The Normandy is a beautiful ship. Akeelah Shepard thought to herself, perched on a large bay window's ledge, the frigate docked in all her pride and glory. She reminded her of the old 20th century jet the Concorde, what with Normandy's curving 'neck' and the sleekness of her form, with the wings in a similar formation to the jet's 'delta' shape. However, she could see the influences the turians had on the design, and she had to admit, she rather liked it.

And I'm serving on her. Shepard smiled. It was a great honour, to be picked to serve on the prototype ship, but she did think it had something to do with the five lettered planet on her dossier. Akuze.

Her smile evaporated, and she rubbed at the scar on her dark tan skinned face. It stretched across her face, below her spring green eyes and above her mouth, slicing her nose almost in two. It had only been six years since that awful night, but its phantoms still followed her. At least something good had come out of it; she'd been recommended for the elite N training program, which had helped her move on, eventually coming out the other end with the N7 designation right by her class. N7 Soldier.

Shepard frowned slightly, combing a hand through her short golden brown hair. If she was not mistaken, the Normandy was sporting the same colours her armour did; black, white and red. Okay, there was more black and white than red, but it made her thoughtful, and she pressed her forehead to the window. A new ship, a new crew and team to get to know, and a new start.

"Shepard." A deep voice stirred her from her thoughts, and she looked over to see a man in his dress blues approaching her, a smile stretching across her face as she recognized him.

"Anderson." The soldier slipped from her perch to her feet, when suddenly she realized her mistake and clicked her heels, saluting. "I mean, 'sir'!"

Anderson chuckled warmly, brown eyes full of amusement.

"At ease, Commander. We only stand on ceremony onboard." He followed where her gaze had once been. "Been admiring the Normandy?"

"Yeah." Shepard nodded, settling into parade rest. "She's the prettiest ship I've ever seen."

"Millions of credits went into her, and your only comment is that she's pretty?" He said, a grin playing on his lips.

"I didn't say that was the only thing I like about her." Shepard replied, folding her arms. "I've been busy getting up to speed with the crew's dossiers and I haven't had time to get onboard."

"Any thoughts on the crew, XO?" He asked.

"Other than the fact I have a feeling you've been cherry-picking the best, I don't really know until I've met them."

"That's what I like about you, Shepard. Won't make a judgement until you've seen the facts yourself."

She smiled, shy in his admiration.

"Thank you, Anderson. I do have a concern, though."

He frowned slightly, his attention immediately captured and focus sharpened to a point.

"Shoot."

"I'm not sure about my XO post. I'm not complaining, I mean, I'm honoured you chose me, I just…" She couldn't look him in the eye, and instead looked towards the frigate in her cradle. "I don't know if I can be the best you expect from me."

"Shepard, I wouldn't have chosen you for the role if I didn't think you'd be good at it." She could feel his severe look on her skin, which made her want to squirm. "You'll do fine. I know you will." He gentled his voice, which made her look back up, just in time to catch a wry smile. "You managed your way through spec ops training and you're scared of being an Executive Officer on a frigate."

She couldn't help but grin back.

"A prototype frigate, co-designed by the turians and overseen by a Council Spectre." She pointed out. "You know, no pressure or anything."

"Says the woman who had to lead her team through enemy territory at night with barely any food in her system." He replied, trying not to look like he was enjoying their sparring.

"Neither of which had a different protein structure and I wasn't required to sort out rations. And information beyond 'don't go there because there are turrets'." She replied, folding her arms.

"You thrive under pressure, Shepard." Anderson said, returning to business. "You will be fine. But you need any help, you can always ask me."

"Okay." She nodded, opening her mouth to ask something else when she noticed someone approaching them, and not just anyone; a turian. The Spectre?

Anderson followed her gaze, noticing the soldier's subtle change in body language from relaxed to alert, in the way only a person who fought by her side and knew her could. He saw who it was and his posture changed too, the warmth between them quickly retracted and hidden. Shepard shifted into parade rest as she too sensed the change in the Captain's body language.

"Excuse me, Commander, I must see to business." He said. "You are free to board the Normandy at your discretion. Dismissed."

"Aye aye, Captain." Shepard replied, saluting Anderson easily. He gave her a nod and strolled over towards the turian.

She walked back over to the bay window, not wanting to spy on her superior officer's conversation. She mused over the Normandy again, reminding herself that she just had today and tomorrow before the ship would be released for her shakedown run. Might as well settle into the ship that would be her home for the foreseeable future and get to know it and the crew, though they probably wouldn't all assemble until tomorrow.

Shepard grabbed her kit bag from where she had left it by her perch and strolled away.


She'd not been exactly sure what to expect boarding the Normandy, but she couldn't help the swell of child-like curiosity as she stepped from the airlock onto the deck, which was slightly warmer and smelt like a new skycar, the fabric seats starchy and the metal gleaming and new, having not yet dulled with use. The computer screens were bright and crisp too, and Akeelah could not help but smell the credits that had been sunk into the frigate. It made her slightly uneasy about even standing there, but she shook it off.

The soldier took in the CIC with natural curiosity, sweeping her spring green eyes across the room. She wasn't too familiar with serving aboard starships, and especially not a human-turian hybrid like the Normandy was, so the fact the galaxy map was planted in the middle of the room, with the CO station perched just above it made little impact.

Shepard wasn't the only one who'd though to make an early start about settling in, and there were a few crew members wandering about, tinkering with their stations. They snapped off quick salutes as they saw her, their eyes showing the evidence of being starstruck. She gave them slight nods to ease them; she would get to know them later, when she'd managed to find a locker for her stuff.

Shepard padded downstairs, taking in the mess table, Anderson's quarters, the alignment of sleeping pods and the medical bay and she found herself thinking: Bloody hell, this place is small. She immediately chastised herself for thinking that; you're on a warship, not a bloody cruise. But still, cramped places made parts of her twist uneasily, old memories shifting sleepily.

She shook her head to clear it, wandering over to a row of lockers she assumed were personal ones. It only occurred to the Commander now that she maybe should have asked Anderson questions about the Normandy, rather than worry about whether she could live up to his expectations. She certainly could do the latter if she couldn't find the former, and the Captain would certainly chew her out for making such a bumbling mistake.

Shepard cast her gaze around idly, landing on a man with his back to her, who seemed to be doing a reccie of the Normandy, much like she was going to do once she got her gear squared away.

"Hey." She called out, and he turned towards her, thick eyebrows raised high in curiosity. "Look, this is a little embarrassing, but are these lockers personal lockers?"

He strode over to her, and she took that brief moment to take him in; brown eyes, black hair, a cluster of moles above his left eyebrow, square jaw, cleft chin, and she ran through the dossiers in her mind to try to match the face to selection of half-remembered names.

"Yeah, they are." His voice was soft and husky, as if someone had sanded the inside of his throat to make him rasp slightly yet not unpleasantly. "Personal items in these lockers, and gear in the lockers in the cargo hold."

"Alright. Thanks a lot." She smiled, nodding. "Sorry, I sound like a right dumbass. Not a good first impression, eh?"

"No, it's fine, ma'am." He replied, shaking his head with a sweet smile on his lips. "I must admit, I was a little lost around here too, at first." He scratched the back of his neck, amber eyes flicking over her face much like her eyes had done to his, trying to match her face to a memory.

"Yeah, I think we're all going to be fumbling around blind for a while." She chuckled. "The ship's small, though, so I reckon we'll get to know her soon and well."

One of his thick black eyebrows arched up.

"'Her', ma'am? You sound just like Joker." At her blank look he blinked widely, before hurriedly back-tracking. "I-I mean, Flight Lieutenant Moreau, ma'am."

Shepard couldn't resist a smile and the chuckle that wanted to bubble up through her, but she suppressed if for his benefit; the last thing he needed was his superior officer laughing at him for making an admittedly endearing mistake.

"Our helmsman, eh? Guess I shouldn't be surprised that he's already fallen for the ship. Anyone asked to come fly a prototype warship such as this one would be over the moon." She set her kit bag down to ease her shoulder. "I mean, I'm no pilot myself, but I've got to admit, she's beautiful."

"Yeah, she is." The unknown marine nodded. "Part of me is eager to find out what she's like in a fight."

"Hopefully it won't come to that, with the Normandy's stealth systems. But I gotta admit, I'm curious to her capabilities too." Shepard spoke, squinting slightly at the man before her, still unable to place a name to his face. "Anyway, I've kept you long enough. I'm sure you've got your duties to attend to."

"Of course, ma'am." He dipped his head in an affirmative, drawing back.

"Thanks again for your help." She said, turning to see to her kit bag.

"You're welcome, ma'am." His warm voice replied, getting quieter as he retreated.

Shepard realized she really should have asked his name.