Chapter 2: Confections and Confessions

Vetra hummed a tune to herself as she cast a sidelong glance at Ryder, trying to read his expression as the two waited patiently for the lift to complete its long journey to the Natanus' wardroom. An hour had passed since the Pathfinder had dismissed the Tempest crew for their last night free aboard the ark, their tasks completed to the satisfaction of Commander Raev, who now hailed Ryder on his omni-tool. Vetra watched as her companion retrieved an earpiece from beneath a flower pocketed in his dinner jacket and answered cordially. The two conversed for a few moments before he stopped to give Vetra an apprising look from crest to toe and announced triumphantly,

"Yes. Yes ma'am. The dress fits her just right, if I say so myself. Yeah. No honestly, I should be the one thanking you. Oka- Yes. We'll be there soon. Ryder out."

Looking down appreciatively at the silken black folds of the splendid garment, Vetra basked in Ryder's lingering gaze as he concluded his call. She strode in front of him, stooping over slightly to adjust the quaint cloth neckpiece tied around his collar, pausing to fill her nostrils with the subtle floral scent of his cologne blended into her lover's natural musk. As she manipulated the article, Ryder inquired quietly,

"Thanks. Any chance you can tell me what I'm in for, by the way? Avitus was kinda cryptic about it when I asked him, and when I mentioned it to Jaal he seemed convinced that I'm going headlong into some kind of warrior's invocation. Seriously. Even offered to show me some sparring techniques he picked up to avoid getting spurred."

She found the angaran's concern for the Pathfinder charming; little could he know that it was a valid concern between her and Ryder.

"Speaking of spurring, you're going to need a bigger bathtub."

Vetra rubbed idly along Ryder's shoulder where she had given him a careless poke during their bubbly adventures the previous night. The human tensed slightly before allowing her to continue, muttering sweet nothings and promises of ambitious tubs under his breath, much to her delight. She shifted her footing as the lift began to decelerate, descending gracefully to a halt at the lobby of the command deck. A familiar figure elegantly clad in a Spectre's formal service uniform approached their platform, giving the couple a salutary nod as they reached the platform at last.

"And speak of the devil, there's your fellow Pathfinder."

Avitus Rix swallowed the mentholated candy he had been playing with idly in his mouth, smiling broadly as he greeted his Initiative compatriots disembarking the lift.

"Fashionably early, are we?"

He extended a hand to Vetra, who accepted it as she stepped off, taking care not to trample the fringes of her flowing dress. She embraced him in greeting and gratitude, the faint but invigorating scent of her perfume bringing to mind the evergreens of a distant galaxy as he shook Ryder's hand warmly, a happy expression written on the human's features.

"Good to see you too Avi. Anything we can help out with on setting this thing up, if we're early?"

Avitus shook his head emphatically in the human manner as he led them into the foyer of the dining hall.

"Negative, Ryder. You're off the clock here, as you might say. Just take it easy and enjoy this. That goes for you too, Miss Nyx. I must say-"

A surreptitious "Psst!" interrupted him as a woman poked her face out of a doorway from the direction of the galley, excitedly waving hello to the Pathfinders before curling a talon in a come-hither gesture to Vetra, who suddenly excused herself.

"Ah… hold that thought Avitus, looks like somebody needs something done. You boys go on ahead, fix yourselves a drink. I'll be right back."

Avitus shrugged and looked to Ryder, gesturing to a makeshift bar set up by an observation window that spanned the length of the deck.

"Shall we?"

Thankful for ethanol's lack of chirality, Avitus watched as the bartending Raider accommodated Ryder's request for a "whiskey that won't kill me", before filling his cocktail glass with a second Heat Sink. He watched the human intently as he raised the glass high.

"Ah ah! Not yet my friend. The giving of toasts on a Court Night is reserved for the appointed time."

Ryder slowly brought the glass down.

"Well shit, Avi. Hasn't been five minutes and I'm already committing a faux pas".

He heard himself chuckle, a raspy note escaping his maw.

"I had such high hopes for you, too." he jested, subtly clinking his glass against Ryder's. Both took a deep draught of their respective poison before setting their glasses down.

In silence the two turned their gaze past the window, towards the faint glow of solar light reflected off the cloud tops of the cerulean gas giant. The planet cast a glow upon the distant Scourge, painting the fringes of the deathly cirrus in a somber, faraway blue. Despite the festive atmosphere, Avitus couldn't help but feel a tinge of a familiar hollowness creep through him as his eyes roamed the beckoning void. Somewhere out there, scattered into that emptiness, the ashes of the one who meant everything to him were hitching the cosmic winds, seeding the Heleus with an irreplaceable piece of his heart.

"Feeling alright, big guy?"

Broken from his reverie, Avitus looked down to notice he had been carving into the base of his glass with an idle talon. He brushed it aside hastily, looking back up to meet a concerned look on Ryder's expressive human face.

Aw shit. He supposed he was wearing his heart on his sleeve again, leaving him searching for something to say that could divert the conversation away from his internal distress. It wasn't the first time someone had caught him sinking into that hole over a drink either- Avitus recalled the words of another human he'd spoken with during one of many benders he'd pulled in Vortex during those first agonizing weeks, when he'd ditched the grief counseling scheduled for him in favor of the merciful, world-killing warmth offered by a shot of good Horosk.

Grief, he recalled her saying, came like wave after wave battering a shipwreck, leaving a survivor holding painfully onto any piece of wreckage for survival, even if every drifting piece only served as a painful reminder of the ship's former glory. Time would make the waves smaller, more sporadic, but only he could release himself at some point, and reach out for the proverbial lifesaver extended by those around him who cared. For what it was worth, Avitus was grateful that someone like her could remind him that he would never find his ship in a bottle, no matter how much it might numb the pain in searching. He gave a heavy sigh. If there was anyone he should be straight with, it was probably his fellow Pathfinder.

"Well I won't bullshit you, Ryder. I think I could have gone the rest of my days without coming back here after what happened. Those first days back, visiting the SAM node and just going through Macen's logs again, simply the mundane ones he kept as notes or reminders… well, I think the only thing that let me keep it together was having a mission to pursue. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad we're finishing this thing off right- but now that I've got nothing to do but sit and think I'm not sure this is the best place for me to be."

Avitus watched as Ryder nodded, one ear cocked to him as he fidgeted with his own glass, the cubes of ice clinking as he spun it slowly between his many fingers.

"It's hard. Damn hard sometimes, I know. You know what though? I'm glad you managed to recover all that from his SAM- your SAM. I'm glad I was alone when I decrypted a memory locked in mine by my father, where I saw myself by my mother's deathbed a long long time ago. Even though it hurts to relive something like that, I've been feeling more grateful lately for seeing that again. The fact that I meant enough to my parents that I can feel their determination to make this work out for us in every memory of theirs from the Milky Way… I think that helps me pull myself together now, when a couple months ago it broke me to even think about. So I'm just glad I convinced you to take the reins that were extended by someone who believed in you, just as I did. And you're done a hell of a job so far; this op is just a juicy cherry on top of everything you've done for the Nexus from the cockpit of that interceptor. Chin up, Pathfinder."

The turian smiled weakly. He knew Ryder made a compelling case, and even felt a new kinship in the discovery that he too, struggled with internalizing SAM memories left behind by the previous owner. While he did not believe his sorrow would fade quite as quickly as Ryder implied, he resolved that at least he could make this an enjoyable night for his friends. Making it through a Court Night unscathed was no simple mission, after all…

"It means more to me than you'd know, that you shared the same faith Macen did that I could do this. Thank you for that, Ryder."

The two spent another minute polishing off their drinks and taking in the view. Far in the distance the lead freighter floated idle, primed for tomorrow's voyage home. Avitus smiled. Though he couldn't see it from this distance, he knew the name of the vessel was listed as the Jagdhase Szott, named after a children's story about a German hare that hunted poachers by implicating them as high-profile criminals in elaborate ways. He sounded the name absentmindedly to himself, though his articulation of the twin consonants at the end made it sound closer to scotch. As fortune would have it, this was precisely the drink Ryder ordered next, sans specification on dextro toxicity.

As he raised his own vacant chalice to order a refill, he felt something nagging at him about what Ryder had said earlier.

"Now I know asking about human idioms is playing with fire, Ryder- but what the hell is a cherry?"

"Aaaannd chezhies!" cried Ayrea, arriving at the end of a handwritten list.

Vetra produced a package of bite-sized crimson globules, planting them on the galley counter beside the rest of the levo ingredients and substitutions they'd managed to scrounge from the Natanus' stores.

"I… don't think that's how it's pronounced, but good to know that we've got everything. "

With an intensity typically reserved for plotting an eleventh-hour arms deal on some forsaken alley in Kadara, Vetra surveyed the foodstuffs laid before her, mentally calculating how long each component of the four-course levo meal she envisioned would take to prepare, cook, and garnish. As it often came naturally, the instinct to delegate took hold as she looked towards Ayrea, who sniffed curiously at the fruit that challenged her pronunciation. As much as Vetra grew to enjoy the company of this feisty and warmhearted girl, she wouldn't put it past her to pop something life-threatening into her mouth on an errant whim. Still, her experience as a cook aboard the Nexus was worth some renown, at least enough for the captain of one salvage vessel to insist on bringing her along. Surely given her mouthwatering roast, which now lay simmering in the primary galley belowdecks, it wouldn't be too much to assume she had some experience making the type of meal Vetra had in mind for Ryder.

"You've cooked human cuisine before, right Ayrea?"

"I baked a bunch of cookies when the Hyperion arrived... "

"Any other time?"

She hesitated for a moment as she marinated on the question, before happily adding,

"Oh! I baked a bunch more when the Hyperion made it to Meridian!"

Spirits, Ayrea. Sometimes you remind me of Sid.

"Good enough. Bring the dough cannister, l-glucose, starch, and cherries please. I'll show you what you need to do to make the dessert. Let's start it now since it'll take the longest to bake."

Setting down the components by the coilbox they'd use to heat the pastry, Ayrea next fetched a metal bowl in which to prepare the crust. As she mixed the batter under her friend's guidance, a stray puff of starch blew across Vetra's dress, sowing a constellation of powdery stars against the dusky garment.

"Ah!" Vetra exclaimed, dusting off the powder. Shushing Ayrea from what would no doubt be a dramatic flurry of apologies, she raised a talon for silence, and looked around the galley for a service closet.

"Just a second, sweet pea."

Vetra strode off towards the washroom, leaving Ayrea standing alone, slowly churning the emulsifying batter, an apologetic countenance painted on her striped face. A minute later Vetra emerged, hanging her cleaned dress atop the open hatch. In its place was nothing but an apron several sizes too small, protecting little more than her modesty… and only from the front, at that.

She looked down disapprovingly, then up to meet Ayrea's dumbfounded gaze. Her mixing hand was barely moving.

"What? That's not even my dress you know… and not a word of this to anyone, you hear?"

Ayrea's eyes never left her as she twice crossed a talon diagonally down her chest, pantomiming the human gesture for indicating a secret was safe. It took her a moment to realize she was still holding the spoon as she did so.

"Spirits above, Ayrea."

With one finger Vetra wiped the tacky batter from the awed girl's carapace, slinging the gooey wad back into the bowl before plunging the digit into her mouth to clean it off. She marveled at the salty sweetness for only a second before remembering this was a levo recipe.

Spitting out the mixture hastily, she washed her mouth out under the sink while Ayrea giggled, broken from her spell. From under the faucet Vetra watched her form the crust and pour the cherry emulsion on top, covering the confection with crisscrossing ribbons of dough to a respectable degree of radial symmetry. Opening the coilbox, Vetra helped her set the time and heat settings to bring their creation to an appropriate crisp. The two looked on in satisfaction as Vetra worked her tongue across her mouth to clean away the last of the offending batter.

"You know... that's not even the first time I've done that. At least with me it's only the occasional lick of icing or cookie dough. Last time Ryder did something like this I almost had to stick my finger down his throat."

Ayrea leaned against the counter, intrigued at where this was going.

"Oh my. Usually they have to pay extra for that."

Vetra blinked. Sassy little dough puncher tonight, are we? She thought as she rolled with the jest, giving a predatory grin as she responded,

"Yeah, usually. But now that you mention it…" She raised her longest talon up to eye level, still slick with saliva from her miscalculated indulgence, "I guess sticking something this long down his mouth would only be fair payback."

Now it was Ayrea's turn to blush. "O-oh wow." she stammered. "I guess first contact wasn't- you know what- I'm not even gonna make that joke. I'm actually real happy for you two. I bet he's gonna love this."

The aproned turian nodded. "That's what I'm counting on."

Taking a look over the remaining ingredients, the more fully-clothed of the two separated those they would need for the main course from those of the appetizer.

"I guess we're working our way up then, Vee. What's the plan for the entrée?"

Vetra straightened out her apron, pensively unsealing a package of brittle quills that looked as if they'd been plucked from the hide of some burrowing grazer back home- old home anyways. Ayrea looked equal parts impressed and incredulous.

"That... looks like something you'd pack in a flechette shell for a field gun. How does that go in their mouths?"

"I know. But you put just in water and heat it, it turns soft and chewy. Then you put sauce and garnish over it and most humans will love it."

"Does- does it like, satisfy some sort of primal feeding instinct? Like uh, did they used to eat stringy worms way back when?"

Vetra sighed patiently. Sometimes it seemed Ayrea's interpersonal eccentricity was challenged only by her imagination.

"I think I can safely say that's not the case. But it's an interesting theory nonetheless. Maybe you'll just have to ask a human in person, sometime."

"Perhaps." Ayrea mused, picking up a vacuum pouch from among the pile of foods.

She gazed intently at the dark, bulbous masses flattened against the clear polymer, a blackened residue staining the flesh of whatever unholy sapien delicacy lay within.

"These are fresh." She stated flatly.

"Yes they are. Mushrooms." A hint of pride entered Vetra's voice. I couldn't find any in the hold, but thankfully the arboretum on G Deck still has a functional speed incubator, and a spore repository of Milky Way species. Streaked a day culture last evening, left it running overnight, and voila. They're smaller than I would have liked for this recipe, but they'll do."

Ayrea carefully pulled the pouch seals apart, marveling at the dark spore prints left behind as she scooped out the edible fungus onto a clean bowl. A musty odor tickled her nose as she remembered reading a lifetime ago that poisonous species could often be differentiated from desireable ones by features such as the color of spores and gills, morphology, or even a tiny little bite.

"So tell me Vee, how'd you know which species humans like to eat? The spore vault has how many millions of cultivars?"

A self-assured smile crossed Vetra's face as she picked out a pan in which to sauté. Weighing the metal vessel and giving it a practice whisk, she casually explained,

"A few months ago Ryder and I bought some ultraviolet lights from some gentlemen growing plants in the Kadara badlands. I saved the data from a scan of their outpost, which at the time I took just to see what kind of water filtration setup they were using. I remembered they were growing mushrooms along with a bunch of other plants. And wouldn't you know it, the spore bank had an exact match."

The Pathfinder seated himself at the guest's table, arranged at the head of four much longer counterparts now occupied by the members of Company E, of the former 43rd Marine Division. Although their recruitment into the Andromeda Initiative was technically classified as a private military contract, and they no longer reported to a Hierarchy left in the dark about the project until the very last moment, they nevertheless elected to keep their identity, the colors of the unit standing proudly at the far end of the hall alongside the standards of the Initiative and the Systems Alliance, as protocol dictated when accommodating guests of foreign services.

Beside him on another table sat a stern-looking Varka Raev decked in the tight-fitting felt of her officer's blues, her lieutenants seated at each flank. A third table with a single seat draped in a black throw stood on the adjacent corner of the hall, upon which a lit candle rested. Avitus had explained this was prepared as a memorial to fallen comrades. Ryder watched as a pair of marines set up a podium by the Commander's table, adorned with a golden plaque. Behind them followed another pair hoisting a tub of fluid the color and viscosity of reactor coolant, setting it down upon a stand placed prominently behind the dining benches.

"That'll be the grog. Nasty, nasty."

He turned to see Vetra folding her dress to claim a seat beside him, giving his right hand a squeeze under the table as she did so.

"Dinner's coming nicely. Did Avi explain the whole bit about the fines?"

"Something about having to drink that crazy booze mix if they're judged guilty of… stuff?"

"You had it. Some of these guys have embarrassing dirt on one another, or will pretend to for the sake of the ceremony, and the Commander along with her "judges" will sentence them to drink the grog if they're guilty. But this is no kangaroo court, you know. Both the accused and accuser have a chance to sway the Great Vizier- in this case Avitus- on their behalf."

"Didn't think I'd be pulling jury duty tonight, but I'm guessing this might get interesting. So, fines, toasts, food, that's the order right?"

"Correct. No need to overthink it though. This used to be an old, rather serious military tradition where accounts of soldiers bringing 'dishonor' to the unit were entertained and cross examined by peers, but at some point it just devolved into drinking and dramatic teasing. Go figure. So don't take it too seriously. Just pretend to."

As she concluded her explanation, a senior platoon NCO across the hall cleared his throat and snapped into a loud proclamation,

"Attention on deck! By executive order of Fleet authority and the judicial grace of the office, I hereby submit the members of Company Echo, Forty-Third Marines to the review of the honorable Grand Vizier Rix. Good evening, your honor!"

Three dozen voices cried out in unison, "Good evening, your honor!"

The doors at the far end opened to reveal Avitus Rix, a great crimson cape brooched across his shoulders, the collar densely furred, sable guard hairs closest to his head dancing with static as a comically small, magnetically levitated crown plated in gold floated above his head. Only the solemn atmosphere of the proceedings, and the jolting opening notes of the Fleet Anthem delivered over the PA system kept Ryder from bursting out in laughter. To his relief, he saw that some of the marines were grimacing while shrugging their shoulders, or putting their faces in their sleeves as if to suppress a sneeze. He's seen Vetra perform such a ritual when she was actively trying not to laugh. He chanced a glance in her direction, and to her credit she seemed to be holding it in much better than he was.

At the end of Avitus' dignified walk down the center aisle, he assumed his position at the head of the podium. When the final note of the Anthem came, he stated solemnly,

"Warriors, onlookers, and distinguished guests: you may be seated. At this hour let us commence the inquisition."

All at once a flurry of voices clamored for the attention of the Vizier, a barrage of random honorifics calling for his acknowledgement:

"Your Excellency!"

"Your Holiness!"

"Most Exalted Vizier!"

Pointing a talon at one subject, the rest were immediately silenced. The chosen trooper stood up and began pacing the floor like a prosecutor rallying his case.

"Most esteemed Vizier, it brings me exceptional regret to inform you of a confused soul amongst our ranks. I stand before you with evidence of a strange and perverted persuasion on the part of... Flight Engineer Flaviux."

"EGREGIOUS!" cried every voice from the enlisted, minus the accused.

The Grand Vizier nodded gravely.

"You may present your case. Tell us more of this perversion."

The trooper took on a determined demeanor.

"Have any of you ever wondered why Flaviux is so fond of the color orange? Does it seem too coincidental to anyone else that his maiden assignment was to Foxtrot Squadron? These questions among others I have long asked, gentlemen- only to have finally stumbled upon the shocking truth. Your Excellency, I present to you the damning article that proves beyond any doubt that the Flight Engineer is afflicted by a most perverse dysphoria, one that may undermine his loyalties to our very species."

With these words, he produced from under the table a gleaming orange flight helmet, a pair of fuzzy fox ears crudely glued at the temples.

"You bastards! I was looking all day for that!" cried a voice from across the table.

Avitus pounded a comically undersized gavel upon the podium with a resonant Ping!

"Order! Specialist First Rate Glicyne Flaviux, would you step forward please?"

Demurely the turian complied, completely unaware of the plush fox tail that one of his peers clipped onto the rearmost loop of his utility belt. Raucous laughter boomed throughout the hall as he presented himself in confusion before the Vizier, who coughed into his hand in an effort to maintain his bearing.

"I wish to remind you that the truth can only set you free. Are you in fact, a small Earthly omnivore trapped in a turian's body?"

"Your Grace, I'm not-"

"Do you fear ridicule for embracing your true vulpine nature?"

"They just glued those ears-"

"How many eons has your orange soul wandered the stars in search of a worthy host?"

"I-" The aviator could hardly muster a response as he struggled not to laugh.

When the laughter throughout the hall finally died, Avitus turned to the Commander's table and gave his verdict.

"Guilty on one count each of disorderly dress and incitement of shenanigans. Recommend one chalice of the grog, followed by an extended howl towards the moon."

Varka Raev eyed up the accused, before delivering the final sentence.

"I do believe, Mister Vizier, that lunar howling is a native behavior of Earth's wolves rather than foxes. Isn't that so, dear Ryder?"

The human pathfinder nodded. "That is so."

"No need to confuse the poor boy's identity even further. One drink of the grog it is. Oh, and Specialist Flaviux?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Do you go by the callsign Foxy by any chance?"

"Negative, ma'am."

"You do now. Dismissed."

The condemned about-faced smartly, making his way to the rear under the hoots and wisecracks of his peers. Raising the silver chalice filled to the brim with the noxious liquor, he gulped it down in a single swig, slamming it down on the table to the cheers of the crowd, shouting as one,

"Witnessed!"

No sooner had Foxy Flaviux stumbled his way back into his seat than a new case was brought to the Vizier's attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen of this gracious court, I would humbly ask that all fans of the romantic masterpiece Fleet and Flotilla please raise a show of hands."

By Ryder's estimate, five of every six individuals raised their hands, including the Grand Vizier himself. Avitus turned to see the Company Commander with her arms crossed, shaking her head. The tiny-crowned turian arched a scaled eyebrow. In response to his incredulous gaze, Raev doubled down on affirming her disapproval.

"Sooo damn cheesy."

Vetra, who kept at least three editions and remasters of the film on her media drive, pounded a fist on the table and screeched an impassioned "Egregious!", rousing another round of laughter from the company. When they settled once more, the marine holding the floor continued at the Vizier's command.

"Now," he inquired in a grave tone, "I would ask that anyone who has written lewd fan fiction of Fleet and Flotilla to please keep their hands raised."

All hands dropped immediately.

"Most excellent Vizier, one of these individuals gathered before you is a dirty, lying scoundrel."

Another collective jeer from the crowd.

"SAY IT AIN'T SO!"

Avitus fiddled with his brooch in contemplation.

"Could you explain perchance, to the ears of this court the details of the heinous works in question? Specifically, could you describe between which characters this lewdness, as you say, occurs?"

"My illustrious Vizier, the lewdness is between Shalei's sister and…the geth Platform Delta."

"Oh my fucking Spirits."

From the corner of his eye Ryder saw Vetra bury her face in the palms of her hands.

Avitus, meanwhile, merely grimaced in stoic-faced acknowledgement as the loudest clamors of "EGREGIOUS!" yet rocked the walls. When the volume returned to an acceptable level he vainly pleaded,

"Say it ain't so, Marine."

The accusing turian looked at him as if reporting casualties. "Oh, it is so. The author of these salacious texts performs his obscene art under the extranet moniker 'xX SpikyTreats Xx'. But you, ladies and gentlemen, know him as none other than Lieutenant Systus Treev."

The accused shifted uncomfortably in his seat, mandibles flared wider than the wheelbase of the Nomad. "I-it's not what it-"

"-Shall I read a selection from these works", his accuser cut him off. "Perhaps the steamy climax of, uh", he glanced at his omnitool, "Does This Unit Have A Bone?"

Avitus buried his face in his hands, wracked by a bout of teary-eyed snickering, barely audible above the crescendo of the Raider's own cackles. He regained his bearing at last, gesturing with a beckoning hand for silence.

"I believe it would be an enriching experience for this refined jury to experience the finer points of the Lieutenant's prose. You may proceed."

Clearing his throat, the all-too-eager prosecutor obliged,

"Delta's ample caboose fell heavily upon the soft mattress with an audible POMF! as Nira'Las wasted no time in straddling the befuddled Prime, grasping his wrists to immobilize him, secretly relishing her ability to dominate her massive, shy lover.

W-what is it you intend to do to this platform, mistress Nira?"

The orator's composure broke upon finishing the last sentence, forcing him to speak louder as he continued above the company's cacophony.

"Mmm… my sweet Dee..." she whispered, the carnal desire in her voice undeniable to Delta, modulated as it was by the suit's external speaker. She traced a long finger in pensive circles about the vast silicon musculature of his pectorals, before slowly dragging it southward towards the site of her decidedly Consensus-unapproved modifications to the geth's native physiology.

"I think it's time we ran through the tentacle diagnostics one more time, Dee." She gave a little squeeze, feeling him flinch. "You know, just for debugging…"

"-Stop! Stop! Stop!", interrupted Avitus, clutching the podium for dear life as he faintly spasmed from another bout of hysterics. Ryder watched the Commander turn, mouth agape, towards her subordinate seated beside her, who appeared to melt into his seat as a snowball might on an Elaaden afternoon.

Composing himself, the judicial deadpan of Avitus' character returned for a moment before someone shouted "tentacle diagnostics!", reducing the proud Vizier to a giggling heap once more.

"Okay- okay- that's it, I'm going to offer you a compromise ill suited for this level of degeneracy: four drinks of the grog, or two, followed by a continuation of this literary masterpiece of yours."

"Forgive my intrusion, your grace, but the Lieutenant's true opus magnum is actually his Blasto crossover sequel, Meat and Flotilla."

"FOUR DRINKS, YOUR HONOR", pleaded the Lieutenant, struggling to be heard above the roaring of the crowd.

Vetra was no stranger to soreness, having become accustomed to the many forms of injury resulting from extended manual labor, or rucking across rugged terrain with a smuggled payload, and lately, the heedless throwing of one's body into cover from enemy fire, resulting in countless bruises that wouldn't be felt until the adrenaline passed.

But she had to admit to herself that this was a new and unfamiliar type of soreness that now gripped her abdomen- burning slightly with each lungful of air- the result of an hour of nearly ceaseless laughter. As she quickly washed down the last of her second brandy sour before someone could say something that would have her spitting it back out, she realized she hadn't felt this way since the Tempest's last movie night. For as much fun as this was turning out to be however, she felt a twinge of relief when Avitus glanced at the time and announced at the conclusion of another victim's penance that there only remained sufficient time for one more case to be heard. As the chosen individual stepped forward, she read his uniform insignia, observing that the turian bringing the last case was a platoon sergeant. This ought to be good, she figured. The gravity of an accusation traditionally escalated with the seniority of the prosecutor.

Those gathered in the rowdy hall must have thought similarly, as the room quieted noticeably as the accuser began in a gravelly tone,

"Noble Vizier, you above all understand the importance our kind places on adherence to our sacred martial traditions. With that understanding, it has has come to my attention this evening that there is one among our number at this very moment who stands in flagrant violation of proper etiquette befitting such a dignified gathering as this."

The Grand Vizier cocked his head in puzzlement, royal bearing having eroded under another Heat Sink someone had brought him at some point to wet his whistle.

"Do continue, Color Sergeant."

"I hesitate to use this opportunity to cite the field manual subsection on formal attire, but suffice it to say that there is among us a bareface, one who wears neither the marking of their home colony, nor the regimental colors in the appropriate configuration for peace or war. And that, most eminent Vizier, cannot stand by the dignity of the Forty-Third!"

The umpteenth enunciation of the E-word sounded once more throughout the company.

Avitus scanned the room warily. "And which hapless soul among these, Color Sergeant, is the offending bareface?"

Vetra's heart skipped a beat as an accusing finger was squarely pointed beside her at Ryder. "I'm afraid it is none other than the human Pathfnder, your grace."

Avitus furrowed his crowned brow, scratching at his temple in thought.

"I don't believe Alliance guests are held to the adornment protocols, Color Sergeant, but then again it's been six hundred years since I've reviewed those manuals."

The Commander chimed in.

"Come to think of it, the regs only make that exception for Alliance personnel. And as our fine yet insolent guest here is dressed in the uniform of the Initiative…"

Vetra was becoming unnerved at the uncertainty of where this was going, despite Ryder himself looking more bemused than nervous. Her disquiet was soothed however, when she caught a thin smile and wink from Ryder's accuser before he turned back to addressing Avitus.

"Most grand Vizier, a transgression of this magnitude leaves us only two options. The first is sentencing our hapless human here to the soul-cleansing grog, which would most assuredly be the end of our levo-amino Pathfinder..."

"As amusing as that obituary would be, Color Sergeant, I must insist on hearing any possibility of an alternative."

"That alternative, your grace, is this: With the blessing of our esteemed Commander, I propose that we perform the Rite of Concord here and now, and consecrate our guest as an honorary member of our fine Expeditionary Company, worthy of wearing the unit colors across his hominid face."

A round of cheers followed the NCO's words, and Vetra couldn't help but feel more than a hint of pride in Ryder at hearing the crowd voice their unanimous support, after only having known him for less than a week. Hey, it's not like you knew him for much longer before you realized you'd do anything for him, she admitted to himself. Watching Varka touch a talon to her mandible in thought, Vetra felt a tightness in her chest as she watched the Company Commander contemplate the shallow tins of ochre and gold paint laid before her by Color Sergeant Anvon Varsili. The tension was finally released when she finally stood and clasped the cosmetics in her non-drink hand.

"Very well. Let it be known that Pathfinder Ryder has earned his place amongst my distinguished, beloved Raiders."

A trio of warlike screeches sounded in unison from the ranks. Varka smiled as she turned to Vetra.

"And who better to bestow our war colors upon his face than you, Vetra Nyx of the Tempest?"

Accepting the pigments from the Commander's hands, she unclasped the lids, kneeling beside a sheepish Ryder.

"Just hold still for a sec, love. It'll wash off later. Probably."

Ryder could only voice his less-than-absolute faith in her last statement through a pair of concerned eyes as she delicately used the applicator brush to streak a bold, rust-red pair of lines from his cheeks underneath his eyelids, intersecting at the bridge of his nose, followed by a single thin line of gold traced above the first. Satisfied with her work, she marveled at how similarly her own colony mark seemed to resemble this pattern, with the color and angles comprising the only significant differences. She smiled as he stood up to shake the hands of both the Commander and senior NCO, to the cheers of Raev's Raiders rooting for their newest number.

"I'm honored, Commander. Well and truly honored. I- forgive me, I don't know what to say."

"No need to say anything, Pathfinder. You're the kind whose actions speak for themselves better than any words. That's all I could ask of anyone who wears those colors."

With a squeeze she released the human, and turned to face her command while hoisting a cup freshly filled with something that was not grog.

"And now, let us propose a toast…"

First they drank to Palavan and the soils of their faraway colonies.

Next they gave a toast to the burgeoning Initiative and the promise of a new home.

Finally, as the mess night manual indicated this particular day of the week merited a special toast, they lifted their goblets one last time and faced the empty candlelit table.

"To absent friends."

The general atmosphere of the gathering took on a more relaxed and dignified quality as dishes and cutlery were passed about. Ryder marveled at the ingenuity of the silverware's design as he hefted a fork with tines of varying sizes, the smallest at the end made of flexible rubber. He caught Vetra looking at him with bemusement as he contemplated the instrument.

"That one's for cleaning between your teeth and mandibles- You know, just in case you get a little too excited about the awesome dinner we made you."

"I'll try to contain myself..." Ryder said as curiosity took the better of him, nibbling the end of the rubber, warning her, "-but no promises."

The faint odor of cooked meat and marinade caught the Pathfinder's attention as their evening meal arrived, rolled in on service carts laden with steaming trays. Ayrea, wearing an attendant's frock, handed a member of the company's attending detail a plate with a small cut of some foreign meat, red and rare. The PA came alive with a turian parade march as the attendant walked the plate to their table. Presenting this morsel to Avitus, who was now seated beside him, Ryder watched as his fellow Pathfinder pierced it with his fork and consumed it in one bite, silence enveloping the hall as the music stopped. Avitus gazed distantly as he chewed the soupçon slowly, savoring it, before finally gulping it down, announcing with satisfaction,

"I deem this meat savory, and fit for consumption."

The hungry masses cheered faintly as the attendants began filling plates and cups with welcome sustenance, serving the NCOs and officers last in accordance with tradition. Ryder found himself idly chatting with Avitus and Vetra for several minutes before Ayrea materialized over one shoulder with a friendly "Heya!", laying a pair of cloche-covered plates before him. He looked over the impressive display before regarding his grinning server with a bemused grin.

"Fancy."

"Five stars across two galaxies, sweetie. This one's the appetizer, and that one's the main course." She pointed out the two with a gloved talon. "When desserts come around, I'll get you yours, too."

"You're the best."

As Ryder took in the mouthwatering aromas that greeted him upon lifting the cover from his first plate, he suddenly found himself under the watchful eyes of not only the cheery Ayrea, but Vetra, Avitus, and even the Commander craning her neck to get a view of his reaction. A smile parted the two cooks' faces as Ryder's eyes betrayed his visible enjoyment upon taking the first bite.

"Is it good, Ryder?" asked Avitus.

Truth be told, Ryder mused, he hadn't experienced gourmet quite like this in a very long time. In fact, he felt compelled to jettison his typical sense of decorum in order to express himself properly. He gave his thoughts mid-chew,

"Fuck yeah it's good."