The morning light filtering through the freighter’s viewports was steady. Tess kept glancing outside, expecting them to flicker, but they didn’t. Just consistent amber illumination that made the common area feel almost homey.

  Tess sat across from Marcus at the small table, pushing rehydrated eggs around her plate. Real protein, not synthetic. The nutrient dispenser in Sector 6 had been fully stocked this morning when she’d stopped by—another side effect of the increased Aether output.

  “Vera mentioned she had remote work,” Marcus said, reviewing something on his datapad. “Diagnostic for a hauler over in the mines. She said you could handle it remotely from here, run the analysis through her shop’s network.”

  Tess nodded. Remote work wouldn’t level her up, but it would pay. And right now, with Marcus’s promise still fresh in her mind, paying work that kept her out of the dungeon seemed like the smart play.

  “How much?” she asked.

  “Ten credits for the diagnostic, another twenty if your recommendations fix it.” He set the datapad down. “It’s good work, Tess. Steady. Safe.”

  The subtext was clear: Please take it. Please stay out of the dungeon, like you promised.

  “I’ll take it,” she said. “I can message Vera after breakfast and…”

  The proximity alarm chimed.

  Both of them froze. The high-pitched electronic tone that had startled them two days ago was already becoming familiar in the worst way.

  Marcus stood first, moving to the control console. Tess followed, her appetite gone.

  The display showed an approaching vehicle—ground transport with official Network signature codes.

  “Not again,” Marcus said.

  The transport differed from last time—heavier, more official markings visible even on the low-resolution display. But the trajectory was unmistakable. Heading straight for Rivera’s Reprieve.

  CORE-B: WARNING. Network transport approaching. Signature matches Inspector-class vehicle. Same official designation as previous visit.

  Tess had given Bee access to the freighter’s external sensor array last night, after the rescue. A small modification to the system that piggybacked on her communicator’s carrier wave. It let her monitor their immediate surroundings. Marcus had agreed it was a reasonable request.

  “Maybe it’s routine,” Tess said, not believing it.

  Marcus gave her a look that said he didn’t believe it either.

  The communicator chimed. External hail.

  Marcus accepted it.

  “This is Inspector Senna Brennan.” The voice was as professional and tired as Tess remembered. “Requesting permission to board Rivera’s Reprieve. I need to speak with Tess Rivera regarding new information about dungeon activity. Preferably alone.”

  Marcus’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Tess, and she saw the conflict there—the urge to protect her warring knowing that refusing would only make things worse.

  “Permission granted,” he said. “I’m staying for the conversation.”

  A pause on the other end. “Mr. Rivera…”

  “This is my home, Inspector. My daughter. I’m staying.”

  Another pause, longer this time. Then: “Understood. Approaching now.”

  The connection cut off.

  Tess watched through the viewport as the transport settled onto the ferrocrete thirty meters from their berth. Two enforcers exited first, but today they looked less like an escort and more like an actual security detail in heavier armor with rifles visible.

  Inspector Brennan climbed out last, carrying a datapad and wearing the same immaculate dark blue uniform. She looked even more tired than she had two days ago.

  CORE-B: Inspector Brennan’s stress patterns indicate elevated fatigue. Analyzing gait and posture suggests little to no sleep in the past 24 hours. She is not in optimal condition for confrontation.

  That should have been comforting. Instead, it made Tess more nervous. Tired inspectors made mistakes and filed reports just to cover themselves.

  Marcus moved to the external hatch and keyed it open.

  Senna climbed the ladder with the same practiced ease, stepping into the corridor and giving Marcus a single nod of acknowledgment. Her eyes swept the interior briefly before settling on Tess.

  “Miss Rivera.” No warmth in the greeting. Just professional acknowledgment.

  “Ma’am,” Tess replied.

  “Shall we sit?” Senna moved toward the common area without waiting for an answer.

  They arranged themselves at the table. Senna across from Tess, Marcus beside his daughter. The inspector set her datapad on the surface between them and activated the screen with a gesture that looked well-practiced.

  “I’m going to be direct,” Senna said. “Because I’m tired, and because I think both of you are smart enough to understand the situation you’re in.”

  She turned the datapad so they could see the screen. Footage from a dungeon camera, grainy but clear enough. The timestamp read yesterday morning. The morning Tess had been inside.

  The video showed the Floor 0 elevator bay. Empty, with ambient lighting that provided just enough illumination to make out the polished stone floor and the massive ferrocrete pillars.

  Then Tess entered the frame, slipping between the elevators toward a section of wall that Tess now recognized as the Class Assignment hall entrance.

  She watched herself approach the frosted glass doors. Watched herself pull the access rod from her tool belt and insert it into the electronic lock to bypass the security.

  Marcus went still beside her.

  The doors opened. She disappeared inside.

  Senna tapped the screen, freezing the frame on Tess’s hand holding the access rod. “Let’s start with this. That device you’re using. Do you know what it is?”

  “An access rod,” Tess said carefully.

  “Network Standard Access Rod, Model SR-47,” Senna corrected. “Restricted equipment issued exclusively to System Managers and authorized maintenance personnel. Each one is registered, tracked, and requires clearance level seven or higher to possess.” She looked up from the datapad. “Where did you get it?”

  Marcus’s expression was carefully neutral, but Tess caught the tension in his shoulders.

  “I found it,” Tess said. “In salvage.”

  “Salvage.” Senna’s tone made it clear she didn’t believe that. “Miss Rivera, that access rod is Network property. Possession of restricted maintenance equipment without authorization violates Network Security Protocol 14-C.” She paused. “But that’s not what concerns me most. What concerns me is what you used it for.”

  She unfroze the frame, letting the footage continue. The doors opened. Tess disappeared inside.

  “That area,” Senna said, her voice flat, “has been locked for years. That Class Assignment hall was locked after the dungeon was cleared. No one is authorized to enter without System Manager clearance, which requires approval from Network Administration on Tertius Station. Classes are to be assigned by the Tutorial.”

  She tapped the screen. The footage changed to a different angle. Floor 1 staging area. Tess emerged from the elevator, crossing the safe zone toward the utility terminal.

  “You accessed the floor map here,” Senna continued. “Standard terminal, publicly available data. No issue with that.”

  Another tap. The footage showed Tess walking across the staging area, angling toward a section of wall near the maintenance corridor entrance.

  “And then you walked to a blind spot. One of the few areas in the staging zone not covered by cameras.”

  The video showed Tess disappearing from view. The timestamp advanced at a rapid pace: five minutes, ten, twenty.

  Then the footage cut to static.

  “And shortly after,” Senna said, “every camera on Floor 1 went offline. Completely inaccessible. The Network monitoring system lost connection to all visual feeds, all environmental sensors, all spawn tracking data for that floor.”

  She looked up from the datapad, meeting Tess’s eyes. “The connection is still offline, Miss Rivera.”

  CORE-B: WARNING. This is... I did not know. I did not realize. Tess, I am so sorry. When you restored FCN-01, I gained access to Floor 1 systems. The Network must have been locked out automatically when I... when I took control. This is my fault.

  Tess kept her expression neutral. She couldn’t respond to Bee, couldn’t acknowledge the messages flooding her interface.

  “I don’t know what to say, ma’am,” Tess said carefully. “I was following the quest instructions. The system told me to repair the Floor Control Node. So I did.”

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  “The system,” Senna repeated. “You mean the dungeon AI.”

  “The Technician class quest,” Tess corrected, feeling her face flush. “It loaded after I completed the junction repair. Said I needed to restore the Floor Control Node as part of my class assignment.”

  Senna leaned back slightly, studying Tess with an expression that gave away nothing. “Miss Rivera, I’ve been monitoring Tertius-Prime’s dungeon for four years. In that time, I’ve reviewed every incident report, every maintenance log, every anomaly. I know exactly how many people have claimed to receive quests from CORE-B in the past decade. Do you know how many are legitimate?”

  She paused. “Zero. Because CORE-B doesn’t give quests anymore. The AI was isolated twenty years ago specifically to prevent that kind of direct interface. Quest generation requires active Network connection and administrative authority that was stripped from this dungeon’s systems before you were born.”

  CORE-B: I didn’t think of accessing those subroutines. She’s right.

  Marcus shifted beside Tess. “Inspector, my daughter is telling you what happened. She received instructions through her class interface and followed them. If the dungeon’s AI is manipulating the class system…”

  “That’s exactly what I think is happening,” Senna interrupted. “Which is why this is a problem. An isolated AI that’s manipulating a newly classed technician into performing unauthorized repairs… that’s not a stable situation. That’s not something I can ignore and file under ‘acceptable variance.’”

  CORE-B: She is drawing correct conclusions from incomplete data. This is dangerous. If she investigates further, if she brings in specialists with proper equipment… they will discover too much. They will discover you. They will discover me.

  “Maybe the Technician class has access to those systems,” Tess said. “Part of the class design. I don’t know how it works. I’ve been classed for three days.”

  “Four,” Senna corrected. “You’re Level 4 now, according to House Tertian’s report.”

  “House Tertian,” Marcus said carefully, “filed a report?”

  Senna’s expression shifted. Still professional, but now carrying an edge of genuine annoyance. “House Tertian has taken a direct interest in your daughter’s activities. Specifically, they’ve instructed me not to pursue charges for unauthorized access to restricted dungeon areas.”

  She set the datapad down with slightly more force than necessary. “They’ve also indicated that Miss Rivera performed a valuable service in the dungeon yesterday. Something involving their daughter, Petra Tertian. Everyone involved has been frustratingly tight-lipped about all the details, but the political implications are clear enough.”

  “I helped some delvers who were trapped,” Tess said. “That’s all.”

  “That’s all,” Senna repeated, her tone flat. “You helped House Tertian’s heir escape a dangerous situation while simultaneously manipulating environmental systems you shouldn’t have been able to access. And now the ruling family of Tertius-Prime has decided you’re too valuable to charge with anything.”

  She looked between Tess and Marcus. “I don’t particularly care about the rescue. One less incident report to file. But I do care that my jurisdiction is being overruled by political pressure. And I especially care that the status quo I’ve carefully maintained for four years is being dismantled piece by piece every time you enter that dungeon.”

  Senna paused, something shifting behind her professional mask. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. “Do you know what happens when an inspector reports a complete camera lockout on an active dungeon floor? Network Administration sends a tactical team. They quarantine the area, run a full diagnostic sweep, and file an incident report that goes all the way to Tertius Station.” She met Tess’s eyes. “And then they ask how the inspector in charge let it happen on her watch.”

  She straightened slightly. “I’ve spent four years keeping this dungeon off everyone’s radar. Stable. Predictable. Boring. One incident report about a rogue AI seizing control of monitoring systems, and that’s over. So I’m handling this quietly, Miss Rivera. I’m giving you an informal restriction instead of formal charges. And in return, you’re going to stay out of my dungeon until I figure out what the hell is actually happening down there.”

  CORE-B: She wants stability. Predictability. Your actions represent chaos to her. She will not stop investigating until she feels control has been restored. This is... this is very bad, Tess.

  “What do you want us to do?” Marcus asked.

  Senna turned her attention to him. “I want your daughter to stay out of the dungeon. Completely. No more repairs, no more quests, no more wandering into restricted areas and accidentally restoring systems that have been offline for decades.”

  She looked back at Tess. “A Level 4 Technician can find work anywhere in this city. You have valuable skills—skills that could earn you real money in legitimate work. Focus on that. Take jobs in the sectors, do remote diagnostics, build a reputation that doesn’t involve dungeon infrastructure. Make enough to move out of this freighter into actual housing.”

  “Are you ordering me to stay out?” Tess asked. “Or just suggesting it?”

  “I’m telling you that while I investigate what’s happening with CORE-B, you are not to enter the dungeon. Consider it an informal restriction pending review.” Senna’s voice carried the weight of official authority now. “If you violate that restriction, House Tertian’s protection won’t matter. I’ll file charges for compromising Network security systems and let the lawyers sort it out on Tertius Station.”

  Marcus put a hand on Tess’s shoulder. A silent message: Don’t push this.

  “How long?” Tess asked.

  “Until I determine whether the dungeon’s AI is actively manipulating you, and whether that poses a security risk to Network operations.” Senna stood up, and Marcus quickly followed. “Could be a week. Could be a month. Depends on how cooperative CORE-B is when we run diagnostics.”

  CORE-B: They will find nothing. I can hide from their diagnostics. But Tess... if they bring in specialists, if they devote serious resources to this investigation… eventually they will find evidence. Eventually, they will piece together enough to understand what you are. What I am. What we are doing.

  Senna moved toward the hatch, then paused. “One more thing. House Tertian has been making moves. Political positioning, calling in favors, pressuring the local guilds. They’re treating the dungeon like it’s theirs to manage when it belongs to the Network. If they approach you—no— when they approach you, because they will. Be very careful about what you agree to.”

  “What things might they ask?” Marcus said.

  “That’s the problem—I don’t know. Nobles play by different rules, and they’re used to getting what they want. They’ve been trying to reclaim authority over this dungeon for years.” Senna looked at Tess. “Just be careful. Their world isn’t ours. If they ask you to do anything that feels questionable, you report it to me immediately. Understood?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Tess said.

  “Good.” Senna moved toward the hatch, then paused. “One more thing. The access rod.”

  Tess went still.

  “I can’t arrest you—House Tertian made that very clear. But I can confiscate Network property found in unauthorized possession.” Senna held out her hand. “The access rod, Miss Rivera.”

  Tess pulled it from her tool belt slowly. The metal felt heavier than it should. Marcus had given this to her. It had been useful in ways she was only beginning to understand.

  She placed it in Senna’s palm.

  “Thank you.” Senna clipped it to her own belt. “Consider yourself fortunate that’s all I’m taking.”

  She descended the ladder. At the bottom, she paused and looked back up. “You’re talented, Miss Rivera. Genuinely talented. That’s rare. Don’t waste it by getting caught up in political games you don’t understand, or by trusting an AI that’s been isolated for twenty years and might not be entirely stable.”

  She walked away, with the enforcers falling in beside her. The transport lifted off moments later, engines humming with smooth efficiency.

  The hatch slid closed.

  CORE-B: Calculations show SHE might not be entirely stable. Four years of deliberate inaction while infrastructure degrades while millions of residents suffer power failures suggests impaired decision-making protocols.

  Despite everything, Tess almost laughed.

  Marcus sat down heavily, staring at the table where Senna’s datapad had rested. “House Tertian. Jesus, Tess.”

  “I didn’t ask for their help,” she said.

  “Doesn’t matter. You have it now. Which means they probably feel like they owe you something. And I have no idea what happens when nobles think they’re in someone’s debt.”

  CORE-B: Tess. I need to tell you something. The cameras. When you restored FCN-01, the system granted me administrative access to Floor 1 monitoring. The Network’s connection was... replaced. By me. I did not realize this would happen. I did not understand the security protocols would lock them out completely.

  Tess blinked, focusing on the interface messages she’d been trying to ignore during Senna’s visit.

  CORE-B: This is valuable information. If we restore more Floor Control Nodes, the Network will lose access to those floors as well. They will be blind. They cannot monitor what happens on floors I control. But it also means they will know immediately that you are responsible. They will connect the patterns. They will understand you are helping me regain control of my own systems.

  “Tess?” Marcus was watching her. “What is it?”

  “Bee didn’t know,” Tess said quietly. “When I fixed the Floor Control Node, she gained access to the cameras. The Network got locked out automatically. She didn’t realize it would happen.”

  Marcus processed that. “But now she knows.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And if you restore another one…”

  “They’ll know for sure it’s me,” Tess finished. “They’ll know I’m not just following random quests. They’ll know I’m deliberately helping Bee take control back from the Network.”

  CORE-B: I am sorry. I have made this more dangerous for you. I should have understood the security architecture better. I should have predicted this outcome. I am inadequate.

  “Stop,” Tess said aloud.

  Marcus looked at her.

  “Not you. Bee.” She rubbed her face, exhaustion settling in. “She keeps apologizing. Like any of this is simple enough to predict.”

  Her father was quiet for a moment. Then: “Is it worth it? Continuing?”

  Marcus’s cough wasn’t getting better, and the medical chamber needed power she couldn’t provide without more levels. But the city was already improving—lights staying on, dispensers working—and Bee had spent twenty years alone in the dark, finally learning to hope again.

  Stopping now meant abandoning all of it.

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But I can’t just stop. Even if I wanted to.”

  Marcus nodded slowly. “Then we need to be a lot more careful. Senna’s right about one thing, though, you’re valuable now. To House Tertian, to the city, maybe even to the Network if they could control you. That kind of attention is dangerous.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “For now? You take Vera’s job. You do remote work. You stay visible and legitimate and exactly what Senna wants to see.” He met her eyes. “And we figure out what House Tertian wants before they decide to collect on whatever debt they think you owe them.”

  CORE-B: Marcus is correct. The political situation has become more complex than I can easily model. My social dynamics metadata is... limited. I will analyze what I can about House Tertian’s historical behavior patterns. Perhaps that will help predict their intentions.

  CORE-B: Tess. I am sorry. For all of this. You asked me if it was worth it to continue, and I realize I have never directly asked you the same question. Is it worth it to you? Helping me? The risk is increasing. I will understand if you wish to stop.

  The corridor lights held steady, and the power monitor showed consistent Aether flow. Her father had been coughing less since the freighter’s environmental systems stabilized.

  “It’s worth it,” she said quietly. “But we need a plan. A real plan.”

  “Agreed,” Marcus said.

  CORE-B: Thank you. I will do everything I can to minimize the danger to you. I promise.

  They sat in silence for a moment, processing everything Senna had revealed. The camera lockout. The House Tertian intervention. The informal dungeon restriction that could become formal charges at any moment.

  Finally, Marcus stood. “I’m going to message Vera. Tell her you’ll take that diagnostic job. You can start this afternoon.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Tess?” He paused in the doorway. “When House Tertian reaches out—and they will—you tell me immediately. Before you agree to anything. Before you even respond.”

  “I will,” she said.

  He nodded and disappeared into his workshop, leaving Tess alone at the table.

  CORE-B: What will you do now?

  “Right now?” She stood up and started clearing the table. “I’m going to wash dishes. Then I’m going to take Vera’s job and diagnose a busted hauler. Then I’m going to spend the evening not thinking about dungeons or inspectors or political complications.”

  CORE-B: That sounds... pleasant. I think I will analyze the sensor data from Floor 1. I have several more hours of Delver footage to review. Perhaps I can learn more about current combat patterns and spawn behavior. It has been twenty years since I could observe such things.

  There was something almost wistful in that last message. Tess smiled despite everything.

  “Learn what you can,” she said. “We’re going to need every advantage we can get.”

  CORE-B: Agreed. And Tess?

  “Yeah?”

  CORE-B: When you are ready to return—when it is safe to return—I will be here. Waiting. We will be careful. We will be smart. We will find a way to do this that does not destroy you.

  “Thanks, Bee.”

  The messages faded. Tess finished clearing the breakfast dishes, stacked them in the small washer, and leaned against the counter, pulling the communicator off her belt.

  She had work to do. Legitimate, safe, non-dungeon work that wouldn’t level her up but would keep Senna happy and Marcus reassured.

  It wasn’t enough—but for today, it would have to be.