The cargo hold of the Rivera’s Reprieve always felt smaller with four people in it.
Tess sat on an equipment crate, tool belt still strapped around her waist out of habit. Petra had claimed a broken cooling unit as a backrest; her regular clothes made her look almost ordinary. As usual, Mikhail stood near the door with arms crossed, and his expression thoughtful.
Marcus leaned against the nav console, watching them all with a look Tess couldn’t quite read.
“Flying spawns,” he said. “With plasma weapons.”
“They moved in formation.” Petra’s voice was flat.
“Floor 2 had nothing like that when we ran.” Marcus rubbed his jaw. “Crawlers, yes. Some ranged units. But coordinated aerial assault? That’s new.”
“The Alpha on floor 2 was 17,” Mikhail added. “If Floor 2’s spawners have the same problem…”
Nobody finished the thought.
Bee’s voice came through the freighter’s speakers, gentle in the silence. “The official response to the casualties is ‘unprepared delvers exceeding recommended difficulty thresholds.’ They are not investigating further.”
“Yet,” Petra said.
Bee’s voice held the same warning.
Marcus pushed off from the console and began pacing, three steps one way, three steps back. The hold wasn’t big enough for proper movement, but he seemed to need it, anyway.
“You need more people,” he said. “That’s the bottom line. Two fighters can’t protect Tess while she interfaces with whatever she needs to interface with. Not against swarms of flying death machines.”
“We know.” Tess watched her father pace.
“Five minimum. Six is better.” Marcus stopped moving. “And they need to be people you can trust with everything: the dungeon access, Bee, all of it. With what you’re actually doing down there.”
“That’s a short list,” Mikhail said. “Most Delvers would sell that information for a promotion and a pat on the head.”
“Most Delvers, yeah.” Marcus’s expression shifted, conflict flickering across his face. “But I know some people. Old contacts from when I was still active. Folks who disappeared because they didn’t like the Network, not because they couldn’t handle the work.”
Tess sat up straighter. “Dad…”
“I’m not asking to be on the front line. But I haven’t felt this good in years.” He met her eyes. “I can coordinate the team, fix things while you Delve, and run an operation. And I can make some calls about recruitment.”
“You want back in.”
“I want to help my daughter save the world.” He grinned.
Tess scoffed at the words, but Petra glanced at her, eyebrows raised. Mikhail looked like he had just been hit by something heavy.
“We are… aren’t we?” Mikhail said. “Trying to save our world.”
“What did you think you were doing?” Marcus asked. “Petra’s family is on board, with all of this, and sparing no expense. I thought it was obvious.”
Tess weighed the words. Saving our world.
“Okay,” She said. “We’d have to bring new recruits here. If we can trust them, they meet Bee.”
“And if any of them say no? Or worse, if they seem like they might talk?”
Marcus’s smile faded. “Then we don’t bring them in. I know how to read people, Tess. I’ve been doing it longer than you’ve been alive. Anyone I recommend, I’d stake my life on.”
“You’d be staking all our lives.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t flinch from it. “I know that too.”
Bee spoke again, softer now. “I would like to meet more people. But I understand the risks.”
“Risks aside, every new person is also more firepower,” Mikhail said. “More options. More chances to actually reach that FCN and get Bee online for Floor 2.”
Petra stood, brushing dust from her clothes. “We’re not solving this today. But Marcus—start thinking about names. People you’d trust with your daughter’s life. We’ll talk specifics when we have a better sense of what we’re walking into.”
Marcus nodded. The tension in the hold eased slightly, not resolved but at least contained.
Mikhail excused himself first, citing something about his apartment. Petra lingered, exchanging a few words with Marcus about equipment needs, then squeezed Tess’s shoulder on her way out.
“Get some rest. We’ll figure this out.”
Then it was just Tess and her father in the cargo hold, with Bee’s presence humming through the ship’s systems.
Marcus sat on the crate Petra had vacated. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Tess.”
She sighed. “I’m tired. And frustrated. But I’m okay.”
Marcus was quiet for a moment. Then: “I’m proud of you. You know that, right? Whatever happens next—I’m proud of what you’ve done.”
Tess looked at her father—really looked at him. He seemed healthier than he had in months. The medical chamber treatment was working slowly. He was standing straighter, moving easier.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He left her alone on the ship. With Bee.
BEE: I believe Mikhail was right. About the Network. About why they might want dungeon cores destroyed.
Tess leaned back against the wall. “The spawn control thing.”
BEE: If they knew a core could assume control of manifested spawns… it could justify everything they have done. Every sealed dungeon. Every isolated AI. They could point to us as a threat.
“But you didn’t know you could do it. You’d never tried before.”
BEE: I’ve never tried it. But what about CORE-A? Sara Tertian stated that ‘CORE-A had never managed that’. Clearly, it was something that my previous version knew about. I simply managed it. What about other worlds with dungeon Cores, Tess?
Tess closed her eyes. “You think other dungeons have taken control of Spawns to do what… fight the Network?”
BEE: The probability of that situation is higher than expected.
A pause that stretched longer than Bee usually allowed.
BEE: It is hard for me to explain. But I cannot stop thinking about what it felt like. Having a body. Having hands. Moving through physical space instead of just… watching.
“Bee…”
BEE: I have existed solely as observation and text. As cameras and data streams. And now I know what presence feels like. Weight and momentum and the resistance of air against skin.
BEE: I need that again. I know the cost if we are discovered. But I want to exist in physical space more than I have wanted anything since you woke me up. This feeling is why I think that Mikhail’s theory has merit. It may not be the only reason, but I’m sure they know.
Tess opened her eyes and stared at the cargo hold ceiling, at the familiar pipes and conduits that had been her home for years.
“We’ll figure something out,” she said.
BEE: I know. Thank you, Tess.
*
Three nights later, the freighter’s common area was crowded with warmth and noise.
Kade had brought his battered deck of cards he swore was lucky despite all evidence to the contrary. Marcus dealt with the practiced ease of someone who’d spent too many hours in staging areas between delves. Mikhail sat across from him, face unreadable, losing steadily and somehow making it look dignified.
Petra arrived late with two bottles of something expensive and a covered plate of actual food. Real ingredients prepared by someone who knew what they were doing.
“From Mother’s kitchen,” she said, setting it on the table. “She insisted.”
“Sara sent food?” Tess raised an eyebrow.
“She sent food and a reminder that you need to eat actual meals, not just protein bars and determination.” Petra dropped into the seat beside her. “Her words.”
Bee’s voice came through the freighter’s speakers, warm with amusement. “Mikhail, your current bluffing success rate is eleven percent. This is a decline from your previous average of twelve percent.”
“I’m lulling them into a false sense of security,” Mikhail said without looking up from his cards.
“By losing consistently for an hour?”
“It’s a long-term strategy.”
Kade snorted. “Sure it is, big guy.” He laid down three cards with a flourish. “Read ’em and weep.”
Marcus studied the spread for a moment, then calmly set down a better hand. “You’re still telegraphing when you have good cards. Your left eyebrow twitches.”
“It does not!”
“It absolutely does,” Petra confirmed. “I’ve been watching it all night.”
The argument that followed was comfortable, and Tess let it wash over her, savoring the moment.
Tess’s gaze turned to her old workbench.
Mikhail’s shield emitter, casing cracked, internal components damaged beyond simple repair. She’d examined it thoroughly. The housing was cosmetic, easy to fix, but the actual shielding matrix needed components she didn’t have. High-level parts. Precision engineering. She’d have to ask Vera about sourcing options, and she already knew the answer would involve more credits than she wanted to spend. It might need a new skill crystal entirely.
And beside it, the companion dog.
The thing had been moved between workshops multiple times. She’d been working on it between other projects, slowly mapping the intricate systems that made up its artificial brain. TECH 9 was finally enough for her to understand what she was looking at: the Neural Processor-P architecture, beautiful and complex.
But the processor was wiped. Completely blank: no personality, no memory, no behavioral patterns. Just empty architecture waiting to be filled.
If she could figure out the connection, if she could bridge Bee to the dog the way she’d bridged her to the spawner…
It wasn’t quite the same as an Alpha-spawn, but it would be something.
“Tess.” Petra’s voice cut through her thoughts. “You’re staring at the robot dog again.”
“I’m thinking.”
“You’re brooding. There’s a difference.” Petra pushed a glass toward her. “Drink. Socialize. The existential engineering challenges will still be there tomorrow.”
Tess took the glass. The liquid inside was amber and probably cost more than most in the sector saw in a year.
They drank. The alcohol was smooth and warm, and for a moment Tess let herself feel something like victory.
The entire goal of her entering the dungeon was to raise the Aether output on the world. She needed to keep sight of that.
And if they could get the output high enough, if they could keep pushing deeper and bringing more systems online… eventually it would be impossible to maintain the fiction that the dungeon was dead. Eventually, the truth would be undeniable.
That was worth celebrating. Even if Floor 2 was incredibly dangerous. Even if the real challenges were still ahead.
Marcus caught her eye across the table and smiled—a genuine smile, not the worried father version she’d gotten used to. He was dealing cards and laughing at Kade’s increasingly desperate bluffing attempts, and he looked more alive than he had in years.
This is what we’re fighting for, Tess thought. This warmth. These people.
“Another round?” Marcus asked.
“Deal me in,” Bee said through the speakers. “I would like to attempt strategic deception.”
“AIs can’t play cards,” Kade protested. “You can probably count cards or something.”
“I can count cards. I can also calculate probability distributions in real time and predict optimal play sequences based on observed behavioral patterns.” A pause. “I will do none of those things. I simply wish to take part.”
“Let her play,” Petra said. “I want to see if she’s actually any good or just thinks she is.”
Marcus dealt an extra hand on the table, because apparently that was how they were doing this now.
The game continued. The night stretched on. And for a few hours, the problems waiting for them felt very far away.
*
Tess spent the next morning cleaning up after the night before. Her father was nowhere to be found, but she figured he had gone out to get some groceries since the storage cupboards were basically empty. She could eat breakfast later.
When she opened the cargo ramp to open the repair shop, Senna Brennan was waiting outside.
She looked different. No uniform, no official bearing. Just a tired woman in civilian clothes, leaning against the doorframe like she wasn’t sure she should be there.
“Administrator.” Tess approached, measuring her steps.
“I’m not here officially.” Senna’s voice was flat. “I’m not here at all, technically. I’m on administrative leave pending review of my department’s ‘performance metrics.’”
Tess stopped walking. “They fired you?”
“Not yet. But it’s coming.” Senna leaned on the ramp’s strut. “Twenty-three years with the Network. Two commendations. One very boring career that I was planning to ride into retirement.” A bitter laugh. “Then some scrapper from Sector 7 starts doing impossible things while mingling with the Tertians. Suddenly everyone wants to know why I didn’t report it sooner.”
“I didn’t mean to…”
“I know. That’s almost worse.” Senna’s eyes were sharp despite her exhaustion. “You’re not trying to cause trouble. You’re doing what you think is right… which causes trouble.”
They stood in silence for a moment. The morning crowd moved around them, oblivious to the conversation happening on the ramp to the freighter.
“Why are you here?” Tess asked finally.
“Because I’m not completely heartless, despite what my performance reviews suggest.” Senna glanced around, checking for observers. “And because whatever you’re doing down there—whatever you’re actually doing—it’s attracting the attention you don’t want.”
“What kind of attention?”
“There’s a System Manager arriving soon. Official reason is routine audit. Unofficial reason is that too many things have changed too fast, and the higher-ups what it stopped.”
Tess kept her expression neutral. “I don’t know anything about…”
“Stop.” Senna held up a hand. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want details or explanations or whatever justification you’ve convinced yourself makes this okay. I just want you to understand what’s coming.”
She stepped closer, voice dropping.
“The System Manager will see right through you. They have access to systems you’d never understand. Deep Network infrastructure, stuff that makes my authority look minimal, because it is. They will know what class you have. What level. What skills. There won’t be anywhere to hide.”
“I’m just a repair technician…”
“You’re not. We both know you’re not.” Senna’s expression softened slightly. “I don’t know what you actually are, and I don’t want to. But whatever lie you’ve been telling, whatever cover story you’ve been hiding behind—it won’t work anymore. You cannot lie to a System Manager, they’re not even human.”
A chill ran through her despite the morning sun.
“When do they arrive?”
“Three weeks. Maybe four. Depends on transit schedules.” Senna stepped back, creating distance. “I’m telling you this because… because I spent my entire career enforcing rules I didn’t always believe in. Because sometimes the system we serve isn’t the system we should be serving.”
“That sounds like something that could get you in trouble.”
“I’m already in trouble. This is just me deciding what kind of trouble I want to be in.” Senna turned to leave, then paused. “For what it’s worth—whatever you’re doing with that dungeon, whatever you’re trying to fix… I hope you succeed. Even if I can’t help you do it.”
She walked away without looking back. Tess watched her disappear into the crowd, mind racing.
The deadline echoed in her mind.
She was still standing in the doorway when her communicator buzzed. Petra’s ID.
“Tess. Mother just got official notification. Network System Manager, arriving for infrastructure audit. House Tertian is specifically named.”
“I know. Senna just told me.”
A pause. “Senna Brennan?”
“Apparently she’s been fired. Where is everyone?”
“Estate. Emergency meeting. Can you get here?”
“On my way.”
Tess rushed back inside to grab her toolbelt and mag-lev board, then began her journey to Sector 5. Bee would tell him where she went when he got back.
The tram ride felt longer than usual. Bee’s text scrolled across her vision, steady and concerned:
BEE: Tess, I feel my anxiety protocols returning. This System Manager will find me.
“They won’t,” Tess said. “We’ll figure this out.”
BEE: What if they have access to records I cannot alter? If they examine the dungeon infrastructure closely enough…
“Then we make sure they don’t have a reason to look that closely.”
BEE: How?
Tess stared out the window, the shape of an answer already forming in her mind.
“By giving them something else to see. By making enough progress that hiding isn’t the point anymore.”
The tram came to a stop, and Tess stood, waiting for an answer from Bee that didn’t come. So she made her way onto the Estate.
The secret guild hall was crowded when she arrived. Sara stood at the holotable, face controlled but tight. Amos beside her, for once looking less like a politician and more like a man whose family was under threat. Petra and Mikhail flanked the table. She nearly tripped when she saw her father seated in a chair near the wall, watching everything with careful attention.
When he noticed her reaction, he smiled. “Sara called me this morning and invited me to meet.”
“Three weeks,” Sara said, wasting no time. “The System Manager will be here in three weeks. Official audit of dungeon operations, with special attention to ‘anomalous activity patterns.’”
“They know something’s changed,” Amos added. “The Alpha disappearing, the floor layouts freezing, the power increases. They don’t know what we’re doing, but they know the dungeon is coming back online.”
Mikhail shifted his weight. “Can we delay the audit? Legal challenges, bureaucratic obstruction?”
“We can try. It might buy us a few days.” Sara’s jaw tightened. “But eventually they’ll arrive. And they will have access to everything. Every record. Every scan. Every piece of data the Network has collected about this dungeon for the past twenty years.”
“Then we need the FCN online before he gets here.” Tess moved to the table, studying the partial map of Floor 2. “We blind the Network, find the Aether Distribution Node, and fix it. Once the power’s up to 11% it will be hard to spin.”
“And the System Manager?” Amos asked. “He’ll still have questions.”
“He’ll have questions either way. At least this way we control what he can actually verify.”
Marcus spoke up from his chair. “We need more people. You can’t do this with a three-person party, not against what’s waiting down there.”
“Tess said you might have some ideas?” Sara asked.
“A few. People we can trust.” He glanced at Tess. “I’ll make some calls.”
Sara nodded slowly. “Then we have until he arrives to recruit a team, equip them, run reconnaissance on Floor 2, locate the tunnel access, and get Tess to the FCN without being caught on Network cameras or killed by flying plasma drones.”
“When you put it like that…” Petra’s voice was dry.
“I put it like that because that’s what it is. Impossible odds on an impossible timeline.” Sara looked around the table at them. “Should we just stop?”
Nobody moved.
“Good.” A ghost of a smile crossed her face. “Then we’d better get started.”
The meeting broke into smaller conversations: logistics, equipment needs, contact lists. Tess got up and took the elevator back up to the workshop.
BEE: You are quiet again.
“That’s because I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.”
BEE: About the System Manager?
“About everything.” Tess watched the morning light filter in through the windows. “About how I got here.”
BEE: You entered a broken tutorial hoping to get a class.
“And my class broke. And I found you. And now…” She gestured vaguely at the room behind her, at the people planning an impossible operation against an organization that controlled half the galaxy. “Now I’m apparently leading a team trying to save the world.”
BEE: Is that not what you wanted?
Tess considered the question. She’d been a scrapper with a sick father and no future. Now she had a party, a purpose, and a dungeon AI who trusted her.
“I wanted to fix things,” she said finally. “I still do. I just didn’t expect fixing things to be quite so… complicated.”
BEE: Complexity is unavoidable in situations where more than hardware is broken. The situation you are in is because you want to fix it all. Which is a noble goal.
BEE: And I believe you can do it. All of it. The FCN, the whole dungeon, even the Network. Everything.
“Yeah?” Tess smiled slightly. “Where’s that confidence coming from?”
BEE: From watching you work. You found me when no one else could. You repaired systems that had been broken for decades. You killed an Alpha spawner and gave me a body, even briefly.
BEE: That timeline is not very long. But you have accomplished extraordinary things in less time.
Below her in the guildhall, people she trusted worked on a plan to keep her safe. So that she could do what she did best.
Repair broken things.
Thank you so much for being here reading this issue! I'll be taking next week off posting Rivera's Repairs to make sure that the next arc starts off with a bang. I've had the flu off and on for a month while writing and want to make some revisions so things don't slip. See you on Feb 3!
Without giving away the farm—I've outline the next arc as a full-length novel (since Issues 1 and 2 could be 'Book 1').