Tali made her way to the mess hall, exchanging warm greetings with the crew who'd rotated on duty as she passed. Shifts were assigned evenly throughout the week, ensuring no one went without a communal dinner longer than a few days at a time. She passed through the decontamination chamber and into the massive room that constituted a quarian mess hall. Whenever The Fleet acquired a new ship intended to house a population, they'd re-purpose the various enclosed spaces by tearing down walls, using the materials to patch up other vessels, and transforming smaller crew quarters into one large area capable of holding hundreds. Of course, this meant that most quarians living aboard didn't have much privacy. And those who were fortunate enough to have walls around their sleeping quarters shared them with 4-6 others, in small, cramped bunks. Still, it was always a temporary respite from the crowds and reserved as a reward for those whose contributions greatly served the fleet.

Captain Yetor'Xaeel vas Neema was at the head of the 300 ft table placed in the center of a vast hall, two other buffets ran parallel, seating a total of five hundred. On his suit's right shoulder were four gold lines with a Blue Coua perched above – once the national bird of Rannoch, indicating both his rank and the watchful, protective nature expected from their Captains. Tali bowed her head in his direction, a sign of respect, before taking a seat.

At exactly 18:00 ship time, the Captain cleared his throat and blessed their food.

"In the boundless emptiness of space, we've found our home
A sovereign people, we drift alone
Through shoals of dust and stars shrouded in radiance, we mourn not for what we have lost
Instead we rejoice in our own
Our family
Our clan and kin
For we are many parts of the same whole

Keelah se'lai

Let us eat!"

Bowls of starchy yanna vegetables and yellow pocum grain were passed around. Tali and the woman sitting adjacent to her, Ceero'Rumman vas Neema, took several servings of each using a mortar and pestle to break down and deposit the foods into their respective retorts. With a press of a button, the foods were liquefied and heated within the glass, rapidly reaching 373.15 Kelvin (212 F/100 C), before draining into vacuseal cubes which where clipped into their suits' food transportation compartments. Everyone was an equal in this process, from the low ranking sanitation workers to admirals, all contributed at mealtime. And everyone underwent decontamination before setting foot in the mess hall. It served both as practical application as well as a symbol of unity. Cooks were a moot point when food had to be sterilized and broken down into paste.

"It is good tonight, is it not?" Ceero mumbled with what sounded like a full mouth. "We should be sure to thank the new workers on the liveships. Much better than our previous crops, the flavor is much more robust." She swallowed. "How long until you rotate out of that fancy room Tali? I'm thinking my new aquaponics renovations might warrant me a bed for a month or two. It'd be nice to have a little privacy."

"Another three weeks until I'm back on deck." Having finished her yanna rations, Tali tried the mishmash of flavors that constituted pocum. "And honestly, if this delicious meal and the robust crops are your doing, I'd bet you'd be able to snag a six month rotation. Plus, Seene and Faro are due to leave a couple weeks after me. That means three free bunks."

"That so?" Yif'Salun interjected between bites. "I'd like a crack at a bed in a room with walls. Tired of hearing Zitor running nerve stim at two a.m."

"I heard that!" A voice from several feet away answered.

"Good! I sure as hell am tired of hearing you." Yif sighed. "I doubt I'd be able to win that petition though. My contributions are far from revolutionary."

Tali flapped a hand in front of her helmet. "If I might bring us back on topic. Ceero, you should apply for a six month rotation. I think you'd be a shoo-in."

"A what?" The quarian woman's head popped up.

"Sorry. Human saying, means you'll get the spot, easy."

"I just designed the systems. The liveship workers nurtured the plant and marine life we introduced. And you know they'll be vying for a lengthy stay. Still, it is worth a try, stiff competition or no."

"Should've gone into aquaponics engineering like you Ceero." Yif muttered. "More valued than weapons design any day."

"You caught Han'Gerrel's eye. You're on the Neema. Don't sell yourself short." Tali added.

"If only we could all be the golden-child who returned home with revolutionary geth data."

"And you give us better guns to blow them up with. You should both apply. Keelah, I will miss it though." While she'd been off on several hit and run missions with the Migrant Fleet Marines, thanks to the value of her pilgrimage gift, she'd been enjoying months of living in a dormitory whenever she returned home. The small space was shared between six roommates but it was better than being packed into a single deck with over six-hundred people. And she'd decorated the wall beside her bunk with photos of her time aboard The Normandy. It'd be sad to return them to her picture-book, where she couldn't fall asleep gazing at her now-dead commander, pretending he was there with her. Pretending the attack had never happened. She flipped through the pages in her mind's eye. Shepard and Garrus, winded from sparring, waving at the camera. When she'd held up her omni-tool, the commander had tossed her a rare smile. Another favorite had Wrex in the fray, showing Kaiden what a battle-master was capable of. The human had been a bit paler after their session, yet better prepared when they met a rampaging, biotic krogan who wasn't on their side.

Photographing species whose faces weren't hidden behind masks was a rewarding experience. Their smiles were like the burst of light from an engaged drive core, bridging the gap between them. And so, she'd compiled a collection of photos from her time on The Normandy. The omni-camera purchase was for her pilgrimage, after-all – even if it was a far different experience than she envisioned. Excited to be planetside for the first time in her life, she planned on capturing wildlife, flowers, and scenic views in ageless form. Illium had a robust city-life yet also boasted amazing coastal towns and gorgeous wilderness trails. However, after hearing about geth activity, she altered their course; setting in motion a chain of events that would have ended in her death had it not been for Shepard. And now he was gone and, somehow, she was still here.

Despite scarcely knowing the woman, she had a sudden urge to ask Jane for a picture to add to her collection – a sign that life went on, that not everything was devoid of hope, and that there remained, at the very least, one member of clan Shepard in the galaxy.

And devoid of hope was exactly how she felt lately. Looking around the mess hall, her people chattering away amiably, laughing. Even the giggles of the newly-suited younglings failed to lift her mood. The Fleet was becoming increasingly crowded, and the strain was sending ripples of shock throughout every ship. Despite the one child law, their population was scarcely sustainable. And the loss of a single ship was a devastating concern for the population's genetic viability. Every coupling provided a fresh genetic makeup, a unique individual that could not be sacrificed as the continuation of their species depended on the young. But with seventeen million people living aboard starships, there were only so many resources to go around. It was a delicate balancing act. One she feared was tipping out of equilibrium.

There was also the issue of both the terminus and council races burgeoning hostility towards The Fleet. If one put themselves in the other agency's skin, and saw things from their perspective, it wasn't overtly difficult to understand the dissent. Every time they dropped into a system, their engineers and miners quickly extracted any eezo and precious materials from asteroid fields or uninhabited planets. Others would deploy to worlds where their skills would be of use, and quickly outbid local workers as they were willing to exchange technical labor for a mere pittance. No one with a family to feed could compete with their prices. And small businesses often shuttered after The Fleet passed through their home systems. The turians had dubbed them levavit lucustas, insects that were similar to Terran locusts – they'd descend with or without permission and strip the area bare, before racing to the next system. Yet, what were they to do? Die out because it's polite?

At the very least, she could continue the missions into geth space so that one day, they may truly live and not merely survive. Although, the chance of reclaiming their home-world in her lifetime was slim to none. And with the reapers approaching, was there even a point? Depriving them of their geth allies was all she could do – however little an impact that would have. She saw Sovereign first hand. Even their fleet, the largest in the galaxy, would struggle to bring down a single reaper. What could they do, what would any of them do, when they finally came toe to toe with an armada? The ancestors only knew.

The national bird of Rannoch cdn. download .ams .edu /api/v1/asset/205744531/
If you take the spaces out, it'll bring you to the image. Or you can check out this chapter on AO3 where several pictures are linked in the notes. :p