Sparkling eyes. chapter 2

Chapter 2. John Shepard, Captain of the Alliance of Systems MSF. Arcturus Station

The flight from Earth to the deliverer didn't take long. Shepard, among the other passengers of the shuttle, went to the main cabin, took the seat assigned to him by the boarding order, strapped himself in and began to calmly wait for the arrival of the cruise ship at the station.

Such flights had not been a novelty for him for a long time, he considered them to be working, so he did not pay much attention to the circumstances associated with them. Yes, of course, he thought about a lot of things during the flight, including Dayne, but even more preoccupied was the feeling of wrongness that had appeared, apparently related to the upcoming work at the Arcturus station.

Yes, according to current practice, an officer of his status and rank could first be offered to work at the station in the structures of the Alliance of Systems MSF and only then decide on an appointment to the ship. Shepard, as he felt, was completely ready for both options, but now it was the second option that bothered him — something told him about the upcoming difficulties with the ship and its crew.

* * *

Exactly at the time set by the order, the deliverer docked to a large space station. The chirping of a wrist band caught omny tool the captain's attention and brought up a clarification on the small screen: "report to the station personnel Department of the MSF." Shepard picked up his bag and briefcase more comfortably and headed for the Arcturus sector, which he knew well.

A sleek colonel was waiting for him in the office indicated in the clarification.

Shepard gave the proper military greeting, reported on the form — protocol and ritual, there's no escaping, it's not difficult to follow them.

The colonel clearly saluted in response — the command of the MSF contingent stationed on the Arcturus blurted out discipline, but then handed the captain a blank reader with an order issued according to all the rules, which was not required according to the procedure approved by the Admiralty of the Alliance VKS, but a simple reader.

On the instrument screen, Shepard saw only three lines of text that read: "Captain John Shepard of the Special Forces of the Alliance of Systems MSF will accept the post of senior assistant commander of the frigate Normandy."

There were also alphanumeric encrypted station coordinates of the commander's office of this ship — standard practice.

Saluting the senior officer for the second time, this time in farewell, Shepard turned around "on the spot" and left the office, not forgetting, of course, neither the briefcase nor the bag.

The station's headquarters structures were already used to officers arriving at the Personnel Department directly from the delivery trucks, so they looked at the luggage with understanding, remembering, however, that according to the MSF Regulations, for some reason an officer should not come to such institutions "with things." As always, one thing is written in the rules, but in reality it is completely different.

The fact that the colonel was a staff officer did not annoy Shepard at all. People work everywhere. And this colonel was not the first and not the last "parquet" officer seen by the captain during his service in the MSF. But the order, clearly "out of form," only added to the doubts and forced Shepard to take a closer look at the upcoming conversation with the commander of the ship, to which, as it turned out, he was now assigned.

From the materials regularly distributed to the officers of the Alliance MSF bulletins, John knew something about this ship: a joint human-Turian development.

At first glance, it was nothing special — an ordinary reconnaissance frigate, of which there were many in the divisions of the Alliance of Systems MSF. But this ship was distinguished, firstly, by the presence of an improved "invisibility" system, and, secondly, by the clearly too large core of the propulsion system, both in size and power, which made controlling this ship very problematic, requiring special training and constant increased attention from the pilots.

At the n-Seven Academy, Shepard was taught that his future career would necessarily include problematic ships, problematic crews, and problematic assignments. This was the fate of the highest-level commandos, in the journalistic style used by scribblers for not particularly discerning readers.

Corridor after corridor, passage after passage, elevator after elevator, Shepard approached the office of the commander of the ship. Meeting with this officer, traditionally the first on board after God, finally put a big and bold end to the uncertainty of the captain's position.

It seemed that there really was service ahead on a troubled ship, which, of course, did not add to John's joy or satisfaction, but at least it removed many questions, making room for new ones generated by a sense of impending danger. No, not related to this ship, more global, more terrifying.

It was difficult to determine the reason for this feeling now, and therefore, as Shepard moved through the Arcturus station to the office of the commander of the Normandy, he did not try to focus his attention on this feeling. He had previously been determined to a certain extent that such feelings would take place. Without a developed sense of danger, it was impossible to survive and maintain combat capability where commandos of his level most often had to operate.

After leaving the bag in the storage room in front of the entrance to the Arcturus sector, where the ship commanders' offices were located — the usual cabins transferred via a complex system to all senior officers whose ships were temporarily or permanently assigned to the Station's fleets, Shepard paused for a few seconds in front of the right door and, having got close, knocked.

"Come in," came a calm voice, slightly muffled by the pressurization.

The captain opened the door, stepped over the threshold, stopped, waited until the door clicked into place and gave the required arrival report.

"Report accepted," said the officer, who got up when Shepard appeared in the cabin from behind the desk, most often referred to as the office desk, and saluted in response to the guest's formal greeting. "Have a seat, Captain Shepard." He pointed to one of the two chairs next to the commander's desk. "I see you're unhappy."

"Yes, sir. But for now, I would not like to talk about the reasons for my dissatisfaction. Perhaps it has no basis in fact." Shepard answered calmly and clearly, sitting down in the indicated chair.

"Anyway, you've been assigned, Captain." the owner of the office sat down in his chair, turned on his laptop. "I am the commander of the Frigate Normandy, Captain David Anderson. Since we are of equal rank, you can address me as "Commander Anderson" or "Commander." Departure is in a few hours, everyone is already on board. I know you left your bag in the luggage room. If we go to the ship, you can pick her up. The departure of the Normandy is special, but not urgent. So you'll have time for that," the officer handed Shepard a "large" reader. "Here you can find all the materials on the ship and the crew. A kind of introductory information. I believe that after reading it, you will be able to get answers to your questions." Anderson stood up. "Come on."

Shepard followed the commander out of the cabin. The feeling of non-standardness of the situation just screamed. It seemed that Anderson didn't want to tell him much right now, here on board the Arcturus.

There could be several reasons for this: eternal competition between soldiers and politicians, the main inhabitants of the station, secrecy, and simply the desire of the commander to carry out the basic induction procedure directly on board his ship.

To Shepard's satisfaction, Anderson did not forget about his promise regarding the storage room: the bag was in place and was handed over to the owner by a storage sergeant in record time.

A few minutes later, the officers move to the part of the station from where shuttles traditionally departed to the ships stationed in the raid around the station.

A shuttle bus took Anderson and Shepard aboard the frigate, and the ship's commander motioned for them to enter his cabin.

"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.