Just noticed that up to this point, I've forgotten to add that

I do neither own nor claim any rights on Mass Effect or its Charakters n Stuff.

The lawyers amongst you can now sleep calmly again. And now, without further ado:

Chapter 4.3 - NORMANDY: Getting Started – Part 3

For some hours I've been staring into the darkness, almost completely motionless.

More precisely, I've had my eyes blindfolded and was laying in one of the medbay's relatively uncomfortable beds.

Dr. Chakwas was there when I woke up, gently keeping me from tiredly trying to pull the blindfold from my head or standing up.

A minor complication, she had said. My body had put up more resistance against the mods than she originally thought. But she was able to compensate with some little adjustments, and everything would be fine – I just had to lay still for another couple of hours. Medigel had healed the scars from the surgery and sped up my recovery, but she didn't want to give me any more drugs so I could sleep for the next hours, too. No more medicine or other substances, or the process might be even slower.

There was no point in trying to argue with the doc, so I yielded up to my fate. For hours I lay still, using this first real 'break' to think about some things and listening to some… yeah, more or less 'radio programs'. Dr. Chakwas was kind enough to set up my omni-tool so I could listen to some streamed radio from Earth. Unfortunately, it still was as boring as 'back in my days', but I had to do with what I had.

Luckily, every once in a while one of the others paid me a visit and we talked a while about some gossip. Except for Wrex, but I would be honestly surprised if he'd make a 'sick bed visit.' Not to mention that I wasn't even sick. Also, Shepard hadn't come by to talk yet. I didn't blame her; us videogamers are lucky that we don't have to deal with all the bureaucratic of running a ship.

But with every freakin' hour that passed, I felt more and more like I was electrically charged. The anxiety and everything was killing me.

Then, after six hours I hear the medbays lock hissing softly once again. A moment later the footsteps of someone approaching me. Armored boots, but the one inside them was careful not to make too much noise. Hm. Either Tali, Ashley…

"Hello, Raven. Slept well?"

…or Shepard.

"No offense, Commander" I answer, sighing tiredly, "but I'm going to strangle the next one who asks."

"Oh?" she asks, the grin in her voice evident. "Who else?"

"Hm. Tali, Garrus, Lieutenant Alenko…."

"I see." Shepard takes seat on the coat next to me; I hear the mattress creak slightly.

"But seriously, how are you doing?"

"Not too bad." I find myself once again trying to see at least something through the blindfold. But it is useless, the fabric does a really good job. "The doc said I'll be up and running in another hour. Thank god for that. Any longer and I go nuts."

"Trust me, I know what you mean. But unfortunately, the 'running' part will have to wait."

I groan. "Don't remind me." Two damned days until I can finally start to make some progress.

On the other hand, I think a bit warily, two more days of rest before Ash puts me in the meat grinder. It all has good and bad sides, heh? But while I don't look forward to get my ass kicked, I would prefer to just do it and get it over with.

"Well, before we even start with that..." The mattress to my right creaks again. "I need to know where you can actually be of use."

I try my best to give Shepard a questioning look without being able to look. "What do you mean?"

"I'm glad that you tag along, don't get me wrong – but we both know that you're no actual soldier."

Oh boy. „You're right, unfortunately. To be honest, I too don't know where I can be of help. I figured that you would think of something – even if it's just as cannon fodder, I would be fine with it."

"Forget it." The harsh response startles me, but then she continues in a softer tone. "I don't know what you've heard about the Alliance or me, but I will not sacrifice one of mine if I can do something about it."

Then Virmire will be sheer horror for you, I think with unease. "That's good to hear," I answer aloud, somehow managing a slightly playful tone. „It wasn't something I was looking forward to anyway."

"No, I'll make sure that you know exactly what you're doing before I even let you close to an enemy. But I was hoping that you... yeah... might give me a hint what I am looking for. And don't be afraid to tell your weaknesses. If we know them, we can work on them."

Hm. I thought back to my few experiences in the combat sim. "I prefer to stay at a distance to my target." I finally answer. "I like to have a full vision on the area. Also, I think... I think that my reflexes are too bad for CQC." I add hesitantly.

It does hurt my ego to admit it to Shepard, but I ignore it. Better honest than dead.

"Though I'm not afraid to go hand-to-hand if I have to, but I know only the very basics."

"Well, that's something I can work with." Shepard says, satisfied. „How are you shooting?"

"Bad."

"No, no." she laughs, „That can be practiced. No, what I mean is: What is your style of shooting? And what kind of weapons do you prefer?"

Ah. "Precise single or burst fire at longer ranges and spray-and-pray or hand-to-hand on close ranges. As for the weapons, yeah, I would like to use a sniper rifle, but I lack the steadiness for precise aiming. I like to fire short bursts with the assault rifle, but they're not exactly precise. I'm okay with the pistol, I think, but you have to bear with the consequences if you give me a shotgun."

"Okay." she says, slightly amused. Then, thoughtfully, she adds: „I might already have an idea... but, let's see how you perform in the basic training sessions first."

"Fair enough." I really have no idea what kind of soldier they'll make of me. In secret, I hope that I end up as an Infiltrator, that's my favorite class… but without being able to handle a sniper rifle? Unlikely.

We'll talk again in ME2.

"But until we find out, I have some things you can do in the meantime."

"That would be?" Interest mixes in my voice.

"It's now 1730... when Chakwas releases you, first, get yourself something to eat, take a shower, whatever you need. Then head down to the cargo bay, Garrus wants to show you his handiwork - I think it's dry now."

Once again, sarcasm and amusement colours her tone. I smile, feeling just a little bit sheepish.

"I am not totally convinced yet that what the two of you have cooked out will work... honestly, why didn't you just ask the requisition officer or me if we have something for you?"

I merely shrugged, grinning slightly. „No risk, no fun."

"Yeah, figured.", she snorts. "For the record, when it doesn't work out, I have already ordered a replacement. It'll wait for us on the Citadel."

I register the 'when' instead of an 'if' with a light chuckle. I also silently wonder what kind of 'replacement' Shepard is talking about, but don't bother to ask.

"Noted. Anything else, Commander?" I asked, still grinning.

"As a matter of fact, yes." She pauses, and I can almost feel that something's up.

"Tell me something about you. I like to know my squad, if you don't mind."

She says that in a firendly and polite tone, and I know that – especially Paragon - Shepard likes to talk to her subordinates. That's part of why people are willing to follow her into hell and back. But my grin vanishes nonetheless, out of surprise and... other things.

"Me? Well, I'm not sure what to tell you, Shepard. I think everyone of the others has more of a story than I have."

That is, if you cancel out the „I'm-from-another-reality" part. But even then, everyone else has such an interesting background. Except for Jacob, according to public believe, but, yeah.

"If you ignore my, well, upbringing, I'm just your regular 21 years old ex-gang ex-criminal."

"Sorry if I say it so bluntly, but I don't believe you."

My heartbeat pauses a second.

"No ordinary gangster would do the things you did in the past few days. There's more to you than you let on."

"Hm. Yeah, I wouldn't really call myself a 'gangster', really" I say after a few seconds of thought. "I was running with the gangs, yes – but … hm. You know how I got raised. It took me two years from discovering the truth about … well, everything, to being able to live on my own. More or less, at least."

I stay silent for a few seconds, mind running in overdrive. I feel a bit overwhelmed – I have to think of an reply, check it if it is fake-bio-compatible, and then translate it to English.

I'm such a lucky bastard that Shepard can't see my eyes now.

"But I always didn't felt like I was in the right place there. After I had run away from home, I wanted to see ... more. The streets became too little for me, if you know what I mean. And my 'fellow mobsters' were another reason – I don't dare call me a genius, but many of these guys are either dumb as a nut or ignorant as one. Say, have you ever heard of the Tenth Street Reds?"

"A bit." Shepard answers. "They're one of the major gangs in Vancouver, aren't they?"

You can be glad that you're no Earthborn, Shep. „Aye, and the worst xenophobes and moron's I've ever seen – including the ones who raised me. You hear one of them talking for more than five minutes, and if you have at least some functioning brain cells you want to either beat them so they shut up – or you make them shut up permanently."

I shake my head in anger. "For hundreds of years humans have regarded other humans as inferior because they were alien. And now that we know that there are real aliens out there, our racism against each other has vanished – to be replaced by racism against aliens. Kinda sad, don't you agree?"

I don't give Shepard the time to reply to my rhetoric question but continue. "I don't consider myself a sage or something like that. But when you rise up, asking yourself every time that you look up to the stars: 'Are we alone?' And then find out that you aren't, and the people you trusted betray you because they thought it would be better if you don't know... well, you can maybe imagine that I am now always trying to see both sides of the coin. That's why I act how I do."

"Wow." Only now that Shepard speaks up do I realize that I have spoken myself in a rage. I try to apologize, but Shepard once again doesn't let me. „I think I can count myself lucky that my parents are both spacers, I guess."

"I envy you." I say, and mean it.

"I'm not sure that there's much reason to it." Shepard says, a bit hesitantly. "A spacer's life can be difficult at times, too... especially when you often have to move to another ship when your parents get a new posting. And..."

Silence falls upon us once again, but this time it is an uncomfortable one. I can feel the Commander's hesitance – what she's trying to say must be difficult for her. Something about her father?

I decide it's best not to force it on her and go back to the original topic.

"As I said, Commander, I don't have much of a story to tell – or at least that I don't care about it anyway." I say in conversation tone. „I hope that this... well, adventure might be the beginning of one. But," I continue, adding warmth to my voice, „I appreciate that you're taking the time to talk to me, Shepard. Maybe another time I can tell you some stories or so, but in the moment I honestly don't know what to say."

"That's alright." She says, the depression from before now almost forgotten. „Another time, then." The mattress crunches loudly, Shepard raises to her feet. "Carry on, Private."

"I would, if I could." I answer ironically. Shepard laughs ever so slightly. „Remember, report to Chief Williams when you're cleared. See you later, Raven."

"See ya, Commander." I say in Joker-style and listen to her departing footsteps.

The lock hisses twice, then I'm alone again, pondering about what happened in the past fifteen minutes.

Forty-five minutes later, Chakwas checks me one last time and the declares me fit for light duty. I rise from the bed to sit on its edge, take off the blindfold and, at first, reflexively grab after my glasses – before I realise that I don't need them anymore. I grin broadly. I now only have to wear sunglasses for another day so that my eyes can adjust to the light, but then? Never again!

After taking a few shaky steps – and feeling completely exhausted despite having been in that bed for a whole day – I thank Dr. Chakwas once again before following Shepard's advice – walking over to the cooking niche on the same deck and stuffing myself.

Not without Tabasco, of course.

To describe the following week with 'interesting'... would be both an understatement and exactly right.

The next morning I reported to Kaiden, who took me, Tali and even Wrex to the Mako few words and started teaching us the tank's controls.

'Tank' isn't exactly right. A Mako's main job is to carry up to eight marines plus driver and gunner to the battlefield. But APC (armored personnel carrier) didn't fit either, at least in my mind – but how do you describe a vehicle which is a drop pod and APC and still armed with a 155 mm main cannon – a caliber usually reserved for artillery in our days? (Not to mention that the armor is still thicker than the one in a Leopard-2-tank …. shields not even counted. Ah, and it can jump.)

Anyway, it is obvious that the real-life-version can't be operated by one person alone. To work with maximum efficiency, it requires four people – a driver (who also was the tank commander), a gunner, one guy at the sensors and an engineer to keep everything together under fire. Of course, a VI was installed and ready to take over in case something went wrong, but it seemed like the Commander didn't trust it all too much. I thought of EDI and bit back a grin.

We all got a crash-course on each position, but then we split up so that each of us trained on one specific post. Garrus and Wrex would take control of the guns (Garrus immediately started to... well... calibrate them, I noticed with a big grin), Kaidan taught Tali how to repair each system (and was quickly outclassed by her quarian ingenuity) and Ash showed me how to use LADAR and the other detection systems.

I never had put much thought to it before, but I quickly learned just how important my job was. Both the driver and the gunner had very limited fields of view. To put I tmore or less into 'gaming terms', I was responsible for mini and main map. Also, it was my job to detect radio, heat and other emissions from afar. When I was on this post, I was the tank's eyes and ears, a responsibility I took very serious.

And yeah, Shepard herself would drive. It definitely didn't cause euphoria with me. And amusingly, neither Kaidan nor Ashley looked too happy either – I would have asked them if there were stories about Shepards style of driving... but I feared the answer, so I kept my mouth shut.

We spent the whole day around the Mako and half of the next day too. Whatever fanboyism and 'ah-its-just-a-game' left in me was almost gone. Both Ash, Kaidan and to an extent Wrex and Garrus, made it clear enough that this was no game. We were training for a dangerous mission - with a guaranteed deadly outcome. It was just not yet decided if the ones dying would be us or Saren and his followers.

Still, a little bit of fascination was always with me. Despite everything, I enjoyed the learning experience. It was so... surreal. Not even two weeks ago, I had studied for an exam and rather enjoyed my life as a student and lived more or less from day to day. Now I was covered all over in something similar to machine oil and helping Garrus and Tali with 'oiling' the Mako's propulsion and wheels. It felt... yeah... 'real', for the lack of a better word.

And while it was certainly tedious work, it was made easier by doing this with the freaking Mass Effect-Crew. We – well, most of the time me and Garrus – traded snarks and jokes. But Kaidan, Ash and Tali had their moments, too.

Even Wrex thawed ever so slightly, telling us a story about how he once used a gun like the Mako's as a handgun to 'rough up some gangs', as he put it. I listened with fascination, unable to tell if he was making that up... or telling the truth. Considering that this was Wrex...

Overall, I had a feeling like we were starting to work as a real team. Sure, Tali was still extremely nervous and easy to fluster. Ash, for example, rarely missed an occasion to get the poor quarian to wring her hands. Also, you don't have to have heightened senses to notice the extreme tension between Garrus and Wrex, or Ash and the aliens in general. But it was a start, and I already had a good feeling about that all.

But on the second day's afternoon, I was called to the medbay… Dr. Chakwas scanned me again and then fully cleared me for duty.

My 'good feeling' should vanish pretty fast.

"Time dedicated to training's priceless / Pain and sweat's why veterans getting better / that'll tell us why there are callouses on my fist."

Dan Bull, you are so goddamned right.

"Faster, recruit! Move it!"

I clenched my teeth and stormed past the Mako I had just crawled under, jumped over an obstacle and barely dodged the cargo bay's supporting pillar – the solid steel scratched my armors paint job.

"Go, go!"

In front of me and to my left two targets popped up. I raised my rifle, took a split-second to aim and fired. One went down with the first burst, but the second volley missed. I lost another precious second with firing again.

"Come on!"

The last meters I sprinted before crossing the line and stopping next to Ashley. Breathlessly I bowed, supporting my hands on my knees. „You're getting better, but you're still too slow.", I heard Ashley say.

I couldn't answer and instead took long and rythmic breaths, trying to slow my still racing heartbeat.

If you only know the NORMANDY's cargo bay from ME1, you probably wouldn't recognize it at that point. At least I didn't when I left the elevator in the morning. Overnight, the cargo bay had been transformed into a small, but decent CQC course, complete with obstacles and everything. No space had been wasted. Even the Mako and Postle's and Ash's working stations had been 'converted' to fulfill their part, as carriers for targets or as obstacles to crawl under.

Shepard had decided that we couldn't waste any time traveling anywhere but Artemis Tau just in case, not even to train the squad, so she decided we would practice aboard, using the 'mobile shooting range' equipment stuffed into a few crates in the cargo bay. Mind you, they were the crates Wrex had 'occupied' as his own. Somehow fitting.

It took the night shift (and us who helped them) three hours to build everything up, but it was well worth it. Currently, Ash and myself were the only ones in the cargo bay – the rest was eating, sleeping or, in Tali's case, in Engineering.

When I looked up again, Shepard had left the elevator and stepped next to Ash who saluted her.

"At ease, Williams." Shepard looked at me, then back at Ash. I noticed that she was now wearing her N7 armor. „How's it going? What do you think?"

Ash glanced at me as if she was asking for permission. I nodded. There was absolutely no reason not to be as open and blunt as possible – it could only help me.

"Worse than expected, better than feared. 55 points."

For a brief moment, Shepards features twisted. I couldn't blame her. 55 out of 100 – 65 would have been the minimum for passing if I had been a regular Marine. Even Tali, arguably the most inexperienced besides me, had scored 70.

"Where are the problems?"

"He's not too shabby a shot, when he has the time to take aim he's fine. But he's pretty bad in CQC, his reflexes are only average even now that he's got those mods. And he tires out too quickly for my liking. In short: You see that he's no trained rifleman."

Shepard looked at me thoughtfully. I nodded. During the week of preparation on the Citadel, I had only found the time to practice precise fire from medium ranges – because I knew that that's what I would need in the ambush at Chora's Den. And while both weapon handling and reflexes had increased due to the experiences made in the combat sim, they couldn't be compared to that of a fully trained Marine, and I hadn't found the time to really work out to increase stamina. Plus, I was still getting used to my body's enhancements.

It was bitter, but it was the truth: I was no match for anyone else in the squad.

"I suspected as much." Shepard said after a while. „What do you think, can we take him with us nonetheless?"

I briefly wondered why the Commander even considered that, didn't she want to keep me out of the action until I was ready? I reasoned that she simply couldn't afford to waste any firepower and had to at least think about working with everything she's got.

"Maybe." Ash said, looking at her thoughtfully. Since I hadn't taken part in the talk, I grabbed my rifle and began to inspect it to keep my hands busy. "As I said, he is a decent shot – when he can focus on his target. I would recommend training him as a sniper, but..."

"I can't aim with a sniper rifle while standing." I finished her sentence when she trailed off. I looked up, Shepard in the eyes. „It's basically just like I told you a few days ago, Commander."

They let me take aim at a couple of targets at a part of the course which could be used as a shooting range. I fired ten short bursts in ten seconds; eight practice targets dropped. I had trained these ranges to no end, so it wasn't too difficult, surprisingly. If someone had told me before that I would learn how to fire a rifle that quickly, I'd probably laughed in his face. Turned out, if you have little alternatives than to either train or die, most likely, you work double as hard.

Shepard pursed her lips, thinking while I continued cleaning my rifle. Then, out of the blue she asked me: "Do you know what a designated marksman is?"

I looked up, surprised. "Yeah, more or less. The middle-ground between a sniper and a rifleman, right?"

"More or less." She gestured Ash and me to follow her into the 'tunnel' to Engineering, carefully dodging a dummy as she walked. There she activated her omni-tool and searched for something.

„A sniper operates alone or with a spotter, uses stealth where possible and usually takes out his targets at distances above 800 meters.", Shepard said. "A squad designated marksman fights with a squad, and his job is to take out specific targets at lower distances and with precise shots."

Wait. „But don't these marksmen usually use sniper rifles, too?" I knew that, technically, every one of Shepard's squadmates with a sniper rifle – and even an Infiltrator-Shepard – were SDM's rather then real snipers, at least in gameplay. It was one of the many design oversights of the Mass Effect series – because of the different fields and ranges they are working in, RL snipers and marksmen are using different kinds of weapons.

A sniper uses a bolt-action rifle with high precision and power. A designated marksman basically an army's main weapon with an appropriate sight, or specific marksman rifles with higher magazines and sometimes even an automatic fire mode to be able to fight in close quarters, compared to real sniper rifles. In Mass Effect, it was totally legit to run around with a freaking Widow anti-material rifle.

And I'm a bad shot with a sniper rifle, I thought very irritated. So how...?

"Usually, yes." Shepard confirmed, looking up from her omni-tool. "But that's mainly because it is important for a marksman to take out his target as quickly as possible. And that's difficult when you're wielding an assault rifle and your opponent is equipped with shields and a body armor."

Yeah. Shepard was right - even more so, when you think about just how inaccurate the Mass Effect 1 assault rifles are in general. When playing the game, they always felt for me like in-game Shepard was firing from hip even when he aimed through the sights."

"But some of my 'colleagues' have found an alternative." At that, she showed me a picture of another N7 operator. He wore the same Onyx-armor a male Shepard would wear, had replaced the helmet with something that looked suspiciously like a Kuwashii – visor and... held a familiar if modded assault rifle in hands.

For a moment I looked at the rifle, dumbfounded – then I felt the sudden urge to facepalm. An urge I resisted. It would be difficult and awkward to explain to the two women. „Is that...?"

"That's an N7 Infiltrator with a modified Mattock assault rifle." Shepard answered.

"But Ma'am, didn't the Alliance replace that rifle a decade ago?" Ashley asked, staring at the picture in disbelief.

"They did," the Commander confirmed, „but it is still one of the most precise and powerful rifles in the galaxy. And if modded correctly, can take out almost every 'normal' tango with one headshot, or a few bodyshots."

Aye. The M-96 Mattock is the closest equivalent to a DMR or battle-rifle you'll get in ME2, except for maybe the M-15 Vindicator. It sports the high accuracy and firepower of a sniper rifle, but also the low recoil and rather high magazine capacity of an assault rifle, and since spare ammunition isn't a problem at the moment 'cause we don't use thermal clips yet...

"I think I'll use you in a support role, Raven." Shepard spoke to me. "I can't really put you in the frontline if you're not fast 'n' fit enough." I twisted my lips, but didn't say anything. "But in the second row, you can take out some enemies which are out of cover, provide covering fire and still stay relatively safe. Whoever wants to come for you has to deal with us first." She tapped on her shotgun and shared a grin with Ash.

I felt just a little bit like a greenhorn. Which I was.

"Raven, can you make more of those incendiaries you used back on the Citadel?" Ash then asked me.

"Sure." I answered, giving her curious look, „I just need fuel, bottles or something like that and some old clothes to make rugs."

"If you go second row it might be useful to have something like those to keep tangos from flankin' or swarmin' you." Shepard said.

„Or just in case you feel like lighting someone up, of course" Ash added with a kinda diabolic grin.

I'm bringing Molotovs to Mass Effect? I nodded to her, feeling a grin tugging at my own lips. Not the worst skill to have. „Sounds good to me." Although I'm not too sure if they'll be useful against the Geth. But it will be a pleasure to see the Thorian burn. A voice in the back of my head nagged at me why Shepard didn't hand me some grenades with incendiary upgrade – but maybe they're simply not available at this point.

"Hm." Shepard caressed her chin with her armored glove. "Also... You don't have by any chance some first-aid-training, do you?"

"Only the very basics, Ma'am." I answered, thinking back to the times when I practiced it for my driver's license.

"If you get the time, grab Alenko and Chawas and let them teach you how to provide first aid in the field." Shepard said on the spur of the moment. „I don't feel too well with only one squad medic anyway, and since we've already established that you'll try to stay out of the line of fire..."

"Aye-aye, Commander." No promises. I didn't know how to feel about this – I was everything but a medic. The whole idea felt somehow wrong to me. But since Shepard ordered it, I would give it a try. There were worse ways to waste my time – and even if I was of no use as a medic, I could at least learn how to treat myself just in case.

"Good." Shepard nodded. "See, not too difficult to find something that suits you." she joked.

I shrugged, offering her a lopsided half-grin and stowed my rifle on my back. "If you say so, Commander."

"Trust me, you'll be fine." she assured. "Now we just have to make sure that you're up for it. Physically, I mean."

"Oh, I will make sure that Raven is ready when we need him, Ma'am", Ash said with dedication.

I decidedly did not like the way she grinned...

Williams called it „Basic Rifleman Training".

I called it „her-boot-in-my-ass camp".

I must admit, I never was a big fan of sports or fitness training in general. Oh, I did some workout, played football twice and rode my bicycle at least three times a week – but I never was the kind of guy who spent hours and hours in a gym to build up his 'six-pack'. First, I found it pretty overrated, second... I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm a bit lazy when I can get away with it, I'll admit it.

Well, Gunny Williams was just the right person to properly... motivate me, to keep the swearing at a minimum.

Under her watchful eye, I got chewed, spit out again and then was allowed to sleep for a few hours. Rinse and repeat. Some hours on the treadmill, then push-ups. Crunches, push-ups, pull-ups (or rather, at the beginning, a flexed arm hang since I'm really heavy), - whatever you name it, it was probably part of the training course. Then an hour on the shooting range, another run over the CQC course and then lunch and a much needed cool shower. The exact order differed a little every day.

Six whole days. Six. Whole. Goddamned Days. Eight hours of sleep, then sixteen hours of intense courses and training sessions. A real marine would probably laugh about something like that, but for me, as a newly recruited civilian? It wasn't hell, exactly. But it was damned hard to go from 'no scheduled training' to 'full schedule'.

It certainly helped that Ash stayed more or less friendly. And she didn't try to 'motivate' me by dressing me down like a stereotypical US drill sergeant. I seriously don't need that BS.

If she had done that, however, it would have been the last drop to finally boil me over. It was an interesting mix – on one side, I was too tired to complain (and I didn't want really, since this whole ordeal was dedicated to raise my chances of survival), on the other side, Ash's style of teaching kinda fueled me even further.

I was glad that she didn't spare herself and did every exercise with me, and kind of really mad that she rarely seemed to even break into sweat. Mad enough to keep going, at least... I wanted to continue until she was showing signs of weakness, too. I freakin' knew that it was just 'psychological warfare'... but for fuck's sake, it worked.

In retrospect, the success gave her right. I was surprised and kind of motivated that I could really feel the progress. Every single day my performance got a bit better. It was like my body now soaked up the hours of training and converted it straight into 'fitness'. Instead of getting fought for every bit of muscle mass, it more or less felt like it actually supported it.

The downside was that I now had the questionable pleasure of having to eat more of these... garrison rations every evening to compensate. Ah, whatever. Worth it. Totally. Worth. It.

If I keep telling myself, I may even end up believing it.

The amount of work, practice and preparations loaded on every one of us let us almost forget that we were traveling through the galaxy in a speed no other ship could match. Only the occasional jolt told us that we were passing another secondary relay, and every once in a while Joker announced that we had reached a new cluster or system.

We had left the Citadel and the Serpent Nebula in one day, passed the Exodus Cluster with the Utopia-System (and Eden Prime), spent a few days traveling to a second relay and then got fired towards Hades Gamma. A friend of mine once compared the Mass Effect relays to gigantic Gauss cannons – at times like this I preferred not to think about it.

But as we arrived at the Antaeus system, it showed that the NORMANDY was a prototype ship on a more or less shakedown run. Problems with the internal core heatsinks during the normal discharge in the magnetic field of Ploba, the bigger of the two gas giants in this system forced us to stay in orbit for additional three days for repair; Every time I saw Shepard these days, her mouth was a bit more pinched. Tali didn't seem to rest at all; whenever I was down on the C/E deck at whatever time of the day, I saw her working on the various parts of the ship. I rarely talked to her, though; we were both stressed enough as it was.

Finally, after 70 hours of work, our engineers had fixed the engines and we were able to leave the system.

But then, as we were just flying for the relay, Shepard received a message from Admiral Hackett. A minute after the call ended, Joker had plotted a new course and every one of us was ordered to the Comm-center – ASAP.

Our new destination was in another system of the same cluster: Biotic terrorists had kidnapped the Alliance parliament chairman Martin Burns. They had entrenched themselves aboard the MSV ONTARIO, in the Farinata-System. Our job was to get Burns out – either by negotiation or by force, it was up to us...

A/N: Hey Fellas! I must again apologize for the delay, even worse, now the chapter itself is remarkably short :C. I originally planned to release this one and 5 as a whole, but I expect 4.3 and 5 to have a total wordcount of above 12k - and I don't like having chapters of that length. So, 5 will come out later - but ASAP, that much I can promise. I think I'll add a little "special", too.

A sidenote in case you guys are wondering why some of the quotation marks are like ,, " - that's the way we use them in German, and since I forgot to put word to English in this chapter... yeah. Maybe I'll edit it in the future, but nt right now.

I also wanna thank 5 Coloured Walker for beta-reading this chapter and pointing out most of my errors. Hope ya stay around for future chapters - I just know that there will be horrendous mistakes, I know myself :D

Hm. And I feel like I forgot something. I usually do in the A/Ns. Maybe I should start taking notes for the notes.

Ah, the quote at the CQC exercise is from Dan Bull's Rainbow SIX Rap. Check that out, it's great.

Okay, I'm out of things to add. See ya guys in CH5, that time with the first mission! (Around 25th or so of September.)