Chapter Seven: Captain Shepard.

Shepard felt numb shock spreading through his system like black ink in clear water. Captain? Captain?! He had only just been promoted to Commander, to the position of Executive Officer. That was a posting you were meant to hold for years to develop the experience necessary to be a Captain! He wasn't ready for the responsibility inherent in being Captain of a Starship, wasn't ready for the weight on his shoulders.

"Sir, I... I don't know what to say," he said after a long moment, more than a little confused by the whole idea. "I'm not ready..."

"You have to be, Captain," the now Commodore Anderson said seriously. "Starfleet needs you to be ready, needs you to be the one fighting the Borg out there on the front lines."

"Front lines sir?" Shepard asked. Anderson sighed heavily, turning away from Shepard.

"That's the bad news, I'm afraid," he said softly.

"Lay it on me straight, sir," Shepard said grimly. Whatever this was, it wasn't going to be pretty. Anderson turned bak to face him.

"The Borg have begun a large scale incursion, just as we've feared," he said, softly. "The Turian Hierarchy has reported encounters with cubes, though no large scale engagements or losses yet. A prominent asari matriarch went missing, along with a number of her followers. Feros and Noveria both report sightings, and we've lost contact with the former, along with a series of raids on various other colonies and a distress call from an archeological dig on Therum."

"We're at war then," Shepard said softly.

"Looks like it." Anderson returned his gaze to Shepard, steel in his eyes. "I don't care if you think you're ready, Captain Shepard. You're our best hope out there. With your Spectre status, you can investigate what the Borg are planning without being hindered by red tape."

Shepard looked at the pip in his hand, feeling a weight far more than the plastic box and golden rank pin in his hand. He didn't know if he could handle everything this pip symbolised.

But he would have to.

"I accept the assignment," he said formally.

"Good," Anderson said. "I'll be on Normandy for the handover ceremony shortly. Dress uniform is optional, given the circumstances," he added wryly at the end.

"Aye sir," Shepard said, a little relieved at that.

With that, Anderson turned on his heel and walked off. clearly he had some work to be getting on with.

Shepard considered his situation and frowned. He had no desire to be Captain, no desire to command a Starship, and to his knowledge had never had such desires. Taking the executive officer role was as far as he had ever been willing to climb the ranks - to now be solely responsible for the conduct, actions and most importantly welfare of seven hundred people was overwhelming. Now, all of their lives were now squarely in his hands. He did not feel ready for this, and if he had a thousand years, he would never feel ready for this.

"Commander!" a voice came, interrupting his thoughts. He turned to see Wrex and Garrus approaching him.

"Gentlemen," he said, sounding more confident than he felt. "What's the sitrep?"

"Fist was working for Saren," Wrex said. "But he had no idea what he was transporting to those mercs. We... dissuaded him from continuing the practice."

"Good work," Shepard said with a smile.

"Now it's your turn, Shepard," Wrex said, leaning forward and pointing. "I want a place on your crew."

"And me too, Commander," Garrus put in.

"What about your work with C-Sec?" Shepard asked.

"They'll do without me," Garrus said, determination in his voice. "I want to put a stop to those murdering Borg bastards. No one else gets mutilated and violated at their hands!"

Shepard could certainly understand the sentiment. He looked from one to the other, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

"Alright, gentlemen," he said. "You're in." He tapped his combadge, smiling at the look of determination and triumph on both their faces. "Shepard to Normandy. Three to beam back."


The formal ceremony took place about an hour later (all too soon in Shepard's book), in the crew lounge, with most of the senior staff and a fair few junior crew in attendance. Wrex and Garrus were there, neither yet officially commissioned as officers. Anderson stood at a podium, delivering a speech to the assembled crew. Shepard stood behind him, head bowed in deference.

"Though I have only commanded you a short time," Anderson said, solemn and proud, "I believe I have had the distinction of serving with some of the best officers and crew in the entire fleet. I hope - I know - that you will serve Captain Shepard as diligently, efficiently and honourably as you have served for me."

He turned smartly to face Shepard, who held out his hand for the now former captain to shake.

"I relieve you sir," the younger man said solemnly, not sounding especially eager for his command.

'I stand relieved," Anderson replied, taking the hand and shaking it smartly. He winked at Shepard and mouthed "good luck," and then he had stepped down, leaving Shepard alone in front of the Captain's - no, now they were his - crew.

He looked out at the expectant faces of his crew, unsure of where to begin. "What would Picard do?" he thought to himself. To give a motivational speech, direct, eloquent but simple, that was Picard's style. But that style was not Shepard's style, and Shepard couldn't pull it off like Picard could.

What was Shepard's style then?

In the three seconds that felt like an eternity, he thought hard about what he wanted to convey, but he had no natural command talent. In the end, he spoke from the heart: it was all he could do.

"Crew," he began after a moment, "I won't lie to you. We have been assigned a dangerous mission, one that some of us may not return from. One that many of us - all of us - may not return from." He paused. "The Borg represent the single greatest threat to the Federation and to the Citadel races that has ever existed. Greater by far than anything we have ever fought before. Anyone who does not accept that is deluding themselves. In this fight, we must be prepared to lay down our lives for the sake of the freedom of all species, we must be prepared to die to defend what we believe in." He looked around the faces of his crew, including Wrex and Garrus, and each of them seemed to be affected by his words. "I know I can expect that dedication from you. And I promise to be right there with you. 'What am I dying for'?"

"For the Captain!" the voice of Ashley Williams suddenly called out, fist raised in triumphant support. Shepard blinked in shock. It was an old adage, one coined by Captain Kirk in the days of his first five year mission, when being the Captain meant being on every mission, right there, taking the same risks as your people. He had learned it as a youth, and he had used it reflexively without really thinking. He didn't expect anyone to know it.

The call was echoed, first by Alenko, then Chakwas. Tali'Zorah the engineer called it out, then Pressly and Moreau. Wrex had yelled it, and Garrus too, and soon the entire crew had taken up the cry. "For the Captain!"

"And why?!" Shepard asked the crew, rhetorically.

"Because he would die for me!" the crew yelled at him, as one.

Shepard suddenly felt elated, like the entire process of command was clear. No doubt clouded his vision, no fear his mind. He was the Captain. They would fight and die for him, as he would for them. That was the covenant of Captain and Crew.

"I promise to live up to that as best I can," Shepard told them, as earnestly as he could manage. "I promise to do my best for you. Company - dismissed!"

When he stepped down, it was to applause and claps on the back. Shepard looked up to see Anderson smiling at him. If only he had known why.

What Anderson saw in that moment was the Kirk spirit he had been after. Anderson silently thanked Jean-Luc Picard for picking Shepard. The man was precisely what they needed at a time like this.


Garrus and Wrex met Shepard by the door to the lounge as he walked off to see to his new duties.

"Captain," Garrus said, falling into step behind him. Wrex followed a few steps behind.

"Mr Vakarian," Shepard said formally. "Mr Wrex. We'll see to your field commissions shortly, I promise."

"That's partly why we're here," Garrus said, looking to Wrex.

"This is a big ship, Shepard," Wrex said, sounding gruffly concerned, "and its got a lot of people. We don't want to be sitting around waiting to be useful."

"How do you mean?" Shepard asked, not breaking his stride.

"We want some assurance that we'll play an important role on this ship," Garrus put in.

Shepard stopped, and turned to look at them.

"Everyone on this ship plays an important role," he said, frowning slightly.

"What I mean is, we want to be doing something that feels like an active role," Garrus said. "I can't speak for Wrex, but if I wanted to sit down on the lower decks re-routing power supplies, I could have joined Starfleet academy for that."

Shepard decided to play tough with the two of them. It wasn't that he didn't understand their point of view, but what they were asking for was preferential treatment.

"Mr Vakarian," he said sharply to Garrus, who stood to attention at the sound of a military voice, "you and Mr Wrex will report to the Quartermaster on deck five, get fitted with uniforms, and begin familiarising yourself with standard issue equipment. Clear?"

"Yes sir," Garrus said, military background overcoming will to argue. Wrex folded his arms and looked unimpressed.

"And what is it we'll be doing?" Wrex asked. "Cleaning out conduits?"

"Hardly," Shepard said. "That wouldn't be a good use of your skill-set. But I'm not giving either of your preferential treatment just because you asked for it."

"Then what duties will we be assigned, sir?" Garrus asked.

"You're both getting field commissions as full Lieutenants," Shepard told him. "Tell that to the Quartermaster, and he'll see to it that the appropriate insignia are in place. You're assigned to Security team Alpha. Dismissed."

"Aye sir," Garrus said, walking off without further ado. Wrex, however, stayed for a moment, arms folded.

"I'm older than anyone on this ship," he said grumpily, "and been in more fights than anyone here too, and I'm a lousy Lieutenant?"

"This isn't a pissing contest, Wrex," Shepard said grimly. "It's a starship, and there has to be a chain of command." He paused for a moment, considering. "Having said that, your experience may be pretty vital to any engagements we have to fight. How about this - you remain a Lieutenant, but you're in charge of Alpha except when I'm present."

"Which will be how often?" Wrex asked, sceptically.

"I'm the Captain now," Shepard said, shrugging. "I didn't give that speech about fighting and dying for the crew to just stay on the ship in a comfy command chair."

Wrex stood there for a moment, thinking over what Shepard was telling him, then he smiled, and slapped Shepard on the arm.

"I like you Shepard," he said after a moment. "Words aren't just words to you. You know you have to make them mean something."

"That mean you'll take the Lieutenant rank?" Shepard asked.

"Hell yeah," Wrex replied. "But I'll want a promotion soon."

"I'll bear that in mind," Shepard laughed, as Wrex walked in the same direction Garrus had.

Shepard was quite proud of himself, actually. He had just navigated his first assignment talk with a crewman, trying to make sure they were happy and respected the chain of command - that was the hard bit. Now all he needed to do was save the galaxy.

He laughed. Piece of cake.


Once he reached the bridge, Shepard was greeted by a formal "Captain on the bridge!" from Pressly. He looked around his crew.

Moreau was sat at the helm, chair turned to face his new captain. Next to him at the Ops station sat Kaidan Alenko, a look of encouragement on his face. Built into the wall panel and railing of the left of the bridge (looking at the viewscreen) was the tactical station, where Williams stood, now promoted into first shift Tactical officer and chief of security, standing stiffly to attention. Vas Normandy sat at the engineering console, looking at him expectantly. As first officer, Pressly now wore a red-edged unifora jacket and red undershirt. He was standing to attention by the command chair, which he had vacated the moment Shepard entered the room.

"The bridge is yours, Captain," he said formally. "And the seat."

"Thank you, Mr Pressly," Shepard replied, nodding. He walked towards the command chair slowly, carefully, as though concerned that it might somehow judge him. He thought of all the captains on all the ships in all the fleet who must have felt that same trepidation the first time they walked towards the centre seat, and he slowed his breathing, deliberately trying to calm himself. He stepped in front of the seat, and let himself slowly sink into it, as careful as if he were sinking into hot water.

It was a comfortable chair.

Whatever great feeling he was supposed to feel, sat in the centre seat, he wasn't. It was just like every other chair on every other Starfleet vessel he'd served on. But then, he didn't feel ready to take her, he supposed. It was enough that he was in the chair, for now.

"Sir," Pressly said, holding out a PADD, "Captain Anderson left this for you."

Shepard took the PADD, pressed it, and smiled at the words that popped up.

If you don't feel like you belong in the chair, you do,

Shepard looked up, doubt dispelled for the moment. He smiled, and leaned forward.

"Mr Alenko," he said. "Give me everything you have on Therum."

"Aye sir," Alenko replied, inputting commands on his console.

Of the various targets Anderson had given Shepard to consider, Therum was the most interesting: why would the Borg be interested in an archeological dig? The only reason Shepard could think of was that there was something here related to what they wanted from the Prothean beacon.

"Site of an archeological dig headed by Professor T'Sal of Vulcan and Dr Liara T'Soni, both noted experts on the Prothean extinction," Alenko reported after a moment. Shepard smacked his fist into his palm triumphantly.

"That's the relation," he said, ignoring Pressly's quizzical look. "The Borg want Prothean technology for some reason. Mr Moreau, set course for Therum, via relay and then maximum warp!"

"Aye sir," Moreau replied, inputting the commands into his console. A moment later, the USS Normandy had set off into the wide open reaches of Citadel space...