Story Excerpt

“Commander Shepard, there’s an emergency transmission on your private terminal,” Yeoman Kelly Chambers announced.

“Thanks, Yeoman,” Shepard replied, though he didn't stop walking toward the elevator.

“Commander?”

“Yes, Yeoman Chambers?”

“I said it’s an EMERGENCY transmission.” The Combat Information Center turned silent, the crew hanging in a state of breathless anticipation for orders that were not coming.

The Commander stepped into the elevator with a nonchalant shrug. “I’ll get to it. Right now, I’m going to the Crew’s Quarters on deck three to flirt with Miranda. First, I get the girl, and then I save the day.”

Commander Shepard was the indescribable, incongruous every-man. His true hair and eye color were unknown, and no one knew his first name. To all sentient beings in the galaxy, he was known only as the commander of the spaceship SSV Normandy and the fallen Hero of the Citadel.

During the two years Shepard had been dead, elevator technology had advanced significantly—or so the narrative claimed. On the first Normandy, an elevator ride between decks had reportedly taken hours. There were even unconfirmed reports of passengers dying of old age in the elevators on the Citadel space station, a testament to the glacial pace of galactic transit.

After a few seconds, and a floating popup reminder to ‘Lean out of cover to shoot when you hear a break in enemy fire,’ the doors slid open. Shepard turned right and walked through the cafeteria toward Miranda’s office. He spotted the same two crewmembers he saw on every single visit to the crew deck, sitting at a table. Reflecting on the gruesome fate of his last crew, he decided to let these two continue their eternal, stationary lunch.

Miranda Lawson was sitting at her desk, poring over reports on her computer terminal when Shepard walked in. Her dark, shoulder-length auburn hair and form-fitting outfit reminded Shepard why he preferred human women. They may not have had the exotic looks of the Asari, but they were easier to pick up. In Shepard's experience, no human woman could resist a man who pretended to be interested in her feelings.

“Can we talk?”

Flashing a perfect smile with perfect teeth behind perfect lips, Miranda replied, “Of course, I’d been meaning to talk with you, in fact.”

“Care to talk about the mission?”

Her perfect hair and eyes shone as she looked up at him. “Actually, I wanted to talk about something personal.”

In a manner both aloof and clueless, Shepard flexed his muscles, sucked in his stomach, and stuck out his chest as he calmly strode to the couch. The décor of her room was all black with white accents, a color scheme that sent a subliminal signal he couldn't quite figure out. “How can I help?”

Miranda stood up and faced him. “It’s about my twin sister. My father has discovered her location and she may be in trouble.”

Shepard leisurely crossed his legs and stretched an arm across the top of the couch, trying to mask his racing heart. So, she has a twin sister. JACKPOT! His thoughts raced to NSFW places while his displayed only a curated mask of concern. “Tell me about your father.”

Like a movie starlet, Miranda sashayed to the window near her bed and gazed at the stars. “My father is one of the richest, most influential men in the galaxy. He created my twin sister and me from his DNA, which he had modified for intelligence, athletic ability and good looks. Sadly, we are perfect in every way.”

She turned, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and bent over slightly to accentuate her ample cleavage. “He created us as trophies and to build his dynasty. I was trained in combat arts and espionage, but I escaped with my sister before he could do the same to her. She’s lived in hiding for years, but his agents have tracked her down. I need to travel to Illium to help Cerberus relocate her.”

Commander Shepard rose from the couch and placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “Of course. I will come along to help you.”

Her eyes glowed with affection as she looked into his. “Thank you, Shepard. I know how important the mission is, but I could never forgive myself if my father captured my sister.”

“Your father sounds like an obsessive, dangerous man. Tell me about him.”

Miranda wrinkled her brow, looking at Shepard with genuine puzzlement. “I’ve already told you about my father.”

“Sorry, wrong dialog option,” Shepard admitted. “But every time I mention him, you find me more interesting.”