AUTHORS NOTE: I totally obliterated the formatting in this chapter! I think I fixed it all, but if you see something off, please let me know!
The estate gardens were peaceful in the morning, and the workshop was quiet as Tess moved to the hidden elevator. Petra fell into step beside her, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
“Everyone’s already downstairs,” Petra said. “Mother wanted an early start.”
“Everyone?”
“The entire war council.” Petra’s voice carried a dry edge. “My parents and Mikhail, you and Bee are the last pieces.”
They crossed to the hidden elevator in the storage room. The panel under the workbench responded to Tess’s touch. The floor hummed and began its descent.
“How are you feeling?” Petra asked.
“Fine.”
“Tess.”
“Determined.” Tess watched the Techno-Arbor symbols scroll past on the shaft walls. “Ready to get this done.”
Petra studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Good. Because my father’s been pacing since dawn. I think he’s more nervous than any of us.”
The elevator settled with a soft chime. The doors opened onto the Guild Hall, and Tess stopped in the doorway.
The transformation was complete—what had been dusty neglect was now a proper command center. The old workbenches had been pushed to the walls, replaced by a central table of dark wood that looked like it belonged in a war room. Holo-projectors at each corner painted the air above the table with soft blue light, currently showing a detailed map of Floor 1’s layout.
Chairs ringed the table. Actual chairs, not salvaged crates or overturned equipment like they’d been using. Sara Tertian sat at one end, posture perfect, a datapad in her hands. Amos stood behind her, hands clasped at his back, and Petra was right: the man was practically vibrating with restless tension.
Mikhail occupied a seat near the middle, somehow looking at attention even while sitting. He’d worn a fitted shirt today instead of armor, and the fabric did interesting things when he shifted. Tess allowed herself exactly one second of appreciation before focusing on the holographic map.
“Good morning, everyone.” Bee’s voice came through Tess’s communicator, which she had placed on the table. “I have prepared the tactical overview you requested.”
“Morning, Bee.” Tess moved to the table, finding an empty seat between Petra and Mikhail. The holographic map rotated slowly above them, Floor 1 rendered in glowing detail: previous routes marked in green, the atrium highlighted in amber, and a pulsing red marker at the far end where the Alpha held its territory.
“Now that we’re all here,” Sara said, setting down her datapad, “let’s begin.”
Amos finally stopped pacing and took a position beside his wife. “The reconnaissance data has been invaluable. Bee, if you would?”
“Of course.” The map shifted, zooming in on the atrium they’d scouted. The massive open space spread across the projection like a three-dimensional model: catwalks, platforms, support struts descending into shadow.
“The atrium presents our primary obstacle,” Bee continued. “It connects our current operational area to the Alpha’s territory. There is no maintenance tunnel access through this section. The tunnels terminate at the atrium’s edge and resume on the opposite side, approximately 200 meters distant.”
Tess leaned forward, studying the layout. The catwalk routes were marked in white, and spawn patrol patterns in orange. It looked like a maze designed by someone who hated delvers.
“I can’t just zip through on the mag-lev,” she said. “The tunnels dead-end. I’d have to cross on foot.”
Mikhail’s jaw tightened. “The catwalks are exposed. If spawns spot us up there, we’re fighting on dangerous terrain. No cover, limited mobility, and a long fall if something goes wrong.”
“We could go around,” Petra said, tracing an alternate route with her finger. The hologram responded, highlighting the path. “But that adds over an hour and takes us through sectors where other delvers operate. Someone would see us heading toward the Alpha.”
Sara’s gaze settled on Tess. “You’ve never operated in the open halls. The tunnels are one thing, controlled spaces where you can avoid combat. But the atrium…”
“I can handle it.” Tess kept her voice steady. “I’ve watched them fight. I know how they move, how they coordinate. I just need to not die for 200 meters.”
“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is,” Amos said.
Petra snorted. “She’s survived worse.”
“Be that as it may.” Sara rose from her chair with fluid grace. “If you’re going into the halls, you’re going properly equipped.”
She crossed to a cabinet against the wall, one of the recent additions, and returned with a measuring tape and an assessing look.
Tess blinked. “What are you…”
“Arms out.”
“We’re in the middle of a briefing.”
“And you’re in the middle of being measured for plasteel armor.” Sara’s tone brooked no argument. “Arms out, Miss Rivera.”
Tess complied, face warming as Sara began taking measurements with brisk efficiency. Across the table, Petra made no effort to hide her grin. Mikhail suddenly found the holographic map very interesting, though his lips twitched.
“Shoulder width, good. Torso length…” Sara’s hands moved with professional detachment, but that didn’t make it any less awkward. “You’re smaller than our standard templates. We’ll need custom fitting.”
“This is really necessary right now?”
“Would you prefer to go into combat unprotected?” Sara wrapped the tape around Tess’s waist. “Stand still. Chest measurement next.”
Petra’s grin widened. Mikhail was definitely not looking, which somehow made it worse.
“I can continue the tactical briefing while Sara takes measurements,” Bee offered. “If that would be more efficient. Tess’s vitals note significant embarrassment…”
“Bee!” Tess said through gritted teeth.
Amos zoomed the map out, showing the full path from the Guild elevator to the Alpha’s territory.
“Based on your reconnaissance, I have identified a route through the atrium that minimizes exposure,” Bee said. “The primary catwalks are too heavily patrolled, but there is a secondary path along the eastern support structure. Less direct, but the spawn density is significantly lower.”
Orange markers appeared, showing the patrol patterns. Bee was right. The eastern route was longer, snaking around the atrium’s edge rather than cutting through the center, but the spawn clusters were sparse by comparison.
“Looks like maybe two or three encounters,” Mikhail said. “If we time it right.”
“That brings us to timing.” Amos stepped closer to the projection, his nervous energy channeling into focus. “Bee, explain the delve cycle implications.”
“As you know, the floor operates on an eight-hour reset cycle,” Bee said. “At the end of each cycle, all spawns regenerate and the floor would normally reconfigure. Currently, delvers enter at the start of the cycle and exit before reset. Standard practice.”
“But we’re not beholden to the entrance gates,” Petra said. “We can enter whenever we want through the Guild elevator.”
“Correct. My proposal is this: we enter near the end of the current delve cycle. Twenty minutes before reset.”
Sara finished her measurements and stepped back, making a note on her datapad. Tess lowered her arms, grateful for the reprieve.
Mikhail nodded, processing. “All other delvers will have evacuated by then.”
“Yes. And more importantly, the Alpha will be in its resting pattern.” Bee’s voice carried a note of caution. “Spawners reduce activity near the end of a cycle as the floor prepares for reset. The Alpha returns to the spawner chamber and becomes relatively dormant.”
“Relatively,” Amos said flatly.
“I did not want to overstate our advantage.”
The pulsing red marker at the map’s edge drew her attention—the spawner chamber at the heart of the Alpha’s territory.
“Bee.” She leaned forward. “If I find the Alpha spawner, can I shut it down? Like at the facility?”
The silence stretched for a few heartbeats.
“I believe so.” Bee’s response was measured. “The technique would be similar. I could guide you through the interface process.”
“You want to kill the spawner?” Petra’s voice carried surprise, but not disapproval. “Not just sneak past it?”
“Think about it.” The idea was taking shape as she spoke. “If we just slip past the Alpha, it’s still there. Still blocking Floor 2 access for everyone else. Still hurting people who try to get through.”
Mikhail straightened. “Shutting it down would change everything. No more Alpha. Every delver on Thetis could access Floor 2.”
“It’s not that simple.” Bee’s caution was clear. “Even dormant, the Alpha is dangerous. Any attempt on the spawner will trigger its defense protocols. Tess would need time to interface with the spawner, and during that time…”
“She’d be vulnerable,” Petra finished. “Completely focused on the shutdown. Unable to defend herself.”
“Yes.”
The room went quiet. Tess looked at the map, at the red marker pulsing like a heartbeat.
“How long would I need?”
“Unknown. The facility spawner took approximately forty-five seconds, but it was damaged and partially offline. A fully functional spawner with an active Alpha guardian…” Bee paused. “I estimate sixty to ninety seconds minimum. Possibly longer.”
“That’s a long time to keep an Alpha busy,” Mikhail said.
“We could do it.” Petra’s voice was steady. “Mikhail and I. We’ve fought it before. Not beaten it, but survived. If all we need to do is keep it distracted for a minute or two…”
Amos shook his head. “The Alpha is level 17 and modified beyond standard parameters. You’re level 7 and Mikhail is level 7. Those aren’t odds.”
“They’re better than anyone else has,” Petra shot back. “And we have something no one else does. We have Bee. Real-time tactical support, pattern analysis, warning systems. We have Tess, who can interface with Techno-Arbor systems. And we have motivation.” She glanced at Tess. “How many people has the Alpha killed?”
“Forty-seven confirmed fatalities over the past three years,” Bee said quietly. “One hundred and twelve serious injuries.”
“Forty-seven people,” Petra repeated. “And it’ll keep killing until someone stops it.”
Sara and Amos exchanged a look—the kind of look that spoke of years of partnership and unspoken communication. Then Amos sighed.
“What’s your level now, Tess?”
She pulled up her interface.
{NULL} LEVEL 8 LEVEL PROGRESS: 26%
Level 8. The weeks of recon runs, sensor repairs, and dungeon infrastructure had added up. She was stronger now than she’d been at the facility. She hoped it would be enough.
With Bee’s guidance, with foreknowledge of what to expect…
“Sixty seconds,” she said. “Maybe less if everything goes smoothly.”
“It won’t,” Petra said dryly. “It never does.”
“Then call it ninety to be safe.” Tess met Sara’s gaze. “Think you can distract it for a minute or two?”
“We’ll hold it,” Mikhail said.
Sara studied him for a long moment. Then she nodded once, sharp and decisive.
“Then we have a plan.” She began gathering her materials. “Equipment fitting this afternoon. Final briefing tomorrow at dawn. Descent at…” She checked her datapad. “…the cycle tomorrow ends at 14:47. You enter at 14:27. Twenty minutes is your window.”
The holographic map faded as Amos powered down the projectors. The Guild Hall felt different now, charged with purpose. Sara and Amos had trusted her with secrets that could destroy their house. Mikhail was here because he believed in something bigger than advancement. Petra had stood beside her.
And Bee was listening through the communicator, talking freely with everyone in the room.
“Any questions?” Sara asked.
“Just one.” Tess stood, rolling the tension from her shoulders. “The armor fitting. Is it going to involve more measuring?”
Petra’s laugh echoed off the old stone walls. Even Mikhail cracked a smile.
“Much more,” Sara said, entirely without sympathy. “I’ll send someone to escort you to the fitting room after lunch.”
Tess sighed.
***
The meeting wound down, and Amos pulled Sara aside to murmur about security arrangements. Mikhail had reactivated the map and was studying routes with the intense focus of someone who expected to need them.
Petra drifted to Tess’s side, close enough that their arms brushed.
“Nervous?” she asked.
“No.” Tess’s gaze drifted to Mikhail across the room, still tracing routes on the map with that focused intensity of his. The man really had impressive shoulders. She turned back to Petra. “Are you?”
“Terrified.” Petra said it easily, like fear was just another factor to account for. “But I’ve been terrified since the Alpha almost killed me the first time. This just means I get to do something about it.”
“We’re going to shut it down.”
“We’re going to try.” Petra’s hand found Tess’s, squeezing once before letting go. The touch was warm, brief, and gone before Tess could react. “And then we’re going to Floor 2. And then whatever comes after that.”
“Let’s focus on one thing at a time.”
“Right. Says the girl who only needs ninety seconds to defeat a level 17 alpha.”
“Deactivating it and defeating it aren’t the same thing.”
Petra snorted. Then her expression softened.
“Hey. For what it’s worth? I’m glad we’re doing this. I trust you, my parents trust you. This is something that helps our entire world.”
Before Tess could respond, Mikhail approached. He’d finished his route memorization and now stood before them with his usual military bearing, though his eyes seemed lighter than usual.
“I’ve been thinking about our coordination in the Alpha chamber,” he said. “Petra draws attention with speed. I anchor and absorb. But we need signals, ways to communicate without the Alpha reading our movements.”
“Bee can relay,” Tess offered.
“I can provide real-time tactical updates to all communicators,” Bee said. “However, I should note that the Alpha spawner chamber is a dead zone for my sensors. I have no coverage there.”
Mikhail frowned. “None at all?”
“None. Whatever is blocking my Floor 1 sensors in that area may affect the communicators as well. Tess and I can still communicate directly through her interface—that connection has no range limitations that we’ve encountered. But you and Petra may lose audio contact once you’re inside the chamber.”
“Hand signals, then,” Mikhail said. “Old Delver standard. My father’s unit used them.”
He demonstrated a series of quick gestures: direction indicators, threat levels, retreat commands. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, strong and sure.
Petra watched with exaggerated attention. “Very professional.”
“It kept people alive.”
“I’m not complaining.” She mimicked one of the signals, then another. “Show me again? Slowly?”
Mikhail stepped closer to correct her form, adjusting the angle of her wrist. His hands were broad and capable. Tess noticed this objectively, as one might notice any interesting piece of engineering.
Petra caught Tess’s eye and mouthed “you’re staring” with a grin.
Tess mouthed back something impolite and wandered toward the elevator.
BEE: The hand signals are practical. Though it’s likely Petra already knew them.
“Of course she did,” Tess muttered. “She just wanted the personal instruction.”
BEE: I have no opinion on interpersonal dynamics. I am simply an observer.
“Sure you are.”
***
She was halfway to the elevator when Bee popped up in her interface.
BEE: Tess. There is something else.
Tess paused. “What is it?”
BEE: I have been monitoring the public delver channels as we discussed. The speculation about Floor 1’s stable layout is intensifying. But that is not the concerning development.
“What is?”
BEE: Delvers have been pushing deeper. The stable layout has given them confidence. They are actively exploring past the atrium now, probing closer to Floor 2 access and the Alpha’s territory.
“That’s dangerous.” The words came out sharper than she had intended.
BEE: Yes. Injury reports have increased significantly over the past two days. Several parties have encountered the Alpha’s patrol range and barely escaped. There is now serious discussion on the administrative channels about closing off dungeon access entirely.
Tess stopped walking. “They’d shut down the whole dungeon?”
BEE: Some officials believe the dungeon is malfunctioning. A stable floor layout for this long is unprecedented in their experience. They are debating whether to seal the entrance until they can determine what is wrong. Bee paused. If the Network takes over floor 1, we will no longer have a window.
“That’s bad.”
BEE: If I am forced to resume floor reconfiguration to avoid suspicion, accessing the Alpha spawner will become significantly more difficult. I have reviewed my record of previous floor configurations. In most documented layouts, the atrium is not accessible at all. It exists in only 12% of configurations. Without it, the path to the Alpha spawner routes through heavily patrolled corridors that would require fighting through dozens of spawns.
Twelve percent. They’d been lucky—the current layout gave them a route, but that route could vanish with the next reset.
“How long do we have?”
BEE: The administrative discussion suggests a decision within forty-eight hours. If we do not move tomorrow, we may not get another chance. Not without significant complications.
Forty-eight hours. They’d been planning for weeks, building toward this moment, and now the window was closing.
“Does Sara know?”
BEE: I did not tell her, but I suspect she knows. There is public chatter about it.
Behind her, Petra and Mikhail were still practicing hand signals while Sara and Amos murmured over contingencies. They’d come so far, built something real—and now the clock was ticking.
“Then I guess we’re doing this,” she said.
BEE: Yes. We are.
Tess took a breath, let it out slowly, and headed for the elevator. Time to get fitted for armor.