Crossing the River

"We should start a band."
"We would pick up so many chicks."
Jordan laughed, and continued playing without answering his friends.
"I'll do bass, Max can do keyboards. We can get some random dip to do drums."
"Has to be another colonist, though," said Max. "I am not going to put up with any more fucking spacers than I have to."
"Do it, Jordan. You write the lyrics, and the girls will fall into our laps, just like that." Hesse snapped his fingers in demonstration.
Jordan shook his head. "Do you guys ever think of anything besides picking up chicks?"
"Hey, we can't all be you, Mr. Tragic Sensitive Hero."
It was a testament to Human nature that Jordan could laugh at that. The wounds had healed, slowly, and the scars were fading. But youth and Human memory meant that the nightmares were less intense, and the memories less real. It had taken three months for someone to find out where Jordan was really from, and spread it around the school. But by now, Jordan had learned to live with it. His course load didn't leave him much time to be miserable and sad.
"You're an ass," said Jordan to his friend Hesse. "And I really don't want a fourth person."
"That's cool," Hesse grinned. "We can figure that out later."
Max and Hesse were both from Caleston, the children of miners who had made enough to send their children to decent schools. Hesse wanted to be an Engineer, and Max was trying to get into the Diplomatic service. Max had become friends with him through sheer perseverance, and was one of the few people at the Academy who had known he was really from Mindoir before Bettencourt's exposure. Hesse had met Jordan at the guitar store, and had gone into ecstasies over meeting the owner of a Gibson SG Custom.
"We should do this," said Hesse eagerly. "We should totally do this."
"There is a recording studio on campus," Max pointed out.
"Fine, whatever." Jordan stood up. "Let's go check it out."
"Yes!" Hesse fistbumped Max, and picked up his bass. "Stardom awaits!"
They worked for months, spending every spare moment on their album. The Academy studio let them release an OSD and tracks for direct download on the school network. Jordan wrote five songs and two instrumentals for their first release, and Max made up their band names: Hesse G, Jordan T, and Maxie B. They toasted each other with sparkling cider and walked out of the studio, laughing, after they had pushed the button to release their music to the school.
"So, how long before the girls start falling into our laps?" grinned Hesse.
Jordan's omni-tool beeped. "Mail, one sec. Probably my Calculus TA." Jordan opened the message. It was from the studio. The school insisted on a forwarding account to be set up for all artists, to protect students and their grade point averages. "What the...."
Max's omni-tool beeped, then Hesse's.
"We just got paid," said Jordan in disbelief. He looked at his friends. "That means we sold over 10,000 copies."
"We left the studio ten minutes ago," said Max. He stared at the message. "Wait, there's an Asari name here, that's not in the school network."
"Let's go back and check this out." Jordan led them back into the studio so they could check their release account. He pulled up their records, and tried to figure out what had happened.
"Guys." Hesse stared at them. "The restriction flag is changed. That means anyone could have sent it off the network."
"Yeah but, people bought it?" Max asked. "Look, this is a Turian name. Why would a Turian buy our music?"
Jordan stared at the screen, and pulled up his omni-tool to do a search on the band name. "They like our lyrics. Turians are buying the OSD so they get the liner notes. The Asari like the instrumentals, and think 'the technical proficiency displayed in our playing is amazing.' Apparently, one of the riffs I used sounds just like a traditional Siarist prayer."
"What?" Max leaned over and stared at the page. "What the hell, there's over a million hits!"
They all stared at each other, then started laughing.
"They want pictures of us," Hesse read.
"We can't, that's against the rules." Jordan considered. "I want to find out who sent our stuff off the network. I think someone's in for a big surprise."
Hesse and Max looked at each other. "Actually, you're right. This is too good of a chance to pass up," Max grinned. "So we're not going to say anything, right?"
Jordan nodded. "Not until he does anyway. I guess you're not up for taking bets that Bettencourt is behind this?"
Hesse snorted. "I'm not that stupid."
They didn't hear anything until the evening meal at the dining hall. One of the Spacer clique saw them, and approached.
"Hey guys. Not in the recording studio tonight?" asked the girl, fake sweetness dripping.
"Nope," said Max. "All wrapped up and sent out. You should give it a listen," he said innocently.
Jordan just watched Max work. Some of the other colonists had come a little closer, sensing that something odd was going on.
The Spacer girl smiled. "I don't think you guys are quite my speed. What's your band name anyway?" she asked curiously.
"Oh? You guys didn't read the name? Just hacked the account without checking?"
"Well, if you didn't want people to hear your music, you shouldn't have released it. What's the big deal? Didn't anybody like your little songs?" she asked condescendingly.
"It's doing all right," said Max defensively. "I hear track 3 was really popular."
Jordan couldn't hold back a laugh.
"What's track 3?" asked one of their Colonist friends.
"'Spacer Girls,'" Jordan explained.
There was a moment of silence.
"Wait, you guys are Colony 3?"
Max just smiled.
Hesse shook his head. "Okay, how can you all have heard this already? Did you skip class or something?"
"It was linked on a Siarist mailing list I'm on," someone said. "I had no idea it was an Academy group!"
"I heard about it from my brother on Noveria," said someone else.
"Is this some kind of joke?" People were staring at the boys in disbelief. "Do you really expect us to believe you put out that album?"
Max pointed at Jordan. "Shepard, you wanna field this one?"
Jordan glared at Max. "No." Then he looked at the person who didn't believe them. "Did you really think I was carrying around that expensive guitar for nothing? My choices for school were here or Julliard. And for the record, I don't even know what a Siarist prayer is, so I have no idea where everyone is getting that from."
"Where did you learn to play like that?" asked someone admiringly.
"My grandparents are from Ravinia II. The musician's retirement colony? You might have heard of it?" Jordan looked around. Everyone was hanging on his words. "I spent half my life on Ravinia II. You can't spend that much time there and not pick up something."
"Did you really write all the lyrics?" someone else asked. "And the music?"
Jordan nodded. "They're not going to go away, are they?" he asked Max.
Max just grinned. "Sorry, bud. You're famous. Suck it up." Max turned and started talking to a cute Earth girl, leaving Jordan to fend for himself in the circle of excited admirers.
Jordan finally managed to eat some food and leave the dining hall without a crowd of people following him everywhere. He sighed. Max and Hesse had both hooked up and left earlier, probably assuming that Jordan would be well-escorted. Jordan had chased them all away, and instead started back alone. He was waiting for a specific person to talk to him.
Jordan heard footsteps behind him, and grinned. "Took you long enough, Bettencourt." Jordan turned to face him. "Thanks for making us rich and famous, by the way."
"Not what I intended to do," said Bettencourt. "But you're welcome."
The walkway where they were standing was shadowed, and Jordan couldn't see his face. "Bettencourt, what do you have against me anyway?" Jordan asked. "You've been on my case ever since I started here. What the hell do you want from me?"
Bettencourt took a step closer, clearly holding himself back. He just stared, his eyes flickering over Jordan's face, without saying a word. He started to say something, but stopped himself. "Forget it, Shepard. If I have to explain...." Bettencourt turned and walked away.
"What?" Jordan said to himself. "I don't - what just happened?" Jordan looked around in confusion. No one had witnessed the bizarre confrontation, so it wasn't that Bettencourt didn't want to get caught fighting. "I think I missed something. And I need to stop talking to myself," Jordan added. He shook himself, and walked back to his dorm.