CHAPTER 1: Stranded
T▒e Norm▓ndy SR▒▓ Date: 21▓▒ G▒T Mon▓h ▓
Shepard's cheek stuck to the chilled metal platform beneath it. A sleepy haze wrapped her mind.
What...happened?
Positioning herself upright, she blinked her dazed eyes until the fog faded from her vision. As her pupils focused, memories began to resurface.
The Normandy SR2, Bahak System, 2196 GST Month 8 (Afternoon)
Shepard sat at her desk, reviewing the section on Arashu's epic in her tome, a portion of the drell faith dedicated to the journey of a warrior. Throughout the hymn, she felt the knot of her stomach grow tighter. Alight with praise were the victors but at what cost? Only carnage lay in their path, their hands stained with the blood of those sacrificed. Ending her study, Shepard placed the bible on the table as she stood. Her hand lingered on its leather binding as she closed her eyes and exhaled.
"Amonkira, give me strength."
A week from today, Shepard would retire. At age 42, she was considered a young admiral, with her career just at its beginning. But with the strain of the passing years, she no longer held that steadfast determination. Maybe it was the PTSD or perhaps the strain of time. But she was tired, and it was time to rest.
The additional civilian outcry pushing her toward retirement was in its own way welcome. The last of the Batarians had assembled and requested year after year on the anniversary of the Bahak System's destruction for Shepard to step down.
It was no harm to her. She felt the same about her career. Always thinking that perhaps things could have been different. That perhaps she had made a trail of wrong decisions, and that she should have chosen a different path when she talked to the Catalyst. With a sigh, she placed the tome on her desk.
The Alliance—specifically Hackett—kept pressure against the proposal and assured Shepard that she always had a place in the Navy. But upon reflection, she acknowledged it was time. The name Shepard was intrinsically tied to the Reapers and the war; there was no separation from the two anymore.
It's time to forget. Move on.
Cracking her back and stretching out her limbs, Shepard headed for the lift. Her destination was port observation. Joker would be driving by the Bahak system's memorial site. And although the building would not be operational for a few months' time, Shepard wanted to pay her respects. It was unlikely that her visit to the completed station would be welcome upon its opening—imagining tabloid articles written by Khalisah al-Jilani playing on every news site was like a nightmare come true—so this might be her only chance.
The Normandy SR-2, Bahak System, 2196 GST Month 8 (Evening)
Shepard gazed out the windows of Port Observation. A space craft no bigger than Gagarin Station sat in the empty expanse. It employed the same von Braun wheel that many other stations had. The coloration and design of the wheel-like structure reflected the former planetary system that occupied the location. Separated into five zones, each section was engraved with the name of a planet, "Bastzuda," "Clogon," "Urmola," "Yunaca," and "Aratoht."
Shepard repeated their names and the titles of the fallen planets in her head like a chant. Nails from her fists dug into flesh, as her heart drummed. Minutes and hours passed until the door slid open behind her.
Swish.
"Hey, Joker asked me to check on you." Garrus stepped into Port Observation. "He also asked when he can pull the ship around portside to the relay. I told him you didn't need babysitting, but he insisted. I just—"
His gaze narrowed on Shepard's fists. "How long have you been in here?"
Shepard placed her hands behind her and gave a polite nod. "Since about 1100 hours, I think."
"It's 1574 hours, Shepard." He shook his head and sighed. "You sure you're okay?"
Great, he's worried. She hit him in the shoulder and feigned confidence. "Don't worry. Just feeling a little sentimental that's all."
"Getting up there in the years, aren't you?" Garrus nudged her back. "You should get something to eat. Come on." He thumbed towards the door.
"Yeah, you're right." Shepard sighed.
Garrus began walking to the door, turning away from her.
Shepard inspected her hands. Blood pooled in her palms, cut by her nails. "Hey Garrus, do you think..." There's salvation for someone like….
She shook her head, dropping her arms to her side and placing them behind her back. "Never mind, it's not important."
Shepard connected her earpiece to the comm system. "Joker, bring the Normandy over to the new Bahak Relay."
T▒e Norm▓ndy SR▒▓ Date: 21▓▒ G▒T Mont▓h ▒
That's right...we were in the Bahak System.
From what she recalled; she had brought her team to supervise the last mass relay's activation. The momentous occasion was to be a celebration for the completion of the post-war rebuilding effort.
As Shepard's vision cleared, she gazed out to view an empty CIC. Had she passed out while standing at the galaxy map? How long had she been down? The whirr of the life support systems hissed and rattled in the silence.
And where was everyone?
On her feet, Shepard paused. She flexed an unflexed her muscles and stretched out her shoulders. Her body felt lighter, more relaxed, pliant. Her joints were flexible and sturdy. No soreness was apparent, even the pop of her elbow had ceased. An unusual and rare occurrence since the war.
After the explosion on the Citadel, she had persistent aches and pains from her fried implants, a constant reminder of her decision. Given the choice, she had voluntarily carried out mass genocide. All synthetics were rendered inert. "It was to destroy the Reapers," Shepard would tell herself. But the millions of dead geth lingered in the back of her thoughts, and the spasms of her implants drove them to the forefront of her mind on the worst of days.
It wasn't her place to play God.
The discovery of her body on the Citadel and resuscitation efforts had left her with ill-fitting replacements that sparked chronic nerve pain, eventually lessened by plasticity but never truly gone. Shepard accepted it. The persistent ache would remind her of what and whom she had sacrificed. But now, her body was absent of discomfort. Strange.
Shepard steadied herself—an unsettling fear rising and threatening to drown her—but there was no time to sit and think. Identify. Analyze. Prioritize….
"EDI, run a full diagnostic of the ship and crew."
She waited.
Shit. EDI was down.
The CIC was empty, not another crew member in sight. Shepard placed EDI at priority one along with a needed sweep of the ship.
She linked her omni-tool to the comm system. "This is Shepard speaking. I need a status report from all crew."
Without waiting for a reply, she walked to the cockpit. She could see the pilot's seat, but there was no Joker. In the co-pilot's chair EDI's body lay inert. A few more memories pieced together upon observation.
The Normandy had encountered some sort of anomaly. But why was everyone missing? Were they ambushed—the crew taken? But why leave her? Shepard clenched her jaw and the grip of her fist tightened.
A blue glow from outside the cockpit caught her attention. A faraway ship? Perhaps a station? Or….
Shepard narrowed her eyes. A mass relay?
But it wasn't just any mass effect relay…it was an older model. Rounded and sleek, different from the new angular designs. A relic from before the war.
She stared at the structure in silence, eyes widened in disbelief. All of the relays had been destroyed in the blast from the Crucible.
Where were they?
A nagging buzz in her ears started to form, intensifying as Shepard felt fear rising to her chest. It was petrifying. A dread she hadn't felt since the War over ten years ago.
Senses now heightened to alarm, she pivoted and headed for the lift. Her footsteps echoed across the soundless space—leather boots tapping against metal—as Shepard entered the elevator. Descending to the crew deck, she focused on getting the AI core up and running. Access to needed information and surveillance recordings were priority. EDI also needed to manage the ship's operations with the missing flight crew.
Her omni-tool lit up.
"Alenko, here. Crew Deck, Crew Quarters. It's…empty in here." Kaidan's voice was gruff and raspy, its rhythm unsteady. "Going to check on Liara."
Shepard exhaled in relief. At least one of the crew was there. "Understood. Crew count and search is priority one. Heading to the AI Core."
Shepard arrived on an eerily silent crew deck. The usual bustling chatter was replaced by the hushed pulses of the life support systems. Again, the deck was devoid of life. Not another member aside from Shepard walked the halls. Mess tables held half-filled abandoned plates and mugs and the kitchen was missing its immovable cook. As she approached the door to the med-bay, the buzz in her ears had grown to a loud ringing, and when the doors slid open, there was no sign of Dr. Chakwas anywhere.
"Dammit," Shepard hissed through her teeth.
Power was down in the AI core. Shepard hoped there wasn't any damage to EDI.
Much of her programming had been laced with Reaper code, courtesy of Cerberus, making the bulk of her data irreparable after the Crucible's blast had partially destroyed her systems. They had spent a year rebuilding what was left of her from the ground up, and when she had finally been activated once more, she was, of course, altered. She might have had the ship recordings and copies of previous data to build on, but still, EDI lacked the critical connections and conclusions that she had made throughout the journey. Only with the passage of years had EDI become more personable, human-like. Shepard hoped she wouldn't need Tali's assistance regarding EDI again.
Her heart drummed violently in her chest. What if the anomaly they encountered had somehow affected EDI? Undone ten years of painstaking recovery? She hurried over to the terminal and activated the AI core, foot tapping anxiously as she waited until power was fully restored to EDI's systems.
"EDI. EDI, can you read me?"
What felt like an eternity passed.
"Morning Shepard, I'm back online." EDI's voice echoed in the narrow, sterile space.
Shepard's foot ceased its rhythmic tapping, the stiffness of her shoulders eased. "Glad to have you back, EDI. Is everything okay?"
"Running a diagnostic check..." EDI paused. "My systems are fine, Shepard, however..."
"I know." Shepard shook her head and gripped the panel with her hands. "Some of the crew is...missing. For now, I need a status report on the Normandy and a crew count stat. We need to find out what happened and check on the remaining crew. "
"Understood." A few moments passed. "Shepard, the Normandy is running above its optimal capacity. It is...unusual."
"What do you mean?" Shepard crossed her arms, and the knot of her brows formed a permanent wrinkle on her forehead.
"The ship appears to be in new condition, with little to no corrosion or wear."
Shepard sighed, "EDI, the Normandy is over ten years old. That can't be possible. Are you sure you're not experiencing a diagnostic issue? Or are you trying to tell me someone fixed the ship while we were sleeping?" A ridiculous idea. She shook her head in disbelief.
"No, Shepard. I have completed hundreds of diagnostic scans within the span of our conversation." EDI paused. "But, it appears as if the Normandy has been 'refurbished'. Parts exhibiting extensive corrosion or rusting are undamaged. This would suggest a major repair effort of the ship. However, the corresponding components match the serial numbers logged on file. To put it plainly, the previously eroded materials are now in excellent condition."
That didn't make any sense.
Confounded, with even more questions than before, Shepard kept to her priority list. "Okay, and the crew?"
The door to the AI core opened with Liara and Kaidan stepping in. The luminescent glare of the Med-bay flooded her sight. Pupils readjusting to the brightness, Shepard stared at the two dark figures.
Kaidan's greyed hair was a vivid dark brown and his skin a smooth, spotless beige. In shock, Shepard's jaw slacked, and her eyes widened. He looked years younger, the spitting image of the lieutenant she'd served with aboard the SR-1.
"What the hell?" Shepard blinked.