Mass Effect is own by BioEAWare. The Church of Jesus Christ and the Latter-Day Saints was founded by Joseph Smith.
Author's Note: Notre Dame! :'-( #OurLadyOfParis #StoneForStone
First, I like to thank everyone who has given me some rather flowery comments and support, from the non-LDS's (Gentiles?) who were rather shocked that someone would actually do this but were willing to give it a shot, to the LDS's (Saints) that have commented on my accuracy and research in trying to get this to be similar to missionary work (I made a change or two for the story, specifically the Colonist background, and I don't doubt I've made an error here or there aside from that). I haven't been trolled yet or told I was a lunatic, which is also a plus. Of all the things I've written, this is likely the most unusual and original route I've gone. Even with the extensive research, it has been quite fun and endearing.
Second? You get to learn a little bit of what missionary day-to-day is like, mile in someone else's shoes and all that. I told you it was about the work… and work isn't meant to be easy. All those young men and women you smiled at and closed the doors on?
You're about to get a first-person point of view.
Third Floor, Shibuya Tower, Block 3400 (Lower Wards), Rimward, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 29, 2170
+14 Days after arrival at the Citadel
Missionary life was regimented one.
Sister Jane Catherine Shepard woke up with the small alarm she had packed from home at the Citadel's version of 06:00 in the morning (called Early Light on the Cit) in her small offered room courtesy of Father Simon Caldwell, the Catholic Priest who ran the 'All-Faiths Chapel' in the Shibuya Tower in the 3400 Block (Lower Wards) of the Tayseri Arm. There were four small rooms in the back of the small former business space that use to be a 'Power Play' electronic game store that had gone out of business a few years back. Now it served as a very small church in the massive megalobby of the Shibuya Tower; a two-hundred and twenty-five meter tower that had seventy-five floors of living spaces for its residents.
Of those floors, the first five were devoted to the needs of the residents of Shibuya Towers, anything from local grocers (levo and dextro-chiliary oriented, as well as both), local barbers (of a variety of species), clothing shops, laundry services, repair shops, eateries, cafes, daycares (again, for a variety of species), retail stores, department stores, electronic stores… everything that a consumer could possibly need.
As far as churches went, there was just the one.
Jane woke up, an early riser thanks to a life lived in an agrarian world, and most especially on a farmstead where chores were done before the rising of the sun. Getting up, she made her bed first before setting her clothes out for the day on top of the plain comforter. Next to her dress were her daily effects that she would need for proselytizing, the big item being her personal Samsung Electronics' Universe-S DataPadd that contained her downloaded Missionary Handbook (generally called The While Bible, but they weren't suppose to call it that), and her Preach My Gospel files. A few more items would be included into the pile that would be held in her backpack satchel that she would take with her for the day, including her homemade (well, kitchenette-made) lunch and dinner while she was working on her mission. Those were still in the refrigeration unit in the small kitchenette that she shared with Father Caldwell, the two of them switching off who had dishes for the day. The young woman stood in her small room and began her daily exercises, beginning with five minutes worth of stretches that focused mostly on her legs, as she would be on her feet all day. Having fully stretched out, Jane began doing a series of bodyweight exercises that would help her keep fit, as the Word of Wisdom suggested, doing bodyweight squats, jumping jacks, lunges, crunches, and finally military-styled push ups. She did this for another twenty-five minutes, switching off one exercise for another for each minute, doing five minutes of each congruently. As always, the fitness program she had created for herself got her fairly sweaty, so the sixteen year old woman went into the closet-sized bathroom to use its water closet for showering, stripping off her night clothes to take a nice warm five minute shower. Grabbing an available towel (with a silent thank you to Father Caldwell for doing some of the chores that a missionary leader was responsible for such as linens and stocking the larder), she began drying herself off. Jane had tried to insist that she would help out with more of the chores, but the wily old Priest wouldn't have it, insisting on doing most of them so that 'Sister Shepard' could maximize her time doing her religious work while 'he puttered around like an old fart'.
The Glasgow-born Priest was well into his centenarian years, almost a hundred-and-ten, and whatever habits he had weren't going to change. He was unfailing polite, a fun conversationalist, liked to rant about how the younger generation had gotten lazy, and could be found humming and singing softly while working or cooking. The Scottish Priest would cook her breakfast every other day, and she had raised up a very polite but very insistent storm that she'd be allowed to return the favor every other day. Despite that, more often than not, they agreed to disagree, Jane found herself admiring the old Priest who would step out of his little barely-bigger-than-her-family's-living-room chapel every morning to talk to people and help out those who seemed to be downtrodden with words that generally equaled to 'don't mope, fix it', and 'suck it up, junior'. He always had candy for children, was unfailing polite to women, and glared at men he deemed 'crybabies' (which seemed to be all of them). He spent his daytime hours mostly as a mobile councilor, going out to the public and seeking out those who needed the help himself, never charging a Credit for his time. Father Caldwell was made of sterner stuff, and Jane had to giggle at the fact that, when some miscreant didn't recognize the Roman Collar he wore with his black cassock and tried to sell the Priest some Red Sand (a narcotic, Jane assumed), the old man gave the dealer 'Free Glasgow Dental Work' with a right hook and knocked out a man a fifth his age before calling C-SEC to arrest the unconscious criminal.
Evidently, Scottish Priests felt that 'Hail Marys' could be delivered with the hands-on approach.
Finished with her shower, Sister Jane went back to her tiny room to get dressed, seeing that it was only 06:45 when she was finished; ahead of schedule, just as planned. She went to the chapel's tiny kitchenette and began making breakfast, what Father Caldwell liked to call the 'Scattered, Smothered, and Covered' breakfast after some old restaurant chain on Earth; scattered hashbrowns, onions, and cheese fried on the kitchenettes' tiny induction stove. Jane hummed as she cooked breakfast for two, having already made a cup of coffee through the Kureig's K-Cup 4K Single-Cup dispenser for Father Caldwell, who was an early riser just as she. The young woman could hear the shower going in the next room over, indicating the old Priest was using the facilities as she took a spatula to hashbrowns to flip them over to get them to a golden brown. She took a handful of chopped onions and shredded cheese when she flipped it over again to add the 'fixin's' as the centenarian man liked to call them, frying it for a little bit longer before serving it on two ceramic plates.
Scrapping off the excess hashbrowns off the skillets' cooking surface, Jane grabbed four chicken eggs from the refrigeration unit to crack them open over the skillet to fry them up, tossing the broken shells into the biomass disposal container before taking the spatula to scramble them. It made her think of her mothers' own scrambled eggs; eggs cracked into a bowl, with the addition of farm-fresh whole milk and a dollop of sour cream and whisked for a minute before being poured into a skillet to create the golden cloud of scrambled eggs that Jane had eating most every morning her entire life. Milk and sour cream were, sadly, quite expensive on the Cit due to the fact that only Humans used them and the Human population on the mega-station was set at around twenty-five thousand people. Still, the scrambled eggs were cooked to perfection if a little flatter than what the young woman was use to making, Elizabeth Shepard having taught her daughter how to cook since she was twelve, mother and daughter sharing duties and time together cooking for their family. It had always touched her to see her father, brothers and sisters eating food she had helped prepared and cooked, getting compliments at the family dinner table when they shared the last meal of the day together every day save for extracurricular activities that they had, such as Jane's Young Womens' Society or Matthew's Boy Scouts of Humanity meetings.
"Good morning, Father." Jane said cheerfully as she was finishing up with the final touches of breakfast when Father Simon Caldwell entered the kitchenette with its small breakfast nook that they shared for breakfast, dishing scrambled eggs onto the plates. "Your coffee is ready." There was just the one cup. Shepard herself had grape juice that was made from a can of concentrate and kept in a pitcher in the refrigeration unit.
"Thank you, Sister." The wily old Priest took the two plates into one hand while grabbing his mug with the other to set them down on the breakfast nook while the young woman turned off the stove, scraped the leftover food from the skillet into the biomass disposal, and ran water into the cast iron skillet that was likely three to four times her age in the small single-basin sink to let it soak along with the spatula. She grabbed a pair of forks from the small silverware drawer and brought them to the nook before grabbing her glass of juice to accompany the old Scotsman for breakfast. Together, they said Grace over their breakfast in the Catholic tradition before beginning to eat. "More doors today?" Father Caldwell asked as he began to fork his breakfast to death, mixing the eggs with the hashbrowns, already dressed for the day in his usual, official attire; the black cassock with its white Roman Collar at the throat.
"More doors today." The redhead confirmed, already in her own official attire; a baby blue full-length dress, a pair of good walking shoes, and her name tag declaring her title, name, and faith. "It's interesting knocking on doors in a residential tower. I've seen pictures of missionaries on bicycles going around Earth neighborhoods, towns, and cities, but it's different here. My main mode of transportation besides my feet is an elevator."
"The Citadel is its own world, that's for certain." The Scottish Priest replied with a nod. "Don't forget that I have Mid-Week Services tonight, as well as the support group." Father Caldwell ran two services a week; Wednesday Mass, and Sunday Mass, along with confessional for both. The support group was a tri-weekly thing for Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, each one a different kind a group. Wednesday was politely known as the 'Wilson Group', what traditionally use to be known as Alcoholic's Anonymous. The AA group brought in more people than the services, sadly, in which Jane did attend and helped set up.
"I'll be there for the services." Jane said with a smile as she continued eating breakfast. They both finished up quickly, Jane setting the plates into the sink to soak while Father Caldwell fixed himself another cup of coffee while preparing lunch for the both of them (at his insistence). The redhead saw that the time was only 07:20; well ahead of schedule. She utilized the time by going to her small room and pulling out her physical copies of the Holy Bible (King James Version), the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price, seeing the many ribbons, bookmarks, and inserted markers for her personal study. For the next hour, she read passages from the Gospel of Matthew, the Book of Third Nephi, and several of the Covenants of the Prophet Smith. When her alloted hour was up, Jane placed her holy texts away with loving hands, grabbing her satchel with its necessaries to take to the kitchenette. Without a companion, she didn't spend the extra hour in companion study, though she would do so with Father Caldwell every other day. There she saw that Father Caldwell had made her two tuna fish sandwiches in a sealed plastic container, as well as an apple, a package of trail mix, and two one-liter bottles of water. The lunch went into her satchel, along with her DataPadd with her downloads of church-related material, a few business card-like offerings with the chapels address for possible investigators, and several folded pamphlets for lesson materials for those who wished to learn more. Closing up her satchel, Jane slid the backpack over her shoulders as she left the kitchenette, almost bumping into Father Caldwell on her way out, apologizing. The old Scotsman smiled, bid her a good day, and blessed her on her way out as she walked out of the Chapel at 08:30…
…and into the Center of the Known Universe known as the Citadel.
Domicile 4210, Forty-Second Floor, Otavian Tower, Block 3100 (Upper Wards), Rimward, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 29, 2170
Sister Jane Catherine Shepard stood in front of Domicile 4210 with a smile on her face as she hit the electronic doorbell for the residential location in the tenth domicile of the forty-second floor. Whoever designed the Citadel (okay, the Protheans did) had set up the residential towers in the same configuration and style throughout the Cit. Each tower was seventy-five stories tall at three meters per floor, with the first five floors reserved for non-residences for businesses and basic services to provide. Each floor had ten residential location with a square-like hallway on the interior tract that made up the airy Atrium that was the 'center column' of each tower; a large empty space in which one could look down and see either the 'ceiling' or the 'ground', the viewer protected both by a safety rail and an anti-fall Kiggs field. In fourteen days, she had already knocked on the doors of some twenty-four hundred residences in four separate towers in the Rimward Section of the Tayseri Arm. It took her almost four days to go through the entirety of a tower and its seven hundred domiciles, and she had completed three towers since she began.
The door slid open to reveal an older Human gentleman wearing a plain shirt and dark slacks, looking as if he were getting himself ready for work.
"Good Light, sir!" The young redheaded Sister said with a cheerful tone as the man looked at her, obviously a little surprised at seeing a young woman at his door with a DataPadd in her hand. "I was wondering if you had a moment of time where we could discuss a few things together about the truth." The man looked at her with confusion and uncertainty as she smiled at him.
"Is this a political party thing?" The man asked, frowning.
"No, sir. Not at all!" The missionary replied. "My name is Sister Shepard, and I wanted to get a chance to talk to you-"
"Sister?" The man asked, his tone dropping slightly, hovering over disgust. "There's still nuns?"
"I… do believe that the Catholic Church still have nuns." Actually, she had no idea. "But I am neither a nun or a Catholic. What I wanted to do is to get the opportunity with you to discuss-"
"Mormon." The man replied, his tone assured. And scornful.
"Yes, sir. I am a part of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints." Sister Jane Shepard replied, trying to keep up her cheer as she knew what would happen next. "I am a-" The door slid shut. And Jane sighed.
"Have a good day, sir." She whispered at the closed door as she flicked her DataPadd on, found the field that had '4210' marked for Otavian Tower, and marked it with a negative.
She went next door, a little heartbroken.
Domicile 4209, Forty-Second Floor, Otavian Tower, Block 3100 (Upper Wards), Rimward, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 29, 2170
The electronic doorbell was rung, and the door slid open about a moment later to reveal a Human women, late-20's, with a little baby boy sitting on her hip as she held him, looking at Sister Jane Shepard as the young woman smiled at the mother.
"Good Light, ma'am." Jane said in a cheerful tone as the mother looked at her, her eyes narrowing as she studied her. "I was wondering if we could have a quick chance to discuss-"
"Harold! Did you invite your whore here?" The woman called out to her left, further into the domicile, her tone caustic and abrasive. The little boy, perhaps a year old, looked at Jane with wonderment, chewing on a stuffed elephant.
"No, ma'am!" Shepard tried to placate the woman, her blue-eyed gaze going to the Mindoirian. "My name is Sister Shepard, and I am here because I-"
"What kind of name is that, 'Sister'?" The woman perhaps only ten years her senior decided to vent on the redhead. This was not going well. "Where did you meet my husband, slut? At some bar or strip club while you-"
"I'm a Mormon Missionary!" Jane impolitely interrupted before things got really out of hand, alarmed at how this woman practically exploded with accusations towards a stranger.
"Wait… Mormon?" One of the woman's eyebrow went up inquisitively as she looked at Jane again… her eyes zooming in on the name placard pinned over her heart. "Aren't you Jesus freaks suppose to be doing this kind of thing on Earth?"
"Well, ma'am, we of the Church-"
The door slid shut. Another sigh. Another negative.
Jane went next door.
Domicile 4205, Forty-Second Floor, Otavian Tower, Block 3100 (Upper Wards), Rimward, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 29, 2170
After 'knocking' on three doors in a row with no answer, Domicile 4205 opened up to reveal a Salarian male in a common robe oriented for his kind, in drab browns and cream. His large, dark eyes looked and blinked at her as the Sur'keshian seemed a little surprised to find a Human at his door.
"Good Light, sir." Sister Shepard began with the same tone that she would use if a Human had opened the door. "I was wondering if you would like to take some time so we can discuss-"
"Hello." The Salarian replied a little belatedly, his large eyes blinking at her. "Can I help you?"
"Yes, sir." Jane smiled, knowing that something like five to ten percent of male Salarians born in a clutch were known as Chenobits, and expressed great levels of intellect. Another five to ten percent of male Salarians were of average-to-above-average intelligence, and were known as Mesobits. Unfortunately, the rest of their brothers suffered the opposite effect; they measured a good deal below the common standard of 'average' intelligence. This was sadly one of those known as Senabits. "I have come to you today to see if we could take some time to have a discussion together?" The young woman kept her voice friendly and inviting, watching as the Salarian blink again.
"Sister said no visitors." No Salarian went against their Dalatrasses wishes, so Jane decided to see if they could hold the discussion right in the hallway.
"Of course, sir. I'm perfectly willing to talk to you here out in the hall today." She really tried not to think about what Inspector Jondum Bau had said of the Senabits; his words had been 'about a smart as a medicated varren and about a slow as an Elcor'. As Jane understood it, Senabits were the menial workers and laborers of the Salarian Race, generally needing more-or-less constant direction or supervision for many tasks. If she couldn't come in, perhaps she could talk from right where she stood.
"Sister said no visitors." The Salarian replied, his tone never changing. "Good Light."
"Good Light, sir." Sister Shepard said as the door closed before her.
Another negative.
Domicile 4202, Forty-Second Floor, Otavian Tower, Block 3100 (Upper Wards), Rimward, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 29, 2170
Jane Shepard stood in front of the door as it opened, revealing a blue creature; an Asari. The young woman gulped a little at the sight of the Asarikin who had either forgotten, or decided to go without, her apparel, as nude as the day she was born. The redhead conveniently decided to hold her DataPadd in a way that would block her view from a Thessian who did indeed have a great deal of anatomical similarities to a Human being.
"G-Good Light, ma'am." Sister Shepard said, trying to salvage this unusual situation as best she could by looking the Asari in her bluish eyes and try not to notice the smirk that crawled over the Thessian's full, pouty lips at the sight of the young Human woman's growing discomfort. "I-I was wondering if we could have a talk about-"
"Talk? No one comes here to talk." The Asari said with a sultry tone, Jane noticing the Thessian's eyes going down and then back up to assess her. "You certainly are of a different sort than my usual clientele."
"My name is Sister Shepard, and I am a missionary with the-"
"Such a boring position." The nude blue-skinned not-female said languidly as she rested an arm against the frame of her door, sliding herself against it suggestively. "If you've come for lessons, I am certain we can talk about it."
Jane fled down the hall.
Food Court, Ground Floor, Otavian Tower, Block 3100 (Upper Wards), Rimward, Tayseri Arm, Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, April 29, 2170
Lunchtime had come as Sister Jane Shepard occupied a small table by herself amiss the crowds of the Otavian Tower, the many who worked in its various businesses and necessities taking the scheduled lunch hour to grab a bite to eat as well. Even after two week on the Citadel, it still amazed her to see so many different sapients (one did not call another an alien; that was considered hugely rude) wandering about. There were something like thirty-nine species that called the Citadel the Center of the Known Universe, species ranging from space-fairing and owning only their own system but able to travel via a Mass Relay, to some of the mega-empires like the Thessian Republic of City-States, the Palavenian Hierarchy, and the Sur'keshian Union of Planets. It really got one wondering about Mankind's place amongst the stars seeing so many beings traveling about in a rather peaceful, unified manner. It took Mankind more than a few generations to create countries that were veritable 'melting pots' of culture and civility instead of forcing everyone to align themselves to exactly one culture, though it hadn't always been easy for said nations. Yet the Citadel was the home for nearly forty species that could live side-by-side with little in the way of interference or deprivation, though Jane didn't doubt there were those who made it trying, or species that had to do without due to their biologies, such as the Volus or the Elcor. Still, it really was a marvel, and Jane wondered how people could be so… blase about it!
"Hey, Plex this one out." Came the duel-toned flanged voice of a young Turian male nearby, a wash of conversations that Jane could hear thanks to her Elkoss Combine Cipher Omniversal Language Dictator, hearing in Standard Alliance English words coming from the mouths of Thessians, Palavenians, Sur'keshians, Irunians, Dekunnans, Kahjeans, Tharks, Khar'shanians, Tuchankans, Rannochians, Heshtokians, Mogwians, Maldorans, Jarterians, Barsoomians, Omnacroms, Ble'tarans, and a whole host of others that she got to see on a rare occasion. Humans were in a vast minority on the Citadel despite the size of Earth Alliance Space so soon after the First Contact War and the Council of Law granting occupancy for the Human Race only seven years prior. The estimated Human population on the Cit was only around twenty-thousand or so. The young woman looked over to see a trio of young Turians, pre-Boot Camp age, pointing her out at her table despite being surrounded by other occupied tables filled with other sapients (she hadn't found a table with a Human to share with it, unfortunately). She was in the middle of eating her second tuna fish sandwich while reading from her Samsung Electronics' Universe-S DataPadd when she heard the Turian and saw him pointing a taloned finger at her to his friends. Jane sighed as she set the sandwich down and slipped her DataPadd into her satchel at her feet. This would likely be an incident, and it would hardly be her first with Palavenians. The three Turian boys (she assumed them to be boys; their fringes didn't go past their skulls and they didn't have the mass bulk of their chest carapaces that adults tend to have, plus they were only Human-sized) weaved through a couple of tables to reach her own table. While Jane wasn't the greatest at recognizing Turian facial expressions, she had gotten pretty good at identifying belligerence.
"Good Light, citizens." Jane greeted the boys properly once they got within the circle that most considered personal space, using the proper word to identify a Turian; by law, all Turians were citizens of the Hierarchy whether they liked it or not. Calling them 'sir' or 'ma'am' was considered appropriate, but calling them 'citizen' before they gave off their rank or standing in the meritocracy was correct. "Enjoying meal break?" Shepard was pretty certain that these were fourteen-year old Turians, senior year for those amongst Humanity. When they turned fifteen and passed whatever schooling they went to, Turians went to Palaven for Conscription and mandatory Boot Camp. Yes, that seemed young in a Human's mind, when the adult age was set at eighteen throughout Earth Alliance Space, but Palaven and the Hierarchy were a different government and people all together. Still, fourteen year old Turians seemed a heck of a lot less mature than their seventeen year old Human equivalents. They were more prone to acting like… well, fourteen year olds. Jane wondered if it was a tradition started centuries or millennium before that really began with some nation or empire with the need of warriors and started recruiting child-soldiers. Fifteen year old Turians weren't even fully grown or mature, and generally hit their full height at twenty. These Turian boys should be at their Hierarchy-sponsored Education Dormitory, not prowling about on the Cit during lunch hour. Hooligans, hecklers, or worse, Shepard thought with an internal sigh.
"What you eating there, s'kak-flinger?" The main heckler said, the Turian in question only slightly taller than she if she were standing up, and not much wider, either. Jane pursed her lips at the untranslated word 's'kak', fully knowing what it meant thanks to Father Caldwell. It was the Turian term for defecation and elimination. Poop, in other words. The term 'poop-flinger' had sadly come about with Humanity's discovery when someone had looked up something on the Human EtherNet and found the close cousin of homo sapiens to better identify them with; the Pan Troglodyte, or the common chimpanzee. Unfortunately, there had been a galactic meme of the adorable creature defecating in its own hand and flinging it at something, and thus as a derogatory term, 'monkey' and 'poop-flinger' were some of the more popular racial slurs.
"It is a levo-oriented tuna fish sandwich." Jane replied as neutrally as she could, knowing that Turians could practically smell hostility and fear with their snouts; they were an evolved species of flightless birds-of-prey that hunted by olfactory scent. Thus the less-than-pleasant term for Palavenians; Raptors. "I also have an apple and some trail mix."
It wasn't uncommon for a missionary to offer to share food with others in the commemoration of their Lord and Savior breaking bread and serving others, but Turians were dextro-chiliary; her food would send them to anaphylactic shock and her to jail for intentional poisoning. All restaurants or anyone else who served food and produce on the Citadel marked items clearly for levo- or dextro-compliance, and everyone had the same legally-allowed disclaimer 'customer consumes at own discretion' at what they ordered. Evidently, to this day, there were still issues with cooks to cook on the appropriate spot meant for levo foods or dextro foods at the appropriate places with the appropriate pots and pans. It reminded Jane of kosher and halal religious dietary laws where Jewish and Muslim people weren't allowed to eat swine/pork or anything that swine/pork had been cooked on/touched.
What Jane hadn't been exactly expecting was for one of the Turians to knock her food off of the table as all three loomed over her. The level of conversations around them dimmed considerably with the act, and the young woman wasn't sure if someone around them was calling C-SEC. That could be a troublesome thing; something like seventy percent of Citadel Security Service Officers were Turian, after all.
"Your kind don't belong here, monkey." Said the boy Turians, his colonial paint a good deal heavier and more intrinsic than the others. So they were fourteen; generally that was when pre-Boot Camp Turians were allowed to identify themselves with their clan paint, a year before Mandatory Boot. It was crimson in color and decorated about half his face-plates, while the other two were merely a few lines, one having cobalt and the other a sort of grape color. "Why don't you go back to your backwater planet with all the other s'kak-throwers?"
"Look at her fringe! Looks like a crest gone wrong!" That was Grape. Crimson seemed to be the leader while the other two his entourage. "And those weird bulges! Aren't they suppose to be larger or something?" Jane felt heat rise to her cheeks as she automatically covered her chest with an arm.
"Citizens, may I remind you that I am trying to have lunch?" Jane said, knowing this was going downhill quickly. No one around was interfering from the obvious scene, and Jane knew a thing or two about bullies from back on Mindoir, mostly oriented towards her faith. The Cit had taught what it was like when it was her species, instead. One of the Turians, Cobalt, mimed her response mockingly, much to the amusement to the other two.
"Maybe she's like an Asari." Crimson looked to his fellows, folding his arms over his robed chest-carapace. "We already have the table and chairs. Throw a few credits and perhaps she'll dance." Jane was about to squawk indigently at that when something caught her attention, something behind the boy Turians. Something much taller. Something much wider. Something much redder.
And a great deal angrier.
Crimson's head disappeared as a massive three-finger pawed clutched at it from the top, fingers grabbing underneath his jaw and picking him straight up off the ground. Digitigrade legs flailed about in the air as Cobalt and Grape backed away as Jane watched in somewhat-terrified awe as the Turian boy's muffled screams were heard as she watched the hand turn the boy about so its owner could look at him with a wide sneer, showing many sharp teeth as blood-red eyes assessed its prey. There was no denying the sight of that beast, with its arching hump, massive paws, thick limbs and body, along with a red headplate marked by three old scars cutting down its surface and the right side of the owner's snout.
It was a Tuchankan, what the galaxy called Krogan.
"Are you assaulting a female, whelp?" The scorn in the Krogan's voice was palatable, his voice louder than the Turian boys' had been. Jane sat in her seat, transfixed and mesmerized. While only head-and-shoulders-and-hump taller than the boy Turian, the Tuchankan was at least three times as wide and as thick. He certainly wasn't wearing the common colors associated with C-SEC, the periwinkle blue-and-soft black. Instead, he was some sort of thick-looking armor that was a dull red-brown, visible scuffs and dings on it from… use. "Know what happens to those who assault females, whelp?"
Crimson's muffled replies were drowned in the Krogan's paw. His talons were desperate to try and loosen the thick fingers covering his head but with no success.
"Pathetic." The Krogan huffed, the left eye of the Tuchankan moved to look at her while the right stayed on the Turian independently. The left eye moved back to its quarry as the Krogan dropped the Turian, the Palavenian landing on the ground in a heap before getting up and scrambling away. The eyes moved two two different directions on either side of the head, focusing on two different things, first the left and then the right, almost like how an Earth reptile could. "Don't you two have anywhere else you need to be?" Jane saw that Cobalt and Grape backed away and fled as well, the Tuchankan chuckling before both of his eyes darted over to her, giving her a small nod, and then turned to storm away.
"W-wait!" Jane said, picking up her satchel at her feet and following the Krogan, who was already outside of the Food Court by the time she caught up with the massive sapient. She went in front of him to halt his progress, the red headplated Tuchankan stopping as the young woman reached into her satchel and pulled out her apple, offering it to him.
"What is this?" The Krogan asked, his eyes narrowing on the apple.
"It's an apple, an Earth fruit." Jane replied, holding it out for him. "It's a part of my lunch, but I want you to have it as way of thanks." The Tuchankan studied the apple and her for a moment before a massive paw took the apple from her hands gently. "You bite into it for its juice. We try not to-"
The Krogan popped the apple whole into his large mouth and bit into it completely.
"-eat the stem or core." Shepard finished with a sigh as the Tuchankan chewed it a few times thoughtfully.
"I like it." The large sapient replied with a nod of his head. "Next time a Turian bothers you, kid, grab their mandible and twist it until it pops off. That'll teach them manners." The Krogan chuckled at his own advise. "Be seeing you around, kid."
"Peace be to you." Sister Jane Shepard said to her temporary savior.
Author's Note: A shout out to Predator1701 for helping me out with some accuracy issues (evidently, I was saying the Church name wrong!) and some pointers.
Now with 100% more Wrex.
This was only 'half' a day. The other half will be next chapter.
Scattered, Smothered, Covered - the staple breakfast of Waffle House and the American South. I haven't seen a Waffle House in nearly twenty years (0 in Washington) and I would kill to have an 'All The Way' breakfast or the Double Texas Cheesesteak Platter for dinner.
Alcoholic's Anonymous was co-created/established by William 'Bill' Wilson, who he himself had a huge problem with drinking until reaching permanent sobriety from 1934 to his passing away at 75 in 1971. Most were unaware of his last name until his passing (the anonymous part), and it was often that many would identify themselves being 'a Friend of Bill' (before being officially named AA). To date, over two million members have graced this program started by men who lived in a world where drinking heavily was a part of the cultural norm (and before the Prohibition), and Wilson would always insist that he was just a normal man like any other, sharing his strength, hope, experiences, and mistakes with others like him to help them recover and succeed. You can find a mass majority of 'Anonymous' groups being held in churches all over the world based off the curriculum of Alcoholic's Anonymous and other self-help establishments.
Without getting into religious debates, the Gospel of Matthew is one of three Synoptic Gospels of the accounts of the life of Jesus which includes his genealogy (and is the first book of the New Testament) while the Book of 3 Nephi (Book of Mormon) is the accounts of Jesus Resurrected visiting America. The Doctrine and Covenants are the words of the Prophet Joseph Smith as well as further works of later Presidents and the Quorum that number around a hundred and sixty Covenants today.
The 'normal' schedule for a LDS Missionary is from 06:30 AM - 10:30 PM, resulting in a sixteen hour day. Yes, exercise, two hours of Bible Study (one hour personal, one hour Companion), NINE hours of footwork/proselytizing (I still can't spell this word right without looking it up *sigh*), and two hours for meals is the general gist of it, with small blocks for things like showering, getting ready, prayer, breakfast, and exercise. Two years of this, seven days a week minus Church services and likely a bit of a different schedule for Sundays (I imagine the mornings are spent helping setting up for services and attendance, with afternoon proselytizing work or something similar), and then a block for writing letters (yes… letters, y'know… the pen and paper thingie?) for families. Traditionally, phone calls were reserved for Mother's Day and Christmas, though this has been relaxed recently but the intent is still the same; the focus on a missionaries' work is the work of the Lord. I believe most have moved to e-mails (yep, people still use those too) but I'm pretty certain that things like social media network services (like Facebook) are likely dissuaded.
Plex- The MEU version of Google. To 'Plex' is to search (or to get a clue, if being insulting).
Four of the 'alien' species I named (The Thark, the Barsoomian, the Jartarians, and the Mogwians) exist in other medias. The Thark were the tusked, green-skinned, four-armed people of the John Carter Series while the Barsoomians were the 'white' Martians created by Edger Rice Burroughs. I believe the Jartar are one of those random single-episode Star Trek species. The Mogwai is the teddy bear-like creature known as 'Gizmo' in the movies Gremlins and Gremlins 2.
Yes, the closest 'cousin' to Homo Sapiens Sapiens (modern man) is the Pan Troglodyte and the Pan Paniscus, the common chimpanzee and the bonogo, also known as the dwarf chimpanzee.
Kosher/Halal Law - There might be minor differences, but the majority of the rules are the same; clean surface, clean hands, clean blade, pray/bless, slit left to right, drain, butcher. No consumption of meat more than three days butchered. And cooking a steak on a pan that you just had your bacon on is a no-no. Yes, that means all kashrut/halal meat is sanctified/purified. While most everybody knows that swine (pork) isn't allowed (the rule says animals of the cloven hoof that doesn't chew the cud [a reference to regurgitation acts, specifically those with a gizzard, to include all bovines, goats, sheep, deer, antelope, and gazelle]), there are other animals that are not allowed. I believe crustaceans/shellfish, invertebrates, reptiles, and amphibians are also prohibited. There's secondary ones (draining of blood, what to do with the liver, no limb from a living animal, no carrion [a found dead animal is a no-no, must be slaughtered properly by a human hand], fruit grown from a less-than tree-year old sapling, wheat planted after Passover, birds-of-prey, scavengers, and rodents). These laws can be found in the Books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy in the Old Testament and the Torah, and the Surahs Al-Baqarah, known as The Heifer, and Al-Ma'ida, known as The Table, in the Quran (which is where one would find pork expressed as asur/forbidden).