Where am I?
I peeled my eyes open, eyelids crusted and impossibly heavy. I raised a hand and rubbed at the gunge, rolling the dried beads between my fingers as I tried to squint through the fluorescent glare of the lights. I was on my side, lying on a cold, metal floor.
That wasn't right. I was… Where was I?
I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the heel of my palm against my temple in an effort to alleviate to sharp pounding in my skull. I rolled onto my back and opened my eyes again looking about myself a bit more.
All around were stacks of crates. A storage area? How the hell did I end up here? I knew I'd never been there in my life, and yet there was something about the angles on the crate faces and the exposed pipes and machinery that was somehow incredibly familiar. I just couldn't place it.
And the lights were impossibly bright.
I slid my arm beneath myself and went to stand, but my already hazy vision swam and my head pounded deep in the base of my skull making me groan and lie still until it passed. After a few minutes the world seemed to stop doing cartwheels and settle for a gentler, more manageable sway. Satisfied I wasn't going to throw up anytime soon, and rolled into a sitting position, pausing for a moment to let the vertigo subside again before using a nearby box to lift myself to my feet.
Safely on my feet, I checked my pockets for my phone and found only a spare hair tie and an almost empty chapstick tube. I looked around but the floor space I had recently vacated was clear, as was the area around it.
I sighed. I must have left it at home. I'd just have to ask a stranger to borrow theirs so I could tell my roommate I would be home late.
Now that I was standing, I had a better view of my surroundings. Yep, definitely a storage area of some kind. Aside from the crates and what appeared to be a series of engine mounts, a large door stood at the far end of the room, a glowing green keypad at its centre. Above the door was a viewing window through which I could make out what seemed to be more futuristic doorways with glowing orange locks, the door in the centre being larger and more rectangular than the two flanking it - it kind of looked like an elevator. Wait... I knew this layout.
It couldn't be… That window, these crates, the elevator…
The Normandy? I was on board the Normandy?!
And not just the Normandy, the SR2 which - considering the lack of weights and blue shuttles in the hanger - meant that I was in Mass Effect 2!
I was too busy freaking out to hear the cargo bay door slide open and footsteps falter to a stop.
"Who are you?" a woman's voice cut through my thoughts.
I spun around, the movement too sudden causing my head to pound all over again. A young woman wearing white and black fatigues stood in the nearby doorway, glowing orange clipboard in hand. I recognised her as one of those entertaining engineers. What was her name? Gabby?
Before I could so much as wave, she had drawn what looked like a pistol from her belt and was pointing it right at me.
"Kenneth! We've got a situation here!" Gabby called through the open door, then she pressed a finger to her ear and started speaking urgently to whoever was listening. "This is Gabby. We have an intruder in the cargo bay. Requesting immediate assistance."
My vision was still swimming and my voice seemed to be stuck in the back of my throat. I lifted a hand in what I hoped was a calming gesture and made a vague choking noise.
"Kenneth!" Gabby shouted again, voice rising in panic.
She froze suddenly, weapon lowering slightly and I breathed a sigh of relief thinking that maybe she was rethinking shooting me. Unfortunately for me she was just listening to her headpiece which, from the way her eyes fixed on me with new found determination, could only mean bad things.
I could only watch as her finger squeezed down on the trigger.
"Wait-!" I choked out just before a yellow pulse hit me directly between the ribs and I tumbled backwards, head cracking painfully on the floor.
As my vision darkened, I could hear the muffled highland tones of the other engineer as he ran in, the two immediately beginning their signature bickering. And then…
Nothing.
I came to in a small, shiny room. Why in God's name was everything on this ship so bright? I cleared my throat and give a deep hum. Good, my voice seemed to be working again. I was sitting in a chair, my hands cuffed and attached to the table in front of me. Metal cuffs, I noticed rattling the links ruefully. At least I wasn't strapped to a recliner like that guy in Thane's loyalty mission. That would have sucked. Still, having the cuffs attached to the table makes it incredibly hard to scratch my back.
Across from the table is another chair, and behind that, a door. Not five seconds after I started examining the door, it opened revealing what had to be the most pleasant surprise of my life.
I tried my darndest to keep a straight face but I swear my cheeks were twitching as I fought to stop myself from grinning like an idiot.
Miranda Lawson sat down in the chair opposite me, put down the datapad she was carrying, and folded her hands on the table top. Why hello, Operative Lawson. Nice to see you, too.
She was even more gorgeous in real life than she was in the games, and it only made her more imposing. A normal person would have been petrified, but I was doing everything in my power to not reach out and touch her face to check that she was really real.
We sat for a moment in silence. Me digging my nails into my palms to stay calm, her sizing up the twitchy, ill-dressed girl who had somehow managed to board what was arguably the most advanced cruiser in the Milky Way.
"Who are you?" she asked. I bit my lip to stop from squealing at how incredibly familiar her voice was; the level delivery, that west-Sydney lilt! I swear part of me died right there and went to heaven.
She was staring into me with her ice blue eyes. I stared right back, taking in the details of her face. This was way better than 4K.
Miranda raised a slender brow at my unabashed staring. "Who are you?" she repeated with less patience.
My focus snapped back to her eyes and I realised I had been staring for quite some time. I cleared my throat and, having the death wish I do, decided to test the waters a bit.
"Cutting right to the chase, are we?" I said, sitting back in my chair and allowing a small grin to lift my lips. "That's no fun."
The operative remained unamused. If Miranda was the one talking to me then Shepard was probably out on mission or indisposed, so cooperating until Shepard showed up was my best bet at surviving.
"Jaime." I said after it became clear Miranda wasn't going to say anything else. "Jaime Morgan. You?"
She watched me for a long moment before picking up her datapad and reading something over. God, I felt like I was in a job interview. Usually they get hung up on the fact that I include an Interests section on my resume that only says 'video games', but they never question my name.
"Alright then, Miss Morgan," I cringed at the honorific but said nothing. Miranda put down the datapad and turned her icy gaze back to me. "Where are you from?"
"Same place as you, it sounds," I said with a grin. "Just a bit further north."
Miranda cocked a brow. "You're a long way from home then."
You have no idea, I thought. Instead I said, "How far?"
"The other side of the galaxy," Miranda stated. "We entered the Attican Traverse a few hours ago."
Terminus Systems, huh. I remember a vast majority of the early game took place around here. Something about searching for Collectors amongst the more isolated colonies.
"How did you get on board?" Miranda asked.
"Magic." I said, satisfied to watch as Miranda pursed her lips slightly. After a moment she sighed and procured her pistol from her hip, resting it on the tabletop.
"Nice M-3." I said with a nod to her weapon.
"It is a personal favourite of mine," she responded coolly.
I let my grin slip, probably best to not provoke her. Miranda could be particularly ruthless if you weren't on her good side.
Seeing that she had my attention, Miranda continued, "If you wish to remain alive for much longer you're going to give me a straight answer: How did you get on board?"
"I don't know." I said honestly.
"I don't believe you."
"Now there's a surprise."
Miranda sat back and crossed one leg over the other. "You show up in the cargo hold with not even a DNA record of who you are in any database. You don't even have an omnitool and yet you were able to sneak onboard and stay undetected until you were found by the engineering staff." Miranda paused as she looked me up and down. "You can understand this is quite the serious breach in security."
I hummed and nodded seriously. "That is quite the problem," I said. "I'd love to help, but I honestly don't know how I got here. Like you said, I have no tech and I'm hardly dressed for espionage." I gestured to my old, tie-dyed camp shirt. (Don't judge. I had dressed for comfort that morning, not style.)
"Then how do you suppose you got on board?" she asked.
I shrugged. "Do teleporters exist yet?"
Her unamused face told me 'No'.
"Wait," I said, something she said earlier clicked in my head. "You said I don't exist on any databases."
"That's correct." Miranda nodded, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Not even facial recognition? Photos?"
Miranda shook her head, slightly confused by my own bewilderment.
I didn't exist. Apparently there wasn't even a record of my ten year online presence from the early 21st century. Yet another part of me died thinking about how many accounts I would have to recreate.
Did it affect just me, or was everyone else I know non-existent too? What happened to my family? I had so many questions but the more pressing matter was the frowning woman before me. She must have noticed my little freak-out because her composure had shifted to somewhere between concern and skepticism.
My mind was racing with possibilities. Someone who did not exist on any system could be an incredible asset for a company whose whole trick was being sneaky. I was also a wild card and a possible sleeper agent sent to sabotage this ship. I could do anything, be anyone. But first, I had to convince the woman before me that I was worth keeping alive.
Speaking of the operative, Miranda was still watching me closely.
I took a deep breath. I had my objective: convince Miranda that I'm worth keeping on the Normandy. How? Utilise my only bargaining chip: Information. Never mind that I hadn't played the games in the last few months, this was in no way going to be easy. After all, I wasn't the best at quick thinking, but I'd seen enough Doctor Who to know I just had to avoid saying anything too 'spoiler-y'.
"I have a proposal for you," I said, snapping my eyes to meet her icy gaze.
"Oh?" Miranda quirked an eyebrow, but showed no other sign of stopping me.
"It just so happens that I am in possession of some incredibly sensitive and valuable information regarding, not only your employer, but the imminent Reaper threat."
"That's quite the claim," Miranda leant forward, the pull at her lips telling me she was humouring me, at least for now. "Assuming you have anything of value, what would you want in return?"
I shrugged. "I'd like to stay on this ship," I said.
"And what makes you think I'll agree to this proposal?"
"Miranda Lawson," I said, schooling my features as I stared her down, watching the faint flicker of surprise cross her eyes. "Cerberus operative. Practically second in command. Your father designed you to be genetically perfect in every way; looks, brains, biotics; you name it, you got it. When you were old enough you rebelled against his 'perfect' will and ran, that's when the Illusive Man picked you up to join Cerberus. You love it here, not just because you believe they have a worthy goal, but because they give you a task and don't tell you it's impossible, they give you the chance to excel."
Miranda was silent for a long moment. "That was quite the speech." She narrowed her eyes slightly, something deep in their depths hardening. If I didn't think she was terrifying before, I bloody-well did now. "How do you know all that?
"It wasn't the Shadow Broker if that's what you're thinking," I said. "Either way it doesn't matter. The point is I know a hell of a lot more about, not only Cerberus, but the enemy on the horizon."
Miranda's hard eyes morphed into a suspicious frown. She was at least considering my words, yet still remained unconvinced and I cringed inwardly. I needed to say something concrete that had value to her, and there is only one Miranda truly cares about. I steeled myself before I looked her dead in the eye and played my trump card.
"How's your sister?" I asked.
In a flash Miranda was standing, pistol pointed across the table right between my eyes. Yep, I'd made a mistake. Pass me a pen, I have a death wish to sign.
"What do you know?" Miranda demanded.
It was too late to back down now. I allowed myself to smirk just a bit, if only to give my lips something else to do then tremble in fear. "That knowledge is keeping me alive, isn't it?"
Miranda didn't move an inch, her striking blue eyes interrogating every aspect of my grinning face. After a tense moment, Miranda said, "What do you want?"
I sat back in my seat and stared up at her. "I want to talk to the person in charge."
"I am in charge."
"Nice try."
Neither of us so much as flinched.
Finally, Miranda lowered her pistol and turned to leave. Just before the door slid closed behind her, she looked back over her shoulder and said, "This isn't over."
As soon as the doors shut I let out a shaky breath, clenching my fists tightly to try and stop them trembling.
She almost shot me!
I closed my eyes and tried my best to quell my panic. I was no doubt under surveillance and any sign I really wasn't as together as I pretended to be would certainly spell my downfall.
Miranda was on the Normandy, that meant we were somewhere in Mass Effect 2. How early in the story was anyone's guess.
Miranda was an obstacle, yes. But the real person I needed to convince was Shepard, and for that I would need a story other than, 'I'm from an alternate universe and I controlled you in a game'.
Because that would go down swimmingly.
Notes: I created this story for two reasons: 1. Ever since playing Mass Effect I have felt like the crew were my family, and I wanted to explore how that would actually work. 2. There are a series of jokes/scenarios that I have always wanted to share with you guys and this was the best way I could think to do it.
Anyways, at it's most basic form, this story is self-indulgent writing practice. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and I look forward to your responses.