Beta-read by Saberlin.
-J-
Tali woke with a start, sitting up, her vivid eyes darting around the room, her fist clenching at the blanket. At first she did not realize what it was, exactly, that woke her up. Only when she felt the air pressing against her eardrums did she realize the ship was silent. Utterly silent.
The silence again. But now they were away from the Citadel, en route to trouble, as the Commander put it, with no way off the ship…old habits and reactions came back in full force, stripping away reason and rationale.
Throwing her blankets back, she struggled into her environmental suit, fumbling with it in her hurry. She knew there was nothing wrong…but she had to be sure, which meant checking things herself.
The all-purpose mess deck was as empty as the air was silent. Sweat beaded on her forehead, as she reminded herself that human ships were always…empty.
Things should be bustling. Except this wasn't a quarian ship; silence did not mean a ventilation unit had gone out…or worse. She knew it, but old habits die hard.
"Tali?"
She stifled a shrill 'eep!' of surprise, turning sharply to find Chief Engineer Adams coming around the wall housing the elevator. Breathing hard from the scare, Tali swallowed, pulling herself together. "Anything… wrong with the ship?" If there was, Adams would know, and she trusted Adams.
Obviously nothing was wrong…but she wanted to hear it anyway.
-J-
"Nothing, nothing at all. Just making the usual rounds." Adams peered at the quarian, reminding himself that any ship on the flotilla was unlikely to be like the Normandy. The Normandy was the crown jewel of the Fleet, the flotilla was a wonder of adaptation and innovation. It was also a wonder half the ships functioned. Perhaps growing up in an environment like that—with ships and ship tech all around—was, he thought, what made Tali one of the best engineers on the ship, except perhaps himself. Not that he could vouch for her practical application—this was a military vessel and she was a civilian—but when she spoke she left no doubt: she knew what she was talking about. "Why would you think there was something wrong?" He asked gently.
-J-
"Just checking. " She could not help double checking. She trusted Adams, as she trusted the Commander and the Lieutenant. The lack of klaxons probably ought to have told her something, she thought sourly, now that she was fully awake.
-J-
"Everything's running just fine," Adams soothed, taking no offense at the necessity of repeating himself. She was still, after all, just a kid. A gifted young lady, but still a kid. "I'm going to have a cup of coffee, care to join me?" He knew, of course, she could not actually join him, but he meant it kindly, and Tali took it so.
She settled down nervously in one of the padded chairs at the big table, watching the Chief Engineer pour his coffee, before adding cream to it. He set his deep blue mug on the table, its white Alliance insignia facing towards her as he eased slowly into another chair.
"Why would you think there's something wrong, Tali?"
-J-
Tali shrugged, before sighing, fiddling absently with the edge of her hood. "In the Flotilla, silence is the last thing you want to hear. It usually means something bad, that an engine has died, or an air filter has shut down." Tali looked at the table. That was how she had lost her mother, an air filter shutting down, though in fairness it was the microbes that got through the dead filter that left her motherless. Tali forced a laugh, but tapped her clawed fingers on the table, breaking the silence further. "I suppose you don't really have to worry about that on a ship like this…"
Of course not, she berated herself. The Normandy was amazing, there was no way to compare it to anything in the Flotilla. In a way, the silence and emptiness of the mess hall, the sensation of not moving at all, left her homesick. All the familiar signs by which she understood everything to be all right were gone.
She did not see how the humans could sleep at night…but there. They were used to the silence. Or, perhaps, they were not really; so many of them did not sleep for a full eight hours, but got up in the dark and silence to take a lap around the crew deck. Most of the command structure did, and here was Adams.
-J-
"No, no it's not something you'd have to worry about here," Adams assured her. "Old habits die hard, I guess." He took a long sip of his coffee. He understood precious little about quarian Pilgrimages, never having asked about them, but he assumed this was just a stopping point for her. Which was too bad: even though it would break about a hundred regulations, he would have liked to see what she would make of the Normandy from a tech's perspective.
Well, there was always the possibility this whole crazy mission—with Shepard out most hours, dragging Alenko and Williams around with her, and switching in and out of dress blues as often as she changed her mind, things were still percolating on the Citadel even if they had accorded Shepard Spectre status—could take months.
Best make use of what time there was. This was a Spectre vessel and if the best were needed...
He immediately spoke up again, lest it become apparent that he was scheming. "This isn't the first time it's bothered you, is it?" Adams asked as the conversation lapsed, and Tali continued to fidget.
-J-
"No," Tali squirmed. "It's just…on the Citadel, there was a place to go, in case of a malfunction. Here…" she gestured, indicating space itself. "It's different…I'll get used to it."
"Everyone has to. Most kids who get a shipside posting right off the bat don't sleep so well for a couple weeks. Gotta get used to the idea that there's only the fuselage between them and the Great Vacuum."
Tali giggled, relaxing a little. "That's good to know…" It soothed the feeling of being out of place. She watched the engineer continue with his coffee, the silence settling again. It still raised gooseflesh on her skin if she paid it much attention, but it no longer conjured up heart-stopping terror.
