Chapter 1
She dreamed of them…all of them; every night, without fail.
They were all reminders of her weakness, her failure. Friends, soldiers, those loved and lost followed her beyond the veil of her memories and into the realm of nightmares. At times she felt like a ghost-laden drell replaying and reliving conversations, horrific battles, the fall of comrades, and recalling every detail. Memories tore away her mind, piece by fragmented piece, leaving her raw and hapless. She was possessed; besieged by the vestige of those who were seeking hope.
They proclaimed her a hero, hailed her as the Savior of the galaxy. It was a ridiculous faith, though in her own disillusionment and loss of control she accepted this in penance. They looked to her as if she was the daughter of God, come to redeem them all and heal the worlds. Regardless of the truth, she understood what it meant to need a symbol. She became a relic, transformed herself into whatever form duty required of her, even as it slowly destroyed her.
She never believed that the war would end happily with soldiers rejoicing in the streets or reunited family and friends celebrating survival. Every species united together against a common foe with the great Commander Shepard as their leader in victory. Though the pretense of unity had mustered a figment of hope throughout the ranks, the true breadth of war had disparaged even the most enduring of beings.
She lied in her bed, her storm-ridden eyes closed, but sleep mockingly evaded her. Restlessness on the Normandy was always cured by a jaunt around the ship, but her current situation left her restricted to a single room at all times. Her only option was infuriating patience. Struggle as she might, the stillness of her body could not pacify her torrid mind. She considered calling her benefactors for relief in the form of sedation, but that would be confessing her weakness. To them – her captors, controllers, guardians or whatever term defined their role of "protection detail" – she had to always appear to be in control, to be strong of mind and constitution. A slip of her mask would mean another victory for them, and they sought to possess every molecule of her being.
A chirp from her omni-tool alerted her to a new message. Rolling the stiffness from her shoulders, she reluctantly sat up to check it. There was the usual agenda posted in her messages, along with instructions of what to wear, other dignitaries she should expect to encounter and a curt reminder of the correct way to address a salarian. A smirk flashed across her lips, remembering just yesterday asking the salarian ambassador if he could touch his eyeball with his tongue. She was testing her restraints, taking her freedoms where she could and hoping to stretch her boundaries just a bit.
There was, however, another message.
{***CLAIM YOUR FREE PRIZE!***}
The scrubbers who watched her inbox usually filtered out any junk mail, and somehow she heard a familiar voice read those words in her mind. She opened the message as her thoughts reeled with possibilities. Inside there was a link to an extranet site and the words "Enter the password." The link took her to a page that was blank. Then the text "Enter the password" appeared on the screen and flashed repeatedly. An instinctual memory prompted her response.
"Silence is golden," she whispered. Suddenly her omni-tool came alive and was flooded with text, images, and sounds of static. She glanced around the room, wondering what her guardians would think of her omni-tool going berserk. When no one came rushing in, excitement fluttered in the pit of her stomach. After a few moments, she heard a recognizable voice, but it had not spawned from a memory.
"Hey, Shep."
"Kasumi?" Her eyes darted feverishly about the room before they settled on the screen of her omni-tool. She cradled it in her other arm, as if to protect the surprising communication from the guards who constantly monitored her. Kasumi's face was garbled, but her mischievous grin brought comfort to her former Commander.
"Yeah, how are you? Sorry about this. It was the only way to talk."
"Don't apologize, I'm just happy to hear from you!" From someone, from anyone! "Nice job on the hack. This definitely must have taken you some time."
"Oh, you flatterer!" she quipped with that familiar lilt in her voice.
"You sure they can't hear or see us? My room is full of-"
"Don't worry, I've taken care of that. But listen, Shep, we don't have much time. We need to know, do you want out?"
Shepard considered what her friend was asking. Did she feel trapped? Yes. Did she hate where she was? Yes. Did she hate the constant surveillance and lack of privacy? Without a doubt in her mind.
Leaving was a different matter. The Alliance told her they were keeping her safe from the galaxy, but she felt that the roles were actually reversed. Deep in thought, she covered her eyes from the blaring orange glow of her omni-tool.
If she lost her chance, possibly her only chance, she would lose the opportunity of finding the answers she sought. She was a woman of action, direct and forward. Move onward or ship out. Nothing was happening in the day-to-day bleariness of unmemorable politicians to meet, treaties to witness, or ribbons to cut. She was a soldier to the core and that was not the life for her. She had resigned to it as some sort of self-punishment, however undeserved. Shepard had given the galaxy everything, fought and died, was resurrected, and thrown back into the fray. If anything, the galaxy owed her beyond anything she could collect in her lifetime.
"Yeah, Kasumi. Whatever it takes to get me out of this hell hole." She would worry about the consequences later. There was only one desire vested in her now: knowledge.
"Alright, Shepard. Just be ready for some fun two days from now."
"Always ready and able."
The transmission ended, and she was left staring into the darkness in her quarters. The screen's residual static cast grievous shadows on her face. It was a virulent hope, yet, it was enthralling.
"We?" The casual mention of her former companions now reverberated in her mind. She had passed over the reference in the heat of the conversation. Shepard had not been allowed contact with any of her former comrades, much less any knowledge of their well-being. "Need-to-know basis" was the military's rhetoric of choice, and now Kasumi would not even mention any names. A fleeting seed of anger began to take root, but Shepard dismissed it almost immediately. Kasumi was probably protecting them, in case the knowledge of their communication ever reached the Alliance or other governments.
She thought of the friends who had joined her in the fight against Sovereign, the Collectors and the Reapers. Who had survived? Where were they, what were they doing? What did they think of her playing lapdog for the Alliance?
The thought of escape cured her of nightmares, if only because she couldn't sleep. It would momentarily suffice as a reason for her continued existence. During the months after the defeat of the Reapers, her life consisted of giving speeches and making public appearances. The ghostly memories of those events made her believe it possible she had been imprisoned inside a statue and fitted with a VI in her likeness.
Shepard had spent her previous lives sacrificing herself for other people. She decided it was time she lived selfishly and got what she needed for a change. People were sometimes gifted a second chance, but who was awarded a third? Somewhere within the vast expanse of the galaxy, the truth was calling to her, and nothing would stop her from searching for it.