A/N - thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read, review, and follow/favourite - I hope you're all enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it!

I'm on shore leave, on Earth for the first time in about four years, enjoying the feel of fresh air on my skin and true gravity under my feet. Bunking at my aunt's place in Western Canada, not too far from Vancouver's repple depple, I'm waiting for a new assignment. My company's time aboard the SSV Cairo is at an end; the old warhorse is being put in for refit. Our future lies with a newer vessel, and a new CO. I'm both saddened and excited by the prospect; the Cairo has been my home for three years, and I have good friends in her command crew, but the idea of new adventures, a different patrol route, is enticing. And my team are ready to be challenged. Bravo Company, 2nd Regiment of the 103rd. Absolutely badass.

My morning five-k is filled with idle speculation on the prospects of our new deployment, and my mind is ticking over, identifying soft spots in my company and potential issues as I arrive back at the house. I've no sooner unlaced my trainers than my omni-tool begins to flash, audio message. I grin; my platoon leader has been going on for weeks about a pub crawl while on leave. This is most likely my invitation.

"Lieutenant Commander Shepard?"

Uh-oh. That's not Dupree's drawling Afrikaner accent; that's a voice with officious dripping from every syllable. That's the voice of the repple depple, recalls, and revoked leave. Aw, shit.

"Shepard here, go ahead."

"Commander, this is Major Friedrich, Chief-of-Staff to Admiral Hackett, Fifth Fleet."

"Yes, sir?"

"The Admiral would like to see you as soon as possible. Please report to HQ at the double. I've taken the liberty of sending a car."

"Yes, sir." I can hear the vehicle approaching. "Sir, I'm out of uniform, do I have time to..."

"Don't worry about it LC, just come as you are. Friedrich out."

I look down at my sweat-soaked t-shirt and running shorts, then shrug. Orders are orders. Re-lacing my shoes, I step out of the house and into the cyclone of the skycar's landing.

Major Friedrich's expression is pure disdain as I present myself at the temporary offices set aside for visiting fleet commanders at HQ. "Hmm. I didn't realise "out of uniform" was a euphemism for "not dressed", Lieutenant Commander, " he huffs, " but I suppose it's too late now. Damn jarheads."

"Yes, sir," I agree stoically. With officers like Friedrich, dumb adherence to protocol is the only way through. An Admiral's Chief-of-Staff is a desk jockey through and through; they have to be, in order to cope with the tremendous amount of bureaucracy the Systems Alliance wraps its military commanders in. Ever since the First Contact war, the noose of red tape has inexorably tightened around the throats of even junior officers, requiring paperwork in triplicate for the most banal things. So OCD coupled with anal retentiveness and a prissy need for order are the paramount attributes of any aide-de-camp, and Friedrich has the lot in spades. He also has the standard REMF's contempt for field officers and soldiers, who are naturally uncouth half-house-trained apes to a man.

The sound of my voice has provoked a response from the inner sanctum. "Well, well, if it ain't Shepard junior Mark Two," a familiar voice rumbles, and to my surprise and delight, Captain David Anderson steps out. My Dad's best friend, my former CO, my mentor, my hero. "How you doing?"

"Very well thank you, sir. It's great to see you." I can't help but grin.

"You too, kid, you're looking a lot better than last time I saw you."

"Last time you saw me was after that delightful little shindig with the Blue Suns on Benning, sir. I had a broken ankle, a dislocated shoulder and a concussion."

"Well, at least the bones seem to have healed up nicely." Anderson winks slyly. "Come on, kid, Hackett and I have something we want to discuss with you."

"That sounds ominous, sir."

"Ah, you'll like it, Shepard. Not a lot, but you'll like it. Friedrich, the Commander looks a little thirsty, could you get some water for her, please?"

Friedrich manages to school his scowl, just, as he nods. He walks out of the reception, and Anderson chuckles darkly as he leads me into the main office. "Even for a COS, your boy Friedrich is a jackass, Steve."

Admiral Steven Hackett, Commanding Officer, Fifth Fleet, and Alliance Navy legend, grunts in amusement. "Well, it's all right for you - you don't have to listen to him every day. Still, he can navigate the form-filling better than any five other people I know, so he has his uses. As we all do." I snap smartly to attention. Out of uniform, I don't salute, but Hackett seems disinclined to stand on ceremony. "Commander Shepard, at ease. It's a pleasure to meet you in person at last. I've heard a lot about you, mostly from Anderson here and your mother."

"Captain Anderson's been known to exaggerate his war stories, sir, and my mother loves me. It might be wise to take their comments with a pinch of salt."

Hackett smirks, the expression tugging at his scar. "Well said, Commander. Have a seat."

I take the chair he gestures to and Friedrich ghosts into the room, depositing a glass of water at my side with a glare before slipping away again. Hackett lets me drink, then gestures to Anderson. "The Captain has a proposition for you, Shepard."

Anderson nods. "What do you know about Project Omaha, Shepard?

"Not much, sir. It's a joint engineering project between the Alliance and the Turians, building some sort of prototype ship?"

"That's right." Anderson smiles. "The ship has been completed and is ready for shakedown. She's a frigate, and we've named her the Normandy. She's equipped with a number of special systems, including stealth capability. We see her role as that of a pathfinder, slipping into systems to sniff out trouble, deal with anything she's equipped for, and call in the cavalry if needed."

I nod. "Sounds like she fills our long-time need for better infiltration, better intel, and better scouting tactics. Would have been handy for Shanxi, Torfan, Mindoir, half-a-dozen other stand-up fights I can think of."

"Absolutely, Shepard, I knew you'd get it," Anderson enthuses.

"And how do you feel about the Turians being involved, Commander?" Hackett asks.

"I think it's very positive, sir," I answer truthfully. "I get that I'm in a minority with that viewpoint, but we're part of a galactic community. Sure, we fought the Turians, but that's the past, and we didn't know any better at the time. There's so much we can learn from the other races, and if we have aspirations to the Council, well, I guess we have to prove that we can play well with others."

Hackett smiles broadly. "Well, that settles it in my mind. Go ahead, David."

"Shepard, you're right. The Normandy will be a symbol of the Alliance's desire to co-operate and build a better future with our friends and neighbours. I have been honoured with her command, and one of the perks of my new position is the right to hand-pick my crew. I want you on my team."

My jaw drops. "Excuse me, sir?"

"You heard me. I want you on my crew. I want the best working with me, and as far as I'm concerned, that means I need you."

I'm speechless. Anderson wants me for the crew of the Alliance's most important new ship? Fuck me! "Sir, I... wow. If she's a frigate, is there enough room for company strength marine presence?"

Anderson shakes his head. "No, platoon strength, and I have a platoon leader appointed already, a Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko from the 203. He's a good man, level-headed. He's going to go far, and he needs bringing on by a good command team."

"So I'd be leaving my company?" I ask, gutted when Anderson nods. "But, sir, if you don't need a marine commander..."

"I need an XO, Shepard," Anderson says gently. "You've been a company CO for three years. Major Ramachandra says he has nothing left to teach you. You're an N7 graduate, an experienced leader, and a hell of a tactician. Time to take the step up and learn the ropes of ship command. I want you as my executive officer on the SSV Normandy. What do you say?"

What can I say? An opportunity like this comes once in a lifetime. "Yes, sir. Absolutely. I'm game."

"Excellent. Welcome aboard, Commander." Anderson bounds out of his chair to shake my hand vigorously.

"Thank you, sir." I turn to Hackett. "And thank you too, sir. This is a tremendous privilege. I'll do my best to be worthy of the trust you've extended."

"We don't doubt that, Commander," Hackett chuckles. "And to demonstrate that trust a little more completely, effective immediately you are promoted to the rank of Commander, Systems Alliance Navy. Can't have the CMO outranking the XO, after all."

"Thank you, sir."

"We'll get the paperwork sorted this afternoon, Friedrich's already hard at work on the prep," Anderson adds. "Your gear's already at the repple depple, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then this should be straightforward. I'll get the personnel files and the mission dockets sent over to you, as well as the notes from Omaha, and you can get yourself squared. You'll report for duty in five days' time at Jump Zero. All clear?"

"As crystal, sir."

"Good. Then I'd say this calls for a drink."