Parallax

by Celtican

Eight: The Traveler

"If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion and avoid the people, you might better stay at home." - James Michener

Tali rubbed her shoulder, still sore from the shot from Saren's assassins, but healing. The ebb tide of the antibiotic cocktail she'd been swimming in for days was also a welcome sensation, since that meant her stomach would no longer declare ware on every meal she consumed. She tucked her feet up under her blanket. It was thin, but intricately woven with insulating and conductive fibers designed to keep the user comfortable based on the ambient temperature. The weaving also served a decorative purpose, as Tali's was woven in the traditional Zorah family pattern that matched her exo-suit. Wrapped in this reminder of home, she busied herself with studying the Normandy's technical schematics.

Externally, she was a beautiful ship. Tali embarrassed herself on the docks, practically falling off the gantry trying to see every possible angle of the ship. A choice crack from the helmsman from an external intercom in the airlock rushed her back to reality, flustered and humiliated. She stuttered her way through introductions to the Normandy's engineering crew, until Lt. Adams took pity on her and set her to work dismantling and recalibrating some spare heat sinks. This earned her points with Adams when she finished the task in minutes, increasing the efficiency of the Alliance standard models and eliminating extraneous parts. After that, she felt much more at home.

Normandy was definitely a prototype, however. There were still some panels with clear adhesive protectors tucked away into corners, and Tali could see tangled masses of cables that made her fingers itch to streamline them. There was an unusual smell lingering in the air, more than just recycled and filtered oxygen; the ship still smelled brand new. The drive core (which by itself represented enough fuel and tech to refit at least twenty ships in the flotilla) was still shiny, reflecting the blue ripples of the eezo radiation where the coolant didn't fog it over.

The single, unnerving drawback to this beautiful ship was the silence. Everything worked as intended; there were no hull patches, no jury-rigged stabilizers, not a single salvaged bolt. Not even the air recyclers made the reassuring wshhhhh as they kicked in. Thus, Tali was wide awake well into the Normandy's night cycle, studying schematics she had already memorized, annotated, and revised into reports for Adams.

After all, the only time a quarian heard no noise on a ship was when they were dead.

Tali shivered, shaking off the anxiety the silence provoked for the second (Third? Fourth?) time that night. She'd toyed with downloading some artificial ship noise applications for her in-helmet audio system, but she found herself irritated by the "real quarian sound FX" knockoffs that she'd deleted it almost immediately. Her rational mind kept chasing off invisible monsters, reminding herself that clearly there weren't any alerts up, so everything was okay.

Right?

"Oh, just stop it, would you, Tali'Zorah?" she chided herself. Her voice echoed in the empty compartment, the acoustics oddly flattened by the hull's configuration. She flicked off her omni-tool, determined to fall asleep through sheer willpower. She shut her eyes against the silence and waited for her chronometer to wake her for her next shift.

A minute passed. Then five more.

Tali repositioned her legs to ease the pressure on her hips and ankles.

And waited.

Damn it all, she thought. She crawled out of her bunk and headed for the main section of engineering. "Might as well get an early start..." she muttered as she headed up to the mess hall.

She had settled down with her nutrient packs and sterilization kit when a bleary-eyed Shepard sauntered in, mid-yawn. She wore what Tali assumed were casual clothes which consisted of loose thermal pants and a hooded zip-up shirt of a similar material. She carried a battered, garish mug made from what Tali guessed was pottery in her left hand, and data pad in the other.

"Good morning, Captain Shepard," Tali said, connecting the first of her food packets to the intake port near her jaw line. Shepard started, then turn to face the quarian.

"Oh, hi there," Shepard replied, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry, I'm a bit oblivious before I've had my coffee." She held up the mug in a sort of salute.

Tali nodded, taking a pull off the straw that had popped up when the contents of the tube were ready to eat. "I understand. Please, don't let me stop you," she said.

Shepard wandered over to the pull-down kitchenette and brewed a mug full of something strong and bitter smelling (though not unpleasant) which Tali gathered was 'coffee,' and began sifting through the boxes of MREs. Tali returned to her notes for Adams, swapping out nutrient packets as she read. She took the opportunity to study the commander through the privacy of her visor. Shepard was smaller than her reputation led on, if the gossip Tali had overheard from the crew were any indication. She moved quietly, lightly on her feet, an athlete's grace in her frame even freshly out of bed. It was weird to see someone so still. Her skin was pale, her hair and eyes dark, and Tali saw the edges of some sort of patterning peeking out from Shepard's collar. Tattoos, probably.

"It's 'lieutenant commander,' actually."

Tali started, irrationally convinced she'd been caught staring. "I'm sorry?"

Shepard hadn't turned from her fruitless hunt for a palatable MRE. "You called me 'captain.' I'm only a lieutenant commander. 'Commander' can be used for short, if you'd prefer, since Lieutenant Alenko is aboard as well." Shepard looked back at the quarian. "One on one, you can call me Sabrina. That's my first name."

Tali tilted her head to the side. "I, uh, think 'commander' will be fine for now, if you don't mind. As for the rank mistake, in quarian culture, the person who gives the orders and looks out for the crew is 'captain,'" she replied, not sure if she'd given offense, but opted to explain anyway for caution's sake.

"Really?" Shepard apparently gave up on finding something specific and grabbed a packet. She sat across from Tali, pulling the tab to activate the heat cycle. It was not the first time Tali found herself under the scrutiny of a commanding officer, having grown up an admiral's daughter. This time, however, she found herself wary; humans could be inquisitive to the point of rudeness, or the point of cruelty. Tali waited, preparing for the questions (at best) or the bigotry (at worst).

"I suppose that makes sense, given that unless you're an enlisted officer, rank doesn't apply," Shepard continued, then shifted gears. "I understand your father is an admiral?"

Tali blinked, surprised at the question. "Erm...yes...but how-"

"Relax; I received a message from him about an hour ago. He wishes you luck, by the way."

"Oh...well, thanks," Tali said, accepting the secondhand courtesy from an Admiral Rael'Zorah for what it was: a pleasantry.

"I'm glad I ran into you, actually," Shepard said, apparently fully awake now. "I was meaning to ask you and Garrus if either of you needed anything in particular in terms of rations, since I know Alliance vessels aren't usually loaded for mixed-amino crews. I mean...we have leftovers from when our last turian guest was here-" a flash of anger and sadness crossed Shepard's eyes, but was gone before Tali fully registered its presence "-but I can make sure to have the quartermaster requisition things from the Citadel when we dock. Fresh fruits and vegetables, perhaps some meat?"

"I can't speak for Garrus on the meat issue, since I'm a vegetarian, but anything you can find would be great!" Tali said, feeling flattered that the commander would go to this extent for non-Alliance staff.

"Alright. Anything specific to you for suit repairs? How about medical supplies"

Tali blinked again, and the wary feeling crept back into the lower parts of her brain. "I think I'll be able to manage, since I can ask for packet drops from the flotilla in an emergency...but why do you ask?"

Shepard tilted her head to one side, a gesture quite similar to the one used by quarians to request more information. Being in an exosuit that obscured facial expressions required some fluency in body language to communicate. She chuckled suddenly, embarrased. "Damn it, I'm sorry, Tali" Shepard chuckled slightly. "My curiosity got the better of me," she explained. "I grew up in space, on ships. My mother is a captain on a dreadnought in the Alliance Navy. Whenever I heard about the quarians, I always wanted to know more. All I ever got was hearsay, or dry instructional material in the N7 courses."

Tali nodded slowly, relieved. "I think I understand. No offense taken, cap-Commander. I'll gladly tell you whatever you'd like to know, so long as it doesn't compromise Fleet security."

"Of course, of course!" Shepard grinned like a child receiving her first exo-suit. "Good! The offer still stands though...let me know if you do need anything, and I'll see what I can do."

Tali snorted. "If you don't mind me taping some plastic to the fans in the air circulation units for some noise, it'd help me sleep."

"Oh, man, do I hear that...first time on a new ship?"

"If by 'new' you mean 'less than 28 trillion miles,' yes. Normandy's so new I can still smell the protective grease in the air. It's just too quiet to sleep!"

Shepard looked puzzled suddenly. "Too quiet to sleep? I must be sleeping in the wrong part of the ship then, because I hear just about everything from my quarters." Shepard gestured to the door just to the left of the raised deck where the sleeper pods were hung. "I haven't figured out if that was a turian suggestion or a human suggestion, but hearing the crew grind their teeth and fu-er, fool around is going to drive me to drink!"

Tali stared, mouth agape (though Shepard wouldn't have seen it). "You mean...silence is normal for you?"

"Well, er...yeah. I guess it would be, since the ships we serve in aren't as old." Shepard pushed around the strange noodle things in her MRE. The orange sauce the pale yellow tubes rested in looked nauseating to Tali, so she resolved to avoid looking at the food entirely.

When the silence threatened to stifle them, Shepard cleared her throat. "Well, uh...it was nice talking to you, Tali," she said, packing up the MRE and dropping it into the recycler, casting the strange tubes and orange vomit-sauce into whatever repurposed the materials into waste or raw materials for the microfacturing areas of the ship. She turned to leave the mess hall.

"Shepard?" Tali asked.

"Hmm?"

Tali paused. "You know, I do think I want to ask for something else."

"Oh?"

"It's not often that a quarian can get a decent shower outside of the Flotilla. Most 'sterile' facilities still have enough bacteria or viruses around to cause serious illness. Is there a way I could modify an area of the ship for a clean room?"

Shepard scrunched her face up, considering for a moment. "I don't think I can section off part of the ship...but I bet Dr. Chakwas could help with a small quarantine room. I'd talk to her."

"Alright then. A rare shower is better than none at all," Tali said, pleased with the concept.

The commander smiled. "As for the quiet, I can send some musical suggestions to you that usually help me sleep."

"Thank you. Good night, Commander."

"Good night."

/Grad school makes writing for fun hard! :( With luck, I'll be able to keep the update gap to no more than a couple of weeks. Thanks for sticking with me! ~ Celtican