"Have a seat," Anderson said, walking over to the cabin window and taking a quick look at the Arcturus station, part of which was visible behind thick armored glass. "They're in a hurry..." — the commander of the ship stroked the sensor for closing the armor with his finger, but did not press it, lowered his hand.

Settling into the desk chair, Shepard noticed the movement of the cabin owner's hand and became alert. An invitation to sit down is common, but "in a hurry" is already interesting and not standard. It seems that the commander of the ship really feels more at ease on board the frigate than on board the station. This is familiar, but... confirms Shepard's suspicions and fears related to his appointment.

"You've been assigned to the position of executive Officer, Captain." Anderson returned to his desk and sat down in his chair. "They were appointed... as part of an unusual procedure, which you have certainly noted. I won't hide it -I couldn't tell you much openly at the Station. The ship... was not even properly integrated into the reconnaissance frigate division subordinate to Admiral Mikhailovich. I still haven't seen any documents about his admission to the fleet, either paper or electronic, however, we, the crew and the crew of the frigate have been ordered to leave for Eden Prime in a few hours. The mission is special." Anderson hesitated for a few seconds, then continued. "The command of the Arcturian group is under pressure from the Presidium of the Alliance. They're having some kind of trouble with the Citadel Council, or rather, with the Spectr. With A Corps Of Spectr. Perhaps both with the Council and with the Corps. By the way, one of these "agents" is already on board the frigate. The Turian is Naylus Kraik." Anderson winced a little. "That's a bird-faced thing. The Corps, by the way, still does not consider it necessary to have its own ships and, for obvious reasons, tends to use ships of those races with which its agents have to interact. The Corps, by the way, still does not consider it necessary to have its own ships and, for obvious reasons, tends to use ships of those races with which its agents have to interact. Yes, the agent is a Turian, and the ship is also half more or less Turian. So there don't seem to be any particular contradictions here. To some extent, the Hierarchy does have some right to check how the ship, built according to the design provided by it, is operated. A common practice." Anderson was silent for a few seconds again. "The mission is specific, solely in the interests of the Citadel Council, to which the Spectre Corps is directly subordinate. You'll learn the details in time, Captain. In the meantime, I would like to note that there are more problems on the ship now than there are regulations. However, we will have to work with what we have now. And I'm glad to meet a colleague." Anderson laid an n-Seven badge on the table. Your personal badge.

John looked at the other man's face, looked at the badge, read the number and the code. Anderson reacted calmly to the distrust shown:

"Yes, Shepard. I am the same David Anderson," said the frigate commander. "He was born in the year two thousand one hundred and thirty-seventh, graduated from the Officer Academy in the year two thousand one hundred and fifty-seventh with the rank of second lieutenant, took part in the settlement of the incident in Shanxi. I was married and divorced my wife in two thousand one hundred and sixty-five. She was extremely unhappy that I was paying too much attention to military service." Anderson paused. "Then... I was looking for Kali Sanders in the Artifact case," there was another pause. This year, the Normandy SR-1 was finally launched, with its design and construction sponsored by the Citadel Council." The commander of the ship was silent for a few seconds again. "Political games... are incomprehensible to me, of little interest and of little value. It so happened that I was appointed to the position of commander of this ship after a long period of... inactivity." Anderson placed a small reader on the countertop. "There is a lot of information in a large reader. I'm sure you'll get to know her later, Shepard. And here," he slid a small reader across the tabletop to his interlocutor, "this information is presented in a shorter and more accessible way. The main thing is to keep it short. So check it out. And I think you should get to know the officers, and not only the officers, but the crew of the ship. It's time for a commander's tour soon, and we'll be able to do it together."

Shepard nodded, turned on the device and went deep into reading the contents of the files.

In this reader, the information necessary for the officer who took office was presented much more briefly and easily. Perhaps it was adapted by Anderson himself.

"You're right, Shepard," the frigate's owner nodded. I "cleaned" the information myself. When I had to deal with the accepted ship and crew a few days ago," the cabin owner said quietly. "We got caught at headquarters... we had to fight our way through. "Anderson got up and went to the porthole. Apparently, he didn't want to stop his officer from getting to know the contents of the files.

Ten minutes had passed, and Shepard turned off the reader and put it on the countertop. Anderson did not turn around, but looked at the Arcturus station. Silence fell in the cabin and Shepard was finally able to understand that his premonition turned out to be timely, correct and complete — he had been assigned to a really problematic ship.

The fact that his commander turned out to be David Anderson, who was described in MSF the Alliance of Systems as a semi-legendary personality, was alarming and at the same time reassuring — at least he, Shepard, would work under the guidance of one of the best graduates of the N-Seven Academy, and not under the guidance of an ordinary naval commander of the ship.

The problematic frigate under Anderson's control no longer seemed so problematic to Shepard — the n-sevens were taught to cope with less difficulties. They taught me well.

Anderson came up to the table, pressed several sensors on the laptop, read the information from its screen.

"I'll leave both readers to you, John." He waited while Shepard packed the devices into a waist pack. Almost everything is ready for departure on board. Let's go." Let's start getting to know the ship and the crew.

Chapter 3. John Shepard, Captain of the Alliance of Systems MSF. Getting to know the ship and crew.

The pre-flight inspection of the ship, as Shepard realized, was not an empty formality for Anderson. The commander was interested in the little things, asked his colleagues a lot of questions, listened attentively to the answers, studied the instrument readings. It all looked like John had no doubt that if he hadn't been with Anderson, everything would have been exactly the same.

The first person the commander of the ship went to was the acting navigator of the frigate, Charles Pressley. The somewhat surprised look Charles cast at the officer standing a step behind the commander, Anderson interpreted correctly, briefly noting aloud that "this officer is the new senior officer."

Shepard was sure that as soon as they moved away from the navigator's console located in the combat information center, most often referred to simply as the CIC, this news would become known to all members of the crew of the ship as soon as possible, and in the future the commander of the ship would not need to voice clarifications.

After examining the instrument readings of the frigate's navigation section on the console, Anderson nodded to Charles and walked away, heading for the pilot's cabin. When they had moved a good distance from the "necklace" of the CIC consoles, the commander said quietly:

"He doesn't like aliens. Oh, he doesn't like it. Especially the Turians. And we have Spectrum on board right now. He's a Turian. Well, okay, so far Pressley does not allow "going beyond the limits", and this is encouraging. And he's a very good officer and man. A professional. I think you'll work with him, Shepard — he knows his job and has never been a careerist.

The captain only nodded slightly, trying to put in his memory what he had heard and seen in the CIC.

The door to the cockpit opened, allowing the new XO to hear a fragment of a conversation between the ship's pilot and a lieutenant technician, in which Shepard, who had familiarized himself with the contents of the small reader, easily recognized Kayden Alenko, a biotic officer.

By the way, Anderson noted in the files of the small reader that Kayden flatly refused to change his biotic implant of the El-Two series to something more reliable and secure.

The frigate was preparing for departure. It would seem that the pilot and co-pilot, whose role, to Shepard's surprise, this lieutenant technician was trying to play, should have had plenty of official worries. However, both officers-the captain easily remembered that Jeff Moro was a lieutenant in MSF-were clearly idling. Moro continued to chat with Alenko about all sorts of trifles, Kayden also liked to talk, but, as Shepard understood, he was very unhappy that Moro categorically refused to let him "steer" the frigate during the departure segment.

As soon as he saw Lieutenant Alenko, Shepard immediately determined that he was also suffering from severe migraines caused by a dilapidated implant. An unsuccessful series, an unsuccessful model, and even not very suitable for trouble-free removal. On the handrail of the chair in which the lieutenant-technician was sitting, Shepard noticed a package of headache pills secured with a narrow rubber ring to a plastic box. Half of the top blister was already empty-the lieutenant was eating pills several at a time.

While the heavy hermo door to the cockpit was opening in front of the commander and the XO, Moro managed to declare:

"Spectr are not good. I don't like that he's on board. Call me paranoid."

"You're being paranoid," Alenko retorted. "The Council helped finance the project. They have the right to check what their investments have been used for."

"Yes?" Moro looked surprised. "Were the two captains MSF in the Special Forces squad assigned on board just for a walk? They say that the officer who arrived is also a graduate of the n-Seven Academy and has the highest qualification rank of special forces — "n-Seven". Just like our commander. Are you picking up on the situation, Kayden? It is undoubtedly heating up and becoming more complicated. I feel it in my gut."

"Are you discussing the new XO?" Anderson asked softly as he appeared in the cockpit. Shepard carefully maintained his distance, standing a step behind the commander of the ship and at the same time did not look at either Moro or Alenko.

He was more interested in the interior of the compartment and the equipment of the pilot's cabin, the ship's control center.

The captain had already realized that Anderson had not kept the AI on board, making do with the VI. However, the ship's commander himself was appointed to the post not so long ago and he clearly did not have time to make such significant changes to the frigate's equipment.

"Captain Anderson, sir!" Alenko, turning around, was the first to jump to his feet, stretched out. Moro got up slowly, and Shepard clearly saw that it was difficult for the pilot to get up, so he climbed not only slowly, but also carefully. There was information in the small reader that Moro suffers from Vrolik syndrome, in other words, increased bone fragility, but he managed to be recognized as an active pilot and an officer of the MSF.

There was also information about what kind of "test" flight this lieutenant had arranged for the frigate Normandy. If Shepard had been more impressionable, he would have been surprised, but now John was looking around, waiting for both officers — the pilot and the technician — to take an upright position.

"Captain, sir," Moro responded in a formal manner, finally straightening up and steadying himself on his feet. — "I'm sorry."

"Report the situation in the cockpit. Excuse me from listening to reports of your voyeurism, Lieutenant Moro," Anderson ordered.

The pilot, while Anderson was getting acquainted with the readings of numerous instruments and listings of equipment operation protocols displayed on several displays, spent exactly three minutes on the report.

Alenko was silent and carefully examined Shepard, who was interested in the ship's gunner's console and the navigator's console, but the captain, reading the data from the displays and comparing them with the notched normative indicators, did not react in any way.

"Good. Keep working," Anderson nodded. Both officers sat down in the pilot's seats with relief. Now they no longer risked exchanging phrases about the Spectr's or about the new senior assistant. "Come on, Shepard," the commander crossed the threshold of the cockpit. The heavy hermetic door clicked into place. Both at anchor and while drifting, this compartment remained securely isolated from the rest of the ship, as required by instructions written, as is well known, in blood.

"What he, Moro, had done on the frigate's test flights had taken the entire pyramid of the Alliance of Systems MSF Command and beyond to hiccup for several days." Anderson said softly. — "And Alenko... You're right, Shepard, he's suffering because of the implant. These constant headaches... I do not know how he overcomes this pain, which has become chronic, the pills obviously do not help much. He is trying to comply with the official framework and protocols, but ... this unscheduled flight "confused all the cards" for the crew of the frigate. The crew, by the way, as you have already seen, is not complete. Special mission. There are twelve policemen on board, and they, ahem, have taken the seats reserved for the ship's full-time crew specialists. The command of the MSF does not tire of assuring me that this is only for the duration of the mission. There are a lot of things I don't like about the job ahead," he resolutely headed for the elevator.

* * *

After descending to the lower deck, the officers entered the engineering room.

"Greg Adams, the ship's chief engineer" The man who was conjuring at the central console introduced himself to Shepard.

"A god and a magician,"— Anderson added. "If he and Moro are on board, I'm calm."

"Thank you, Commander. The core of the ship is really big by standards, but thanks to Jeff, we are quite able to perform most tasks of a general and special nature, and sometimes even do more than is provided for by the rules and regulations." Adams noted as Anderson pored over the instrument readings and Shepard surveyed the interior and contents of the engineering bay.