RANNOCH

TIKKUN SYSTEM

PERSEUS VEIL

APRIL 2188

"There was a night when winds from unknown spaces whirled us irresistibly

into limitless vacuum beyond all thought and entity…"

IT WASN'T MUCH OF A HOUSE.

Not yet. She had all the prerequisites for a house, frame, rooms, filtration, plumbing and power systems. A kitchen, a living area, an entertainment centre. A room to clean herself and eliminate waste, her bedroom with its single indulgence – a large slingbed, with plenty of room to roll about on. The house was spare, Spartan and mostly empty.

It wasn't, she'd thought, a home yet.

Surveying it one morning, Admiral Tali'Zorah Vas Normandy Nar Rannoch knew that old habits would be very hard to break. Quarians had a reputation for being able recyclers, hoarders, and thrifty to extremes, and the idea of filling it with furniture and things, so-called 'necessities' still ran against her grain. Her home looked enormous to her, although it really wasn't. By almost any other standard, Tali's house was modest, but to her it was already three times the space in which she'd ever lived on the Flotilla, and she felt a little embarrassed by what she considered extravagant. She figured a great many other quarians would have this 'problem'. Quarians of three centuries ago lived much more… expansively, if the remaining structures were any indication. Quarians were used to using every last centimeter of space as efficiently as possible. Large spaces made them uneasy.

She was returning from a survey of Nav'Pallock, one of the old cities in the North, still mostly uninhabited. Geth wanted very little to do with the old cities, did not require farms or farmland, and the quarians as a whole had been astonished by just how much of Rannoch and quarian civilization the geth had preserved.

It had raised a great many questions. Old texts and accounts of the geth Uprising – what they called the 'Morning War' – spoke of devastation on a massive scale, cities burning, whole swathes of the planet scorched and smashed, the geth grinding quarian corpses under their heels with a machine's cold contempt. Every quarian child was taught this tale, was told that when Rannoch was regained, it would take so very long to rebuild.

That, it turned out, had not been entirely accurate.

Two Northern cities had been completely destroyed, both by ancient nuclear fusion bombs, but those had both been deployed by quarians. Those two cities had been cleared away, the land cleaned and replanted. All other cities on the planet were clear of debris, quiet, clean and all infrastructure intact, albeit with geth touches and innovations.

There were cenotaphs outside every city, built by the geth, all efficiently listing all quarians killed. Some it horrified. Others it shook. Many began reassessing both the geth and their history, and what was turning out to be a rather great deal of self-serving propaganda.

The planet had been cleared of the rubble of war, cleaned of the dead, and great and conscientious care taken with what had remained. Huge sections of the planet had been cultivated, and that cultivation automated. Food would be no problem, not at all. Some surveys suggested that there would even be massive surpluses, enough to export.

Rannoch was, frankly, ready to be occupied, and by all accounts had been for quite some time.

The geth had begun construction of a new megastructure, centered on a largely uninhabitable – by quarians – mid-sea continent once called "Arra'tanedas", literally 'nowhere remotely livable', and as yet, had very little interest in where the quarians took up residence. There was more than enough room. The planet had once housed billions, and the majority of those spaces had been rebuilt over the centuries, requiring only reactivation of facilities and power. Seventeen million quarians, homes for millions upon millions and none were starved for choice. Most, however, petitioned the Conclave to pick a city for the majority, and those who preferred could go where they wished after.

It turned out that Rannoch was one of the very few planets in the Galaxy to weather the Reaper War more or less intact. Already, before even the quarians had begun to settle, there were requests flooding in from turians, humans, asari for immigration. That was another matter altogether, and ancient prejudices among the quarians remained – many remembered how the other races of the Citadel spurned them in the early days of their exile, and how long it lasted, and how much prejudice remained. There was a growing consensus that Rannoch remain for quarians only, massive space and viable empty cities notwithstanding.

"Quarian populations won't stay small for long," ran the credo. "We need it for ourselves." The geth, when asked for their opinions, seemed to be of the bent that 'organic problems were for organics to solve', which didn't really help, but there was an undercurrent that, if the quarians thought they were now back in charge of the planet, they were sadly mistaken, which really didn't help. The geth made certain to relate to the returning quarians that they were more than welcome to resettle and call Rannoch their home again – but. Though not explicitly spelled out, the intimation was that the geth would have a definite say in how things went, as much help as they were at the moment, and that any ideas that the quarians would, as Daro'Xen had once put it "return as the masters' should be forgotten, and the sooner the better. Again, it was never put implicitly, but it was hanging in the air:

The quarians would treat the geth as equal partners, or they could stay in space.

So far, Tali was happy to say, it was a partnership that seemed to be working out to a mutual benefit. How long it lasted was anyone's guess.

Stepping from her transport, Tali looked her new home over, pulled her bundles from the car and approached her front door. A low wind moaned from the canyon a few kilometres away, a trilling note like a bone t'mali – an ancient quarian flute - she liked. Taking advantage of the wind, she stopped, pulled her recently-purchased chimes from their little box and hung them by her door. They tinkled pleasantly and she nodded to herself, satisfied.

Entering the house and closing the door behind her, even with the pressure seal, she could still hear them, was glad. She as yet didn't like silences, figured that was another facet of their Exile the quarians would have to adapt to – quiet times. Leaving a trail of various objects in their places as she moved through the house – small knickknacks, tools, groceries in her small kitchen. Her suit, linked with the house computer, informed her that the scrubbers had finished, her air was clean, and Tali pulled her hood down, popped the seals on her faceplate, it taking considerably longer than it had been portrayed in popular media, particularly the supposedly-biographical recountings of the last several years.

She often wondered why it was shown that all a quarian had to do was reach up and pull it off – ridiculous. If it were that easy, a reasonably solid blow would pop the thing off, which would have done no quarian any good ever. She assumed it was just a media expediency, as no audience was going to sit through the decoupling process it took for her suit to analyze and match the outside air, slowly introduce it into the suit, and then release the hard suction seals. She ran a hand through her short hair, again amused by the media depictions of she and her fellows. Long hair under their suits? The idea was idiotic. Long hair needed to be kept clean, and resources on a quarian ship – up until recently, at any rate - were scarce enough without the luxury of caring for something as resource-consumptive as long hair. When, she wondered, did they think quarians had the water reserves to shower and wash great masses of useless hair? A quarian suit was efficient – a true marvel of engineering – but even it could only do so much.

Some people and their fantasies, she chuckled to herself. Reality was far more interesting.

Maybe, one day, when she could live without her suit on a permanent basis – maybe then she'd consider it.

Tali took a deep breath, enjoying the actual air, enjoying the faint flinty smell of the desert outside. A quick one-two on the house computer and her kitchen busied itself with creating her lunch. Putting her faceplate on its cradle, followed by the rest of the helmet portion of her suit, Tali set it to cycle and clean itself, and run diagnostics on the geth program that was helping her 'adjust' to Rannoch. The first two weeks she'd tried it she had felt horrendously ill, but hadn't been really, and the sensation had not lasted. Now it was an almost subliminal thing, her body adjusting, the time it took to cycle through taking off her suit shortening with each 'adjustment'.

Many still refused the service, as resentment against the geth yet ran deep. In the more conservative camps of quarian opinion, it was considered tantamount to 'cheating', almost a collaboration – in a rather negative sense – with the geth. Tali understood the sentiment, but she also knew that the sooner the quarians overcame both that particular prejudice and handicap, the better. She had hoped to provide an example of how safe it was, but, unlike apparently the rest of the Galaxy, her reputation wasn't quite as high among the rest of her fellow quarians.

Politically, hawks like Han'Gerrel and Daro'Xen were climbing rapidly in influence – only now they were all for strengthening ties with the geth – all that 'mutual benefit' nonsense they spewed now when pre-war it was nothing but 'total annihilation of the machines' would satisfy them.

How quickly attitudes turned when the thoughts of massive military and political clout took hold! There was no doubt Tali knew, that allied with the geth, and despite the losses sustained in the battle for Rannoch and the subsequent joining Sword against the Reapers; that combined, the quarians and geth yet had the single largest fleet in the Galaxy. The other races had sustained far heavier losses, and she knew there were undercurrents of age-old resentments at play in the new Rannoch government – at least on the quarian side of it.

She found it strange – the geth adhered to their agreements and treaties with the rest of the Galaxy to the letter – through the so-called 'Legion Concord' - but the quarians seemed only to look on their newfound strength as a pathway to avenge past wrongs – real or imagined. Despite the fact that the geth had already stated that they considered themselves a 'separate nation', and not as simply an adjunct to any quarian political maneuvers. It was one fact (of many, she thought) the hawks chose to ignore, flush with victory as they were – because of Legion and Shepard the geth were literally 'sworn to benevolence' as Zal'Koris has so eloquently put it – and unlike organics, machines kept their word.

Tali herself was torn, politically. She'd been too close to it, as it were, and believed she could see both sides of the issue. She knew, through her experiences on the Normandy, with Legion, under the influence of Shepard (something she mused should be considered a phenomenon in itself) that the political machinations of Gerrel and Xen would only cause trouble down the road, but not for anyone but themselves. She wanted her people to have more influence, and she'd be lying if the idea of getting some of their own back didn't appeal to her.

Tali also knew that causing even more resentment against themselves was not the way to achieve any lasting influence in the greater Galaxy.

At the moment, the biggest argument amongst the members of the Conclave dealt with the 'reward' the Council had offered for the quarians help during the War – the reestablishment of the quarian Embassy on the Citadel – even vague rumours of a possible seat on the Council itself. Some thought it far overdue, some thought it insulting; Xen calling it a 'fear response' on the Council's part, but Tali knew it was a large step of reconciliation on the Council's part and as sincere as they could make it. She also knew her people would never get anywhere by being arrogant. That's what had caused all the trouble in the first place.

Tali's kitchen computer chimed, her lunch prepared, and she sat in the comfortable near-silence and ate, Rannoch's orange sun slanting pleasingly through the windows. Political ambitions and machinations aside, she knew a great new chapter was opening in the quarian story, and she was glad to be there to see it begin, and had in many ways shaped it to its present disposition. It wasn't perfect, but nothing ever was – and she'd have been rather suspicious of it if it had been.

Tali sighed, called up her daily planner, checked her mail – several requests from Shala'Raan, several from the community committees she'd volunteered for, one she had been looking forward to - and one from Palaven.

Garrus.

Another wish for her continued success and another hope there were no hard feelings. She sent him another quick thanks and another "don't be silly" reply, dismissed him from her mind.

Shipboard 'romances'.

She wondered if she could even call it that. "Port in a storm", perhaps was more accurate, there being no real chance for it. She and Garrus were too driven in their own ways ever to find a quiet middle ground for any kind of relationship – so, they parted, still friends, and she had no regrets. That had been several months ago.

Truth to be told, Garrus had issues and baggage Tali really hadn't wanted to be tied into, there was no real future with him, no matter how much she respected him, no matter how much real affection she possessed for the driven sniper. He was so… turian, and Tali didn't pretend she knew how to work with that.

She was not the girl on Pilgrimage that had neither seen nor done anything, no longer impressed by the shiny or moon-eyed being surrounded by heroes, nor had she been for quite some time. In many ways, Tali was as much a veteran as any actual soldier, and her mindset reflected that - matured, ever-so-slightly cynical, clear-eyed. She was her own woman, experienced and tempered by war - and she would define how her own life would be led.

Tali opened the next, smiled broadly.

In the chaos of war, people die. This is an inescapable fact. In the chaos of war, people are also reported dead when they, in fact, were not.

One could have imagined the surprise when, reported as having heroically died, Kal'Reegar Vas Dalen's Fire Nar Rannoch survived Palaven.

It should be related that he actually barely survived Palaven; having successfully secured the critical communications relay, he and only one other quarian, Tenna'Nah Vas Star Needle, managed to drag themselves to a reasonably defensible position, and await the reinforcements. His suit severely damaged, Reegar badly injured, he'd kept the mortally wounded Tenna on her feet until they'd been secured. Knowing she was finished, Tenna'Nah cannibalized her own suit to repair Reegar's. The krogan reinforcements had been impressed when they saw the two metre high pile of husk bodies, stacked like barriers. The quarians had not budged a centimeter. Reegar was found two weeks later, his identity unknown, his suit barely functioning, every reserve gone. Lost in the pandemonium after the destruction of the Reapers, he'd lain in an turian field hospital for several more weeks until conscious enough to identify himself.

He'd returned to Rannoch – his utter astonishment at the developments here completely understandable – to a raucous hero's welcome.

Some had even taken to calling him the "quarian Shepard". He took it as a supreme compliment.

A week later, he'd called her, left her a short message of greeting and regards.

She'd contemplated it for about five minutes, and then called him back, invited him for a meal.

Two weeks later, they had linked suits. A week after, they touched without the suits.

Tali couldn't remember when she'd felt better – or happier.

The email was a request to see her later in the day, if she wasn't too busy. It was sweet, gallant and somehow still formal. It was so like him.

Yes, absolutely, his company would be fine. She dashed off a quick reply and got an almost immediate response, smiled. Her day was looking up.

She opened the first letter from Raan and almost choked on her lunch. She read it carefully, not believing a word, then read it again, and then read and reread the three that followed it.

The offer of the quarian Embassy was legitimate and ratified. The geth, if they were approached at all, would be dealt with separately. It would not happen right away, perhaps for many years, but the Council had intimated that, eventually after Reconstruction, the quarians might be offered a position on the Council itself. There was nothing definite, and the subject was forbidden to be broached in public, but it had been hinted at as a distinct possibility. Tali was to return to the Conclave Chambers as soon as possible. All the Admirals were meeting to discuss their next step: choosing an official quarian Ambassador.

Tali finished her lunch, went calmly to her sleeping chamber, peeled herself out of her suit, threw herself into the refresher, was stepping out just as Reegar arrived. He let himself in.

Feeling a bit brazen, Tali stepped out with a towel barely around her, smiled around the door. Reegar was eying her faceplate.

"It's an idea," she told him, a purr in her voice. He let out a short laugh, popped the seals on his own, sat it in the cradle next to hers. His eyes narrowed as he looked back at her, but a smile was on his lips.

"You shouldn't take unnecessary risks by wandering about like that, Ma'am," he told her. "Anything could happen to you."

The scar on his face, received on Palaven – one of many – crinkled when he smiled. He had a strong face that she liked a great deal, with high cheekbones and a firm jaw, generous lips. Sandy hair peeked out from under his cowl, which after a moment, he peeled back.

"Anything?" She arched an eyebrow. "Sounds …intriguing."

Reegar chuckled. His good fortune, he told himself again for the millionth time. Having admired her from afar as a young man, rekindling the attraction after Haestrom, he going to bat for her against the admirals at her stupid trial, well, even with that, he never thought she'd look at him twice.

"My good fortune," he told her, looking out the window. "This is a great spot for a home."

"Yes," she told him from her bedroom. "I thought it perfect." A pause, a saucy, "It's a little lonely, what with the slow-witted staring out of windows at dust when I'm in here cooling off."

Reegar's smile broadened, and he stepped into her bedroom to see her languorously draped on her slingbed. He tucked his arms behind his back.

"A quarian First Strike Marine is always ready, Ma'am. But we take nothing for granted."

Tali rolled over to face him, face composed and serious.

"This, Kal…" Her tone leaving no other interpretation. "…you can take for granted."

Reegar wasted no more time.

Afterward, feeling far more relaxed, Tali stepped back into the 'fresher and then proceeded to dress in something a bit more formal.

"I'm curious," she asked him, adjusting the undersuit that regulated her temperature. "What did they call you when you were young?"

"You mean, did I have a nickname?" Tali smiled at him, nodded. He looked faintly embarrassed. She knew it!

"Let me guess."

"I'd rather you didn't." Her smile was broad.

"'Eager Reegar', wasn't it?"

He coughed discretely into his hand.

"No comment."

Tali laughed, came back, kissed him heartily.

"It suits you."

Reegar coloured, and she laughed harder.

"I'm blaming you. Let's just keep this between the two of us, no?"

"I can be bribed."

"That I will definitely bear in mind. Is there something I should know?" He pointed at her formal attire.

"Conclave business. The largest annoyance of being an Admiral is all the piddling details they don't tell you about when they offer you the job."

She tightened her innersuit seals, that regulated waste removal and cleansing, also acted as a barrier against infection.

"We're a power again, Kal. The Citadel Council has returned our embassy. They want us to send them an Ambassador."

"It should be you," he told her without hesitation, rising and retrieving his own suit. "No one better for the job, no one a better face and voice for the quarian people."

"Don't be ridiculous," she told him, pulling on her outer suit, with its armor plating and external sensors. "I'm a mediocre Admiral at best and a terrible diplomat. I'd rather just be a normal quarian."

"That's impossible." He told her, affection in his voice. She was warmed to hear it, suddenly found herself wondering when she'd gone from liking and admiring him to… this… whatever this was. She liked it, whatever it was.

"Good luck regardless. It's a great thing for us, but I admit some suspicion. We've been wanderers too long, and we've made too many enemies, not all of them obvious."

"How could giving us our embassy back be anything detrimental?"

Reegar tightened his seals, shrugged into his suit to make it fit better, an old soldier's habit.

"It makes us beholden to the Council, for one thing. It draws us into the politics and machinations of the other races. I'm not paranoid… " he chuckled. "…well, any more than any soldier is, but I think I preferred when we only had to answer to ourselves. I may be speaking out of turn, but our current crop of Admirals only see the possibilities of their own personal power." He sighed, waited for his headgear to finish cycling. "It's not my place to say."

"You have every right to an opinion. You've certainly earned it."

"Thank you."

"I think, if you don't mind," she began, "I would like it very much if yours were an opinion I could count on."

"I am at your command. Ma'am."

Tali stared at him for a moment, then laughed lightly, shook her head, kissed him.

Yes. She liked this feeling very much.

"Where will you be?" She asked.

"The new Military Academy. I'm a 'guest speaker', whatever that means. Me and a Geth Prime." He shook his head at that. "Did you know they're starting to adopt names?"

"Oh, I hadn't heard. What kind of names? Are they like quarian names?"

"Not quite. This Prime I'll be 'speaking' with is named 'CSventh' – or 'Coordinator of The Seventh', or so I'm told."

"Interesting." Tali replaced her mask, the seals hissing to secure it. "Legion did give them sentience and individuality. It only makes sense they'd give themselves names. I'd not even considered that they would. Isn't that strange?"

"Not really. They never really merited names before." Reegar replaced his mask. "It will be odd working with one. I've spent my entire life trying to find ways to kill them."

"It's a new universe, Kal. Things are going to change in ways we can't imagine. If I have my way, the quarians will be an important agent of that change."

Tali and he left her house. Her chimes tinkled behind them. Dust swirled around their feet.

"If anyone can assure that, it will be you."

"I appreciate your confidence in me, Kal. Can I see you later?"

"Anytime you'd like. My engagement lasts until sunset. I'm free after that."

"Please come back here when you're done."

"I'd be happy to," He opened the door of her car for her. His was parked just to the side of hers. "I'll even bring us supper. Olev Vas Nimbin Volan has opened a restaurant, if you can believe that. He's already using local produce. I hear it's quite good. Feeling a little adventurous?"

"That would be perfect." More real food. No paste. Real food.

He nodded, closed the door and proceeded to his car. Wasting no time, he was in the air and soon out of sight.

Tali started her own car and was on her way shortly after.

After three hundred years, an honest-to-goodness quarian Ambassador to the Citadel. As the red rock of Rannoch passed under her, she pondered the coming Conclave. Picking an Ambassador would be no easy task. Personally, Tali was inclined to vote for Zal'Koris - a moderate in that position was a much better choice than any she could think of – especially when he was more concerned with preserving the peace and getting their people back on Rannoch and back into some semblance of 'normal' living – whatever that might be.

If Zal'Koris refused, then Raan, most definitely. She couldn't see anyone else in the role, Kal's recommendation aside.

Tali hoped the decision wouldn't take long. She was already looking forward to her night and sunset meal – and whatever came after.

She had a home to build.