Scared the ghoul with a fresh corpse, I swear. All the same, the provision of the "Norm" will go through the Special Corps, and not through the military department of the Alliance.

"The VKS command has handed you the lists." Udina handed me the datapad.

"What kind of lists?"

"It was decided to replace the Normandy's crew with a more experienced one."

Oh, oh... that's not good. I went over and picked up the datapad. One look at the faces and characteristics of those whom I was going to stuff onto the ship, and I felt sick. No, they're excellent specialists, I can't say anything, but... come on to the demons! It's enough that I have a wiretap on my ship!

"I am satisfied with the current crew."

Udina frowned and pursed his lips.

"The crew of "Normandy" was recruited from young specialists who had just recently completed their training."

"That's fine. You won't have to retrain them."

"Are you going to leave a disabled person in the pilot's seat?" Udina asked with displeasure.

"The Joker's illness does not affect his ability to control the ship in any way." I replied phlegmatically, glancing at the face of the bruiser, whom Udina was trying to put at the helm of "Normandy". "Are you suggesting that I replace a brilliant pilot with someone who is healthy but significantly inferior in level?"

"Your right, Shepard," the ambassador said with displeasure.

"Is there anything else you wanted, Ambassador?"

"That's all for now, Shepard."

"Good day, Ambassador, Captain."

The hint "get out of here" was understood, and the disgruntled former bosses left the berthing area. Turning the datapad over in my hands, I put it in my hip pocket and shifted my attention to the three sentients who were watching with interest.

"Do you need something?"

"Anatais Savis..."

"Just Anatais." The Turian interrupted him sharply.

"The head of the engineering brigade of the Special Corps," the Salarian introduced himself, glancing at his colleague with displeasure. "Spektr, we have been sent to help you with the transfer of the ship to the mooring area of the Special Corps." he spoke very slowly and clearly, as if he were chewing for an idiot, avoiding the tongue twister familiar to representatives of this species. "We need to make a list of works for the modernization and re-equipment of your ship."

"Fine. Please follow me."

We entered the airlock. The ship's VI announced the start of the disinfection procedure, and a thin glowing line ran across the floor — the only visual effect that made it possible to trace the movement of the radiators.

"We don't have time for a full-fledged inspection and refitting right now." I said. "We have to leave the Citadel within thirty hours."

"What is the priority?"

"The infirmary. The doctor has prepared lists of the equipment she needs."

"If there is no sophisticated and ultra-precise equipment, everything will be installed in six hours." The Turian with the blue clan markings assured me.

"That would be just fine." VI delighted us with the news that the disinfection procedure had been completed, and the door slid smoothly into the wall. "I want to warn you right away. This ship is a prototype."

"Excuse me?" The Salarian blinked in surprise. "Did you say a prototype?"

"Yes. "Normandy" is a prototype."

The three sentients looked at each other in surprise. Yes, yes, I know that flying on a prototype is a sophisticated way to fabulously kill myself along with the entire crew, but so far I can't officially get rid of this ship.

I took the Turian pilot, who introduced himself as Tarris, to the control room and handed him over to the Joker. Let them decide for themselves which of them will drive the "Norm" to a new parking spot. Jeff, for all his hiccups, understands perfectly well when you can shake your license, and when you need to show yourself as a professional of the highest class, which he is. And that's exactly the situation right now. A small tremor that pierced the ship showed that I was right: the frigate gently rolled away from the dock. The two pilots found a common language quickly.

The next one I visited was the engineering section. Adams took the appearance of the Turian colleague quite favorably and soon was already discussing some kind of ship's sores in a specific jargon in which only the prepositions were understandable and familiar.

"Anatais, please follow me." The Salarian distracted himself from the conversation of his colleagues and followed me, carefully examining the ship. The Salarian distracted himself from the conversation of his colleagues and followed me, carefully examining the ship. I have no idea what he noticed there, but I didn't notice any particular enthusiasm for the "Norm".

The same company was found in the infirmary: Darg and Dylan were chatting with Nihlus, Tali was sitting quietly on the sidelines, Garrus was typing something into a datapad. Rex was not in the infirmary. Our arrival cut short the conversations. The doctor looked out of the back room and looked at me questioningly.

"Special Corps technicians have arrived. Doctor, have you made lists of the equipment you need?"

"Made it up." Karin handed the Salarian a datapad.

The Salarian read the list, thought for a few moments, and gave:

"You can put it on. Not all. If you're leaving in a day. We won't have time to get synthesis units and a surgical complex."

"And the rest?"

"You can. We'll make it."

I looked at the doctor questioningly and got a nod of approval.

"Do what you can."

"You have a wounded man. We can't do any retrofitting. It is required to disassemble a part of the skin."

"We'll reschedule it for the repair period."

Well, then it started...

Chapter 13.2 A conversation with XO Presley.

It's not for nothing that they say that repairs are akin to a fire, and moving is like a flood. We had something between the first and the second, at least my participation in the renovation of the infirmary was minimized: Dr. Chakvas quickly found a common language with the head of the brigade, and further action took place under her strict guidance.

Nihlus was moved to the captain's cabin during the repair of the infirmary, as the only one spacious enough to accommodate both the seriously wounded and the equipment that the doctor required. The "Norm" had cabins, but damn, they were so cramped! Interestingly, there were no sleeping capsules at all. I mean, they didn't exist in principle, and the crew lived in cabins designed for four or six reasonable people.

But the captain's cabin turned out to be an exact replica of the game prototype: a large, completely meaningless room with two work terminals, a double bunk, a round table of unknown purpose and three chairs. The funny thing is, the bed really was made up of two standard bunks, just pushed side by side.

Well, we pulled them apart, adapting one of them for a hospital room, bolting medical equipment to the wall. Nevertheless, Nihlus wound, despite the nourishment and accelerated treatment, was still severe.

After making sure that everything was fine with my colleague, I started solving a lot of problems that had befallen me along with the ship. And I started with the most problematic part of them. From the crew.

Reading the list of people who, by the arbitrariness of the command, ended up on board my ship, I slowly fell into a state of prostration. That's why there are five signalmen and three navigators on a small ship? What, one isn't enough? And why so many signallers? It would be nice if the ship was used for its intended purpose as a stealth frigate and a mobile command center, but no! They gave it to me.

Farther. They took off the combat squad, but they left eight parasites from the military police! That's why I have almost a ton of lightly armed meat on board, standing like a pillar at the door, and a special agent poking his nose where he shouldn't? You can't even send them into battle — they're not supposed to! Get away to the demons! Especially the special agent. That bastard even managed to eat my recipient's brains!

What's next? And then... thin out the crew. I won't touch the engineering section. You never know what this trough will fall off on the way. Pressley? I won't give it back. He's a great XO. There will be someone to take care of "Normandy". The Joker? It's not even up for discussion. Karin? Similarly. The butler? He's a mean-spirited brute, but he's useful, he knows his job, and he won't let you squander the good. He'll get up to his death. It remains. A full-time psychologist? Overboard! I mean, get off the ship. We have plenty of room, and we don't have much time left to fly to Alquera. People will last six months. Or leave it? I'll check with Pressley, he'll decide the fate of the ship's psychologist. The navigator? One is enough, and so the Joker sets the course. I asked him specifically. The co-pilot? But there isn't. Bad. I wonder if Garrus can pilot ships. I should have asked. So... what's there? The communications department. One is enough. I won't be in touch that often anyway. I don't have anyone to talk to. So-o... And what are the other parasites doing?

With this sacramental question, I approached the XO. Pressley, after listening to me, took one attentive look at my bestial face full of kindness and with an unwavering hand crossed out almost half of the crew. In total, the number of people was reduced from thirty-nine to twenty-one, counting the XO himself, Karin, Joker, the entire engineering team of seven engineers and Adams. And this is not counting the eight men from the military police and the special police officer, who still do not know about their good fortune.

"That's the minimum required, ma'am."

"Great."

"Commander. Let me ask you a question."

"I'm listening to you."

"I'm talking about the aliens on board."

So... it started. It's just not the right time. I'm on edge right now, tired, and my body is on the verge of exhaustion, because I'm blocking all its attempts to interrupt its energy supply. I'll say something else wrong, then I'll get tired of correcting the situation.

"Did something happen?"

"I don't understand the need for their presence on the ship."

That's a sensitive question. And it must be solved here and now. Pressley is kind of a smart guy, he should understand my arguments. However, even if he doesn't agree with me, he won't argue. Another thing is that arguments and real motivation are two big differences. But few people are interested in the true reasons, as well as my personal glitches. So the XO doesn't need to know them at all. It will be easier to sleep.

"Pressley. From this day on, I am a member of the Council. My field of activity is the entire Citadel Area and the territories adjacent to it. My mentor is Spektr Nihlus Kraik, a Turian. In any case, he will be by my side for many years. I hope you understand the need for mentoring?

"I understand that, Captain."

"That's fine. As for the other aliens. I will work with those with whom I deem it necessary to work. If I need to, I'll take vorcha's squad to the ship. Garrus Vakarian and Urdnot Rex have been accepted by me into the landing group, which is resplendent for its absence. The command left me only Williams and Alenko."

And here Pressley was genuinely surprised. He knew Kayden pretty well and had an idea of what kind of fighter he was. The XO was not familiar with Ashley, but he understood that two people were not an amphibious group, but one name.

"Garrus is an excellent sniper. Rex is a Master of War. I assume you know who the Krogan Masters are and what it costs to get them."

"I know." The XO sighed. "What about Darg and Dylan?"

"I managed to get them back and now they are officially serving under my command."

"I understand you, Commander."

"If you have any questions about the aliens on board or any problems with the crew, let us know."

"Yes, Captain."

"Pressley, there is one more point that I would like to resolve before you take off on your first flight."

"I'm listening to you, ma'am."

"I will speak honestly and without embellishment." the XO flinched slightly from this start, quite reasonably expecting some kind of setup, and I did not disappoint his expectations: "I was appointed commander of "Normandy". Officially. But I can't be captain. I have not received any specialized training and have very vague ideas about what is required for the normal functioning of the ship and its crew."

The sincere relief of the XO, who took my appointment to the post of captain of the ship very cheerlessly, went through my tender and tense nerves with a pleasant coolness. That's wonderful!

"I understand it."

"I am very pleased with this, because I want to transfer the duties of captain of the Normandy to you."

Pressley was taken aback by this turn, but quickly pulled himself together.

"Excuse me, Captain..."

"Pressley, I'm a Spectr. Yes, I retain the official status of captain, but you will have to take over the actual management of the frigate. There is a high probability that I will be leaving the ship for days and weeks. Maybe for months. "Normandy" cannot remain for such a long time without leadership. You know the ship. You know the crew. I just don't see a better candidate."

The XO thought about it. In fact, I left him no choice, just pinned him to the wall when I signed my insolvency as captain of a spaceship, adding information about frequent absences from above.

"My interests relate exclusively to my squad and my work. I need the ship as a vehicle and a mobile base, nothing more. There is a very high probability that I will need to transfer to other ships for a long time, which is unacceptable for a captain at all."

Pressley nodded slowly.

"I will deal with the issues of "Normandy" maintenance at your request, but I will not have time to deal with the crew and their problems. Moreover, I do not want to be distracted by questions of discipline. I'm afraid my methods of conflict resolution may seem somewhat... inhumane. Think about it, Senior Assistant. While you're thinking, deal with the crew. If you have any problems, please let us know."

And on that cheerful note, I took off, leaving Pressley to digest what I said. Let him be puzzled if he doesn't want to get into trouble out of the blue. But they will be. They definitely will be.

An hour later, the military police and those who had been removed from the crew lists left the ship, and the commander received an order from me to settle the crew in their cabins. And I specifically specified that I would need at least three cabins for the alien crew members. Seeing my haggard face and angry eyes, the butler did not dare to argue.