Captain
There is no captain’s console. You get a chair, a voice, and five people who each know a quarter of what’s happening. Assembling that into a decision is the job.
What you actually do
Hold the objective in your head while everyone else is buried in their console. Decide the things that aren’t anybody’s job — whether to fight, whether to run, whether to trust the ship that just hailed you. Keep the crew talking to each other. And take responsibility for the call afterwards, which is the part nobody warns you about.
Nothing stops you taking a console as well — plenty of captains sit on the main screen, or run Relay because it’s where the conversations are. Just know that the moment you’re absorbed in a task, you’ve stopped being the person with the whole picture.
Doing it well
Ask, don’t micromanage. “Science, what am I looking at?” gets you further than telling Science how to scan. Your officers know their consoles better than you do — that’s the entire design of the ship.
Decide out loud, and decide badly rather than late. A crew executing a mediocre plan together will beat a crew waiting for a perfect one. Say what you’re doing and why; if it’s wrong, somebody will tell you in time to change it.
Watch the quiet one. The station that’s stopped reporting is either fine or on fire, and it’s worth ten seconds to find out which. Engineering in particular will suffer in silence until something explodes.
Remember the ship isn’t yours to spend. The consequences of tonight follow every character on board into next week’s mission. Losing the ship isn’t a game over — but it is a story, and it’ll be told about you.