On March 6th, 2012 video game developer BioWare released Mass Effect 3 in North America. It concluded the story of Commander Shepard, a human soldier pushed by fate into a desperate battle to save the galaxy from an ancient army known as the Reapers. It ended one of the most compelling dramas in the history of gaming, a saga that effectively ended the debate about the validity of video games as an artistic medium.
Unfortunately for BioWare, Mass Effect 3 ignited a firestorm.
The ending of Mass Effect 3 was, at least from a PR and business standpoint, an unmitigated disaster. For many fans of the game, the ending was a confused, unimaginative betrayal of the spirit of a story that many people (myself included) had invested hundreds of hours in. To many, it seemed that BioWare chose to destroy, or at least mortally wound, a galaxy that many had become attached to, a galaxy with such rich characters, compelling stories, and grand potential as had not been seen before in video games.
To be sure, this was not the first time a game's ending had angered players. Indeed, some of the best games ever made had disappointing endings, such as Fallout 3 and Knights of the Old Republic 2 (another BioWare game). What made Mass Effect 3 so different is the truly, spectacularly, poor handling by BioWare of the initial criticism. Eventually, they released an updated version of the ending, which provided a significant improvement on the original ending, though the damage to BioWare's reputation had been done.
I desperately do not want to get into that debate.
It is this new and improved ending that I use as the basis for my story. I attempt to stick to canon (such as it exists), as established by the new endings, as closely as possible (with one big exception that will become obvious very shortly). To ground my readers that are familiar with Mass Effect, I assume Shepard was a shining beacon of hope, a great and noble leader who saved all that she could. I also assume she had relations only with Liara, and chose the "Control" ending in the final moments of Mass Effect 3. In other words, I assume she was my Commander Shepard (I am, after all, a bit of a sap).
To those not familiar with Mass Effect: welcome to a brand new world.
Enjoy.
****
Homecoming
The shuttle slid through space, coming closer and closer to the blue and green orb in front of it. It passed a massive vessel going in the other direction, a turian dreadnaught, as it approached. The kilometer long warship filled the small windows. Long black scars, burned into the metal hull, could be seen for miles. The turian's refused to have the damaged plates removed. They were badges of honor, as treasured as the clan markings on their faces, and they sent a message: I stood.
The craft began to shake, gently at first, and then more violently, as it entered the outer atmosphere. Inside, its only passenger leaned forward, resting one elbow on her knee, pressing the other palm down on the other knee. "Two minutes out, ma'am" said the pilot. The girl only nodded, shifting to rest her weight onto the other elbow. In the window, the dark of space gradually gave way to a bright blue sky. Still, the girl did not look up. She leaned forward further, resting both elbows on her knees, meshing her fingers together and resting her head on them. "30 seconds." She leaned back, and closed her eyes, remembering what her mother had told her.
"Remember what your father's homeworld has seen," she had said at the spaceport on Thessia. "It is a proud place, full of proud people, and they are right to be so proud. Their sacrifices saved us all, and they made great sacrifices," her kind blue eyes, shining in the lights of the crown jewel of the galaxy, had begun to well with tears. "When you see the burned husks of their cities, remember that they paid this price willingly. They turned and fought when so many others ran."
"15 seconds," called the pilot. Her eyes opened and she stood, using her hands to push off of her knees. A short step forward, and she reached up to grasp the overhead bar in front of the door. The shuttle came to a stop with a soft jolt, and the door lifted. Cool, salty air blew across her skin as she emerged from the shuttle, perched atop a towering building. In front of her stood a figure she had only seen in holovids or extranet articles. She stepped down from the shuttle onto the rooftop landing pad and extended her hand.
"It's good to meet you in person, Admiral Donnelly," she smiled.
"Ma'am, trust me when I say the honor is mine. I knew your parents well," he said in a soft Irish accent, shaking her hand. His light brown hair was starting to turn grey, but his half smile and eager eyes made him look young.
"That's why I'm here," she responded. Donnelly gestured to an elevator, and she stepped past him towards it. But as she passed him, she stopped, looking up into the sky. Atop the building stood a statue, cast in gleaming polished metals mined from across the galaxy.
The statue was of a young woman, clad from the neck down in body armor. She had a sleek, angular face, a small, upturned nose, and messy, shoulder hair length blown by imaginary wind. The armor was sleek and form fitting, molded to fit her athletic figure. "N7" was emblazoned on the breast. The woman was standing, gazing off into the distance, a rifle in one hand, resting on her shoulder. There was air of power about the figure, of invincibility. Carved into the base of the statue was the woman's name: Alexis Athena Shepard.
"Hey, Dad," the girl whispered to the universe as a single tear ran down her blue cheek.
******
The horizon was a jagged edge of burnt and twisted steel. Where once a great city had stood, one of Earths famed super-metropolises, there was now a graveyard of smashed buildings. On a dry day, wind would blow dust across the barren landscape in great clouds. But when it rained, the ground turned to mud. Thick, grey mud, sometimes as deep as a man, and London had few dry days. Still, life sprang anew. Construction equipment was visible across the city, and each day the new buildings grew taller. Soon, they would eclipse the old, heralding a new beginning for Earth, and the galaxy. London was being rebuilt.
"I hope your accommodations are to your liking, Ms. T'Soni," came a gravelly, low voice from behind her. She turned from the window and quickly rushed to the old man's side.
"Here, let me help you," she offered, taking his arm gently.
"I'm not that old," he said gruffly, but allowed her to help him to one of the chairs near the window. "Thank you, Athena," he said as he sat, gesturing to the other seat.
"Thank you, Admiral Hackett, for agreeing to meet with me," she said as she sat down.
"Ha!" he laughed. His white beard wrinkled skin stood in sharp contrast to his uniform, which looked to be brand new and freshly cleaned. Every button, badge, and cufflink shined against the dark blue fabric, and his breast was covered in a wall of medals. "First of all, call me Steven. Second, if you were alive in '86, you would realize that every person on this planet would gladly lay down their life for you. Although at my age, visiting someone is not that far removed from dying."
"I did nothing. It was my father," she blushed, looking away.
"You are a lot like her. And I don't just mean the name."
Athena scoffed. "Yes, I know that I have her name. My mother told me that she wanted to make sure that everyone always knew that 'she lives on in me'," the girl sighed.
"You have her eyes, did you know that? Bright, gleaming green eyes. God, in the right light, they practically glowed."
"Yes, my mother has told me that many times," Athena said, looking back at the old soldier.
"Like they do right now, in fact. I can see her in you. Anyone who knew your father can," he sighed as he leaned back in the chair. "You see, it's not about you. It's about her. When people look at you, they see her. Or at least a part of her."
"That is why I came here," she said as she stood. "I am starting to mature. Commander Shepard is a part of me, and I want to know everything I can about that part. My mother suggested that I seek out the people who knew her best."
"'Starting to mature'," he mused. "You're 19. To a human, that is an adult. It's hard to wrap the mind around how long your race lives."
"To my people, I am barely more than a child."
Hackett chuckled. "That mean you can't drink yet?"
"Oh, no, I was speaking metaphorically. I'm just... naïve."
"I see you have your mother's grasp of sarcasm. To your people,
I'm
