Chapter 45: Quality Time

As was now the custom, the flagship team sat along a table in the mess hall all dining together. Even Kelly Chambers was invited to partake in the meals. Whilst not part of the flagship team she was an essential crew member just as Joker and Dr. Chakwas were. The pilot however had other things he wanted to do, and Chakwas was in the lab going over something with Morden. The Professor had been given special compensation to skip the evening meal as he was working on a very special project for Tali and Garrus.

"I am curious." Samara opened the evening conversation with a question. "It is said that the training of the humans N7 is extensive and very trying. May I ask what exactly is involved?"

All heads turned to the Spectre waiting for her to answer.

"I always wondered that myself." Garrus said as he cut into his steak. For once it seemed Rupert managed to season the dextro-food to resemble something eatable for Tali and Garrus. "Anderson was an N7 too wasn't he?"

Shepard smirked. "Still is, Garrus. Once an N7 always an N7." she tore a piece of her rye roll and dipped it into her gravy before biting into it. "Interplanetary Combatives Training program is very different than Boot. The DIs are a completely different breed of bastard than the Gunnies in Boot. Gunny Ellison was in your face, using antiquated words like 'Goldbricking' trying his best to give you the skills and abilities to be a soldier.

"N7s training-it's not something that ever leaves you. From day one when you arrive at Arcturus it's all business."

"Yeah, like what?" asked Jack.

"We're given basic gear, then separated and stranded on an asteroid with no nav data. The test ends when the last person runs out of oxygen."

"They just drop you on some rock?" Tali said sounding incredulous. "And here during our first real talk on the original Normandy you said my Pilgrimage sounded dangerous." though her face could not be truly seen, there was a smile on the younger woman's lips. "So what happens to the ones who run out of air first?"

"They're out of the program. The best N7s can survive alone, but work together to survive even longer."

"So that's why you're on about us all team-work and shit." Jack said.

"Yes, in part."

"You sound like you're surprised Shep wants us all to function like cogs in some giant space clock."

"Hardly." Jack muttered

"Deep space survival training. A difficult task to undergo." Samara commented ignoring Jack's indignation about teamwork.

"Sounds like the voice of experience." Shepard tilted her head intuitively.

"Indeed, Justicars also must undertake such trials. It was much as a test of physical as it is of character strengths."

"I endured similar training while at the monastery." said Thane. "It sharpens the skills of the hunter. Forcing you to compartmentalize your priorities to overcome the challenge."

Shepard nodded. "Exactly. You gain a soldier's intuition, better still highly honed instincts. Of all the battles an N7 must fight, none is more important than their first– the battle of mind over body. You have to drown out that hindbrain voice."

"You earn your strengths." there was no mistaking the approval in Grunt's voice. "Strength should be earned, not given." there was something strange in his voice just then. It was almost self-effacing… as if he were listening to his own disparaging hindbrain voice. The same sort of voice that had dogged Shepard in those early days of her N7 training.

"That small, self-doubting messenger that returns again and again to pitch its familiar monologue: 'This is BS! Why are you putting yourself through this? You are never gonna make it all the way, so quit now and call it a day!' Shepard quoted that nagging internal voice.

"N7 instructors know the human machine is capable of amazing endurance even in the harshest of conditions and environments, but they also know the mind must be made to ignore the pleading of the body. We're trained to conduct operations in any arena. It's why the first test is on that asteroid I spoke about. Hell Week is the absolute worst of the trials. And rather at the end of conditioning as it was a hundred years ago, it's in the very beginning.

"We are constantly in motion; constantly cold, hungry and wet. Mud is everywhere–it covers uniforms, hands and faces; it cakes on your skin until you feel like a clay pot. Sand burns the eyes and chafes skin raw. We were always filthy, during Hell Week. Medical personnel are on stand by for emergencies and monitor the exhausted trainees.

Sleep is fleeting–a mere three to four hours granted near the conclusion week one. Even as we consume up to 7,000 calories a day we still lose weight. Every step is a challenge, and each test is progressively more difficult. On average, seventy percent of candidates never make it past Phase One as an N1."

"They want you to fail?" asked Tali staring at her friend. Clearly she was in awe for all Shepard had endured during her training.

"No. Hell Week is designed specifically to weed out the weak. Throughout Hell Week instructors continually remind candidates that we can 'Drop-On-Request' (DOR) any time we feel we can't go on by simply ringing a shiny brass bell that hangs prominently within the camp for all to see.

"The belief that N7 is about physical strength is a common misconception. Actually, it's ninety percent mental and ten percent physical. Trainees just decide that they are too cold, too sandy, too sore or too wet to go on. It's their minds that give up on them, not their bodies. It is not the physical trials of Hell Week that are difficult so much as its duration: a continual 132 hours of physical labor.

"Through the long days and nights, we learn to rely on one another to keep awake and stay motivated. We tap one another on the shoulder or thigh periodically and wait for a reassuring pat in response that says, 'I'm still hangin' in there, how 'bout you?' We cheer loudly when we notice a mate struggling to complete our mission and use the same as fuel when we feel drained. We learn to silence that inner voice urging us to give in and ring that hideous, beautiful bell."

"Obviously you didn't ring the bell." it was Miranda that spoke.

Shepard shook her head at the memory deep and biting in her mind. "No."

"Did you ever come close?" Kelly pressed eager to know more about her hero. The others watched wanting to know the answer as well. "I can't ever imagine you did. You never give up."

Jack looked to Miranda and rolled her eyes. Chambers couldn't have been more obvious in her crush for the Spectre if she dressed in a stripper costume and gave her a lap dance.

The Spectre shrugged evasively, not giving anything away. "I'd be lying if I said otherwise. Sleep. I remember I would do anything for it. I couldn't remember what day it was, or when I had last had sleep. But, I knew it felt good, and NOTHING about Hell Week felt good. I had been cold and wet for days. There were open sores along my inner thighs from being constantly soaked. And every time I moved, the coarse, wet camouflage raked over the wounds, sending lightening bolts of pain through my body. Maybe the voice was right. Maybe I should just get up, walk over, and ring that bell."

"But you did not." This was from Samara. "The body often lies to the mind, and being susceptible to muscular exclamations of pain and exhaustion, the mind begins to believe in its fragility and give up."

Grunt nodded in agreement "Pain can be ignored, pushed aside and crushed like any weakness. Pain is weakness leaving the body."

Shepard smiled ironically at that. "There was a chant we had: 'It's only pain if you don't mind, it doesn't matter'." Shepard's smile became warm and lopsided and nostalgic. "It is a fierce fight that many candidates never win, but for those who go on to become N7s, learning to push the boundaries of our physical limitations is the foundation for all subsequent training and operations.

"For those who make it through the infamous physical conditioning132-hours of Hell Week comes the inner knowledge that our bodies can go far beyond their previous expectations." She recalled one of the most trying moments in those early days. There was a moment she nearly gave in…

"NO! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" she silently screamed at the pessimistic voice as the sea came at her again. It worked! She focused once again on the other N7 candidates linked arm-in-arm with her in the wet sand holing a caber up. Shepard could hear their combined sputterings and groans. She also heard the crash of the surf, but the defeatist voice inside her head was gone–at least for the moment. Someone had to ring the bell before the group could crawl out of the icy water, but it wasn't going to be her, damn it! She gritted her chattering teeth, and prepared for the next wave. "After all," she told herself sternly, "what's a little water to a N7?"

"You had to sit on the beach in the surf holding a tree?" Tali asked incredulously.

"Count me out." Kasumi shook her head. "I have a million other things I'd rather do."

There was a mutual agreement along the table including the Spectre herself.

"A caber, essentially yes a tree, but you're not alone. You have your team they hold it with you. We also have to carry it on your shoulders. The burden is always shared, it builds team cohesion. The training is to break you and to build you up. The N7 DIs don't care if you are triple volunteers. They do not care that you think yourself as hard. And they especially don't give a rat's frack what four-star Admiral you're family with to get the privilege of being able to stand before them. If you're deemed unworthy you don't remain. And they will do everything to test that worthiness. That you are worthy of carrying the N7 title.

"Mine went on to on to say those of us he found lacking will quit. Those of us who refuse to quit will have a training accident. Mine told me that the base suffered three training accidents a year. Unfortunate accidents that he would not hesitate to repeat if we crossed him. He asked if we understood and again demanded another hoo-ha., which we all gave of course.

"I recall first day of N1 training after we passed the asteroid test. Sergeant Rasczak, my DI came around to me and demanded my name. I gave it then he demanded my sidearm for inspection. In regular Boot, you relinquish the weapon, no hesitation, but N7 training is different. I knew it as soon as he asked for it. I refused. The others must have thought I lost my mind refusing him. He even shouted at me.

"You refusing an order, Corporal?"

"An N7 doesn't relinquish their weapons, Sergeant!" I answered crisply.

"Are you talking? Did you speak to me? Who the fuck told you to speak?" He got in my face. "Now give me that side arm!"

"No Sergeant!"

He backhanded me so hard I flipped over backwards and landed on the deck and he put a boot to my neck. So hard I fought to stay conscious. He turned to the others shouting at them. "God damn right an N7 never relinquishes their weapon! If George S motherfucking Patton rises from his holy grave and asks for your weapon you will not surrender your weapon! Everybody better gimme a 'hoo-ha, Sergeant'!"

"Which of course we did. He took his boot from my neck and I scrambled to my feet. As soon as I did he was right back in my face. Despite the blood coming from my mouth and the bruise spreading on my neck he went on shouting like it never happed. Warning us that 'there are people in the galaxy that will kill you just because they've a mind to, just because it was just something passing through their minds.' He was right of course.

"We move on to new challenges, knowing we have it within ourselves to stay the course. Before we earn the right to wear the coveted N7 badges that identify us as members of the Naval Special Warfare community, we face training far beyond the fence lines. We train for the next forty-eight months in all manner of conditions, both the physical and mental.

"Mental conditions included learning by rote the 'Art of War' by Sun Tzu and the 'Tao' teachings of Loa Tzu. History, warfare strategies and theory, even intergalactic diplomacy. We studied the ancient battles from all periods of human history like the Spartans at Thermopile, Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great, Crazy Horse, Rameses II, Geronimo to name a few. Our minds must be sharp as any Omni blade and as deadly."

"The warrior who can not think is useless on the battlefield." Samara said "Those skilled in war cultivate the Code and preserve the laws and are therefore able to formulate victorious polices. It is refreshing to know that your training values the mind as well as the body."

Once more Shepard was agreeing with the matron. "The greatest weapon a soldier can have is their mind."

"Is that why you're always reading that crap?" Grunt asked digging into a third helping of Salisbury steak and a fourth heaping mound of instant-mash. "I never understood why you waste your time with your nose pressed into that antique book of yours."

"Because Nietzsche is too butch and Kafka is too much like the little friends you find in the dark and dank sewers." Shepard said without missing a beat. "Or…actually the Collectors."

"Giant space bugs?" Grunt asked.

"Come to think about that that you mention it. The Collectors do remind me of roaches." Kelly shuddered.

"Okay now I'm feeling the creepy." Kasumi bemoaned. See this was why when she was forced to be around others, the thief preferred to be cloaked, you didn't have to partake in conversations and you would just wisp about doing whatever and still make a contribution.

"They still die when you squish them." Grunt shrugged.

"Still disgusting." Kasumi tutted.

"I agree." Kelly nodded her head vigorously. It wasn't something widely known but her greatest phobia was bugs. She hated creepy-crawlies of any description. Butterflies were fine as long as they didn't fly near her face or land on her. But anything else, especially roaches, even their name made her squirmy and her flesh crawl.

Miranda said with the tiniest bit of humor in her words. "Nevermind Grunt, it's a human thing. You wouldn't understand it unless you read Kafka's works. And I have to say I quite agree with you, Commander. I was never one for Kafka. Jack Kerouac, yes but definitely not Kafka."

"Funny…considering your Mr. Illusive reminds me so much of the little fuckers." Jack jested, almost purposely antagonizing the tall brunette. She made insect motions with her fingers miming a bug crawling up Lawson's right arm causing the older woman to shiver. "So you like weird-ass poets ehe?" her voice was whispered gravelly and whisky-soft for the Operative's ears alone causing Miranda's flesh to shiver for another reason entirely.

"Can I just say- gross and not at the dinner table." Kasumi shuddered meaning the bugs not of course the private comment between her fellow women. Not that she heard it. "How about we just get off the topic of space roaches?" She was suddenly put off eating her baked beans. When the thief shoved her plate aside Grunt happily picked it up and slopped the contents onto his already loaded tray.

"You said twenty-four months. What else they make ya do? Can't all be book learning. I've seen N7's in action. You're hell on the field Shepard." Zaeed said. The talk of Kafka and his 'friends' hadn't put him off his meal, but the little hooded girl had a point about getting off topic.

"No it isn't. And it isn't all at Arcturus either. N2 through N6 trials are held off-planet. They move us around in three week intervals for the more intensive survival training. By the time we hit Green Hell, it was getting more and more intense. Green Hell was twenty days in the Darien, a place in the Panama on Earth, and it's almost always raining. Forty clicks a day, carrying eighty pounds on your back. You got real used to those number oddities. The course was called Jungle Leader. It taught you to think when exhausted.

"Rasczak really knew how to get you exhausted. We spent our nights doing escape and evasion in live fire snapping right over our heads. Days were spent up to our noses in damp swamps, slapping bugs and dodging snakes. Some nights we did mock PoW stuff they wouldn't let us sleep at all. All the time Rasczak would ask us things that you really had to think about like Newton's First Law and how it applies to the main-gun of an Everest Class dreadnought. Of course he'd throw in strange equations that were more riddles than straight up questions. Like…" she paused thinking… "Yeah like um that question about the main guns of a dreadnought…

"Now that class of ship fires a 20-kilo ferrous slug every five seconds accelerating one to 1.3 percent of light speed. It impacts with the force of a 38-kilotomb bomb. That is three times the yield of the city buster dropped on Hiroshima back on Earth. He'd say multiply that destructive force by the exact number of animals Moses had on the Ark."

She got several blank looks from the others around the table. Shepard clarified.

"It's a trick question. See it's a part of human mythology; Moses was never on the Ark. He had the Ark of the Covenant but that's a whole different story. The Ark was an impossible floating zoo supposedly carrying pairs of every single animal on Earth to avoid an ELE…a flood that according the myth covered the whole of the Earth, because God was sick of everyone being nasty sons of bitches and whatnot. So He decided to save a handful of humans and the animals and start over. Um anyway The Ark belonged to another greybearded old guy named Noah. So the answer was zero.

"Anyway if you didn't pick that up you failed, and he'd make you start the day trials all over again. Sometimes just you, sometimes the whole team minus you. He was very big on peer punishment. All DIs are in truth. You have to pay attention to the questions. I mean really pay attention to the words and the questions. The more physically tired you got the more he made you think. If you didn't answer correctly the whole team suffered for the incompetence of the one being grilled."

"Like a krant." Grunt concluded. "The strength of one is not equal to the strength of the krant. But if the individual warrior is too weak he should be left to the wilderness to die and not drag the others down with him."

"Right on that one, you cut out an infection you don't coddle it." Zaeed agreed and Jack was right there with him as was Miranda.

"I believe that was the point of the peer-punishment." Samara interjected. "If they cannot be uplifted they are forced by their peers to ring the bell."

Shepard nodded. "Yes. However if you allow to teammate to falter that has potential because of a personal grudge or dislike than the fault is not with the individual but with the peers. There is a very fine and delicate balance that must be found. And we did find it." she gave a very pointed look towards Jack and Miranda. Their antagonism for each other was well known as was the rest of the team's hesitation and mistrust working along side Cerberus.

"We humped over the Cordillera three times to the border and back. Some of that stuff is as deep as hell and the rain never lets up for days at a time. Those damn packs got heavy in the rain. We never hated anything more than we hated those damn packs, not even the caber." Shepard gained several chuckles which she added to.

"Green Hell ended and then we're plunged into the coastal waters of Australia for scuba and "drown-proofing, avoiding the blasted sharks and other dangers of the deep. All our deep underwater training took place there. They issued us bulky dry-suits to shelter us from the chill of the water as we make our way to shore. Once we land we make our trek from the Kakadu National Forest all the way across the Outback to Ayers Rock. Learning how to survive the harshness of the desert, living off the land and finding water, avoiding the poisonous creatures, hunting them for food."

"The Walk-About." said the native Australian. "I have made such a journey myself." Miranda was pleased that someone had experienced something so very spiritual as the prospect of the Dream-Time. Absently her hand went her collarbone scratching it as she thought of the intimate moment in her youth-before Cerberus.

Miranda had been trying to find herself, find who she was. Sometimes to find one's self you have to lose yourself. The Walk-About was the answer. In the Dream-Time Miranda found the answer. She had to leave her father…to run and rescue her baby sister from that life. Had she not realized 'the thing' in the Dream-Time she might never have taken the risk but died both mentally and quite possibly physically under Henry Lawson's dictatorship. Ori after all was Miranda's replacement.

Shepard's narrative brought Lawson back to the present. Jack gave her a curious pondering look, one that Miranda tried to ignore, tried to pretend that it hadn't made her stomach flutter. The tattooed ex-con would never say it, but there was a concern reflected in her deep brown eyes as if to say: 'What's eating you Cheerleader?'

"After our time in the arid lands of the Outback we shipped off to the Himalayas to climb cliffs, traverse gorges, rappel mountain faces and sleep in the snow. On those the frigid, mountainous environment we spend three weeks surviving these near-arctic conditions. We learned explosives, static parachuting, paragliding, and base-jumping. How not to get frostbite, stay hydrated and keep warm. And the whole time we had those god-damn packs. It's funny when I was on the mountain I'd have given anything to be back in the desert."

Thane smiled. "I imagine your time in the heat of the Outback made you long to be cold or even wet once more in your Green Hell. Is there not a human saying about the 'Grass is always greener on the other side of the fence'?"

Shepard nodded at the assassin. "Pretty much. Mind you the desert was frigid at night but during the day it made you feel like a puddle of ooze. I recall looking up at the stars when I was on those mountains and thinking, all this training all this agony, pain and conditioning just so I can have the chance to see those sparking twinkling lights up close. Thinking of being stationed on a ship, sailing the stars was what I wanted most. It kept me going.

"When we finally get out into the Black, of course it's only the local neighborhood more or less. I mean it wasn't the first time. That was back in Macapá Boot, getting ZG certified on Titan. But this was different. We hit dirt the moon of Io where we take yet another four weeks in land-warfare exercise in an extreme real-time environment and include instruction in Zero-G combat, military high alto free-fall, jetpack flight, combat driving, learning how to pilot Kodiaks, Makos and shuttlecraft, combat instruction, linguistics, and frontline trauma care for human and alien biology.

"After our time on Io they tell us were going to another training ground but don't give any details about where it is or the conditions or what is initially expected of us. By this time we're N5s. We're given a major test.

We've fallen in ready for another plant drop. At first is just another routine drop, but then the alarms sound we scramble for escape pods. They drop us on top of a mountain… covered in snow. It's then we get a comm saying we have five days to reach the rendezvous point. Those that don't make it are cut from the program just like on the first day. We are given orders to form teams of at least three. If we lose a team member for any reason even if we make the deadline we don't advance to the next stage.

"The Brass assesses what you did and what happened. If they believe you can be salvaged you stay an N5 until you prove yourself. If they think you are unworthy you're cut.

"Those god-damn packs we hated so much- filled with eighty pounds of gear we could use to survive are back on the ship, only one in three Omni-tools works properly. So no gear, no supplies, we have to scale down a cliff-side into a ravine and that is bisected by a raging river filled with hostile alien animal life. Once we pass the river it's a jungle or rather it's an oasis because past it is a desert. And it's not the cozy lush ones you see in vids, it's filled with some of the most deadly flora and fauna you'd ever cross paths with. Giant Venus flytraps that spit out globs of paralytic toxin which starts to digest you as soon as hits you. Not as bad or as big as the Thorian but damned close. At least there weren't any creepers to contend with."

Both Garrus and Tali made faces recalling the monstrous creature on Feros and its plant zombies. All of them still had nightmares of the terrible beast-plant. That thing was just wrong.

"On the other side of the desert which incidentally is pockmarked with poisonous sulfur pits and mild radiation is the rendezvous point." Shepard continued pressing past the unpleasant memory of the ExoGeni's diabolic plan to allow the settlement to be taken by the Thorian just to see what happens to indoctrinated subjects.

"Each 'zone' gave us something to use to survive the next one, iron ore and flint on the mountain top to help us with fire-making. And conifer trees to harvest pitch from, not to mention taking its needles to start making a water-filtration system. And the pinecones for fuel for that fire and organic grenades if needs be. The river gave us a means for fresh clean water, the oasis had this moss that helped combat the rads in the sulfur pits as well as giant leaves for a means to make shelter and minor protective wear. All the survival training we had before hand, all of it is used during that five day sojourn."

"A daunting task to undertake even with the proper gear." Thane said. "But a test of true skill and adaptability is measured when you have nothing. I can understand now why the N7s have the reputation that they do amongst your people. And why they are romanticized in your popular culture."

Shepard nodded feeling pride in the memory of her accomplishments that week. .

"So did your team make it the first go, Shepard or you have to retake it?" Zaeed asked.

The question was two-fold, Shepard realized. It was meant to carry on the story but also to affirm whether or not she led a team in impossible odds to success or had she faltered.

"My team completed its appointed task with two and a half hours to spare." The Spectre flashed a cocky smile. "Knocking the top contender's time down by an hour."

"And who was the top contender if I may ask?" came Miranda.

"Anderson. He held the record for nearly twenty years."

"So not only did you beat his N7 record you beat him to being the first human Spectre." again this was Zaeed speaking. "He had to be impressed."

"I hope he was. If he was upset his records were broken by me, he never gave any sign of it. I know he was the instrumental in putting my name forward for the Spectre program."

"I believe he must have been proud of his protégée." Kelly said sagely. "And after this final survival test, is that when you became an N7?"

The older woman shook her head. "No, it only marked the half way point in our training. The next twenty-four months, the training becomes highly specialized—tailored to your particular skill sets. That's when we get our N7 classes.

"If you're a biotic like me you're either a Fury or a Slayer. I had a bit of both but I had more of a knack for the Furies than the Slayers because I rely heavily on my biotics. The first is nearly pure biotics an adept if you will the other they train you more as a vanguard.

"Or if you're a biotic and into tech like Kaidan was you become Paladin well had he become an N7. If Ash became an N7 she'd be trained as Destroyer being a straight up soldier. Engineers like you Tali become Demolishers. Those good at infiltration and tech like you Kasumi become Shadows."

"Ohh 'Shadows'. I like that." the Thief grinned.

"I like to build things not demolish them." Normandy's Chief Engineer pouted. "Well unless it's enemy stuff, Cerberus, the geth or Reapers I suppose. And jacking uppity volus' suits to make their air filtration system smell like refuse is always fun, like that bosh'tet on the Citadel harassing that girl on her pilgrimage. Being classed as a Demolisher wouldn't be so bad after all."

"You have a bit of a mean streak in you, don't you Dog-legs?" Jack snorted in amusement.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side." Garrus whispered.

"A little. Maybe." Tali pinched her thumb forefinger together in the air "A lesson to you all: never underestimate the sweet and innocent ones." It could not be seen but there was a devilish smile on the quarian's purple lips. "But I wouldn't have made it past Hell Week."

"Hey Dog-legs I wouldn't have worried about it. You wouldn't have had to ring that bell, all that grime and shit you would have died by bacterial infection nevermind trying to survive the environment." teased Jack trying not to sound cruel.

"Too true." Tali nodded. Her husband placed as comforting hand on her thigh. No one saw the warm gesture as it was under the table. Literally. Under the faceplate she smiled once more this one was far more tender then the 'maw-ha-ha' one she held earlier. Her hand covered his to reflect this. It was something of shorthand body language the two had developed over the course of their courtship and subsequent marriage.

"My Pilgrimage training was nowhere near as arduous. It was suit maintenance, how to engage with aliens, firearms training. I took up the shotgun and handgun. And since I am really good at engineering, I got more of the tech side of things how to create combat and defensive drones, tech attacks, Omni tool stuff, like deploying tech overloads, AI hacking, things like that. Piloting small space craft like shuttles. In a pinch I can even fly the Normandy. "

"Yeah try prying the stick out of Joker's hand first, because I can't see him given that up anytime soon." Garrus said unintentionally making a sexual innuendo that caused the table to chuckle at the pilot's expense

"Oh I don't know Naga'sadow did a fine job of it." Tali countered.

"Yeah well asari commando. Their training is even more intense than the N7s or the turian military." Garrus pointed out. "Your training as a commando and a Justicar must have been like Shepard's, Samara."

"Had I trained as a commando yes, though we are not trained as frontline warriors. We make better infiltrators and assassins than marines. And our biotics not our small firearms are our primary weaponry. But in my youth I never joined any of Thessia's militias. I joined a merc guild or two during most of my maiden days. Much of my initial training came from that period of my life."

"What - you were never a commando?" the former C-Sec officer was astonished. "I always thought the Justicars were… I don't know - the asari version of Special Forces."

"We are more of a monastic order than militant or judicial." Samara explained. "Justicar training however is I dare say very harsh even compared to yours Commander. The initiates do not have the option of 'ringing the bell' as it were. And our training is always lethal. And it takes not four years but quite a bit longer. Despite my people's popular culture romanticizing the Justicars; it is not a life-style for everyone. Which is why there are never very many of us."

"Yeah, I can't imagine giving up getting laid." Jack said taking a drink of her coke.

"We are not an asexual order, Jack. If we choice to engage in sexual relations we can. They simply are not ones that are permanent. It is unhealthy to ignore a body's needs. However all Justicars are matrons who are able to maintain and control our more base urges."

"If you say so." Jack shook her head. Then she smirked "Course walking around in armour like yours with your sizable tits…" she chuckled. "Doesn't scream that you're anywhere near virginal or rusty either."

Rather than being insulted by the young woman's baiting, the matron shook her head indulgently. "Yes we as you can attest from your own wardrobe choices being comfortable in one's armour is always a positive."

"Ohhh you just got owned my tattooed friend." Garrus smirked. Then in a very human gesture he licked his forefinger and made a tick in the air and made a hissing sound to go with it.

"Bite me Cat-Face. Or better yet bite Tali."

"Who says I haven't?" He drolled smugly. Tali was more than pleased with his talent to nibble his way down her back. There was no need however to advertise it to the others.

There was a jostling of chairs and Garrus eyes popped, "OWWW…you just kicked me!" he glared at his wife.

"Yes. It was meant to tell you to shut up about our bed-room stuff! Or there won't be any more biting either way!" Tali huffed.

Those around the table erupted into a fit of giggles and deep chuckles. More so when a very smug Jack made not one but two 'air ticks' in front of her.

"Ah look hon, I'm sorry." Garrus held the expression of a very contrite husband which only caused the table to bubble in deeper laughter.

"You are so pussy whipped Cat-Face." Jack continued to antagonize the poor man. She snickered at her own unintentional pun.

"Maybe, but she's totally worth it," he retorted. "And at least I have…."He stopped speaking before he gained another well placed kick from Tali. On his leg however was not a kick coming from her rather she traced a smiley face upon his thigh.

No doubt she was pleased he had the foresight to keep his tongue. Or that Garrus had apologized, or whatever… Maybe there would be a bit of biting tonight if he was lucky. His mandibles twitched in his own smile.

Shepard sat back for a moment drawing in her team's banter. At first there had been a protest to the obligatory shared meals. Some of the more vocal of the group namely Zaeed, Jack, Grunt and Miranda all protested they were not some big happy dysfunctional family that got around the dinner table on high holidays. Besides that never went well.

Tali coming from a very communal upbringing on the Flotilla had no qualms about the shared meal times in the Mess Likewise Garrus simply took the order as any good turian, now he wouldn't have it any other way. Of course they had the experience back on the SR1 so both knew coming in with a new crew that obligation was still omnipresent.

Watching them now as Shepard was she found that her team were indeed acting exactly as a happily content dysfunctional family. They were a crew-a team. Sharing barbs and laughs as much as they were the food. And yes it had been something the Commander had taken with her from her training at Arcturus. A team that lives together shares together and meets impossible odds and overcomes. 'Can I get a Hoo-ya, Sergeant!'

Of course it made the Spectre pine for her missing members of the team. Dear ol'Wrexy and her beloved Liara all the more. And it made her wish for the others as well-Ash and Kaiden.

The conversation went around on how some of the team-mates own training compared equally or paled compared to what Shepard shared with them about her N7 training.

How when she was a child Kasumi had extensive training as an aerialist, not just the trapeze but the tightrope as well. How she excelled at free running had had done so in Tokyo. Before she became a thief she was involved in Cirque de Soleil, it was in a way the family business. There was no question now how she excelled at the aerial feats she put on display during the heist back at Hock's estate. The best kind of training for what she wanted to become had been with Cirque. It was only after she left that life behind her that she changed her name, besides everyone in Cirque had a stage name, that habit never left Miss Goto.

Of course ¡La Fantoma! was her favorite all-time anti-superhero growing up and little Kasumi wanted to be just like the Spanish cat-burglar in those graphic novels. Even her cat-suit was modeled more from ¡La Fantoma! than the quarians. Though Kasumi repeated her earlier comments about quarian garments were absolutely stunning. Tali's were gorgeous and fitted her in all the right places to accentuate those luscious curves. Garrus was in complete agreement and so was Shepard truth be told. Tali's body language hinted she was absolutely blushing under her faceplate. Of course when called on it she pushed Kasumi in the shoulder and called her a bosh'tet.

The Commander simply soaked in the unity of her people and smiled. The meal had long since finished and her team was still seated around the table talking and interacting with one another. Exactly what was needed, Shepard thought pleased with the outcome these shared moments had generated with them.

Samara was watching the Commander watch her crew and found herself appraising this young huntress. Vivacious, tenacious, intelligent and intuitive. Traits that Samara found irresistible, traits that her dear departed bondmate once carried. Shepard was born wearing a uniform. Others followed her without question, because she was something greater to believe in. She carried a light within her, something the matron hoped Shepard would remember whenever doubt descended.

Shepard was the single most hopeful person Samara had ever met and would likely ever meet again. There was something about her. A sensitivity. She was like a rioter-scale that measures earthquakes 10,000 kilometres away. Her smile was one of those rare smiles you may come across four or five times in life. It seemed to understand you, and believe in you. Just as you like to be understood and believed in.

The Justicar could not help but think upon Jack's comments about sexuality and following the needs of the body's desire. There was no denying that Samara found Samantha Shepard very attractive on many fronts. If the young woman wasn't already bonded…and if this was another time, another place she might have entertained the idea of seizing the moment to be with this young human maiden.

Liara T'Soni was a very fortunate maiden to have been blessed by the Goddess with her union to this strange and very unique human. There was no doubt that Shepard felt the same about her Angel Eyes. Whenever Liara's name was mentioned there was a wistfulness and longing in Shepard's eyes that was the hallmark of a woman deeply in love. Much like the looks between a certain young turian and his beloved quarian.

Samara's eyes trailed in the wake of Shepard's gaze. And speaking of 'unions' there was a very peculiar aura surrounding both Jack and Miranda when they were near one another. They were antagonistic towards one another and yet why did they choose to always and deliberately seat themselves next to one another during mealtime?

The matron recalled back in her earlier wild days as she danced and joined with various partners. There was one maiden within the merc guild she belonged to that riled her anger and frustration swifter than battle rage takes a krogan. And while she detested the presence of the other maiden on the field, she adored her between the sheets. There was no one more wild and passionate in a joining. The same tension lingered between this impetuous foul-mouthed illustrated woman and the Cerberus loyalist…this 'Cheerleader.' How long before they were tussling between the sheets. Did they even know where their tension came from?

Yes of course they did which raised even more tension between them. To say all that pent up sexual fascination and frustration and an irrepressible desire to embrace the forbidden was vexing would have been a dire understatement. Was it any wondered they bickered like younglings over a favored toy?

"That's a very curious smile; you have on your lips Justicar." Shepard's whisper nearly startling the matron had she not felt the shadow of the Spectre leaning towards her. "What's whirling around in that brain of yours?"

"Nothing overmuch. Perhaps reminiscing about days past."

"Ah…" there was a telling smirk on Shepard's face. "And here I thought it was how much you we're thinking of wagering in the pool we have going."

"Which pool would that be, Commander?"

Shepard leaned in closer whispering in the asari's native tongue into her ear, "The one about when and where those two," she pointed with her chin towards Miranda and Jack "will 'fraternize'."

Samara softly chuckled. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"Well there is 'canoodle' but that just sounds so antiquated, like it belongs to some other age. And 'Do the deed.' is too sophomoric."

"Ah...I see. Then I decree they will…'fraternize' long before we go into the Omega Four relay. As to where…That will be in somewhere private and dark though not Jack's cubby. I dare say it will be in Miranda's down in the shuttle bay."

"Long before doesn't really cut it there, Samara." Shepard mused. "I mark it just before we go in and on the deck in front of the engine core. Risqué enough for Miranda and dirty enough for Jack."

"You do not think they will Join before then?'

"Nah they will be too busy dancing around it yet. Maybe a sloppy kiss here and there. Maybe a bit of fondling but not the full out act."

"Mmm…we shall see yes?" Samara smiled coyly. She had to admit playing little games like this was entertaining. Nearly as entertaining as people watching and making up stories of where they were going, what they were doing and what were their motives. Perhaps one day she might even bring Shepard into her little game. But not today.

With dinner long since over there was no true reason for the team to remain and one by one or in some case two by two the team dispersed for their own quarters or stations to complete any of the day's remaining tasks.

In the case of Tali and Garrus it was to sickbay, Mordin came out with apparent good news and the need to take samples from Garrus. Shepard watched him flinch at the mention of it but regardless he went into or rather was pushed in by Tali into the medbay.

It made Shepard curious as to why but not enough to invade their privacy. If it was not detrimental to them or to the crew or to the mission, Dr. Chakwas was not obligated to disclose what the tests were for. Shepard vaguely had the notion that the testing had far more to do with the fact they wanted to start a family just as she was with Liara than Tali's immune system reacting to Garrus's body.

Shepard trusted the pair to come and tell her when the time was right. And though it wasn't Wednesday, Sam had the dire need to talk to her bondmate. She needed to hear Liara's sweet lyrical voice, to here her laugh, to see those gorgeous blue Angel's eyes. Without saying a word she slipped shadow soft from the mess towards the central lift leaving Samara alone with her own thoughts.

There was a strange flicker in the Commander's aura, it had always been there but since the events on Horizon it had grown stronger. It was like looking at the effects of a lighting flash with your eyes screwed tight. Pink-and purple turning to a sickly jaundice yellow and gangrene black. It wasn't Shepard though, not directly. The only way Samara could truly categorize it was to compare it to the residue of a garden slug on the pavement. The creature was gone but it had left traces of its passing.

Harbinger, it had to be. She had felt its probing presence down on the colony. And though at first everyone had heard its taunts they became more and more like the clicks of the Collectors it seemed that it was reaching out for Shepard alone.

Near the end of the battle it had to be speaking directly to her and though she gave no outward sign the experience clearly shook the young Commander.

Was it any wonder Shepard was reaching out for her team, to connect with them on a personal level, why the shared dinners were becoming increasingly important to her? Samara surmised the others had sensed this as well which was why after Horizon the minor complaining about 'quality time' had all but diminished.

They saw the incredible strain tugging at Shepard, and now because of the Justicar's questions about N7 training, the crew the team had a greater understanding, a greater appreciation for what Shepard could and would endure. It was why the matron had probed for details in the first place.

This motley rag-tag team had to believe absolutely in their Commander. Not simply by seeing what she could do first hand on the battlefield but what she was fully capable of. They saw now that even under enormous strain she would not break, she would not falter, she would not ring the bell.

And now she also knew that they would be there to 'tap her on the shoulder periodically and wait for a reassuring pat in response that says, 'I'm still hangin' in there, how 'bout you?'