*flips shades down*

Let's begin.

*tosses shades into trash*

Chapter 1: Arrival at Normandy

Sandra

I wasn't sure what happened. One moment I was on my computer, the next I was... somewhere else. The walls were shiny grey (silver?), and it was stacked with crates and boxes. It looked familiar- the Normandy! It had to be.

Elated, I stood up and shouted at the top of my lungs, "IT WORKED! IT WORKED! I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINALLY DID SOMETHING THAT WORKED!"

"I am detecting a lame reference in the cargo bay," a slightly synthetic female voice announced. EDI. "Flooding the cargo bay with a deadly neurotoxin. Error- morality core has blocked access. Attempting to reroute. Dispatching security."

"Did someone merge EDI with GLaDOS?" a familiar voice joked. I turned to my right, and there was Kevin, aka Ultra_Elite_Engineer. He was dressed in one of those futuristic colonist outfits that didn't look very futuristic at all, an ugly brown color really.

Other than that, he looked mostly the same. Brown hair that came down and covered his ears, similar colored eyes and scruffy beard. He adjusted his glasses and blinked a few times before asking, "Where's everybody else?"

"Oh, bloody hell," said a British accented voice. A man in a normal and not futuristic outfit stumbled out from between a pair of crates, pulling a duffel bag and instrument case behind him. This was actually the first time I'd seen Aleks, or SublimeVirtuoso, in the flesh. He looked decidedly more average and less British than I imagined.

"Fuck me," a deeper voice, this one not British. That was Jason, the big tough soldier guy with some kind of mental condition from Raq. He was in full military gear. "God fucking damn it."

A door on the far side of the cargo bay opened, revealing two humans in armor and carrying assault rifles that I'd never seen in the game. Security. They pointed their guns right at us, which was pretty scary since I'd never had a gun pointed at me before.

A third figure emerged from between them. She had short red hair and dark brown eyes- a combination I'd never used. There was a scar running down her face, but it actually made her look more beautiful. Though her uniform was hardly flattering, she was slim, feminine, and pretty. Was it really her? The great Commander Shepard? In the flesh?

"Is that-" I squeak out.

Jason shakes his head, peeking out from behind a metal crate. "Nah, that's not the Commander."

A different woman, with the same hair (but dirtier) and eye color (but more intense) but taller and more muscular with a much uglier scar, followed behind her. She was decidedly less pretty. The slimmer woman turned and saluted, and the larger woman saluted back before saying, "At ease, marine."

"That's the Commander."

I manage to squee before I black out.

Kevin

"This can't be happening." Oh shit, we're actually here. On the Normandy! In Mass Effect!

"Can it," Jason snapped.

"This can't be happening!" Everyone is gone! We're headed toward certain death! The Reapers are coming! I left the bread in the oven!

"Shut the fuck up!" Jason screamed at me.

"Hey!" Shepard called, stepping down into the cargo bay. "Who are you and what are you doing on my ship."

I forced myself to speak up and try to sound as professional as possible. Come on, Kevin. You can do this. Just like in those other, less ambitious self inserts. "Commander Shepard. We heard you're taking on the Collectors, and we want in... umm, if your buddies lower the guns, can we talk privately in your private quarters? You know, the one with the fish tank and the collectable ship display."

She just looks at me like I'm insane. "Excuse me? Collectors?"

I get a second look at her uniform. Blue. Alliance. So are the Marines. "Shit, this is Mass Effect 1, isn't it?"

"Could be 3, couldn't it?" Jason asked.

"No, if it was 3 she would know about the Collectors," Aleks told us, untangling himself from his instrument case.

I asked, "Hey, what year is it?"

Before Shepard could stop her, the pretty woman replied, "2183"

"Yeah, this is Mass Effect 1."

"I'm sorry, what the hell are you talking about?" Shepard asked. "You better stop explaining yourselves before I throw you in the brig."

"No, no, no, you answer my question first," Aleks said forcefully. "If this is the SR-1, what's with that psychotic AI?"

"AI? That's just some stupid voice pack Joker installed," the chatty woman added before covering her mouth, embarrassed.

"Hey, you gotta admit, it's pretty funny," a voice called over the intercom. "Neurotoxin emitter? Morality core? Classic."

Aleksandr

This was getting very peculiar very quickly.

"I want answers, now!" Shepard demanded. "This is a military vessel, highly secured. How did you get aboard?"

Oh, shit. See, we didn't have time to come up with a cover story. We're going to have to improvise.

Actually, seeing as none of my mates are saying anything, I'm going to have to improvise.

"Well, there's this song, it's called Vexations, and it's known to cause hallucinations and even death to people who play it. I started playing it, and..."

I trailed off as Shepard started laughing. A strong, bright laugh. Genuine amusement. Laughing at us. Laughing at me. "Seriously? That's the best you could come up with? Perfect op, and that's the cover story you've got."

"Just tell her the truth," Jason advised me, trying to give me another opening I suppose.

I took a deep breath. "Look, I don't know how we got here, okay? We just went to sleep in a not so nice place, next thing we knew we were here."

A pregnant pause. "Bullshit."

I'm going to need to break out the big guns. It's a bad cliche but at that point I was much to disoriented to conceive a good metaphor. See, in any self-insert, the characters use information they shouldn't know to gain an opening. Then they at least have an in, and can talk with Shepard at some level of equality. If they do it right then they can actually pass themselves off as oracles or such.

"Shepard, I know things. We know things. Believe it or not we can help you."

She folded her arms. "Start talking."

There's a problem with this plan. We thought we were going into Mass Effect 2, and this is Mass Effect 1... and I know nothing about this Shepard. We have no predictable entry, no plan, no parameters, no known information other than what is common between all runs of Mass Effect. And even that is of limited use because we do not know where or when we are.

The talkative lady, however, probably knows all kinds of things about life, the universe and everything. "Hey talkative lady!"

"Yeah?"

"Where was Shepard born?"

"Oh, that's easy, she was born on Mindoir. Then she lost her family to slavers before she joined the Alliance. Real sad story, that."

"Commander Shepard! You were born on Mindoir, and joined the Alliance after slavers killed your entire family."

She started chewing her lip. "Keep talking."

"Hey talkative lady, did Shepard do something very significant during her career?"

"Yes, she was the sole survivor on Akuze. It's a sad story, but also an inspiring one."

"You were the sole survivor on Akuze," Jason shouted, starting to figure out what I was doing.

"I'll admit, that's pretty good," Shepard evaluated. "Clearly you know a lot about me. But what about the current mission?"

My friends were catching on. "Hey talkative lady," Kevin called. "Where are we headed?"

"On our way to the Citadel."

"And where are we coming from?"

"Eden Prime... or what's left of it. Geth totaled the place, nearly destroyed the colony. Something about a rogue Spectre, Saren I think, trying to get a Prothean beacon. Then Shepard used it, and it scrambled her brains a bit."

"You just came from Eden Prime," Kevin shouted. "Saren was there with the geth. He used the Prothean beacon, then you used the Prothean beacon, then it blew up, and now you're messed up in the head."

"Keep going..." Shepard said. Clearly she was starting to be convinced.

"Hey, talkative lady!" Jason called. "Did we lose anybody on Eden Prime?"

"Nihlus was shot in the head and Jenkins was shredded by drones. I had to help move the bodies. Awful work, that."

"And did we pick anybody up?"

"A Gunnery Chief Williams, last survivor of her unit. Truly awful when that happens." The talkative lady suppressed a shudder.

Jason mulled it over for a moment, then shouted, "Commander Shepard, Nihlus was shot in the back of the head on Eden Prime by someone he trusted, and you lost Jenkins to drone fire. Chief Williams lost her unit and you picked her up."

I conclude, "See, Commander? We're like, oracles. We just know things. And we can tell things about the future, too."

"Like the lottery numbers," Kevin added. Then, after a pause, I suppose he realized that wasn't a good idea. "No guarantees, though. Quantum realities or something like that. When we look at the future it changes things just enough to throw off the lottery."

The talkative lady who had been very helpful handed her rifle to Shepard, stepped forward four paces until she was right in front of us, and then quickly punched each of us in the face in quick succession.

Jason just stands there, like he barely felt it. Kevin is on the floor, clutching his face. Sandra is still out cold. I gently prod my face, and it sends waves of pain through it. "Ow! What the hell was that for?"

"For calling my sister talkative lady instead of her name, probably," Shepard replied deadpan.

She laughed. "Come on, the cargo bay's cold and stuffy. There's still some cake in the fridge, and Kaidan just put on a fresh pot of coffee. We can talk over lunch. I'm Jane, by the way."

"I'm Kevin Georgeas."

"Lance Corporal Jason Hernandez, USMC, retired."

"Sandra McCarthy," Sandra muttered as the two guards began dragging her across the floor.

"Aleksandr, but everyone just calls me Aleks," I replied numbly, following her up the steps.