The following is a Mass Effect fanfic that I have been working on recently. It is hardly anything amazing, save for the length of time it took me to work out the words for it. Naturally, I have no ownership of any of the Mass Effect things within this story, and bomb-pumped gamma ray lasers were first proposed by Edward Teller.
If any terms are giving you difficulty, most can be defined at the Mass Effect Wiki. If the term isn't there, it is likelier to be at the Project Rho: Atomic Rockets website.
NOTE: There is a metric fucktonne of spoilers for Mass Effect in here. If you haven't played the game but want to, reading this is DISCOURAGED AS HELL.
The Quarian “Shepard, I cannot sleep on your ship.” Tali said to me one day, not long after we first left the Citadel. I had come down to the engine room to admire the drive; it was an amazing piece of machinery, first in the Alliance fleet, and it was mine. Tali had taken up residence there, helping Adams with the strange things we had been dragging in.
I was surprised to see that the place was clean; only a few moments ago we had pulled in a probe. The engineering team had it pulled apart, checked from top to bottom, and packed away before I could even make it to the cargo bay with the elevator. Since I had taken command of the Normandy, I didn't receive any opportunities to salvage interesting junk or play with any of the new systems. It was a petty regret, but it felt potent at the time.
“Shepard? Are you feeling alright?” Tali asked after a few moments had passed. I had been staring at the drive, watching it spin to its own rhythm. I shook my head and the irrelevant thoughts from it, bringing my gaze back to Tali's faceplate.
“Yes, yes, fine.” I answered, taking a deep breath. After a second, I remembered that she had asked me something before that. Groping for a quick response, I decided to keep it simple and asked, “Why not?”
“It is... too quiet here. Back home, in the Migrant Fleet, there are so many things constantly humming. If there is silence, it means that the drive has cut off, or even worse, the air filter isn't working.” As she spoke, I watched the small light at the bottom of her opaque helmet flash. It was mesmerizing, and I wondered how it worked. The volus used a similar light; it was terribly distracting.
I realized a moment late that she had stopped talking. Shifting my gaze back up to where I assumed her eyes were behind the mask, I tried to reassure her, “It's tough to get used to. I spent my entire life on a ship as well, and I hadn't realized how much noise they make until I was here, aboard Normandy. “ I smiled and finished, “She's quite the ship, but she can be spooky.”
“Yes. That is exactly the problem I am having.” Tali replied before laughing nervously. I smiled as she continued, “How did you overcome it?”
“That's actually a bit of a trick I learned from an old friend, back before the Blitz. I'd record a bit of the sound from my ship before my transfer date was up, then, when I got to my destination ship, I would make a second recording.” As I spoke, I remembered most of my transfers. The tinge of nostalgia entered my voice as I said, “Then, I would put on headphones while sleeping, and slowly wean myself off of the noise the old ship made, while getting used to the new ship noises. After about a week, I didn't need the headphones anymore.”
Tali seemed shocked, her body language surely said so. Quarian body structure isn't too different from a human's, so they tend to have similar gestures and body motions. In a curious and accusing whisper, she asked, “Isn't that dangerous?”
“Dangerous?” I asked in response, confusion obviously showing on my face, “How?”
“Isn't it dangerous for someone as important as an engineer to sleep with no way of hearing people call to him?” Tali asked, her voice rising from the whisper to a more skeptical tone.
I laughed a little and said, “Oh, that. There is always an engineer on duty on our ships. Not everyone sleeps at once. There aren't enough racks allocated for the crew size we have, so while first shift is sleeping, second and third shift are still up. If a threp comes up, though, getting kicked off of the brat rack is enough to wake you.”
“Ah. I understand. I am assuming that a threp is a very bad problem?” Tali resumed speaking after I did, her voice back to normal. I realized how much I was paying attention to just her voice, as I could not see her face. Nor could I see any of the rest of her body, as it was all covered up. Quarians can't live in most areas without it; we're all too nasty. They're used to pristine, clean areas, all filter-fitted and pandemic free. One second in our air, and they would likely contract at least one disease, which would likely lead to their death. Or more likely, a turian disease, as they shared more body chemistry with them than humans.
“A threp is a 'three engineer problem'. It refers to something that needs at least three of the leads to figure out. Not your standard drive or air filter cutoff, but something big enough to make the whole ship terrifying for the forseeable future. Hydrogen leaks into the crew cabin, septic system explosion, things like that. ” While I answered her question, I started fiddling with my omni-tool around my right arm. Nothing had been left behind, since file storage wasn't much of an issue, so I called up my recordings of ship interiors and sifted through them.
Tali nodded, the little light bouncing as she spoke, “Ah, I see. What are you working with, Shepard?”
“I'm sending these to you. All of the ships I've been on while working with the Alliance. Maybe it will help you a little.” I trailed off as I initiated the send. It only took a split second, but I liked her company, so I stood around.
“Thank you, Shepard. I didn't expect you to have had this problem before.” Tali said after the transfer finished. Her omni-tool glowed around her left hand for a moment as she checked over it.
I grinned in response, saying, “I've spent my whole life on ships. Fixing them, breaking them, playing in corridors. My mother actually said she would send me to the quarians when I was little. Back then I didn't know what you all were, really. It was a threat, like the bogeyman, but it seems like a fun idea, now.”
I only received a nervous laugh from her in response. I didn't quite get it, until I realized that I had compared her people to devils. My grin shifted into a small look of horror. Shaking my head, I tried to correct myself, “I mean, back then it was. It was something my mother...”
She held up a two-fingered hand, waving me off as she said, “Don't worry about it, Shepard. I have heard many stories like that from other people I have encountered on my Pilgrimage.”
I reached up and touched her wrist with my hand, completely absentmindedly, while saying, “I'm sure, but my mother... isn't exactly that kind of person, you know? I mean, damn. I sound like Liara, don't I?”
We both laughed at that. She let her hand drop and I let mine as well, though the contact was longer than I expected. I tried not to let my realization of it show on my face, but it was likely there despite that. She was damn lucky, as I could only get a vague outline of her face through the dark faceplate, if I could get anything at all.
Awkward silence filled the engineering department. I noticed some of the crew standing around watching me. Adams was behind me, working very hard at keeping his attention on the drive readouts. I had almost forgotten the lack of privacy inherent in shipboard life; everyone knew I was flirting with her, save maybe her and myself. I hadn't realized it then, but I was glad that I didn't. Instead, I simply said, “Try it out. I should go.”
“I will, Shepard.” She replied. I turned and walked away; there wasn't anything left for me to do but save face in front of my men. I went straight into the elevator and up to the deck.
It was around that time that I received a call from Admiral Hackett with the Fifth Fleet to deal with a geth incursion in the Armstrong Cluster. As we were scrounging up loose ends in that area anyway, I decided to take on that job. I didn't realize then how lucky of a break it would be.
Novelist Bunnies: Do you write in order? 
