Commander Eden Shepard tiredly slumped against the wall in the Normandy med bay, monotonously chomping on a calorie-dense MRE bar. Her muscles ached deeply, and bruises covered her, yet her spirits had never been higher. They had accomplished the unthinkable; gone to a place no one had ever returned from, completed a mission no one had ever succeeded at, and returned with most of the crew alive and accounted for.
She had performed her utmost due diligence before the final assault on the Collector base: the Normandy had been fitted with extended fuel cells, heavy armour, multicore shielding, and a Thanix cannon. The blurred hours spent planetary mining for the resources to afford the upgrades, while mind-numbing, had paid off ten-fold. When they passed through the Omega-4 relay to assault the Collector base, the Normandy SR-2 was a far bigger, badder ship than the original SR-1 that had fallen prey to the Collectors. They were able to take their hits and hit back with a wicked wallop that culminated in the destruction of the Collector ship that had once taken them down. It had been an immensely satisfying moment, and she imagined Joker had also cackled triumphantly as their SR-1 had finally been avenged.
As for her crew, she supported them to the absolute best of her ability, taking the time to know them and assisting them in whatever they needed to resolve in their personal lives for their help when it mattered. Their loyalty to her and their collective cause was second to none. They worked effectively with her and with each other, and there was nothing greater she could have wished for.
Although they continued to sojourn in the land of the living, the cost of the mission came down to horrifying knowledge of what the Collectors had been working on, and a ship that urgently needed repairs. Except for a few crew members who possessed more serious injuries, the rest worked around the clock to patch up what remained. Mordin was administering lighter medical assistance as required, Grunt, Jacob, and Garrus were helping to carry away some of the heavier ship debris thrown about during the raid, and Dr. Chakwas was patching her up in the med bay. Legion and Tali were repairing the engine, and the rest of her team were either resting or helping the others. The Tantalus drive core had taken a toll from the crash on the Collector base, and they had been lucky to make it out in one piece.
Unfortunately, her decision to destroy the collector base and its unfinished human Reaper monstrosity had been in direct conflict with the Illusive man's orders. To say the Reapers' tech was dangerous was an understatement; She had seen firsthand the effects of their subtle indoctrination, and when the decision needed to be made, she chose without a second thought to destroy it all. Due to this, he had withdrawn a considerable amount of Cerberus funds from her account, probably hoping to send a signal. She had returned with one of her own, in the form of a raised middle finger. Yet, despite the somewhat dire position they found themselves in, there was much to be thankful for. Shepard had no idea what she would have done without the help of her team. They had turned a complete suicide mission into a win - It was remarkable and not to be taken for granted. So much so, in fact, that her present circumstances made her the most relived in a long time.
"Commander!"
Rising upward to attention automatically and returning from her thoughts, Shepard almost knocked heads with Dr. Chakwas, the medical doctor stationed aboard her ship. A dear friend of hers from the original Normandy, she still enjoyed working well into retirement age and enjoying the occasional bottle of brandy.
"Shepard? How are you feeling?" the elderly woman asked her, tapping on a medical pad to assess her state.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Shepard answered, annoyingly waving the poking and prodding away. "I'm just… still processing all of this."
"I don't blame you; we'll all need some time to bring ourselves back to a stable mental state." the doctor said. "Staring into the face of your own morality this often isn't healthy."
Unconvinced by Shepard's reluctance toward physical care, Chakwas continued to skim the readouts. "Hmmm. Those heavy bone, muscle and skin weave upgrades are proving to be very useful given your inclination to throw yourself into suicidal confrontations. You're in decent shape. Nothing a good rest won't fix."
Shepard clenched and unclenched her hand, feeling her muscles tighten and relax. Aside from the Normandy upgrades, she had been upgraded too: her skeleton was now reinforced with a synthetic weave, making it almost unbreakable. Her muscles had been perforated with a micro-fibre weave to make them stronger and decrease muscular damage from overexertion. Her skin, too, was woven with synthetic fibres to reduce the damage she often received. She had always been hesitant to augment herself before her death at the hands of the Collectors, believing that with enough training and preparation, she could surmount any obstacle she faced with her natural abilities. However, her tune changed after her death at their hands, knowing that there were limits and situations she simply could not overcome or prepare for. Her decision proved fruitful; there were moments on the Collector base where she knew she was pushing herself to her old physical limit or past it, yet she held together.
"... And you, you need to get some rest. Don't even think about going to the shuttle bay to help the others; I'm sure they have everything under control. No excuses," the doctor repeated, knowing that Shepard would complain to her, "I don't want to hear it, Commander. If you don't head up to sleep this instant, I'm afraid I will be forced to abuse our doctor-patient relationship and tranquillize you for your own good. Do you understand?"
"Yes, mother."
"Splendid." Chakwas sat back down to look at some paperwork. "Now go."
.
Shepard exited the med bay and headed for the elevator, and as she did, she noticed the empty seats in the mess hall that would have usually been busy and occupied. Most of the support crew had already been "processed" by the Collectors before reaching the base.
When the elevator doors finally opened, she was greeted by their resident Krogan with a respectful snort.
"Grunt, feeling better?" she asked him. After destroying the human Reaper, they had almost been squashed as the platforms they were fighting on had dropped straight down a deep shaft. All three of them had momentarily blacked out from the impact, and Grunt's arm had looked unwell after they awoke. However, that didn't stop him, as he got up and continued firing his Krogan shotgun one-handed like the absolute madman he was.
He shook his arm. "That was nothing. We've both been through worse. Ah, the benefits of a redundant nervous system," He boomed, flashing a toothy grin.
Shepard rubbed the back of her neck. "Uh, yeah, humans don't have that."
"No? Well, you're still standing." He barked, banging both of his fists together. "We fought a great fight Shepard, and for that, I am proud to call you my battle-master!"
The elevator doors opened, and he lumbered out.
Grunt's loud krogan personality was always a treat to work alongside. Shepard had always regarded Grunt as something of a surrogate son, and she in turn was something of a surrogate mother to him. She had been the one to release him from his tank and had been part of his Krantt during his Rite of Passage on Tuchanka.
Now alone in the elevator, Shepard thought to bend her orders and pressed the button for the Shuttle Bay. She would eventually be heading up to her quarters for a rest, but Chakwas said nothing about how convoluted the path she chose to get there could be. EDI's voice sprung into the elevator when her fingers tapped the button.
"Shepard, Chakwas has given you specific instructions to get some rest. The crew is doing fine without you."
"Ugh, fine. I'm going up. Have you finished decrypting the reaper schematics yet?"
"I'm currently working on them, Shepard. I anticipate their completion in five hours and thirteen minutes."
"Alright, thanks, EDI."
Against her wishes, the elevator stopped at her quarters. Everything was nearly how she left it, and she could see no visual damage to this part of the ship... till she turned toward her fish tank and found all of her aquatic pets floating at the top of the water, clearly dead.
Groaning, she stumbled into her loft as her fatigue was fully making itself known to her. She should invest in one of those automatic feeder thingies, she thought in her sleep-deprived state. It was the twenty-second century, for goodness sake. Why didn't all tanks have automatic feeding? If they had artificial intelligence so advanced that they fought for their own rights, why didn't her tank have automatic feeding? If the Illusive man had spared no expense at furnishing the Normandy and gave her a massive wall fish tank in her quarters, why hadn't he outfitted it with automatic feeding? The cockpit had leather chairs, her loft had a friggin skylight built into the hull, but there was no automatic feeder on her fish tank. It was complete bullshit.
She staggered toward her bed, set an alarm and dropped straight down onto the mattress, too tired to remove any of her clothing. Within mere moments of her head hitting the sheets, she was asleep.
.
She awoke from dreamless oblivion, for a few seconds not recognizing where she was before noticing her dirty fish tank. She glanced at the time and scowled crankily as she realized she had been asleep far longer than she wanted to. Her alarm was disabled. Lightly stretching to check her physical state, some of her muscles ached deeply, but there was no restricted movement. She lifted herself out of bed and hobbled up to the doorway to get her bearings. Someone had left the armour that she had requested.
She grabbed the pieces and placed them on her desk to see the extent of the damage. It was heavy. They needed repairs but would hold together for now. Her armour also needed a good cleaning as it was encrusted with dried blood. Thankfully, most of it wasn't hers.
She dragged herself into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. Her shoulder-length red hair was riddled with dirt and grime. Her cheeks were gaunt and dark circles surrounded her bloodshot blue eyes. She smelt like something dead. She felt like hell. At least she still had a face, she thought, pressing a hand against one of her pale cheeks. She turned the knobs on the shower and stood under the waterfall for a long time without moving.
.
She took the elevator down. While in transit, she ripped off the Cerberus insignia from her top. Those would be the first to go.
The first stop was Joker. She found him talking to EDI.
"EDI, we've got venting from the number sixteen lithium heat sink," He said, his hands darting to and fro on the board. Although his back was turned, he noticed Shepard via the mirror he had installed on the console for himself.
"Hey Commander, long time no see. I was starting to think that Chakwas used her tranquillizer."
"Jeff, as I have already advised you, she was given strict orders to rest," replied the ever-present A.I.
"Speaking of rest," Shepard interposed, facing the hologram with a cocked eyebrow, "I found my alarm disabled when I clearly remember setting it. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, EDI?"
"Organic performance degrades over time without rest, Commander. Your schedule did not list any engagements, and I received a recommendation from to ensure you were not disturbed." the AI chimed, matter-of-factly.
"I agree with EDI, Commander. We barely escaped with our lives less than seventy-two hours ago if you happened to forget."
"I'll allow it this one time. Joker, plot a course for Illium. We need to get to a dock for repairs. EDI, is the decryption done?"
"Yes, Shepard. I have forwarded the files to Anderson and to your private terminal."
"Good. And EDI?"
"Yes, Commander?"
"In the future, don't disable my alarm without my permission."
"Of course, Commander."
"See you, Commander," Joker added.
Shepard wanted to find the other crew members but decided against it. They needed to rest, and they deserved it. Instead, she went back to her cabin, grabbed some water to sip on and began the mind-numbing work of sorting through her mail. An automated voice spoke with the flip of a switch on her terminal.
"It has been 4 days and 13 hours since you last checked your Inbox. You have 63 unread messages!"
Great, she thought to herself. She opened the first.
Shepard, are you looking to continue your education? It's one thing to know how to shoot again, but do you have the career skills to deploy and manage today's high technology network infrastructures? The Henley Technical Institute can help. Courses available through our extranet site will put you on the path to success. Visit our site now at keywords Henley, technical education.
"That's why I bring Tali and Legion along with me. Into the trash, you go."
Shepard, you've recently been dead. Don't you deserve the quality and distinction of a traditional asari burial robe? Anatass Mortuary offers the finest quality burial robes hand-spun by skilled asari artisans. We'll help you leave a good-looking corpse.
She nearly spat out her water. "What the hell?" she chortled. This was a new one. Definitely, top five pieces of spam she'd ever received. She forwarded it to Miranda's extranet address.
In everyone's life, there is a moment when things crystallize. You can see all the roads that have led you to this point, and all the paths that lie ahead. For you, Shepard, that moment may be when you first sit in the pilot's seat of the Aries 2185 model Tennekont. For 500 years, designer Selaya Kelpion has refined this luxury sports shuttle. Each is a unique masterpiece, hand-assembled by skilled craftsmen. Visit our showroom in the Presidium next time you stop by the Citadel, and perhaps you'll see that the path ahead of you will be traveled in a Tennekont.
"Hmm, I'll pass. My ride's better, thanks." She hit delete.
Most of the mail she received was spam or junk except for a few she had received from people she had helped during her travels. She especially loved reading those and kept every one. When she had completed clearing her inbox, she sent a message to Anderson for a meeting and a request to meet the council. Hopefully, with the schematics EDI uploaded, she could finally prove the existence of the Reapers to the council members. With a satisfied nod, she proceeded to take a look through the Reaper tech schematics but was interrupted by a voice over the comm. It was Joker.
"Commander, I know you really don't want to hear this, but the Illusive Man wants to speak with you."
