A/N: A first foray into the realm of Mass Effect fanficion. Enjoy.
"Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid."
-William Earnest Henley
Before I Sleep
Mission Report: Status Failed
My suit is depressurizing. My body convulses and shudders as it floats beyond the shredded remains of the Normandy's hull. Every nerve and blood vessel in my body burns. Space is a vacuum, and it will kill me very soon.
This is the longest fifteen seconds ever.
My name is Commander Shepard. I'm a soldier in the Alliance Navy and a Spectre for the Citadel Council. My team and I have been working tirelessly to stop an incredibly advanced pain in galaxy's ass that has been hidden away from us for thousands of years beyond the reach of the Mass Relays. Their goal is to harvest this system for energy, destroying everything in the process. They wiped out the Protheans, who were far more advanced than us and perhaps countless others before them. They call themselves Reapers.
You'd think we wouldn't stand a chance.
Forces have been working behind the scenes, and the influence of the Reapers runs deep. Like clockwork, things are falling apart: colonies going dark, Geth on the rise, Spectres going rogue. Even the Citadel, the heart of known civilization has not been immune. People are dying out there, despite my best efforts.
My people, too.
I lost one of my best back on Virmire, and that was my call. We train for this sort of thing in the academy. Our lives are expendable the moment we put on a uniform in service. Yet whether you're green or a seasoned veteran in the field….it's never easy. Choosing between my best friend and lover was one of the most difficult decisions I've ever made. My crew is my family. Their blood, sweat, and tears are mine, too. That sacrifice helped save us all, and the mission carried on. In the end, we saved the Citadel from a Reaper known as Sovereign, and saved the day. Then, just as I was beginning to hope that we stood a chance against the invaders, the Normandy was attacked by an unknown monolith that appeared out of nowhere. It wasn't a battle: it was a slaughter. My ship is destroyed, along with much of my crew. I'll be joining them soon, if my assessment of the situation proves accurate.
Asphyxiation is not the way I wanted my life to end. People like me don't grow old, but we don't die with ease. I always imagined myself falling on the field: holding the line, with my gun in hand and my armor covered in dust and blood. A hero's death.
Out here, I'm lashing out at an enemy I can neither see nor touch, completely helpless as I'm carried away from the burnt wreckage of the Normandy. It feels weak and pathetic. I take a little solace in knowing that my death saved Joker. His skills as a pilot have gotten us all through hell and back, saving our sanity along the way with a light heart and a smartass grin. However, part of command is putting the mission first. I should have left him to die, and saved myself to carry on the mission. But, I'll be damned if I was going to lose another friend today. Virmire nearly broke me, and even Spectres have their limits.
It's better this way. Or so I keep telling myself.
There's so much I'm leaving undone, and my selfish decision is going to have vast repercussions. The Reapers are coming in full force, and soon. As my body is pulled towards the atmosphere of a nearby planet, my vision starts giving way to blackness. The last thing I'll ever see is the shrinking sight of escape pods in retreat. I can only hope that someone will be able to carry on the mission, and succeed where I have failed.
Commander Shepard out.