Dear Tali,
Thought I'd write you another letter, seeing as that's the only other thing to do here. Military life isn't really all it's cracked up to be, but I'll do what it takes to see you again.
I've gotta go. I hope this reaches you, wherever you might be.
Truly yours,
John
/-/
"A-ten, hut!" the drill sergeant yelled. All of the new recruits stood at attention along the yellow line, which led from the crew quarters of the SSV Britannia all the way to the mess hall. A foot behind, the corporals were lined up on a blue line, which stretched from the crew quarters to the armory. The drill sergeant, one Jacques Matthias, was standing erect, looking over the fresh meat that was the Privates of the Alliance Navy.
He marched over to the leftmost end of the lineup; to the soldier just three people out from Shepard's right, he shouted: "What is your name, private?"
The recruit responded with little hesitation. "Sir! Michelangelo Morris, Sir!"
Sgt. Matthias continued down the line, forcing the names Francis James, Melin D'Mones, and Jack Clyde, before coming to Shepard. "What is your name?"
"Sir!" he answered, "Private John Shepard, Alliance Navy, Sir!"
The sergeant grinned, addressing the rest of the recruits: "You see that? Boy remembered to give his rank, name, and affiliation! You will all do so when spoken to by another soul! This is Alliance Navy; remember all that you learn in the coming months and you just might live to your next birthday." On that note, he continued down the line.
After the rest of the thirty-some-odd recruits were done being introduced, Sgt. Matthias addressed the entire company again. "Recruits, welcome to Day Zero: the first day of basic training. Privates, you will all run around this deck, making fifty full laps before resting. Then you will race another fifty laps the other way. Corporals, you will all run the obstacle course in the middle of the cargo hold fifty times apiece."
Jack Clyde leaned over to Shepard, whispering. "Fifty must be this guy's favorite number."
"Yeah," Shepard replied in a low voice, "I guess it is."
"I'm Clyde."
"Shepard."
"You see the asari girl next to me?"
"D'mones?"
"Yeah. Pretty hot, right?"
"I guess so, if you're into asari."
Less than a second later, Sgt. Matthias had both of them by the collars. "Do not speak unless spoken to, maggots!"
"Yessir!" Shepard responded.
"Sir!" Clyde said, "Technically, he was being spoken to, Sir!"
Matthias glared at him. "You just got another twenty laps around the deck, smartass!"
"Whatever happened to fifty, sir?" He grinned.
The sergeant's face was as red as a tomato at that point. To avoid Clyde getting maimed, Shepard piped up: "Sir, if you're going to punish anyone, then let it be me. I was out of line and will take full responsibility for my actions, sir!"
Matthias thought briefly before assigning punishment to the rookies. "Private Clyde, after the rest of the recruits have completed their hundred laps, you will perform another twenty-five laps in each direction. Private Shepard, you will do one hundred push-ups meanwhile. Understood?"
"Sir, yes sir!" they answered simultaneously.
"Very good," he said. "Now move out!"
/-/
Dear Tali,
Military life is tougher that they make it look. That's saying something; they already make it look like hell. I'm surviving though: I've already met a guy who seems used to pissing people off, and his big mouth got us both in trouble.
I wonder what you must be doing out in the galaxy? I bet you're living it up right about now, huh?
Write me back if this finds you, okay?
Miss you,
John
PS: Did you know Clint was a psychiatrist for the Alliance? I didn't.
/-/
After Shepard and Clyde finished off their extra torture, the Privates were dismissed to go eat. As one can imagine, the first meal of the two hundred fifty days of training was everything but edible. Shepard thought he heard his serving growl at him. Instead of eating, he, Clyde, D'mones, James, and Morris decided to chat. "What is this stuff?" Clyde said, poking his pile of goo with a fork.
"I think it was oatmeal at one point," replied Morris.
D'mones gave him a skeptical look. "I don't know," she said. "It doesn't look like it."
"Nah, see? There's some grits," James said, pointing with his spoon, "right there. See 'em?"
D'mones frowned, addressing Shepard, "You're Shepard, right?"
"That's what they call me." They shook hands before he continued, "D'mones, right?"
"That's right."
"Tell me, what's an asari doing in the Human Systems Alliance?"
"Well, my dad just so happened to be an Alliance officer. Never came back after a recon mission a few months ago."
"Sorry to hear," James said, taking a break from poking the gray blob on his tray. "How'd he die?"
D'mones cleared her throat. "She never came back from a mission, like I said. Part of me joined to find out why, but mostly it felt right." She shot James a look, "Don't just assume that an asari's father is always male. We can breed with any gender of any species."
"Even me?" Clyde asked.
"I'm spoken for. Nice try, though."
"Worth a shot…"
"Not really," Shepard said, turning back to D'mones. "Please continue."
"There isn't really much else to tell. I don't want to believe she's dead, and they never released the reports from the mission, so I intend to learn the truth. But enough about me," she stated, steepling her hands in front of her. "Why did you join, Shepard?"
Shepard had two options here: he could say either his excuse for joining, or his real reason. Either way, he knew that they would be skeptical. "Well-"
The ship was rocked by a powerful blast, causing everyone not in a seat to land face-first in their oatmeal. The siren wailed through the ship as Sergeant Matthias began shouting orders. "We have geth boarding in the crew quarters! This is not a drill, people, double-time!" He stormed to the rookies, tossing a duffle bag of weapons onto the table. "Everyone take a gun and some clips. It's showtime!"