Just Another Saturday Night

Shepard

It was unofficially, official – Private Jess Shepard hated Long Wall Space Station. A rusty, grizzled relic of the First Contact War – half way to the colony of Shanxi. During the war it had been a resupply and jumping off point for the Alliance.

According to their Sergeant – another rusty, grizzled relic of the First Contact War – it was the site of some of his finest moments. Shepard wasn't sure whether that meant he got laid, drunk, or in a fight or, more likely, all three and she wasn't going to ask.

Despite the many advances for women in the military it was still hard to be one of the few females in her group, then to be one of the shorter ones was no picnic. And she wasn't even going to get into her hair color. Flame red – a rare color these days. At least the legend? story? of a red head's temper had made the rounds, particularly after she decked one private who assumed that shower time was – 'if you got it – do tricks with it' time.

She might be from a farming colony that did not mean she was weak or naive – quite the contrary; but most people had a distorted notion of what it took to be a farmer. They thought it was easy, never giving a thought to the almost constant work and hours to make sure the crops and the animals were healthy. If they didn't thrive – you didn't eat.

And her father (she shuddered as she blocked the memories of how she'd last seen him) had also insisted she do some training. He'd said it was because they lived out in the Terminus system and needed to be prepared. But now, looking back, she's began to suspect that John Shepard, a gentle giant of a man – good with kids and animals, had had some experience with the harsher realities of life. She didn't know whether it was Special Forces or Black Ops but he'd been a little better prepared than his neighbors.

In the end it hadn't mattered except that it had allowed her to survive. Sometimes she wondered, though, if being left alone in the universe had been a blessing or not.

"Alright, listen up privates." That was Sergeant Morton, one of the aforementioned First Contact relics. "I want you all back to the transport at 24 hundred hours. At 0101 hundred hours you are AWOL – am I understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir." The platoon of Privates shouted back at him.

"And try to stay on the Alliance levels." He went on.

"Sir, yes, sir." Came the chorus.

"Alright, dismissed." Just before they started to disperse like a spash of water. "And I had better not get a call from Station Security or you're gonna wish you got blown out an airlock."

Already breaking up into the little clicks and groups that had formed during the first part of basic, people acknowledged him but kept moving.

Shepard headed for her friends. A collection of the more oddball of the group. Cameron, a scrawny nerd with enough nervous energy for the whole platoon, Betts, quiet, dark and incredibly sneaky, Luce, big, loud, and boisterous, Timmons, plain, almost mousy looking with a frighteningly analytical mind, and Huston, tall and willowy with a model's good looks, and an ice cold core.

"Ready to go, Red?" That was Cameron, pushing his luck as usual.

"Cameron, I swear I'm going to hack your omni-tool and scramble your game stats if you don't stop calling me that." Shepard growled.

"You wouldn't dare?"

"Watch me." She retorted. "So, where are we headed? The Last Chance or Celebrations?" She was referring to the two bars they knew were frequented by the Alliance and considered 'safe'.

"Welll," Cameron drew the word out, nervously fidgeting. "We thought we'd go somewhere different, not so busy." Luce nodding her head vigorously in agreement.

Shepard eyed the two of them; usually they weren't so much in agreement. Cameron was a game geek/nerd and Luce was a party girl; but someplace that was less crowded sounded good.

"Lead on." She motioned for them to take point.

Twenty minutes later she was silently cursing herself for not having been more suspicious of the two as they were on an elevator heading down into the bowels of Long Wall. One place they shouldn't be going and that Shepard didn't want to go.

In the years after the war – the large cargo bays, training grounds, and dormitories for Alliance personnel had been abandoned, left to gather dust. But it was only a short time before others began to trickle in. First the traders – the small fry, then the larger more prosperous ones, after them came the adventurers, the mercs, and the free lancers; and pretty soon the lower parts of B-Wall had become an entity of it's own, separate from the Alliance half of the station.

It had also become a home/refuge/stopping over point for the non-humans. First the Salarians and the Asari, then the Volus not far behind, then very slowly, this was after all a relic of the First Contact War – the Turians. And, this being the main reason she didn't want to go there, the Batarians.

Her father had always told her that it was best to assume that a Batarian was a slaver no matter the situation. After reading some reports on the Hegemony she was inclined to agree.

Mindor was still too raw for her, though she pretended otherwise; because she didn't want to be Cat-6ed out. She could function around Batarians; but sometimes she was hit with bouts of rage that made her want to wipe them all out as viciously as possible. Other, fortunately, rare moments were of a crippling fear that paralyzed her for a few seconds – remnants of running from the slavers after watching her family and friends killed. They'd tried to take her; but her dad had taught her to use what was around her and those few that came after her in the chaos hadn't returned to their ships.

But the horror and the terror remained and sometimes surfaced.

"That's far enough." She exclaimed slapping the stop button for the elevator. Everyone else complained as the elevator bounced and rattled to a stop.

"Dammit Red," that was Luce. "What's your problem?"

"My problem is where the hell are we headed?" Shepard shot back. "Remember, we're suppose to stay on the Alliance levels. Down does NOT lead to the Alliance levels."

Cameron and Luce looked a touch embarrassed and she saw rueful grins on the other's faces.

"Oh so I'm the only one who didn't know about this plan?" She demanded.

"Well," That was Luce. "We didn't think you'd want to give it a go."

"You ever think I might have a good reason for that." Shepard was trying very hard to hold onto her temper. Very few people knew about Mindoir. The Brass and a couple of her instructors otherwise all anyone knew was that she was from a farming colony. There were enough of those to make Mindoir a less than obvious choice. And when she had bad dreams she'd managed, so far, to avoid mentioning anything about Mindoir.

"It's just for a little while, Shepard." That was Betts, pleading. She wondered who'd taught him about 'Puppy Dog Eyes'.

"What bar do you want to go to?" She asked through gritted teeth.

"The DMZ." That was Luce, her face lighting up at the thought.

Shepard sighed, of course it would be the DMZ. A bar that existed on the edge between the two sections. So you found military and mercs, Alliance and aliens, and a bar that had….

She eyed them all sourly. "You all just want to go look at the Asari don't you?"

Luce giggled, the three boys went various shades of red, and Huston just smirked.

"Spare me horny Privates." She grumbled hitting the down button and sending the elevator on its way.

"And you're not curious?" Came an indistinct mutter out of the group.