Much to the creator's joy, the second candidate to buy one of the remaining armor sets seemed to be a bit more interested in making a deal than the one from before. The excitement creator Zha'Ora had had for the first buyer had decreased considerably, but it was still there. This time the creator was simply relieved that someone was showing enough interest to try to haggle the prices.

After a whole day of messages sent back and forth, or as creator Zha'Ora called it: "furious negotiations", a deal was struck and a location settled. The exchange was to take place on a small space station called Gatla located on a large asteroid orbiting a distant sun. The creator's relief was palpable and it was having positive effects on the team as well. They even caught her trying to start up a conversation with VI-02 (Scribble) after giving the AI the coordinates. They could not hear what was being said and did not think it wise to try and get closer just to eavesdrop on them, but by the end of it they knew that the creator was not satisfied with the results. Improvement had been made, there was no question about it, but there was still a long way to go if the counterparts refused to have conversations longer than a few passing comments.

It didn't take them long to arrive at Gatla, it had not been far to begin with. They observed the approaching station through the windows of the cockpit while VI-02 (Scribble) took care of the landing and docking process. Gatla was not a marvel to behold, not a show of organic craftsmanship or anything of the sort. Instead it was a simple rest stop for long distance space travellers to stop for a while, stretch their legs and eat something other than the grub usually being served on large freighter ships. The place looked sturdy, strong enough to give any passing pirates a second thought before starting anything illegal.

The ship rocked roughly as it connected to the dock and a loud hissing sound from the direction of the airlock told them that they had arrived safely. From this angle they could not see much more than the scarred and scraped side of the station. Losing interest in sightseeing they left the cockpit just in time to see VI-13 (Lucky) leaving the armor set near the airlock. The armor had been securely packed into a plastic crate and was waiting to be taken out with the creator.

Creator Zha'Ora was standing next to VI-13 (Lucky) and wiping her hands on the front of her suit, humming some tune to herself. Her spirits were high, mood good and even though the geth noticed some signs of stress, they did not see any reason to worry. Small amounts of stress drove organics to work more efficiently. They would keep a close optic on creator Zha'Ora in the near future to make sure that her stress levels stayed in acceptable levels.

"Do we have anything we need to buy? How's our food? We just got more, right?"

VI-13 (Lucky) was silent for a moment, then simply said: "Yes."

"Is that a 'Yes, we have to buy something' or 'Yes, we just got more food last time'?"

The mech thought about this for a moment, then straightened up to give its response.

"No."

"Mm-hm," creator Zha'Ora said, clearly holding in her laughter. "Yes. Good. That's real good, Lucky." She turned a little and spotted the geth platform. Her expression brightened.

"There you are!" she said as if she'd been looking for them for ages. "I was wondering where you'd gone."

The ship wasn't that big. There were only so many places their platform could have been. But when they reminded the creator of this, it only seemed to amuse her.

"Yeah, yeah," she said and waved her hand dismissively. "Never mind that. I needed to talk to you."

"Begin data exchange."

"So I was thinking about who to bring with me to the station," she said pointing a thumb at the airlock. "You know how I usually take like a three mech team with me and all that? But Gatla's a pretty safe place, I hear and then I realized something. You have legs now! Like, two of them."

This statement was correct. They were uncertain why the creator saw it necessary to remind them of this fact, though, and let their confusion show through their expression.

"How much can carry?" she asked and looked them up and down. "Do you know? I mean, the new leg probably throws your estimations off a little, but I was just wondering if you'd be strong enough to carry, oh, I don't know, the armor there for example?"

The specifics of creator Zha'Ora's declaration were starting to clear now. To be honest, they were not completely sure how much their tweaked platform would be able to carry. Never had this unit been a heavy lift model, but with three of their four limbs replaced, it was to be expected that their carry weight had suffered. To satisfy the creator's curiosity and their own interest they moved to stand next to the crate.

For the short time that they had had this new leg, they had experienced some trouble with the mobility of the limb. It had been expected, of course. Just as the arms before it, the leg was not quite geth-quality, clunky and awkward in comparison. The… feel of the leg was not quite correct. They likened it to an organic "sleeping limb", a completely numb and a little bit unresponsive part of their platform. But with little extra precision the limbs could be operated tolerably. They had no doubt that in a few more days they would be able to use the leg like normal once they truly had gotten used to it.

They kneeled carefully, situating their platform so that once they would try to get upright again, they would be using the lifting power of synthetic muscle instead of the wonky fenris leg. Grabbing hold of the crate, they moved to stand up slowly, finding balance to keep them upright.

"It appears this platform is capable of carrying the armor," they stated turning to look at the creator. "Query: Why did the creator wish to know?"

Creator Zha'Ora clapped her hands enthusiastically. "I just wanted to see if you'd be strong enough to carry my stuff. And you are. This is great! Now you can come with me to the station!"

Running a few quick tests on their audio receivers they concluded that there was nothing wrong with them and they had heard correctly. The creator had stopped clapping and instead had her hands folded in front of her, an expectant look in her eyes.

"Please elaborate."

Her expression fell a little. "Well, I mean you don't have to come if you don't want to." She scratched the side of her helmet. "I just thought that you've been spending so much time cooped up in here that maybe you wanted to… I don't know, stretch your legs a little and see new places? You could help me with this stuff and get out of the ship for a while. A win-win situation, right?"

She was looking at them hopefully, still expecting something out of them.

"Chances of detection: 100%," they said.

The creator let out an odd sound, blowing air through closed lips and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, they'll see you. So what? No one's seen a geth outside the veil for ages! I doubt anyone will be able to recognize you as one anyway."

This sounded more like an excuse than real a reason for them to come along.

"Come on," she groaned. "It's Gatla, for crying out loud. It's not like anyone will care."

Evidence said otherwise. Last time they had left the ship had left their platform sans a few limbs. But then again, that time they had been on their own. With creator Zha'Ora as their company, there was a low possibility that something similar would happen again. She knew how to deal with organics and had more experience on traversing stations of this kind. The learning experience could prove useful in the long run.

Their agreement to go with the creator brightened her expression even more. She clapped her hands again.

"Yes! We can put your leg to a test out there where you'll actually be walking longer distances than what's between the kitchen and the cockpit!"

The data they would gather from this would be appreciated, they could not deny this. They just hoped it would not end costing them more than they were ready to pay for it. They moved the crate a little so it was more securely in their hold while creator Zha'Ora gave out orders to her crew.

"You better be good while I'm gone. I want no trouble on board, we've had that enough to last us a lifetime lately," she said, arms crossed and stance firm. "VI-09, you can stay offline. Find a nice spot and stay there until I come back. Lucky, 15 and 18, you will guard the ship while I'm gone. Not that I think anything's going to happen, but just in case, you know? And no freaking out while I'm gone, got it?" Her eyes lingered on VI-13 (Lucky). "It's a small station, it's not like we'll be gone for long anyway."

Whether creator Zha'Ora acknowledged her tendency to get her estimation wrong every time she left the ship or not, the crew did not seem to mind. VI-13 (Lucky) and VI-15 took their places next to the airlock, like sentries guarding those going in and out. VI-18 started walking back and for the corridor and they could hear VI-09's skittering steps as it ran off into the cargo hold to shut down.

They turned their attention to the creator, waiting for their orders, but noticed that she was otherwise occupied. Creator Zha'Ora moved her feet around awkwardly, staring at the floor.

"So Scribble, keep me posted if something happens here, alright?" she said quietly.

"Yes," was all the AI gave back.

"Sure. Good. Great. Let's go now," the creator muttered, waving at the direction of the airlock. "We'll be back in a few."

The inside of Gatla turned out to be just as impressive as the outside, cramped full of shops, rental rooms for travellers and residential cubicles for the permanent inhabitants. The air was stuffed, their olfactory sensors could pick out smells of sweat and oil. It surprised them a little to see how crowded the place was when creator Zha'Ora guided them away from the docking stations. They had not expected there to be so many organics, especially considering how small the station actually was and the increased amount of organics meant a greater chance of one of them recognizing their platform to be what it was. This worried them greatly. They doubted creator Zha'Ora would be able protect them if someone decided to attack.

They turned to mention this to the creator, but noticed how relaxed she actually was. She hadn't looked this calm in a long time. The amount of people didn't faze her, she was just walking with a eased gait, caring little about the goings on around her.

Perhaps there was no reason to be worried. Perhaps their analysis on this place based on their own fears was unnecessary. After all, it appeared that the creator's remark about how people would not recognize them as a geth was correct. Only a handful of organics looked their way more than once, but none of them seemed to harbor much more than curiosity at the sight of their platform. Whether it was because most organics did not know what geth looked like or because this specific platform had been modified so heavily by the creator that their appearance no longer matched the perceived look of a regular geth was still open to interpretation, but to the crowd at large the geth unit following after creator Zha'Ora was nothing more than a mech servant helping out its owner.

"Have you ever been to an organic station like this before?" the creator asked them. "I mean, besides Shangri La. I doubt someone like you got to travel around that much."

"No," they said. "None of our programs had been beyond the veil before our abduction. These organic stations differ from geth stations. Everything is so loud, so vibrant. There is too much to process, we cannot see everything at once."

Creator Zha'Ora tilted her head. "Must be a big difference getting out after who-knows-how-long you've been trapped. Should've brought you along sooner."

They thought about reminding her that she had only recently installed their leg, but decided that to be unnecessary.

"The buyer told us to meet her near this local bar," creator Zha'Ora told them conversationally, showing her Omni-tool with the supposed message on it to them. "She said something about taking a look at the merchandise before sealing the deal. I mean, I get it. A lot of lousy people put good pics on the net but then when the deal's done it turns out they were selling garbage the whole time. I learned that lesson the hard way."

She pushed her way through the hordes of organics, waving for the platform to follow. Navigating through the people was proving challenging with the burden they were carrying and they had to calibrate their carrying angle again after every close encounter. These people did not seem willing to give way to a synthetic, even one with a somewhat heavy burden.

The station was busy with people coming in and out. So many voices spoke at the same time and it was confusing. Even though they appreciated the chance to get out of the ship and see the world outside, they would say that the calm quiet of the ship was preferable to this.

The creator led them through the station in search of the bar mentioned in the buyer's message. Gatla wasn't big enough to get lost in and soon enough creator Zha'Ora had located the establishment. She cried out in victory and pointed at the dirty and rundown building like an adventurer finding her treasure.

"Hah!" she shouted. "This must be the place!"

They had not passed any other bars and they doubted a station this size could fit more than one. They eyed up the building, trying to decide whether it was safe to go in or not. The place was open to the walkway outside, the whole wall missing so that any patrons could just easily walk in if they so chose. It looked like the inside of the place was sucking out light like a black hole, the room dimming down so that it was hard to see the back wall from the spot that they were standing on. Organics were trickling in and out of the bar in varying states on inebriation. Their struggled movements did not seem to bother creator Zha'Ora, so they copied her nonchalant pose and tried to emulate her attitude.

"I wonder if she wanted to meet us inside or…" she muttered and brought her Omni-tool closer. Blinking neon lights from the bar were mixing with the warm orange glow of the device on her visor. The creator hummed as she skimmed through the message. "I don't know… It doesn't say. Maybe if we wait here for a while she'll show up. Oh darn, I didn't even ask what she looks like. She could be anybody! How will I even know if I see her?"

While the creator muttered slowly to herself, they turned to scan the surroundings. Movement never stopped in this place, organics of different species were walking past them, hurrying along on their own missions, never stopping for too long. None of them seemed to care about a creator and a geth standing in wait, none of them were interested in what the platform was carrying. Maybe if they drew out the armor? That might clue the possible buyer in. They shifted the crate in their arms, moving its weight so that they could turn to have another look at the bar behind them.

"Maybe if I send her a message. Tell her that we're here," creator Zha'Ora talked more to herself than the geth.

The human behind the bar counter was looking a few seconds away from falling asleep. Head propped on one arm and a glassy look in his eyes spoke of a long day spent catering to drunken customers. Most of the organics sitting around the tables were of the same species as him, minimal wage freighter pilots no doubt, or others of the same ilk. They spotted a group of salarians huddled at the back, a few drinks deep into the day as well as a handful of turians sprinkled in the midst of the humans, mostly mercenary types by the looks of it. And there at the very back, nearly swallowed whole by the shadows, an asari –

Hostile alert! Enemy in the vicinity!

There was no mistaking it. The asari at the back, the one that was staring at their direction and smiling widely at the clear panic the platform was showing, was without a doubt the same that had attacked the ship previously.

The creator. They needed to warn the creator!

"Creator Zha'Ora," they started, nudging her sharply with the crate.

The asari jumped out of her table and made her way through the bar. She was shoving patrons out of her way, smile strained on her lips.

The creator turned to look at them, rubbing the spot where they had jabbed her with the container.

"What?" she said.

"Hostiles in the area." The platform's expressive plates flared out in warning, strengthening their message.

The creator whirled around, eyes large behind her visor, looking around until she spotted the quickly approaching asari. She flinched violently, grabbing a hold of their arm.

"Drop the crate!" she screeched. "We're getting out of here!" She pulled on their arm, throwing off their balanced hold on the box and the thing fell with a loud thud on the ground. Organics around them were shooting worried glances, trying to find the source of the commodity.

Creator Zha'Ora was pulling at their arm, trying to dash past the civilians. It was clear to them that they were not going to make it far, not this time. It was highly unlikely that this encounter had been a coincidence. It was a calculated trap, it had been carefully planned and they had fallen for it. There was no buyer, there was only this. The asari had no doubt counted on them trying to make a run for it and would stop them one way or another.

"Out of the way, people!" the asari shouted behind them and the authority her voice carried was enough to send organics scattering. A biotic wave hit their platform from behind. It wasn't strong enough to harm their platform, but caused them to momentarily lose control of their new limb. The fenris leg gave out under them and the change in the balance was enough to knock them over. The creator's hold on their arm was lost and the platform collapsed against the floor with a crash.

Creator Zha'Ora turned around, eyes large like saucers and for a moment it looked like she was going to just turn her back on them and keep running.

For one whole millisecond they were sure that she was going to abandon them and fear flooded their systems.

Of course she didn't. They should not even have considered it. Even thought it probably would have been logical for her to leave them behind to save herself, organics rarely did things based on logic. Emotions ruled out clear thought. An organic would not just leave a friend behind.

Loud booming of boots caught their attention as the asari walked past their platform to stand between them and creator Zha'Ora. She looked absolutely delighted to see them again, like running into old acquaintances. She reached to grab creator Zha'Ora's shoulder with a tight grip.

"Hello, dear," Sunei said. "How good to see you again."