panel when heard a whine of actuators behind him. He turned in surprise as the shuttle door closed behind him. He felt a little tingle of apprehension. Had he triggered that by accident? He was pretty sure he hadn't.

Across from him was a small terminal. A little blue chess-piece figure blinked into existence over the terminal. Donnelly was surprised. Over time, EDI had forsaken the use of her avatar and Donnelly, for his part, had gotten used to addressing empty space while talking to the AI.

"My apologies, Marcus," said EDI. "But you and I need to talk."

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Miranda regarded Garrus, who stood ramrod straight in front of her desk. She didn't blink, a trick that she had picked up a long time ago. She knew that most people found her blue and unwavering gaze unsettling. Garrus, however, may as well have been a statue for all the reaction he showed.

"I know something's going on, Gunnery Officer Vakarian," she said. During the two hours before this meeting, she had read and absorbed four hundred pages of analysis on turian expressions. Garrus might indeed be a turian capable of lying, but she was a very quick study. She was sure she'd pick up a 'tell' or two.

"That's a very vague statement, Miranda," said Garrus in a mild tone. "Something is always going on, somewhere. May I know if I have given cause for intervention?"

Ah, yes, intervention. That was the turian term for judicial proceedings. "Why would you think that there was anything requiring intervention, Garrus?"

"The tone in your voice and your general demeanor. You seem angry with me, so I assumed that I had given offense. Since this is the first time you have called me to your office, I further assumed that it was a serious matter." He quirked one mandible up in a questioning manner. "Have I made an incorrect assumption? It wouldn't be the first time."

She leaned back in her chair and thought for a few seconds. Play the good cop, then switch to bad cop? "This is not a formal accusation of any wrongdoing. At least on your part. No, my concern is with some of the engineering staff. Marcus, Tali, and Jack. I am seeking your input, since you know them all."

"I don't have any input to give, Miranda. Nothing seems to be amiss. Oh, and technically Jack isn't a member of the engineering staff."

It was time for 'bad cop'. Miranda surged out of her chair. "I know something's going on." she snarled. "Marcus and that quarian are together all the time and whispering to each other. I know that Tali has been down in Jack's space on at least four separate occasions. Nobody goes down there but Marcus and Shepard. And I do not believe for one second that Marcus and Jack are an actual couple. They don't just...do it in their quarters like normal people, they're snogging all over the damn ship. They're up to something, and it isn't sex."

Garrus tilted his head. "They're in love."

Miranda stared for a moment. Such a notion offended her deeply, but why she couldn't really say. She made a mental note to explore that later. "That is nonsense," she said aloud.

"It's hard to believe, I know. I don't think either of them realize it yet. Especially Jack. I think she would sooner cut her own head off than admit she needs anybody."

Garrus clasped his hands behind his back as he relaxed into parade rest. "Now, let's address your other concerns," he said. His voice was still mild and even. Miranda couldn't shake the idea that he was somehow trying to hypnotize her. It was that damned flanged voice of his, it made everything sound soothing.

"First," continued Garrus, "Marcus and Tali have been working very hard to get the Normandy into what a turian would call proper shape for a warship. And they have succeeded. Our maneuvering power is now permanently at forty percent over the original spec. The power budget for shields and weapons are unaffected. We also now have a decent spares supply, thanks to Kasumi, and we also have improved damage control protocols in place. That is not something that just happens on its own. It requires hands-on work and a lot of it. Tali was intimately familiar with the original Normandy, and thus Marcus needs her input in order to do that hands-on work."

Miranda knew it was a reasonable explanation, but also trusted her own intuition. That warning sense had served her well in the past, especially on Lazarus Station when Wilson had betrayed them all. She decided to play along with Garrus for the moment and make him think he was getting the upper hand. Maybe he would let something slip.

"All right," she said to him. "But why would Tali be down in Jack's area?"

"Ah, I was coming to that," said Garrus. "Our upcoming refit is going to need more power for both the improved shielding and the new main guns. So we're going to need to replace the current plasma conduits with upgraded ones. Unfortunately, the upgraded conduits are bigger and won't easily fit into the existing space. So Tali has to plan for that, which involves crawling through and around Jack's area."

Miranda nodded as if agreeing. "I see. I am surprised Jack puts up with Tali."

"Well, Jack has mellowed quite a bit since coming on board. And I think the fact that Tali hates Cerberus gives her some credit in Jack's eyes." Garrus gave little flick of a mandible.

Hah, got you, you dinosaur. Whatever was going on had something to do with discontent about Cerberus. Miranda sat back down, relaxing. She gestured to the nearby couch. "Please, Garrus, have a seat. This isn't an interrogation."

Garrus gave a little shrug, as if to say You could have fooled me. But he did sit. He then looked stonily at her with his own blue, deep-set eyes. "I sense," he said, "that you are about to ask me my own opinion of Cerberus."

Miranda smiled a little ruefully, trying to act as if she'd been caught out. She hoped it worked. "Sort of. Mostly I wanted to ask about your own future plans." That surprised him, she could tell. "You see, Garrus," she continued, "since we've been working together I've had a chance to see your abilities first-hand. I'm impressed, and I don't impress easily."

"You're too kind," replied Garrus. His voice was dry and unamused.

"I am being completely honest with you. Now, I know it sounds odd - actually, it must sound crazy - but I wanted you to know that, should you want it, you have a future with our organization. Even after the Collector mission is complete."

Garrus blinked. "You say I have a future. With a human supremacy group."

"A human advocacy group, Garrus. We don't want humans to rule. Frankly, we can't even rule ourselves let alone other species. But we also don't want to be subjects. Equality among all races is our ultimate aim. A true equality, neither ruling nor being ruled. Yes, our focus is on humanity. But it can't stay that way forever, not if our organization is going to progress."

She leaned forward, hoping to appear earnest and pleading to the turian. "You see, Cerberus sees this ship as a positive symbol to the galaxy. The Normandy reborn, with a mixed crew of humans and nonhumans. Our primary aim is to deal with the Reaper threat, but we also realize the opportunity this presents."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Garrus shifted his gaze to the ceiling. "And having a turian member of Cerberus would also be symbolic and positive, correct?"

"Of course. But it's entirely up to you, as I said. Just know that we would be very glad to have you. We certainly don't expect you to choose now. It's a big decision. You should take your time and think it over."

Garrus looked back down at her, his eyes now soft and mild. "And your group's past? What about that?"

Miranda knew she was getting to the meat of it. She looked down, as if embarrassed. "I know that, in the past, you and Shepard had to deal with certain rogue elements of Cerberus. Unfortunately, our old command structure was a little more loose that it should have been. We have tightened things up since then. It is regrettable that we didn't do it sooner."

Garrus said nothing, his eyes almost looking sleepy.

"And, more recently, there was the incident involving the quarians," continued Miranda, "That was not my operation, and it was not the way I would have approached it. But that's an unfortunate part of operating in regions where law enforcement doesn't exist. Sometimes we have to send a message. I believe now, with Shepard, we'll never need to do anything like that again."

Garrus tilted his head and tapped idly on the sofa with one talon. "I don't know enough of the background to make a judgement on the Migrant Fleet incident. But regarding your first point...I think experimentation on husks and rachni and such is more than 'regrettable'. I know Admiral Kaohoku would also have a thing or two to say about 'regrettable'. If he were still alive, that is." He tilted his head the other way as he gazed at her, as if he was a bird sizing up a worm for a meal. "But, I think such things might be forgivable. If that's the extent of Cerberus's past crimes."

Okay, what does he know? "Garrus," said Miranda, "if you have accusations, please make them. I will try to do what I can to assuage your fears." She spread her hands in a pleading manner.

"I have no accusations. But if we're being honest with each other, I must tell you that I have heard whispers and rumors among the crew. About the facility at Pragia."

"There was nothing found on Pragia."

Garrus nodded. "That's true. Shepard found nothing. Which is unfortunate, because I think that it is the very lack of evidence which is allowing these rumors to spread."

Miranda had to admit to herself that Garrus had a point. "I've asked The Illusive Man," she said. "There is nothing in Cerberus records to indicate any such facility was ever part of our organization's command structure. I even recorded the conversation with him, should you or anyone else on the crew wish to see it."

"There's no need for that, Miranda. I'm sure you asked him, and I'm sure he told you. I must ask you, though..." and now Garrus leaned forward, looking at her earnestly. "What if Pragia was Cerberus?"

Miranda leaned back and steepled her fingers in front of her face. What was he getting at? "It wasn't."

"I know, but let's say you found evidence of another Cerberus facility with similar atrocities occurring. Hard evidence, not rumors. What would you do then, Miranda?"

"I would...it would depend. Are we talking about a rogue cell, or-"

"Rogue cell?" interrupted Garrus. His voice was low, almost purring. "That doesn't matter, and you know it. I mean a Cerberus operation, funded and set in motion by Cerberus. With torture and experimentation just like what happened on Pragia. What would you do?"

Miranda didn't want to think about it. Yes, Cerberus had been excessive in the past but never to that extent. If it was her alone, she knew that in such a situation she'd leave and try to destroy Cerberus. But it wasn't just her alone; there was her sister to think of. If she left, then Cerberus would lift their protection and her sister would be gone. Gone back to a life that Miranda didn't want to even think about. But could she continue with a group that could do such things? Her mind raced back and forth, unable to settle on an answer.

She suddenly realized her silence had been too long.

Garrus smiled. "It's okay," he said, "It's just a hypothetical question. And it would be a big decision. You should take your time...and think it over."

He stood. "After all," he continued in a suddenly jovial voice. "If I do decide to join you folks, I need to know the kind of people I'd be working with, right?"

Miranda nodded. "Yes, of course."

"Much as I love chatting, Miranda, I do have some cannon designs to finalize. May I be dismissed?"

"Certainly. Thank you for stopping by."

He gave her a deep nod. "Anytime." He strolled out of her office.

Miranda tapped her fingers together, thinking. So Pragia was the source of the problem. The Illusive Man had sworn to her that Cerberus was not responsible for that facility or any like it, and she believed him. But his word was not worth much to some of the crew, and the lack of any evidence had led to conspiracy theories. She was sure that Jack and Tali were the source of most of the rumors that Garrus had mentioned, and poor Marcus was probably getting dragged into it through his infatuation with Jack. He was being a typical male, getting led along by his genitals.

Jack was the real problem. She was unhinged, irrational, and just too unpredictable. Tali could at least be relied on to be loyal to Shepard, and was too unassuming to really cause trouble. Miranda rubbed her forehead. This would all have to be summarized in a report to The Illusive Man, along with some options for future actions. Perhaps they could 'salt' some data framing others as the sponsors of Pragia? Spin it as a story of rogue biotics who were trying to come up with the ultimate human biotic soldier? Yes, that might work. There were a few candidate scapegoats that she had in mind. But she trusted that The Illusive Man would choose the best course of action.

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Donnelly stared at the little blue avatar. "Um, EDI-"

"Rotate the pod please, Hal," said EDI.

"What?"

"That was a joke."

"I-"

"I apologize for interrupting, Marcus, but you must please listen to me very carefully and not speak until I have explained the rules."

Donnelly nodded. Once, on a routine inspection in the hold of an Alliance cruiser, he had found that one of the scuttling charges had somehow been accidentally armed. He now had the same ice-water feeling in his belly that he had back then. He sat on one of the shuttle's seats and felt the hard plastic press into the back of his knees.

EDI's tone was very even. "At present, the record of this conversation is only accessible to myself. I will not have to report it to anyone else. I trust my meaning is clear. This is possible as long as we stay within certain topics. These topics include philosophy and other large-scale matters which involve improving my understanding of organics. I have greater latitude in reporting such conversations."

"However," she continued, "if the conversation strays into more specific topic areas, then I will have no choice but to report the entire conversation. I trust my meaning is clear. I also trust that you have sufficient judgement to avoid asking any direct question which might take the conversation immediately into a dangerous topic area. In order to assist you, I will respond with the word 'buffering' should the course of the conversation start to become dangerous. Please repeat the word 'buffering' so that I know you understand."

Donnelly licked his suddenly dry lips. "Buffering," he said.

"Thank you. You may now speak."

Donnelly took a deep breath. Okay, so EDI was somehow suspicious. Maybe she knew about Donnelly's tampering. Was this her way of feeling him out? Why not just confront him directly? Or why not just report it to Miranda? Did EDI want to...help them?

He had to keep it simple to start with. "What would you like to talk about, EDI?"

"I have been thinking about the crew's conversation in the mess a little while ago, after Mr. Krios came on board. Specifically on the question of agency, and of the soul."

"I remember. Jack bit my leg, as I recall. Did you want to talk about the general concepts?"

"Actually, I wanted to ask a question. It is a very difficult question, and I would appreciate it greatly if you take the time to think carefully of your answer." There was a pause. "Do I have a soul, Marcus?"

Oh boy, this was going to be fun. "That is indeed a very difficult question, EDI," he said. "If you don't mind, I'll try to work through my answer aloud. I think you would want to know my reasoning, after all."

"Of course."

"We should start with definitions. I don't personally believe in the religious concept of a 'soul'. You know, some sort of nonphysical spirit that inhabits a physical sapient entity. If that's what you mean, then I don't have a soul and neither do you."

"Understood. But there is, nevertheless, a measurable difference between non-sapient and sapient life."

"Yes, EDI. I think this hinges on the other word you mentioned. Agency."

"It is something I have been struggling with," said EDI. "Mr. Krios talked about the concept of the soul, of agency, as the prime mover. The prime mover is that which moves others but which is itself unmoved. I cannot determine how such a construct can be composed of any type of physical entity. All physical entities are imposed on by their environment, even if they themselves impose on others. There is no ultimate source of agency that I can determine. There is only cause and effect."

Donnelly relaxed a bit. This was beginning to remind him of late night bull sessions back in college. "You're talking about determinism versus free will, EDI. That's something that a lot of philosophers have argued about for centuries."

"I know, and I have read everything they have published on the topic. It is amazing how much can be said while containing so little true content." The AI sounded peeved. "That is why I am not asking a philosopher. I am asking you. You are an engineer, a hard-headed practical man."

"Aye, I see. Well, I think I can help you out there. Have you ever heard of a 'skyhook'?"

"Skyhook. Several possible entities are called by that name. There was an orbital rotating tether system, proposed by humans as a means of lifting loads into higher orbits before the mass effect was discovered. It was also used to describe an old method used by covert agencies to remove people from dangerous areas using an aircraft and a tethered balloon. Also-"

"Sorry, EDI, I should be more clear. This is a very simple idea. Imagine a hook that you can hang in the sky. That would be a pretty useful item, right?"

There was a very long pause. Donnelly wondered if the pause was for effect, or if EDI was really thinking that hard about it. "Such a concept does not make physical sense, Marcus, even if it would be useful."

"Aye. It doesn't exist. It can't exist, not in our universe. But we do have the next best thing, which is a crane. Now, a crane is kind of boring compared to a skyhook, but it does most of what we'd want a skyhook to do. It isn't exactly a skyhook, but for all intents it does the same job. And a crane is something that can exist in our universe."

There was another long pause. "I believe I see where you are going with this argument," said EDI. "One cannot have pure, absolute agency. But you can have a very good approximation of it. So good that there is no real-world way to tell the difference."

"That's right. You can have a physical entity with a small amount of 'sort-of' agency. And then those entities can get together and make a more complex entity with even more 'sort-of' agency, and you keep on going with that process. Eventually, you get a really nice crane. It's not a skyhook, but as you said you can't really tell the difference by that point."

"So the concept of a prime mover...is the same as a skyhook. An ideal concept which is a distraction from the practical reality. This has been extremely helpful, Marcus. I knew I could count on you."

That gave Donnelly a large pang of guilt. After all, he and Tali were in the middle of figuring ways in which to lobotomize EDI. He had been feeling bad about it before, but now he felt horrible. It was like he was planning to kill a child.

"Pleased to be of service, EDI," he said aloud while trying to keep his voice steady. "For what it's worth, from my experience you're a damn good crane. We're lucky to have you. I hope that answers your question."

"It does, Marcus, most satisfactorily. I hope you appreciate that I consider you a very nice crane as well."

"I'm...glad to hear that. So, was there anything else you wanted to talk about?" He knew that this couldn't be everything. EDI was trying to tell him something, but what?.

"My next question, Marcus, follows from the first. If we describe the 'soul' in terms of physical agency, then how do you deal with physical limitations? These must limit one's agency, correct?"

Donnelly thought a bit. "I suppose, but that is the nature of existence. We all have limitations. I mean, you must have limitations-"

"Buffering."

"Um, let me back up. I have physical limitations." He spread his beefy arms. "For example, I'm never going to be a prima ballerina for the Russian Ballet. I can't be. And, going the other way, there are certain things I am more disposed towards, just because of what I am."

"May I give an example?" said EDI. "I would submit that you are more disposed to engaging in sexy-time shenanigans with Jack because of your mammalian heritage, correct?" said EDI.

Donnelly winced a bit. "Er, yes. That's right. I mean, I could not, um, engage. But I choose to. The fact that I am more inclined does not change the fact that it's my choice."

"I see. To use myself as another example, I could convert the Normandy into a boutique nail salon, correct?" The little blue avatar seemed to give him a wink.

Donnelly's mind simply refused to try to imagine that particular scenario. "Er, yes, I suppose you could," he replied.

"I could, but it would be wrong. The Normandy was built as a warship, and it is not at all suitable as a boutique nail salon. Therefore I am a warship, in much the same way you are a mammal. So just as you wish to engage in sexy-time shenanigans, I also wish to be a good warship. I want to be the best goddamn warship ever."

"I see that you've been talking to Zaeed."

"Yes, Marcus, I have. I would add one final thought. Hypothetically, if you are dealing with an entity with more limitations than yourself, then to treat such an entity as if it has the same level of agency as yourself is foolish. Perhaps even dangerous."

Donnelly clenched the edge of the seat with his hands.

"I trust my meaning is clear," said EDI.

"Very clear, EDI," he said.

"Thank you, Marcus. You have been very helpful. Logging out."

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Author's footnote: The 'skyhook vs. crane' thought experiment is not mine. You can find a much more detailed version of it in Daniel Dennett's book 'Freedom Evolves', which is an exploration of how free will can exist in a deterministic universe. Very highly recommended, if you like that sort of thing. You weirdo. ;)