Mass Effect Trilogy (c) Bioware
Echo Effect
Visitation
"I'm looking for Jericho Shepard."
Lieutenant Commander Nathan Shepard addressed the receptionist of Hinderlands Memorial, a military hospital in Vancouver attached to Alliance HQ.
Shepard never liked spending time in the med bay, much less a hospital. When one becomes a soldier they have to face and accept the inevitable consequence of that decision. Doubly so for a Special Forces officer. Nine times out of ten, their retirement constituted a body bag, an empty coffin or no memorial at all beyond a name inscribed in the Veteran's Road.
Shepard shook his head clear of the morbid thought. At least he had the good fortune of entering as a visitor. He wasn't a patient too crippled to continue serving or just a hair's breath away from the great beyond. He tapped a nonsensical rhythm on the reception counter while he waited for them to look up the name. Absently he observed the orderlies tending to their duties while his other hand messed with his inactive omnitool in his pocket.
Shepard wasn't usually prone to fidgeting or macabre thoughts, but he was restless. He hadn't seen his brother in person for some time, and what little news he managed to scrounge up was grim.
The SSV Tokyo was in drydock in geosynchronous orbit set for a retrofit. The second the cruiser docked, Captain Anderson had granted shore leave to all crew including his senior staff. Shepard had taken the opportunity for downtime to look up his brother, only to discover he'd been trapped in a hospital bed for the past two weeks. Their usual terse correspondence was a fortnight overdue, and now Shepard knew why.
Lieutenant Commander Ric Shepard had been injured during some classified Op and was currently undergoing treatment. N7 Operations were invariably drenched in black ink, only the operators directly involved and their handler would know the full details. But whatever happened left Ric in a bad way. Bad enough that the rumour mill whispered a potential honourable discharge.
Of course, being the stubborn ass he was, Ric neglected to relay any of this to him. Odds are the critical injuries he suffered during that mission were a bruise to his ego. It was probably from a mix of pride and shame that he hadn't breathed a word of this to Shepard. Or maybe he didn't want his "baby brother" checking up on him.
"I have it here: Commander Jericho Shepard. Room 307 on level 3. Do you want someone to show you the way, sir?" The Receptionist offered.
Shepard nodded his appreciation, "I'll find it. Thank you."
He made his way through the building and punched the elevator to the third floor. When he arrived, the stench of disinfectants hit him like a ton of bricks and made him feel queasy, conjuring up all manner of unpleasant memories. But Shepard pushed that aside. He passed room 303 labelled with a name and he paused. He frowned in recognition.
K. Zaychik.
As in... The Hero of Elysium? That Zaychik? Rumours pegged that entire skirmish earned her a place in the Interplanetary Combatives Program. If it was the same K. Zaychik, he wondered just what managed to land her in the hospital. After the stories he heard about Elysium, he had a hard time imagining anything taking a stubborn soldier like her down.
Shepard didn't linger on those idle musings for too long, especially with the vehement Russian being tossed back and forth between the two room occupants. He was fluent enough in the language to swiftly judged that was a very private, very agitated squabble he wanted no part in.
When he found room 307, he realised his brother wasn't alone. Two other people stood next to Ric's sickbed. One was a tanned woman with short brown hair and an unfamiliar insignia on her jacket. An icon for something called "Andromeda Initiative". The other was a taller man with silvery-grey hair, longer than regulation but neatly swept back and a matching neatly trimmed beard. He was dressed in charcoal grey with a bold N7 stamped on his jacket.
"We could use exceptional soldiers like you in our undertaking, Lieutenant Commander." The man concluded with a rich baritone.
"Sir, with all due respect; will my answer to your proposal have any influence my career path between now and then? Or the level of treatment I receive for my injuries here?" Shepard heard his brother reply.
"The proposal comes independent of Alliance Brass. This is a wholly independent venture. We're looking for exceptional individuals for this undertaking; Explorers. Dreamers. Those who want to reach beyond and explore the unknown. And another N7 qualified operative would certainly do well in our project." The woman went through her pitch.
"I'm neither an explorer nor a dreamer, ma'am. I'm just a sniper. Moreover, I do believe there's been a great many stories in history about the dangers of grasping beyond one's reach." Ric responded in a cool diplomatic tone,
"Without those willing to brave the unknown, to chart the edges of the map and beyond, the ancient mariners would've never travelled across Earth's oceans. Let alone leave our fair planet." The man said,
"I won't deny that's the case, sir. But throughout history too many people ask 'can we?' and not enough ask 'should we?'. We've been on the galactic stage for less than 30 years. To my mind, there's still mysteries aplenty left in this galaxy to uncover. We don't need to reach into another." Ric countered and Shepard could hear him draw in a deep breath, "I must respectfully refuse. It took me years to carve out a life I can take any sort of pride in, and I'm not prepared to abandon it as readily as you may think. As intriguing as your proposal sounds, I'm not completely sold on the concept. Too many variables and uncertainties. Too many things that can go awry. And I've no intention of being marooned at sea with the nearest friendly harbour in a neighbouring galaxy."
There was a pause before the man spoke with an appreciative nod, "You stick to your guns, I respect that. Very well. Our timetable has us departing in three years. Option's open should you decide you've changed your mind."
The two guests bade farewell to Ric before departing. Shepard waited for them to leave before entering his brother's room, his mind full of questions about what he'd just overheard.
"Hey," Shepard said,
"The hell? Why are you here?" Ric responded, identical blue eyes glared up at his brother.
They were identical twins but scars earned over a lifetime of military service marked them as forever different. A cluster of deep lines scored upwards from Ric's right jawline to his cheekbone and temple. Tokens from the skirmish on Torfan, where a piece of shrapnel had shattered his helmet and wedged shards of the armour's ablative ceramic in his face. Were it not for the hasty actions of a combat surgeon, he would've lost his right eye too. Ric's hair was longer than the standard buzzcut Shepard preferred, albeit still neatly trimmed and in regulation.
Shepard observed his brother lying on the bed which was raised on a gentle incline. But even at rest, Shepard could see involuntary tremors rippling through his limbs. He was dressed in a white cotton shirt and light grey pants stamped with the Alliance insignia.
"In polite society, we usually say 'hey' back." Shepard jokingly admonished,
Ric rolled his eyes, slumping back on the pillow, "Who has the time for polite society when they aren't paid for it?"
"Touché." Shepard nodded in agreement then frowned, "You could've told me you were hauled up here."
"The last thing I wanted was my baby brother checking up on me like some pitiful invalid." Ric dismissed coolly,
"Whatever you say, Jeri. You know you're only a minute older than me, right?" Shepard wanted to laugh at the peevish glare shot his way at the nickname. Ric hated that name.
"And what a glorious minute it was." Despite his irritation, the corner of Ric's mouth curled up in a subtly amused smirk, "Been a long time, Nate. What brings you my way? Last I heard you were on tour out in the Attican Traverse."
"I can't just swoop by and enjoy the pleasure of your company?" Shepard joked and Ric rolled his eyes again, "The Tokyo's parked in orbit. I'm on shore leave right now while she's undergoing a retrofit. And when I heard you managed to get yourself into a mess of trouble, I thought I'd check in on you. Is that so bad?" Shepard responded, dragging a chair from the corner of the room to sit.
Ric relented and for a split second he threatened a genuine smile, "Honestly, no. No it isn't. The only people I've spoken to in the last two week are either the nurses or the doctors. If I didn't see a new face soon, I'm liable to strangle somebody - if only for a change of pace."
Shepard tossed a thumb over his shoulder, "Speaking of new faces; what was with the VIPs? Something I should know about?"
"They wanted me to join some intergalactic initiative or whatever. Sounded like a damned pipe dream." Ric dismissed with a half-hearted attempt at a shrug.
Shepard glanced back over his shoulder, "Must've had some merit to it. Especially if they managed to wrangled N7 Spec Op in."
"That was former Captain Alec Ryder." Ric explained jutting his chin towards the open door,
Shepard leaned back, arms crossed over his chest while he frowned in thought. "That name's vaguely familiar. One of the First N7s. Discharged and disgraced for illegal AI research, right? Caused an almighty ruckus if I recall correctly. Managed to get his own kids blacklisted in the service."
Ric grunted in affirmation, "Figure he must be on hard times. Throwing his hat in for something so damned crazy. That little venture they were trying to tap me for? They're proposing the idea of colonising the neighbouring Andromeda Galaxy."
Shepard's eyebrows shot right up, "Seriously?"
"Ya-huh. Little bit too ludicrous if you ask me. Especially since there's plenty still left untapped in the Milky Way. And not all of it's gonna be friendly. I doubt Andromeda'd be any different. Presuming there's even any intelligent species over there, they may not take too kindly to the neighbours barging in and trashing the place. Smart credit says they'd take exception with extreme prejudice." Ric said dismissively.
Shepard cocked his head to one side, wearing a crooked smirk. "Why do I keep forgetting how cynical you are?"
"Someone has to balance out that idiot naiveté of yours." Ric shot back.
"I'm not naive. Contrary to popular opinion; I always expect the worst, I just prefer to hope for the best. That way I'm pleasantly surprised when the best actually happens."
Ric smirked, "And yet, they say hope is the first step on the road to disappointment."
Shepard chuckled quietly. "Been reading some campy magazines lately?"
"What can I say? I've had some free time these last couple weeks."
"Well... back on point, I will admit the concept is kind of cool. But yeah, I concede it's also pretty damn crazy. Even at our top speeds, it's a hell of a long voyage. Logistically speaking, what did they plan to do? Live ships like the Quarian Flotilla? Generation ships? What?" Shepard inquired, he was interested in it. He admired the scope of the undertaking if he was perfectly honest.
"Cryostasis, apparently. But as has been stated; Its crazy as hell and I'm not too keen. Too many things can go wrong, and the rewards just don't measure up to the risks." Ric sighed and shook his head slightly, "I admire the imagination but... Not my speed. Undertaking that huge? I need guarantee, not ambiguity. Too many 'ifs' and 'buts' than I'm comfortable with."
"And obviously, you told them to pound sand."
"Politely." Ric agreed, "I'm not interested in wasting 600 years asleep to make that voyage. I'm not interested in ditching my only family either."
Shepard hummed, "Ah, that's... unexpectedly considerate. And I appreciate that."
"By which I mean my sniper rifle and armour."
"Aaaand there we go."
They shared a laugh. But before long, it died down and Shepard leaned forward to take stock of his twin. "So how did you end up in this sorry state?"
His martial mind was already running through the possibilities for this. Was there some new enemy faction out there who used biogenic weapons? Did his brother get caught in some misconduct? Was there some new weapon floating around the criminal underworld they needed to watch out for? A new looming threat on the horizon? Was this an unfortunate accident? Or was this some sort of undetected genetic disease and would Shepard have to watch out for symptoms himself?
"I can tell what you're thinking, and no. To all of it." Ric dismissed firmly,
"I wasn't aware you were a mind-reader. Must've picked that up out in the Terminus Systems. So, can you tell me what happened or will I be left to wild speculation?" Shepard inquired,
Ric shook his head, "You know the name of the game, Nathan. Classified."
"Yeah. Figured." Shepard sighed, shoulders slumping. "So, what'll this mean for you now? Is this even treatable? Heard some whispers about an honourable discharge in the near future."
"To hell with that." Ric shot back in disgust, "The Doctors have equated this to something called Parkinson's disease. Generously put, my motor neurons and some of my sensory nerves have been shredded to hell and back."
"Good god." Shepard winced in sympathy.
"Can't move without shaking and can barely feel anything in my arms and legs." Ric tried to raise one arm demonstratively, his entire limb shook uncontrollably as he tried to hold it up as level as possible. He glared at his own failing limb with scorn. "It sucks. Can't even eat, drink or take a piss by myself." His arm dropped, "At this point they're spending more time trying to figure out what they can repair, or if its even possible."
"And if they can't?" Shepard wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.
Ric exhaled a long breath, "Ever if its not treatable, my mind still works. If I can't be fixed, I'll apply for a position in the fleet."
Shepard scoffed at the notion, "Yeah, somehow I don't see you on the bridge of a ship or pushing papers in some office, Ricky. You've never been happy unless you're in the thick of the action. And I don't think the transition from Infiltrator to pencil pusher is one you'd be able to pull off."
Ric slumped, sorrowful eyes looking up at the ceiling. "Honestly? Me neither. But if I can still serve in some capacity, you bet your ass I will. Whether it's on the bridge of the Flag or busting heads as some hard ass drill instructor. I'm not about to give up on the Alliance just yet, and something's telling me they're not too keen to give up on me either."
Shepard slumped, hands folded together in his lap, "I assume that prosthetics are on the table?"
"It's a last resort. Like I said; The Docs want to figure out if they repair what's there first. If not, then I'm in for a world of hurt." Ric answered honestly,
"I think you're pencilled in for that either way, buddy." Shepard joked.
Ric nodded again before focusing on his brother. "Yeah, Yeah. Whatever. Enough about my damage: What's happening in Johnny's world?"
"You know I hate that name." Shepard grumbled,
"Well, you called me 'Jeri' and I hate that name. So we're even. Now cut the bitching and start talking. I'm bored shitless."
Author's Note: So, I originally wanted this posted for N7 day 2021. But forgive me for being a week late.
I've decided to take another stab at writing for the Mass Effect Universe. I've rekindle my love for the series with a more adult perspective. My intention is to follow the main narrative beats of the story with acceptable deviations that I feel would lead to a much more satisfying result. I'll also be incorporating some more refined elements from Andromeda (the mobility system, the refined omnitool, some armour variations. etc etc.).
And naturally, this will be a twin!Shepard fic. In this case, twin male Shepards, Johnathan "Nathan" Shepard and Jericho "Ric" Shepard. I am using default male Shepard and the twin will have distinguishing features, such as the cluster of scars up his face and longer but still regulation haircut.
Nathan is a paragade soldier. Ric is a renagon infiltrator. Ric's voice claim is Pete Stacker, known for playing Captain Jacob Keyes and Sargent Marcus Stacker in Halo.
Regards,
Aurora313