The thermal coupling had fused to the housing. Tess rotated the device under the light, squinting through the access panel she’d pried open. Blackened pathways traced across the internal surface, branching into a cracked regulator that had been jerry-rigged at least twenty times. The corrosion went deep. Decades of heat cycling and neglected maintenance had left their mark on every visible component.
She set it on her workbench and activated [ANALYZE].
Nothing. No patterns blooming in her vision, no nested architecture revealing itself layer by layer. Her skill didn’t even recognize this thing as technology. Just dead metal and her own two eyes.
“Regulator’s cracked,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone. “Contacts are corroded. And this thermal coupling…” She poked at the fused component with a screwdriver. “This thing should have died ten years ago.”
She smacked the side of the portable stove with her palm. It didn’t help, but it felt satisfying.
Bee’s voice came through the freighter’s speakers, warm with amusement. “Tak’s Noodles has been operating for thirty-seven years according to public business records. I suspect that stove has been ‘dying’ for most of them.”
“Yeah, well.” Tess leaned back, staring at the ancient appliance with something between frustration and grudging respect. Tak had dropped it off yesterday with an apologetic shrug and a promise of free noodles for a month. Pre-network manufacturing, pre-anything manufacturing probably, equipment that should have been scrapped ages ago but kept limping along out of sheer stubbornness. “Analyze doesn’t even recognize it as functioning technology.”
“A novel challenge.”
“A pain in my ass is what it is.”
But she was smiling as she said it. There was something almost relaxing about a mundane repair, even a frustrating one. She didn’t have to use AP or think about ways to solve puzzles or, more importantly, put her life on the line in the dungeon. This was just a broken stove that needed new parts and refused to cooperate.
The cargo ramp clanked, and footsteps echoed through the hold. Tess didn’t look up. She knew that stride.
“You’ve been at that thing since dawn. It’s dead, Jim.” Marcus leaned against the wall closer to her.
“You haven’t used that saying in a while.”
“I figured it was time to bring it back.” He appeared at the edge of her vision, setting something on the workbench beside her. Two containers, still warm. “Figured you’d forget to eat if I didn’t intervene.”
Tess glanced at the food. “Where’d you get this?”
“Place in Sector 6. Does proper breakfast. Eggs, actual grain bread.” He shrugged, but there was a spark in his eyes she hadn’t seen in years. “We have credits now. Figured we might as well use some of them.”
She studied him as he pulled up a crate to sit on. He looked better, healthier now than he had in a long time. But what struck her was how present he seemed. His shoulders weren’t hunched against invisible weight anymore. He moved like someone who had somewhere to be.
“You look good, Dad.”
“Feel good.” He tapped the container. “Eat. Then we talk.”
Tess set down her tools and opened the breakfast. The smell hit her immediately: real eggs, some kind of seasoned grain, vegetables that hadn’t come from a hydroponic paste processor—or at least the processor had its filters changed recently. Her stomach reminded her that she’d skipped dinner last night.
Marcus pulled out a datapad while she ate. Brand new, she noticed. He set it on the bench between them, then spread out several sheets of actual paper covered in handwritten notes.
“You’ve been busy,” she said around a mouthful of food.
“Made some calls. Old contacts from the delving days.” He scrolled through something on the datapad. “Most of them are dead, retired, or working for people we don’t want to involve. But I found a few possibilities.”
Bee’s voice came through the speakers again. “I have been assisting with background verification. Marcus has been very thorough.”
“She’s been helpful,” Marcus admitted. “Having access to public records and Network communications makes this a lot easier than the old days.”
Tess swallowed. “How many names?”
“Three worth talking about.” He turned the datapad toward her. “Though one of them’s already crossed off.”
The screen displayed a simple list. Three names, three brief descriptions. The second one was marked in red.
Yuki Tanaka — Ranger, Level 9. Currently employed by the Kellmars. See: Yuri.
Doran Webb — Scout, Level 11. Last known: independent contractor. DECEASED.
Asha — Healer class (variant?). Offworlder. Recently arrived. Sector 9.
“Doran Webb,” Tess read. “What happened?”
Marcus’s expression flickered. “Found out this morning. Extreme Aether exposure, last year. He was running salvage operations in Sector 12 when something big exploded.” A pause. “Didn’t like the guy much, honestly. But he was great at what he did.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter now.”
The words hung in the air for a moment. Tess thought about all the people her father must have known who weren’t around anymore. Twenty years of decline, of sealed dungeons and failing systems. The cost of it measured in names crossed off lists.
“So we have two,” she said.
“We have two leads. Whether they turn into recruits…” Marcus shrugged. “That’s the work.”
Bee interjected. “I have been running projections based on historical Floor 2 data. When I was fully operational, Floor 2’s spawn density was approximately one-point-seven times that of Floor 1. Current spawn behavior suggests that ratio may have increased.”
The number landed heavily. Floor 2 was going to be a nightmare.
“How many people do we actually need?” Tess asked. “For a real Floor 2 push?”
Marcus counted on his fingers. “Minimum party size is three for a reason: you need overlapping coverage. But for what you’re describing? Six is better. That’s the maximum allowed in a single elevator team, and it gives you enough flexibility to split if you need to.”
They had three now: Tess, Petra, Mikhail. Marcus made four, but he was tactical support, not frontline. Could he be more? The medical chamber was working, but it needed constant power. She’d been recharging the capacitor banks every few days just to keep them running.
If they could get the dungeon’s Aether output to Sara’s target of eleven percent, the entire city’s infrastructure would stabilize. Including the medical equipment that was keeping her father healthy.
“The Ranger first,” Marcus said, pulling her back. “Yuki Tanaka. Combat capability. We can’t do anything on Floor 2 without someone who can actually shoot.”
“And the healer?”
“Sustainability. Running something that dangerous without dedicated healing is suicide. You won’t last long enough to reach anything important.” He tapped the datapad. “We need to treat this like we’re delving the deep floors—Floor 10 or below. Absolutely prepared for everything.”
Tess looked at the two remaining names. A ranger working for the Kellmars, and a mystery healer who’d apparently annoyed every party she’d met.
“Tell me about Yuki.”
“Level 9 Ranger. Excellent reputation from what I can dig up, though most of it’s from before she started working for Yuri.” Marcus leaned back. “She wants to delve. Has for years, from what I hear. But Yuri’s kept her close. Literally. Security work.”
“And he’s going to let her go?”
“Yuri’s got a code. He doesn’t hold people against their will. But he doesn’t give things away for free, either.” Marcus’s mouth quirked. “He wants a favor. I’m guessing it involves you fixing something.”
“Of course it does.”
“The good news is, Yuri and I go back. He’ll deal fair. The bad news is…”
“He’s still a crime lord.”
“He prefers ‘independent businessman.’” Marcus snorted. “But yeah. There’s baggage there.”
Bee spoke up. “Yuki Tanaka’s public records indicate a clean delving history prior to her current employment. Level progression happened mostly off-world until two years ago, when she stopped registering for dungeon access entirely. There appears to be an incident involving a noble house, but the details are sealed.”
“Sealed how?” Tess asked.
“Network classification. I cannot access the specifics without triggering alerts.”
Marcus nodded slowly. “Something happened. Bad enough that she disappeared from the delving scene and showed up on our world working for Yuri. But she was good, a ranger on a real Delving crew not that long ago.”
Tess processed that. Someone with skill and experience, stuck doing security work for six years. Someone who wanted back in.
“What about the healer? Asha… something?”
“That’s all I’ve got. Rumors, mostly.” Marcus pulled out one of his handwritten notes. “Offworlder. Arrived maybe two weeks ago. Healer class, some kind of variant—nobody’s clear on the specifics. She’s been turning down parties left and right.”
“I have been monitoring public channels,” Bee added. “This healer has made several delving teams quite upset with her demeanor. The phrase ‘insufferable’ appears in multiple complaints.”
“Wonderful.” Tess pushed her empty food container aside. “So our options are a henchman and an asshole.”
“Language. Our options are a skilled ranger who wants out of her current situation, and a rare healer class who’s clearly looking for something specific.” Marcus stood, stretching. “Could be worse.”
“How?”
“They could both be dead.”
Fair point.
Tess got up and moved back to Tak’s stove. She needed to do something with her hands while she thought. The heating element was definitely shot. She’d have to source a replacement from somewhere, maybe through Vera. The regulator might be salvageable if she could find compatible sealant.
“The timeline,” she said, not looking up from the stove’s guts. “How long do we have?”
“Before the System Manager arrives?” Marcus’s voice sobered. “Weeks, not months. Sara’s people are monitoring the Network ship that entered the system. They’re not rushing, but they’re not dawdling either.”
“Bee?”
“Based on Network travel protocols and standard administrative procedures, I estimate three to four weeks before the formal audit begins. However, preliminary observation may already be underway.”
Three to four weeks. To build a team, clear Floor 2, get the FCN online, fix the Aether distribution, and make the dungeon undeniable before some Network bureaucrat shuts everything down.
Tess set down her tools. The stove would have to wait.
“We need to move fast.”
“Agreed.” Marcus gathered his papers and datapad. “The Ranger first. Yuki’s the priority—we can’t do anything on Floor 2 without proper ranged support. Once we have her, we figure out the healer.”
“And Yuri’s favor?”
“We find out what it is. Might not be as bad as you’re thinking.”
Tess raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, it might be exactly as bad as you’re thinking. But Yuri’s practical. He wants something that benefits him, not something that gets him in trouble.”
Her communicator buzzed before she could respond. Petra’s ID.
Tess answered. “Hey.”
“Tess.” Petra’s voice was tight. Controlled. “The Network ship was spotted entering the inner system. Bigger than expected. There’s a lot of military ships with it.”
Tess couldn’t help but chuckle. “I think my Dad read the same report.”
Marcus had moved closer, listening. His expression had gone flat. “Military?” he mouthed.
“We’re working on the team,” Tess said. “Dad’s got some leads.”
“Good. We’ll need everyone we can get.” Petra’s voice softened slightly. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine. Busy.”
“Liar.” But there was warmth in it. “I’ll be in the workshop this afternoon. We can talk strategy.”
“See you then.”
The call ended. Tess stared at her communicator for a moment, then looked at her father.
“Military ships in three to four weeks?” she said.
“We can’t waste time.” Marcus tucked the datapad under his arm. “Finish your breakfast. Then we go see Yuri.”
“You’re coming?”
“You’re terrible at negotiating.”
“I’m not that bad.”
“Tess.” He just looked at her. “You told Vera Kain that her markup was ‘offensive to basic mathematics’ and then tried to fix her pricing algorithm.”
“That was months ago. Vera and I are friends now.”
“My point still stands. You don’t tell merchants their pricing is wrong. You negotiate, haggle, dicker. You’re terrible at all three.”
Tess snickered. “If you want to dicker with Yuri I won’t stop you.”
Marcus sighed. “And that’s why I’m coming with you.”
Tess wanted to argue, but he wasn’t wrong. She was good at fixing things and seeing how they worked. People were harder. People didn’t have diagnostic readouts or error logs. People did things that didn’t make logical sense and expected you to understand why.
“Fine,” she said. “We go together.”
“Smart girl.”
Bee’s voice came through the speakers one more time. “I will monitor communications. If anything changes with the Network ship’s trajectory, I will alert you immediately through Tess’s communicator.”
“Thanks, Bee.”
“Also, I have compiled a dossier on Yuri Kellmar’s known associates, business interests, and security arrangements. I am transmitting it to your datapad now, Marcus.”
His device buzzed with an incoming file. He glanced at it—pages of information, neatly organized. “When did you put this together?”
“I have been researching potential obstacles since you mentioned the Kellmar connection yesterday. I find that preparation reduces anxiety.”
Marcus laughed. “I really like her.”
“You say that a lot,” Tess agreed.
“I am also invested in the outcome,” Bee said. “If we cannot build an adequate team, Floor 2 remains inaccessible. If Floor 2 remains inaccessible, I remain blind. I have decided that I don’t like being blind.”
“Can’t argue with that logic.”
Tess grabbed her tool belt out of habit, then paused. She wasn’t going to be repairing anything at Yuri Kellmar’s place. Probably. But the weight of it was familiar, grounding.
She left it on.
“Ready?” Marcus asked.
Tess took in the cargo hold: Tak’s broken stove on the workbench, the empty food containers, morning light streaming through the viewport. Somewhere out there, a Network ship was moving closer. Somewhere below, Floor 2 waited with its plasma drones and impossible odds.
She sighed. “Let’s go get our Ranger.”