Over the past decade, I've learned two important things.

First: I might have been a little over trained for a commando trainee.

Maybe.

It's just the little things that stand out to me. Like being able to run further than any other girl, shoot more accurately, or use my biotics more effectively. All the stuff that Dad and Liselle hammered into me seems a bit like overkill in hindsight.

Like sending a SWAT team to collect parking tickets.

Sure, there were a few exceptions, girls who looked like they really trained their blue asses off just like I did, but beyond that most here we're learning from almost ground zero. Some basic cardio was about all they had to their names.

Essentially, commando training boils down to a very tiresome cycle: Wake up. Meal. Physical exercise until mid-day. Meal. Schooling until evening. Meal. Free time for two hours. Sleep.

Add to that being able to go home for a month once a year, then back for another eleven non-stop months of training and education and that is the trainee experience. Rinse and repeat for a decade.

Honestly, the hardest thing wasn't the actual schooling or training, it was that everything was communal! Eating, sleeping, schooling, bathing, training, everything! Ignoring the fact I like my space from time to time, do you even know how hard it is to get some 'privacy' in barracks full of people?

And I was expected to put up with this for another twenty years!?

Fuck that!

The first chance I could, I applied to join the officer training track just so I could get my own damn room for the last third of my training! Does that mean I get saddled with more course work in addition to all the normal stuff?

Yes.

Do I feel it's a fair trade for a room all to myself?

Yes!

Besides, it'll give me some 'training' for when I take over the Shadow Broker's network. I mean, small squad tactics and Galactic scale intelligence networks have some overlapping qualifications. Why, they're basically the same thing!

If you squint hard enough I mean...

"Move faster!"

'I'm going as fast as I can!' is what I want to shout at the instructor. Knowing that probably wouldn't go anywhere, beyond her noting being able to hear me over all the rifle fire, I just bit my lip and tried to keep a steady pace through the mud.

Every so often, the huntresses would wake everyone up early in the morning and force us through this grueling physical course. While there was no official time limit, it was annoying as hell to be thrown face first into the mud with only spotlights and the mussel flashes of guns firing blanks to light the way.

I mean, I hope their blanks.

A quick explosion of mud by my side proved that yes, they were actually using live rounds!

Wonderful...

I will say it's certainly an experience to crawl around in the mud, just below line upon line of barbed wire, all the while trainers are screaming at me to move and firing both above me and right into the ground next to me.

Some took to it like fish to water (or mud I guess). Dragging their sorry asses across the mud. Others froze up, all the sudden stimuli making their brains grind to a halt.

Me?

I was too groggy to freeze up. Half asleep, thrown face first into the mud, and just told to crawl forward, I somehow got it into my head that I just needed to get to the end of the course to go back to bed. So even as more live rounds impacted the mud all around, my shirt's back was nicked by the barbed wire, even grazing across my skin, and as literal strobe lights flashed into my eyes, I was barely paying attention to it all.

Every motion I made was just one step closer to getting back to bed. At least, that was how I saw it.

Just like the wall I had to climb and repel down after the mud crawl.

And then the second mud crawl.

And then the ad hoc firing range was set up.

Strange as it sounds, my simple exhaustion and single minded belief of going back to bed got me through it all.

Unsurprisingly, I was not allowed to go back to bed when I reached the end of the course. What I did get was what everyone else who got through the course in a timely enough manner got: a pat on the back with an 'atta girl', a shower, and a hot meal.

We got a nice little speech while we ate about how that whole thing was a simulation of what could happen if we suffered a surprise attack. That as long as we were on duty, we had to be ready for everything. Even if we were half asleep, even if we were hungry or cold, we had to be ready.

I'm sure there was more to it than that, chest pounding and military 'urah' and all that. Personally, I tuned it out and focused on eating.

I found out later that all the stuff right after the drill, the meal and shower, were the rewards we lucky few got for passing. From what I heard, everyone else got hosed down with cold water and a few tasteless ration bars for breakfast.

But some girls didn't even get that. Like I saw, a lot just froze during the course, all that stimuli so suddenly just made them lock up in the middle of the track. Some recovered, collecting themselves and trudging forward. Others? If they just didn't move at all, or kept freezing up too much, they were simply washed out of the program.

Such was the nature of this stuff.

But beyond physical conditioning and some small arms training, most of the time I was spent in a classroom.

On the general education side, everything that wasn't related to history and current events was a breeze for me. And of course, I didn't do the whole 'don't mind me I'm a normal student here' thing because I can hardly say no to a good ego stroke. So, I was situated at the top of the class for both brains and brawn!

But all this good stuff left me with a little issue in the classroom: boredom. When you know everything, the day passes agonizingly slow.

Well everything beyond history I guess.

Still, the end result were classes where I had nothing better to do but surf the extranet for 'important' topics. More of a 'make sure canon stuff was still 'canon'.

'Urdnot Wrex' gives me nothing, unsurprisingly. But even when I narrowed it down to just 'Clan Urdnot' nothing popped up. The closest I do get is some salarian paper five pages into the search results on krogan clans with one being called 'Urd-Not' being at the bottom.

Pretty sloppy by salarian standards.

'Genophage' leads me to a bunch of chat rooms that make me feel like I'm back 'home' again on earth. Toxic discussions, filled with moral grandstanding, 'what about'-isms to justify or condemn the krogans/salarians/turians, and strawman arguments to support or decry it. Felt like I was back home~

'Prothean Artifacts' always comes back with images of ruins, the Citadel, or the mass relays. I have not tried typing 'Prothean Artifacts hidden on Thessia' because I don't want someone knocking on my door in the middle of the night to 'disappear' me.

'Spectre numbers' absolutely got me on a watchlist. Like typing in 'how many [insert spy agency here] agents are in my area'. Thankfully that question was typed on a public terminal, so I had 'plausible deniability'. But if, or when, whoever the powers that be decide to seize my computer all they will find are hundreds of gigabytes of games, pirated movies, and a tasteful amount of porn.

But given this IS Illium, the pirated movies might actually be the things that get me locked up. Trying to look up state secrets, no problem. Try to stiff a movie company out of twenty credits? That is probably what will get me put in front of a firing line!

Thankfully, 'Benezia T'Soni' does give me quite the long list of results; and none of it is in the least bit bad for me. Article after article about the woman: matriach, philanthropist, scholar, diplomat, and importantly (to me at least) not yet a mother.

The next question I have is 'when will Liara be born?' so I can start my 'countdown' according to the 'canon' timeline.

The only 'years' I knew was from the 'Earth Calendar' that no one uses yet.

And I will never admit I had to use a calculator to count '106' down from '2183' to figure out her birthdate by the normal calendar.

Nope.

Not a soul.

...

Moving on!

Small arms training is fun enough.

While we have ample time with pistols, our heavier weapons training (shotguns, assault rifles, snipers) were done with 'smart' weapons. 'Smart' being guns that fire lasers at targets and have a VI calculate what the impact would have been. We work with those for years.

Now, I understand why that's the case, safety and all that, but I just didn't feel right. Going from actual weapons on Omega to essentially 'toys' is quite the culture shock. On Omega, if you blow off our toes or fingers, that was your fault.

Or as Patriarch would say: "how can a kid learn how bad being burned by fire is unless they get burned themselves."

A little cruel. But eh…krogan.

But I can safely say tech is not my strong suit. Not using tech, my omni-tool was almost an extension of my arm at this point, and I knew too many macros for online games to be healthy. But using tech was more than just 'using' tech. It was also how well you could hack into something, patch into enemy radio frequencies, jam them, and all the other nitty gritty stuff without the use of a VI that I just couldn't care less about.

Let's just say I'm glad they do most of the work for me. I'm not bad, but I'm absolutely not smart enough to do firewalls or hacking on the fly. I fail almost everything more difficult than hacking a basic lock or shorting out lights. My grade went down as a result.

Almost low enough to get me kicked from the 'officer' track.

But not to worry, there were some commando-y things one could do to get better marks.

Case and point, I remember some girl tried to hack into the instructor's terminal to change her grade on some test she flunked. I say 'tried' since she was caught almost immediately, but she was allowed to continue the attempt because the teachers wanted to see how far the trainee could get. The logic was something along the lines of 'if you can properly hack an encrypted terminal to change the score of a math test, you're doing something right'.

The girl was docked points from her grade for getting caught. But importantly, said docked points were from what she set her grade as from her hack. Better than the failing grade she got, but still only high enough for her to just pass.

It all gave me an interesting idea.

Maybe there was something I could do? Something that played to my specific set of strengths?

Oh yes, the plan is all coming together~

FROM: Matriarch Nasus, Nos Astra Guard Academy
SUBJECT: Destruction of Equipment.

Miss Vesta

It is my duty to inform you that your daughter, Aleena Vesta, is currently in confinement for multiple infractions. She stole, and then discharged, a live side arm during an evaluation on technical capabilities. This reckless act not only put herself and others in danger, but caused several thousand credits worth of damage to sensitive equipment.

This incident will be put on her record and you will be charged the credits necessary to repair the damage your daughter caused. A full receipt of the damages will be attached to this message.

Should another incident such as this occur again, your daughter will be expelled from the program and black listed from any potential training in Nos Astra.

With Respect,

Matriarch Naxus

Tevos sighed at the curt message. Eyelids still heavy from being woken up in the middle of the Citadel's night cycle, she opened the attachment to see what all the fuss was about.

Apparently, her daughter destroyed some sensors on a door. It was explained in more technical terms, but that was the root of this. A simple door meant to test a trainee's hacking abilities, which Aleena decided to blow off the hinges of with a gun and pushed it down to 'open' it. No one was hurt, no student was injured, and her daughter allowed herself to be brought into confinement.

In short, this was overblown property damage.

She could feel a headache coming on.

This was all Aria's influence no doubt. She must have fostered this sort of behavior in their daughter, and the lawless environment of Omega would have only reinforced it. Maybe on that accused station this sort of behavior might be seen as surgical, but it came across as reckless anywhere outside of Tuchanka.

Rubbing her eyes, she authorized a credit transfer from one of her private accounts she set aside for 'discretionary' spending to pay for the damages. She also wrote a quick note to remind her to have a message sent to several members of Nos Astra's Central Committee to rein in the Matriarch and wipe this incident from her daughter's record.

A message, no doubt as curt as the one she received, explaining why Aleena was not to be expelled or face punishment beyond the temporary restriction of certain amenities.

It will hardly cost her any political capital, not even a body to dispose of or injuries to overlook, just some credits moved around and records edited. It will be as her daughter never did this stunt. And nowhere near as what some of her other daughters have caused when it came to 'unexpected expenditures' for Tevos's account.

But if she were able to, she would chastise Aleena for this reckless act because she knew her father will only celebrate it when she reads the message from one of her throwaway accounts.

Pushing her head back into her pillow, she can almost see Aria's face threatening to split open, grinning while sharing the message with her criminal compatriots as some sort of badge of honor.

The first time her daughter broke the law and got away with it.

By the fifteenth year of my training, it was time for me to get my biotic amp installed and a lot of fancy gene mods, alongside some cybernetics.

The gene mods were nothing overly special at face value. Improved blood clotting by sixteen percent, reduced muscle degradation in zero-gee (in an era where artificial gravity is commonplace), and 20/15 vision package. Not that these things aren't a benefit, just that they really seem minor for all the forms I've had to sign.

Don't even get me started on the waivers!

Page after page, for each enhancement. Digital pages, but pages nonetheless!

I sort of stopped reading the forms after seeing reading about 'rapid organ liquidation' as a possible side effect for the fifth time. In short, it's basically the good old 'you can't sue us if something goes wrong, even if it was caused by our negligence!' contract. Pretty sure that's illegal in Citadel Space, as in you can't just waive all responsibility with a simple contact, but this is Illium so this stuff is probably enshrined into law.

Then there's my biotic amp. Something that doesn't invalidate any prior biotic training, but simply 'amp'-lifies it.

Hehehe….That pun took way too long to come up with….

That aside, I am glad I didn't wake up mid-surgery while they were drilling a space for the compartment into the back of my skull. It was actually quite the 'in and out' sort of deal. Get put to sleep, wake up with a skull splitting headache, then get pushed out for the next girl in line. At least they put a patch of artificial skin over the amp 'slot' so the whole thing looks seamless.

In addition to the gene mods and amp, I was also getting some stuff so I could go bareskin.

Ironically enough that's not some euphemism for unprotected sex, but slang for installing haptic interface feedback nodes into your body. Cybernetics in layman terms.

You see, to use holographic interfaces that are everywhere, one needs to either have a 'glove' with feedback nodes in it or install them directly into your hand. In my case, I now have little chips in my fingertips that let me interface with any holographic interface without having to wear some stupid glove or other peripheral.

Oh, I just realized 'chips in my fingertips' rhymes!

When it was all said and done, I felt like shit. My fingers were bandage up and prone to mild bleeding when I tried to push something, I was running a low grade fever from the gene mods rewritting my genetics, all alongside the aforementioned headache of the amp slot is. It took one week of mandatory hospital stay to actually feel 'normal' again. Sure, my fingers were still a bit sensitive, but at least the fever broke and the headache became manageable with pain killers.

They offered everyone who went through this the choice to either send us home a couple of months ahead of time for our 'summer break' or we could bunk here for the time being.

And I said, screw that!

Sure, it's clean, safe, affluent, but dammit! I want to play my extranet games! I want to stream anything I want and not worry someone is watching me. Damn it, I want to watch porn without someone looking over my shoulder and making everything really awkward.

…

Not that I would ever do such a thing.

Of course not~

I called Liselle the moment I could to make the arrangements. A week later and took the first shuttle back to Omega. When my sister met me at the shuttle terminal, giving me a hug that probably felt painful because my body was dealing with the gene mods and stuff.

She told me she was so happy to see me and that dad was going to make sure I had as stress-free a recovery period as possible on Omega.

Given that on my first days back home, there were only three shootings, a smattering of stabbings, and a single drunken skycar race in our residential district, I can say Omega was unusually calm and orderly. So, I guess Liselle was right.

Of course, I only saw dear old dad twice in three months: the night I got home for a family dinner, and the day I left for Illium again. Not surprising, Aria was a hands off sort of parent to begin with. Though she did call me a bunch of times between that though, asking if I was fine or reminding me that I could charge whatever I wanted from her chit while I was recovering.

Within reason went unsaid of course.

Aria's eyes shot open when she heard the soft chime of her terminal.

She pried herself out of the clingy hold of the two nubile maidens she brought to bed and got over to her desk.

Making sure the screen was angled away from the bed, she opened her mailbox and found the message she had been expecting; and dreading in equal measures.

FROM: Talat Institute for Genetic Disorders, Sur'Kesh
SUBJECT: Test Results

Miss T'Peora

After careful analysis, we have found that none of the abnormalities you specified searching for present in the genetic material provided. A full breakdown of our findings will be attached to this message for your personal review.

If you require further consultation on the results, or have other matters to discuss, please contact me during regular business hours.

As per your request for privacy and anonymity, this message, along with all related material to the tests, will be removed from our local database upon confirmation of message receipt.

Sincerely
Dr. Rursip Azom
Chief Director of the Genetic Sequencing Department
Talat Institute for Genetic Disorders

Aria let out the breath she didn't even know she was holding in: Aleena was not an Ardat-Yakshi.

The expected result one could say. Neither she nor Tevos were purebloods, meaning the odds of Aleena being one were astronomically small.

Astronomical…but not zero.

Liselle might not have been one herself, but there was always the risk for Aleena developing that sort of genetic issue. Aria knew that when the traits and disorder finally manifested themselves, it was too late for treatment. She just wanted more warning of Aleena's potential condition than an automated message telling her Aleena was being taken away 'for her own good' alongside some empty condolences. It was almost be as bad as finding it out after discovering a brain-dead husk following the girl's first melding.

So, she paid some people to look into a bit of her daughter's blood, taken from her before her gene modding to check for 'compatibility issues', just to be on the safe side. Or at least, look into it before the state could.

But now that she had proof that her daughter was normal it felt like a massive weight of her shoulders.

At least, she was normal in the genetic way. No comment on the girl's preexisting eccentricities.

Lynyxa grumbled as the rain kept pouring down.

On any other world, being so close to the polar regions would normally necessitate warm clothes. But because Illium wanted to be 'special', these regions are merely sub-tropical. To be fair, it did get cold in the polar areas, by Illium standards at least.

Why, it was almost downright temperate!

Not that it was any consolation for her current predicament. She was wet, tired, and could barely see more than five meters in front of herself thanks to the wind blowing the damn rain into her eyes. It was so muggy that some of her teammates were brazen enough to peel off the top portions of their suits to cool off.

Something that was strictly against the rules since their bodysuits were the only layer of protection they got from the 'dumb' rounds they were using for this drill. Strong enough to break the skin, but not enough to cause any lasting damage. Beyond a lucky 'eye shot' Lynyxa supposed.

"There's no one around," one said.

"Don't be such a buzzkill" another joked.

At least, for a few minutes before the swarm of bugs descended upon them.

Humorous as it all was, it served as just a momentary break from the monotony of the situation.

In any other circumstance, Lynyxa would have tuned her radio to some music station. But since this was a training mission, that was off limits with no way to sneak past the VIs currently monitoring the drill.

Or put another way: she was stuck putting up a whole bunch of alpha bitches who think they're each the Goddess in the flesh trying to command of a bunch of people who can't stand them.

Yes that was an exaggeration, and yes she was just venting. Lynyxa knew for a fact some of the teams got really lucky with who their leader was, but anyone would be a little bitter after dealing with Bravilius for sixteen hours straight!

'My mother did this, my father did that, we need to do this my way because I said so'!

Ugh. It just never ended with her. What made it worse was that Bravilius actually did have the talent to back up her bluster, which made her ego balloon even more. Sure, in a real firefight she'd be glad to have Bravilius covering her, but Goddess was she just such a bitch to deal with.

This whole drill was basically the officer track girls being allowed to play 'general and command' with their fellow trainees in a mock battle. Seven groups of twenty-five that were put together by lottery. The objective was simple: search and destroy, last team standing wins.

Sixteen hours in, five teams were 'dead', and it was down to 'sudden death'. Bravilius, knowing they were all exhausted from marching about all day, decided against going out in the dead of night to fight and pitched camp a few hundred meters away from Lynyxa's current position.

Lynyxa practically begged to be given the first watch just to get away from the group.

Speaking of her illustrious leader, it was about time to check in and let everyone know she was still 'alive'.

Click.

"-just shut the fuck up for five minutes!?"

"Yeah, not everyone wants to hear you get off to your own voice."

"And there it is! That's why we're losing! It's because none of you can follow basic fucking-"

Click.

And immediately turned it off after just a few seconds of hearing her 'team'.

Ugh. This is why Lynyxa preferred computers. They didn't talk back unless you wanted them to-

Wait!

What was that?

She looked down the scope of her rifle, watching as a dozen figures trudged through the forest as quietly as they could. Single file, weapons at the ready, red 'arm band' like hologram on their arms. The 'red' team it seemed was launching a sneaky night raid.

To be fair, a part of her really wanted to just let these girls through the line just take Bravilius down a peg. The girl might know her stuff, but damn does she need a reality check that 'knowing' everything was hardly enough to motivate a group.

But if she did that, her own grade would suffer.

But before she could either slink away or take a shot, she felt something press between her shoulder blades. The barrel of a handgun.

"Shhhh," a voice whispered, "don't do something we're both going to regret."

Lynyxa didn't need to see her to know who she was.

Aleena Vesta, leader of the red team.

"Look, we just want to pass on through," Vesta explained in a calm voice that betrayed the situation she was putting Lynyxa in. More like talking to someone in a store and debating prices then holding her at gunpoint. "So, we can either do this the easy way, or the hard way, the choice is yours."

Like she was actually going to fight back.

Vesta was the top ranked trainee for a reason. Yeah, she might have started off as 'that weird Terminus girl who told silly stories about some korgan' but she eventually proved she was in fact 'that weird Terminus girl who could take everyone else on and probably win'.

Even those other blabber mouths quieted down after she destroyed them over and over again in drills and training matches. Even Bravilius knew better than to try her 'alpha bitch' routine on her.

"And I'd rather they didn't know until it was too late," she continued, lightly tapping her pistol's barrel against her. "I don't want to spoil the surprise."

"Y-Yeah," what else could Lynyxa say? This girl could snap her like a twig if she wanted to, so who was she to say no to her.

It took a minute for the skulking asari to get past her position.

"Thanks, and, you know, sorry about this," Lynyxa flinched as a 'dummy knife' lightly touched her throat, sending a small shock through her suit. The VI monitoring her quickly registered her as 'killed', locking her out of her team's squad speak.

With little more than a wave, Vesta races off after her unit.

Lynyxa stood dumbfounded for a minute until her omni-tool chimed and directed her to the 'evac' site. All the while she was able to listen in on how thoroughly Bravilius and her group got thrashed over the radio.

It sounded really bad. Vesta tore through almost a third of them on her own before getting into some serious CQC with Bravilius. The rest were picked off one at a time by her team. It ended predictably enough, with Vesta 'killing' Bravilius with a shot to the back of her 'skull'.

While everyone else was moping about their grades, or cursing the pain of being 'killed' under their lips, Lynyxa was just happy to be back in the air-conditioned interior of a shuttle.

Lynyxa decided she'd probably thank Vesta for taking some of those girls down a peg.

AN: I'd say we are half way done with the training 'arc'. Next chapter will probably be the last training chapter. Our girl is in the home stretch!

To make sense of the timeline as of this chapter, the year is approximately 2071 CE. Aleena is about 45 years old by the end of the chapter, in case it was a tad confusing to follow with all the 'time jumps'. Don't worry, those will start to 'slow down' a bit once we get into the 'meat' of the story.

Also to answer a question I got on a few times on SB and QQ about Aleena's tech abilities (or lack thereof).

In Mass Effect class terms, Aleena is a Vanguard, shottys and biotics galore!

Her 'tech ineptitude' as shown is that she's not as tech adept as a dedicated 'tech class' (like Engineer, Sentinel, or Infiltrator) then saying she can't use tech if that makes sense. Basically, she can hack basic doors and other things, but don't expect her to hack mechs or advanced security systems in the middle of a firefight (it would get in the way of her Charge, Nova routine after all).

Or at least, that is how it was meant to be taken/perceived.