Well, if there was one good thing about Fha'Ora following Zha back into her ship, it was that Lucky seemed happy about it. Or at least Zha was pretty sure he was happy, following her father closer than strictly necessary, letting out high chirps. They crammed into the airlock to get in and get going and Lucky was staring at Fha wholly unaware of how uncomfortable he was making the man.

"Zha," her father muttered, squashed to her side so he could get some distance between himself and the mech in the small space. "What does it want?"

"His name is Lucky and you are completely free to ask him yourself," Zha muttered shooting a glance his way. As far as she was concerned, Fha was on a trial period. If he couldn't act nice around her mechs, his ass would be out of the airlock faster than he could say sorry.

The man turned to look at Lucky from the corner of his eye and the moment he made eye contact with the mech, Lucky let out another chirp. Fha flinched.

"Dad," Zha said.

He grumbled under his breath before sighing. "Alright, metal bucket. What do you want?"

The lights around Lucky's photoreceptor shined a little brighter.

"Zha," Lucky said. "Help."

"Huh?"

The shipside door slid open with some struggle and Zha stepped out. "Yeah," she said. "Fha is going to help us out. Come see me later, Lucky, I'm going to program Fha's name into your vocabulary."

"Acknowledged."

Fha was still standing in the airlock, uncertainty seeping through his suit and into the air around him. He looked around nervously, tapping his fingers against the doorway.

"So, uh… welcome back," Zha said, waving her hands at her father, urging him to step further in. The old man was looking extremely uncomfortable to be there, but he wasn't insisting on leaving either. Zha considered it a small win. He was going to need some time to adjust. And if he really wanted to make a change, if he really wanted to get along with Zha, then… she was going to give him a chance.

One last chance. Since he had taken the whole geth and AI thing so well. Surprisingly well. Zha wasn't sure what to think about it, to be honest, but right now she couldn't really afford to worry about it.

"Scribble, I have a plan. Well, uh… dad had a plan, actually. And he'll… he'll be coming with us for now."

"Welcome aboard," Scribble said, a picture perfect answer that didn't betray any emotion.

Fha didn't answer. He just stood near the airlock, staring at the ceiling as if expecting Scribble to appear as a visible being.

"Dad, please be polite," Zha reminded him.

The old man grumbled something, too quiet for her to hear, but it couldn't be anything good. Zha made her way to the cockpit, taking a seat in the chair and spinning around a little.

"So…" she said slowly. "Set a course for the Migrant Fleet, Scribble."

"Migrant Fleet?" Scribble repeated. "Are you sure, Zha?"

"Yes. It's… it's all part of the plan. Dad's plan actually. Get the quarians to help. It's brilliant, actually. Make them think I'm finishing up my Pilgrimage by bringing them information about humans studying the geth. That ought to draw in their attention. And they'll be sure to believe that Overseer offered me a job on the project, since I'm an Ora. It's… it's perfect."

It sounded perfect to her. She was daring to hope again. This was the last chance she had to make it right, so it damn well better work out. Surely she must have used up all of her bad Karma already?

"Do you wish to stay with the Flotilla?"

"Huh?" Zha asked, drawn out of her thoughts. She hadn't really been listening what Scribble was saying.

"Once we have finished this, do you wish to stay with the other quarians?" Scribble asked, perfectly calm and reasonable. But Zha could feel the unease underneath that question.

"And leave behind my crew?" she asked and crossed her arms. "Not going to happen."

Zha leaned over the controls and turned the engines on. The ship let out a series of loud coughs and the engines revved, lifting the ship off the ground.

"That is good to know."

"You don't need to worry, Scribble," Zha said a bit softer, patting the controls. "I'm not leaving. There's nothing in there that the Flotilla can offer. All I need is right here. So no, there's no way I'm joining up and leaving all of you behind. You can imagine they wouldn't be happy when I start building VI-19."

"Thank you, Zha," Scribble said quietly.

"Anytime."

A filtered sound of someone clearing their throat behind her had Zha turning around in her chair. Fha was standing in the doorway, looking all kinds of lost. The familiar ship wasn't filling him with comfort the same way he had probably hoped it would. They had made a quick visit to his house before leaving. Well, quick and quick. An hour there, a long time spent packing and then an hour back into the Rust Town. Fha's bag was slung over his shoulder and the man looked like it wasn't the only thing weighing him down.

"Zha, I'm really tired," he said. "Where can I lay down for a moment?"

Ah. This presented a problem Zha hadn't thought about. It had been a long time since her ship had seen any other organic travellers save for herself. Sunei and her buddies hardly counted. No one had stayed a night and Zha had never seen the need of buying another bed. All she needed for herself was her cot, after all.

Well, it was time to improvise, then.

Zha stood up from her chair, leading Fha to her lonely bed. She could see Lucky standing in the kitchen, following their movements closely. It chirped loudly as they passed and Fha flinched visibly. That was apparently going to be a thing.

"Sorry," Zha said. "He doesn't really have that much experience with organics that don't try to shoot him."

Fha grumbled something under his breath, eyeing the mech with distrust. Lucky pulled back a little, but didn't stop making noise.

"This here's the only bed on the ship," Zha said, drawing his attention away from the mech. "You remember it, right? We'll be taking turns. You can go on ahead and have a few hours of sleep. I don't think I'd be able to sleep anyway. So just go on ahead."

The ship hadn't changed much since the time it had belonged to Fha. The small alcove had hosted the ship's only bed from almost the very beginning. Fha tossed his bag under it and sat carefully on the rumpled cover.

Zha nodded in satisfaction and returned back to the cockpit. On her way she stopped at the kitchen, where Lucky had remained unmoving.

"Go easy on the old man, won't you Lucky?" she said and patted the mech on his shoulder. "He's going to need some time getting used to you guys. Some breathing room might do him good."

Lucky looked at her, then craned his neck to see Fha trying to get comfortable on the old bed. Zha couldn't understand why Lucky seemed so interested in her father, but she wasn't about to squash the poor thing's curiosity. She wasn't going to let Lucky drive Fha up the walls either. The last thing they needed right now was an organic-inorganic fight on board.

"Come on, Lucky," she said. "We're going to the cockpit now. Dad won't appreciate you staring at him when he tries to sleep."

Lucky let out a low beep, like he was sulking. He followed after Zha all the same, taking place near the door of the cockpit while Zha made her way to the controls.

Suddenly she was feeling really tired. She fell to sit down on the chair, arms and legs dangling listlessly.

"Be honest with me," Zha said. "Do you think this is going to work out?"

"What do you mean?" Scribble asked immediately.

"This. This whole thing. Do you think we can get AI775 back?"

Scribble was silent for a suspiciously long time. Zha sighed and let her head droop.

"Go ahead," she said. "Don't save your words."

"No," the AI said slowly. "The odds of this going our way are very small, Zha. There are so many ways this could go wrong, starting with the quarians finding out about us. They aren't known to be accepting towards AIs."

"Ugh, I know," Zha said, thinking about a certain quarian on her ship at the moment. "But I have to do this."

"I know, Zha."

"I have to, Scribble. I… I'm sorry. I'm going to make sure that none of this ends up badly for you, for the crew, but – "

"My only concern is your safety," Scribble cut in. "That is what it has always been. And if you're insisting on going on this fool's journey, then I will make sure you get out of it alive."

Zha's eyes were stinging. She sniffled softly and rubbed her visor.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Anytime, Zha."

Zha slumped further and further into the chair, closing her eyes just for a moment. To rest them, she told herself.

She ended up resting them for a few hours. The best sleep had had for a while.