I woke up from my sleep feeling anxious, nervous down to my core. Today was the day, the day I was supposed to die. A meaningless gag death, a way of securing the threat our protagonist was going to face without making the player too upset too early. Yeah no. Not interested. I had taken some steps to prepare, I know what's coming, and I’m ready for whatever this universe can throw at me.
As I got out of my bunk I got dressed, pulling on my standard issue Alliance Military uniform. The dark blues and grays a color I’ve grown more than used too in my 6 months in this world. 6 months. That’s how long I’ve been separated from my home, thrown into a world I didn't immediately recognize or know. I woke up in a bunk with two sets of memories in my head. In one I was Richard L. Jenkins (Middle name is in fact fucking Leeroy) a 28 year old alliance marine, serving under Captain Anderson. Born an Eden Prime colonist in 2155 Jenkins is actually a decent soldier. Not overly experienced in live combat, but physically he excels in exercises and when he’s actually applying himself and not slacking off, he’s a talented engineer. He managed to rise to the rank of corporal and is desperate for real missions, and to be a true alliance soldier.
In the other set of memories I was Shane Baron, a 22 year old college student born in the early 2000’s and a massive nerd. Writing or gaming in the times I wasn’t working or studying there were a lot of franchises I enjoyed. Marvel films, epic fantasy novels, and of course, RPG video games. My favorite of which would be the Mass Effect Series, the world I now found myself stuck within.
So the two sets of memories fought for space in my head, but it was pretty clear from how muted Jenkins’ memories felt, Shane was obviously my primary personality. While I could remember the same knowledge and events that Jenkins had (thank you for the masters in engineering btw) it was like I was watching a video recording of someone else’s experiences. They were mine, but I couldn't really connect or relate to them personally. Not like I could, my own.
That dissonance made me terrified I would somehow out myself, the difference in personality would be noticed by someone and they would experiment or try and figure out what happened to me. I mean I was 6 years younger then my body was supposed to be, someone would pick up on my behavior or my surprise to certain common things, notice something was wrong.
At least that was my initial worry, thankfully Richard Jenkins is a damn child. Fascinated with vid films glorifying the military, alien encounters and Spectre* agents, my own wonder with being in my favorite sci-fi setting actually went pretty unnoticed. In fact the most acknowledged change was that I apparently worked harder on my engineering duties then Jenkins did, Captain Anderson noticing my increased productivity and praising me for ‘finally shaping up’. Poor Jenkins never got much respect from the brass.
But that leads me to where we are now. Onboard the SSV Normandy, an experimental ship co-designed by several different council races it was state of the art. I’d been on board for approximately a little over a week, following Captain Anderson's orders. The ship was still piloted by an entirely human crew, that was expected to change once the ship was put through its paces and made public. A peacemaking project of sorts, showing that humans and the Council races could not only cooperate, but instead embolden each other.
Of course that was the goal anyway. Not that it would ever get the chance. I knew personally what would happen to this ship, becoming the lead vessel in a war against an enemy nobody knew was coming. Nobody except me that was. Hence my sudden increased productivity in engineering duties. I was designing an omni tool upgrade that would help shield against external influences. On paper I was simply attempting to increase the resistance to being hacked by external forces, but my real goal was a little more esoteric. Today we will face our first encounter with the Reapers. And while my design wasn’t complete yet, my hope was a tool that could negate the frequency Reapers use for mind control. Indoctrination.
Of course it was nowhere near working yet, I didn’t have a sample of the Reaper signal yet so I could only do so much. However the work against traditional hacking had gone quite well, Captain Anderson had me outfit all of the crew and ground teams with omni-tools that had the upgrade. Apparently it was enough of a significant improvement for ‘Ship wide dispersal’ or so he says. Frankly I think he’s just trying to encourage my newfound efforts, It’s sweet but a little transparent. Captain Anderson is pretty much a ship dad in his behavior sometimes. He treats the marines below him well though, and you couldn't find a better or more loyal captain anywhere in the alliance.
“All our loveable crew members rise and shine on this beautiful spacey morning, it is currently 4:89 GST** get yourself up and grab some breakfast as we have a busy day ahead. We will be participating in a relay jump to Eden Prime at 5:50 and I want nobody throwing up on my new ship.” Joker's voice rang over the ship's loudspeaker, making me chuckle. He pulled one of these morning announcements when he first got on board, and Anderson chewed him out for it. I can only imagine he’s only doing it again to annoy a certain guest aboard a ship he dislikes.
I stood to my full height as I finished tying my boots, stopping to look in the mirror. It still took some getting used to, seeing a different face looking back at me. 6 months and still surprised to see an older man, different ethnicity, hair color, hell even our eye colors were different. I was more used to it, but still caught me off guard on occasion, a bit of body dysmorphia. On the brightside though I had to shave way less, Jenkins had his facial hair come in lighter and much slower than I did, although I will miss the beard I used to have.
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His hair was a light brown, bordering into blonde, and uniformly shaved across his head to alliance standard. Blue eyes, and even face and a muscular build, we were actually the same height, 185cm (6’1) although he was in much better shape coming in at 82 kilo (181 lbs). Even features the best way to describe Jenkins was unremarkable. He was meant to just be a forgettable grunt, canon fodder to die in the opening moments of the first game.
Yeah, not this time. Today I was going to officially break canon and right at the start of the game proper. God, hopefully the consequences don't get out of hand early. I need to be able to predict what's coming to survive the literally galaxy spanning war to come.
Shaking my head I affixed my beret and quickly scanned to make sure my bunk room was in good shape. The ground teams get a different barracks space then the rest of the crew. 2 bunks to a room, 6 rooms there was enough space to hold 12 active duty soldiers onboard the ship, although as of now there were only 3 of us, all keeping to separate rooms. Of course, the room was kept relatively tidy, the bed and sleeping area were always neatly made like any good soldier. However the desk at the back of the room had been made into a workspace, and that was anything but tidy. An open holoscreen showed my latest attempt at programming a more secure version of my current omni-tool upgrade, far from finished. Different mechanical parts strewn about on the surface showed my other attempts at modifying biotic amps. Personal project I took on after Kaidan launched me into a wall.
Speaking of Kaidan, he was next door to my bunk, and we actually spent a good amount of time together. We met before our service on this ship, both working under Anderson for 3 months together. He never really shared his personal life, at least, nothing from his time as a BAaT* student, despite the few times I asked. I never pushed him to share, I knew what he had gone through for external reasons, and if he wasn't comfortable sharing that with me then I wasn't going to press him on it. That said sharing a bunk next to him I could still hear when he had nightmares, thrashing in his sleep. A damaged soldier, wounded before ever seeing combat, he was a good man but needed support. I tried to be as good a friend as I could.
Down the hall was another room, at the end of the corridor it was a private room reserved for the ground team leader, a larger space for a higher ranking individual it was occupied by a living legend. Commander Fucking Shepard. Commander Jane Shepard to be specific, spacer born, and a sole survivor for her origins, from what I could piece together. Surviving an attack by a Thresher Maw on Akuze her whole unit was wiped to the last man, everyone except for her. She survived the physical and psychological ordeal that was and returned to combat again soon after.
A literal damn hero. We first met when she boarded the Normandy with the rest of us a week ago. We had interacted a few times since, mostly introductions and polite conversation, but she just felt so damn powerful compared to me. Everyone looked her way anytime she entered a room, when she spoke she commanded respect and attention. No wonder the Reapers would eventually consider her their greatest threat. She’s the damn hero after all.
Our few conversations had been mostly impersonal, although she showed interest in my engineering projects, and in particular my attempts at modifying biotic implants, since she was biotic herself. Full biotic or Vanguard build I wasn't sure yet, either way she would obviously be a powerhouse in any battlefield she took charge of.
Speaking of the battlefield I delayed long enough, I need to prepare for today's mission, since I'm supposed to die after all. Ideally it should be easy to avoid, take cover instead of trying to engage, let Shepard and Kaidan take down the Geth drones while they're trying to turn me into a past tense. I worried for a moment, about the changes that my survival could cause. Losing my knowledge of the future would be costly, but given how reactionary the mass effect trilogy is it hopefully shouldn't have too large of an impact.
I straightened the shirt of my uniform, took a breath and opened the door to my bunk preparing to head to the mess hall for a quick breakfast. I was surprised to see a large individual standing in front of me instead. Tall, nearly a half foot taller than myself, wearing a black and red armor and equipped with an apocalypse series shotgun he was intimidating. Large armored carapace covered his exposed head, his mandibles flicking slightly as he observed me with fierce eyes, yellow iris on a black surface stared deep into my figure, evaluating me in my entirety. They were a Turian, one of the council races and the first species humanity encountered as they started exploring the stars.
That event ended up leading to a 3 month long war we called the first contact war. It ended in armistice, and less than a thousand lives were lost on either side of the conflict, but even now, almost 3 decades later, Turian and Human relations are not ideal. In fact that poor relationship was part of the reason for Normandy's co-design efforts between the species.
Jenkins had no issues when it came to Turians, thankfully. So my own fascination with the species wasn't something I had to hide. That went doubly so, given that the Turian in front of me was Nihlus, a Spectre of great renown who had boarded our ship, and the only other named NPC beside myself that was supposed to die on today’s mission.
“Corporal Jenkins, Captain Anderson directed to me your bunk. Said that you could be of service to me.”
Okay, I hadn't even done anything major to change this universe and now a specter was looking for me by name. I could feel the plot of the RPG I knew as it began to fracture around me. I was going to destroy the canon of these stories, just by being here.