This is a prelude for the training John Shepard underwent for his N7 rating. The goal is to cover from Recruitment to the Skyllian Blitz, albeit I am not certain how exactly long the entire section will take a few chapters maybe.

Memorium

Mindoir: 2172

It had been two years since the batarian slave raid. The Alliance had sent aid as promised, including the workers for the harvest, planted by those whom were no longer there. Many of the custom combiners had decided to settle on Mindoir after observing the rich yields the planet could produce.

It was only natural, Shepard mused. What manner of being who devoted his life to agriculture could pass up the opportunity for cheap land, ready to plant? The most difficult aspect of terraforming had already been accomplished, namely adjusting crops and animals to a new ecosystem, and getting large swaths of land tamed for planting.

He shifted in his seat a little; granted the government on Mindoir may have worked out the best deal possible. Insurance money had been handed out to the survivors, and that which hadn't been recompensed was mostly recovered. A lot, really, since the slavers had been concentrating on grabbing people, not stuff. The slavers had made a quick sweep for valuables, of course, but the speed of the raid required that the searchers would be rushed. Inevitably, many things had been missed.

Shepard looked down at the closest example. An authentic violin rested on his knees, courtesy of the Larsons. He wasn't sure why they'd done it, but their will had stipulated the violin would go to the Shepard family. As the only surviving member of said family, that meant he'd gotten it.

Wind blew gently over his home, attracting his attention. It was a familiar wind, fairly constant, almost always going from west to east. It changed course with the seasons, sometimes slower, sometimes strengthening with the promise of storms, as it did now.

Farther west, a dark squall line was showing itself over the horizon. Out in the fields, farmers were running their auto-drills as fast as possible, preparing as much land for as much seed as possible. Seasons didn't wait until the farmer was ready; the farmer had to prepare for the season. Farther north in the airfield, shuttles were being towed into the hangers and the ultralight cropsprayers were being hastily broken down into easily stored components.

With a grunt, Shepard stood up. He was standing on the roof of what had been his family's home, now his home, for what may be the last time. Turning to face the oncoming wind, he raised the violin to his shoulder, but held the bow away for a bit. The wind gusted and swirled around him, making the violin strings hum. The tune changed with the wind, just as wild and restless. While Shepard wasn't great at the instrument, he'd had lessons, and knew how to appreciate good music and fine instruments. This violin was made of original Earth wood, carved centuries before Mass Relays were known to exist, polished over the years by who knows how many musicians.

Shepard let the wind play for a little longer before he touched the strings lightly with the bow. A lilting melody, lost in the wind, blew over the town. The Ashokan Farewell was an old tune, dedicated to the fallen, written after a different conflict on 19th century Earth. Shepard felt it was apropos, considering what had transpired. It was also his own farewell. His birthday had occured the previous week, on April 11th. He had turned 18, old enough to enlist in the Alliance Military, which had already accepted his application.

Music flew across the town, but few heard it. Thunder rumbled in the distance, unconsciously echoing cannon from another era. Lightning lit up the far side of town, and the wind picked up sharply.

Shepard let the last few notes free, and waited just another minute. Then he went inside, carefully polished the violin, and put it back in its case.

The home was strangely empty. Most of the furniture was still there, but the knickknacks that had individualized the place were safely stored away. Some were buried in obscure locations, others were stashed in a safety deposit vault down at the First National Bank of Mindoir. If the slaver attack had taught Shepard anything, it was to never keep all the eggs in one basket. Should something happen to one cache, the others would be safe. Relatively, anyway.

The home itself was already slated to be rented out. A couple fresh from the Alliance had been transferred to Mindoir, and needed a place to stay. Shepard had offered lenient terms, since he wouldn't need the credits for a while and wanted to make sure the place was inhabited. Crime had gone up since the attack, what with new blood seeing a lot of abandoned buildings. It had gone down after the excess prefabs had been leveled for construction material, but there was still more than what there had been before the attack.

With that in mind, he rolled himself in his bag, and waited for sleep to come. He didn't need to listen to any of the recordings his parents had made for him, he'd memorized them already. Still, he liked to hear the sound of their voices. Unconsciously he activated one of the recordings on his omni-tool.

His mothers voice made him jerk: "June 30th, 2160. John is doing well at school, but I'm concerned that he's too quiet. Jim says not to worry, that it's a sign of an active mind. He's right, of course, but I'm worried that John isn't making friends. I talked about it with him today. He told me that if he wanted friends, that he wanted friends that would be good friends, not just someone who played baseball for a weekend and forgot about him after that. John, if you see this, know that you will always have a few people looking out for you. Don't be afraid to trust."

His fathers voice automatically played next. "John, wait…is this on? John? Oh…the light is blinking red…guess it is on…Hey John! Glad you could make it! Today is December 24th, and the year is 2166. I was just watching you slide down the hill behind our house. Makes me wish I were young again. Nadia forbade me from taking your sled on a test run last winter, so I made a bigger one out of some old plastic barrier a few weeks ago. Tomorrow after church we'll head to those bigger hills outside of town and work in some serious powder. Next year, I have some plans for a snowmobile, kinda like a little Mako, but with treads. It'll be fun!"

Nadias voice came back on: "John, this is your mother. I've been reading some news articles on the extranet, and I promise you son if you ever get involved with that Terra Firma party, I am going to hunt you down and…"

Jim's voice interrupted: "Nadia, do you really think John would fall for anything that stupid?"

Nadia's voice returned: "I'm just warning him…"she sighed. "All right John, I trust you to make the right decisions. Eventually. After you-"

A brief squeal of static ended the recording. John Shepard switched off his omnitool, smiling slightly. He'd miss these nights in Basic training. With that, he went to sleep, listening to the wind. The next few weeks would be tiring.