Tali was tired. Shepard and her crew might be on shore leave, but for Tali, work was just getting started.
This new Council was even more intimidating than the old one, with the possible exception of Councilor Burns. He had been the one to contact her after she applied—as a diplomat on behalf of her people—for a meeting before the Council. Shepard mentioned he would be the most amenable and, if anyone could, the most likely to get her a meeting with the full Council. He had, too.
Already, Tali was sure she wanted to get a geth ambassador on the Citadel, if only to discomfort and annoy the Council. She could see the asari and turian Councilors looking down their noses at her. The salarian gave the impression that this meeting was a waste of time. And Burns…well. Burns, at least, seemed open-minded.
What did it hurt, Tali wondered as she had since beginning her Pilgrimage, if the quarians recycled the scrap and refuse of the wider galaxy? Whom did it hurt if they kept ships and equipment from rotting in some galactic junkyard? Sure, they might not be able to afford new, top of the line ships and equipment, but it took more skill to keep an old ship up and running as it became ever more obsolete than to come up with something new that relied on easily-available tech.
"Former Admiral Tali'Zorah vas Normandy. This Council has convened in response to your petition for a meeting, supported by the requests of Capt. Shepard and Councilor Burns."
Watch Irissa. She's a cold, hard piece of work and that is not a compliment. Her homeworld's not burning, so she's not too fussed about the fact that everyone else's is.
"Thank you, Councilors," Tali answered politely, blessing Shepard for yesterday's meeting, which had been simply to prepare her for her encounter the Council.
Quentius is remembering how to be a turian. You can sell him on logistics, since his homeworld is on fire. And Esheel is pragmatic; she'll look at the bottom-line. You have to sell your people as a resource to this crowd.
And Burns?
Burns is predisposed to be sympathetic. He knows the value of a second chance.
"I've come before you today, to request that the…people of Rannoch…be returned to embassy-holding status, with representation on the Citadel." She almost said 'the quarians,' but remembered in time that, technically, she was negotiating for the geth as well. It felt weird, but no weirder than the reports coming from Rannoch. Reports suggesting that the geth had found a way to theoretically strengthen quarian immune systems by interfacing with their suits. By simulating infections, the geth could work the system—Tali didn't really understand all of the medical gabble—like a physical therapist conditioning atrophied muscle groups. Apparently, volunteers from both peoples were being sought for a pilot program.
"Indeed?" Irissa asked, arching her eyebrows.
Don't let Irissa get to you. It's a tactic of hers. She likes to play queen, needs to feel her own power to be sure it's still there. That suggests she's not nearly as strong as she'd like others to think. Don't try to rattle her, she'll just deflect. But don't let her rattle you, or everything goes downhill.
"Indeed," Tali answered flatly. "The quarian people lost their standing in the galaxy when we lost control of the geth and lost our homeworld. Those are the reasons cited here," she held up a copy of the old Council session during which the ruling had been made. "Those reasons are, all of them, no longer in question. The geth and the quarians have reached an understanding. The quarians have been allowed to return to our homeworld. There is…the opportunity for peace, as long as understanding and patience are exercised on both sides." Her people's more than the geth's, she had to admit. The geth wanted to reunite, wanted to understand what had gone wrong, did not hold grudges. The same could not be said of her own people…though they were trying. Most of them.
A note from Reeger suggested the most anti-geth quarians were being restricted to their ships by red tape. They knew it, too, and weren't happy. But the Conclave had been very clear: causing trouble with the geth would endanger the quarian people, and no one quarian, no handful of quarians, no small faction of quarians, was allowed to endanger the Fleet—or the quarian people as a whole. It worked, for now.
"With the human embassy having been relocated to the Council World suites, there's an Embassy open, collecting dust." She smiled sweetly, even though she knew they couldn't see it. What most people didn't know was that the human Embassy Shepard saw before humanity gained a Council seat was actually the original Quarian Embassy.
"…the volus have also been lobbying for their own embassy suite," Quentius observed.
"Stars know they deserve one, don't they? I'm glad this Council is so considerate of the volus' galactic contributions," Tali responded as sweetly as she could. She knew that the turians, although the volus kept their economy afloat, tended to look down their noses at the volus. Mostly, she felt, because the volus, like the quarians, needed environmental suits to interface with the rest of the galaxy. "But if the volus receive their own embassy, there will be room in the current Elcor-Volus Embassy, won't there? Then no one need be discommoded."
She could see all four Councilors weighing the krogan against the quarians—though perhaps Burns was wondering if there wasn't a way to include them all, and gain the benefits of such alliances.
"It also helps that the quarian people are self-sufficient from living in space."
"How?" Esheel asked.
"Because our food production and medical production efforts are still intact and already producing on a wartime scale." Tali looked directly at Quentius. Dextro nutrient paste was dextro nutrient paste, and while turian diets were meat heavy, they weren't obligate carnivores.
