"Well, what about Shepard? She grew up in the colonies."

"She knows how tough life can be out there. Her family was killed when slavers attacked Mindoir."

"She proved herself in the Blitz. Through clever tactics, she was able to fend off enemy forces on the ground until reinforcements arrived."

"She's the only reason Elysium is still standing."

"We can't question her competence."

"Humanity needs a hero, and Shepard's the best we've got."

"I'll make the call."

In the year 2148, explorers on Mars discovered the remains of an ancient spacefaring civilization. In the decades that followed these mysterious artifacts revealed starting new technologies enabling travel to the furthest stars. The basis for this incredible technology was a force that controlled the very fabric of space and time.

They called it the greatest discovery in human history.

The civilizations of the galaxy call it...

Mass Effect.

Flames. Screams. Cries. These are the things Shepard is all too familiar with. Every night she relives it. Relives the pain. The horrific scene that unfolds around her like an oil painting as she lays on the blazed grass, staring up in fear at the apex of her nightmares; her tormentor. She begs him for mercy. She begs him to leave. He laughs and just like all of the other nightmares, he continues.

Shepard screams in pain as the alien shows off his jagged teeth. She is shamed and every night she is shamed all over again. It's not real and she knows it, but that doesn't keep the shadows away. The screams of her dying family are still there. The screams of her dying friends are still there. The horrible reality still dangles in front of her eyes as she relives Mindoir over and over again. She opens her tear-stained eyes to see her torturer above her, his four eyes slowly blinking one at a time.

New Message at your private terminal.

The horrific scene started to dissolve around her as the world beckoned her back to reality. The flames faded, the screams faded, the pain faded, and so did the nightmare incarnate and his four eyes that broke everything she thought was real. And with that, her dream was gone.

The woman gasps as she shoots up in bed, feeling the effects of fearful adrenaline pulsing through her veins. She looks around the small room, taking in the familiar comfort it offers. A two-room apartment (if you could call an incredibly small bathroom the second room) complementary with a kitchenette, an office area, closet, and right in middle of it all, a small bed. Shepard could afford a better apartment- maybe even a house, on the Citadel but chose this over them. It was constricted and tight. Safe. She didn't see much appeal to anything that was more than necessary- it was... Annoying, useless, and pointless. It was not appealing.

She slowly rises from the bed, her joints popping, still not used to the weight she's gained; not a weight gained with fat, muscles or stature.

She strides over to the terminal, types in her code and browses through her mail. She sifts through the messages that her old team from Elysium had sent. They try to connect with her, meet up with her or just have a friendly conversation with her but she always ignored them. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to have friends; they only complicated things. She came upon a message flagged important; the familiar 'N7' decorated the email's subject box. She had almost clicked 'open' when a wave of extreme nausea flooded her stomach and made its way up to her throat. She ran for the bathroom, bursting through the door as she sprinted for the toilet. She lifts up the lid and pukes. The sickly sweet taste of vomit drips from her lips as it drains. She shakily sighs and gives one last heave before her body deems that she's been through enough.

She pulls her toothbrush from her mouth and spits the minty paste into the sink before washing it down. She steps from the bathroom, making her way towards the terminal. "Thanks for that", she says quietly as she lightly taps her fingers against the lower part of her stomach.

Uninterrupted, she opens the message.

Shepard,

I understand that you are on pre-maternity leave and therefore are entitled to stay ashore; however, I am requesting that you accompany me on a shakedown run to Eden Prime using the Normandy. It is important that we do so, so I feel like an ass for doing this but I am assigning this as an N7 mission. It will be short. Meet me at the C-sec docking bay today at 10:00 a.m., keep it discreet.

-Anderson

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. She couldn't decline this assignment. It was a part of the N7 agreement that she would show up to their missions, pregnant or not. She looked at the holo-clock.

7:16 a.m.

She had about three hours to shower, eat, pack and get dressed in her Alliance blues. She walked to the bathroom, stripped off her silver and black silk dress pj's.

She relished in the steam, it was warm, invigorating and calm. She sighed as the warm water splashed over her face and down her front. She let it envelope her; heat, water, and soap filled her senses. Waking them up. Waking her up.

She steps from the shower with a towel wrapped around her and her hair. She stops in front of the mirror to bend over and dry her hair. She straightens out and lets her hair fall. It reaches a little bit past her small jaw line. It usually wouldn't matter that much to anyone but it did to her. She wasn't inclined to cut it because she was a perfectionist- oh no- she was inclined to cut it because she was afraid. Maybe this doesn't make sense. Not to normal people it doesn't.

She takes a trembling hand and grabs the old pair of blood-stained scissors and cuts unevenly. It is then when her hair is shorter that she is unafraid. Confusing? Should it be? Clinical psychology tells us that people with troubled pasts tend to find the most random things to be disturbing, especially when they have played a part in said trouble. She evens out the ends of her hair and packs the scissors into her pack along with multiple other things she needs. She dresses into her standard Alliance uniform and stares into the mirror, there was the woman who stood at 5'8. The woman whose blonde hair radiated like the sun. The woman whose lighter skin glowed with health. The woman who had striking hazel eyes that has seen countless deaths of innocents and hostiles alike; striking hazel eyes that would no doubt see more.

She held her stomach in her hand as she looked down, "It's just another routine mission. It will be short... And besides... You have another eight months."

This woman was Shepard.

Post-notes: Thank you for reading my trailer (the rest of the chapters won't be this short) to my upcoming story, Routine Mission! It means a lot! Right now I'm in middle of writing another story, but afterward; I plan on continuing with this. I cannot tell you how long I've been planning this... Well actually I can... Ever since ME2 came out, I've been planning, thinking, reading, waiting, finding art, getting permission to use likenesses and characters from other stories. It might not seem like much right now but do not worry- I have been studying writing and training. I'm making my paragraphs longer, my words better and my stories more gripping. I do expect and hope this story will become a popular thing here; I know it's going to be the biggest undertaking that I've done. In these series of stories, I will include more scenarios, altered scenarios, new characters, new enemies, new outfits, new squad mates, new situations, new deaths, new decisions, new conversations, altered stories, altered Normandy, and much MUCH more. I hope you can understand how exciting and nerve-racking this is for me. I do not know when I will start updating so I recommend that you follow my story or go on Facebook and look up "Mass Effect by CelestialLight" and like it. I'm sorry for making you do stuff but I promise it's worth it :). On my Facebook page, every time we pass by something, I will usually leave my story's version of "concept art" (as well as credits for the picture) to give you a visual. If there's something wrong with the link let me know. Well... I think that's it... Please feel free to comment on every chapter.

p.s. If anyone knows who did my cover photo, let me know.

Well once again, thank you! I hope you will follow me on this adventure.

Love,

CelestialLight.