The afternoon sun filtered through Sector 6’s haze, casting everything in amber. Tess walked the familiar route from Tak’s toward Kain’s Components, tool belt light on her hip after the FCN-01 repair had consumed most of her consumables.

  The sector felt different now. Shops stayed open past noon. Nutrient dispensers hummed with consistent power. People moved with a little less exhaustion, a little more purpose. Minor changes, but they accumulated.

  Seven point four percent Aether output instead of four point one. Tess had done that.

  The thought should have felt satisfying. Instead, it just made her nervous.

  Tess pushed inside Kain’s Components.

  Vera stood behind the counter, reviewing something on a datapad. She looked up when the door chimed, and her weathered face shifted into an expression that might have been a smile on someone less practiced at hiding emotion.

  “Tess Rivera,” Vera said. “Two visits in one week. I’m starting to think you like me.”

  “I’m here for parts,” Tess said. “And that hauler diagnostic you mentioned to Marcus.”

  “Parts first.” Vera gestured at the shelves. “You know where everything is. I’ll get your usual pulled together.”

  Tess moved through the narrow aisles, selecting what she needed. Crystalline substrate cleaner—the good stuff that didn’t leave residue. Friction tape in three widths. Sealant compound rated for Aether exposure. A box of assorted connectors. Two spools of jumper wire.

  Standard consumables for someone who worked with pre-Network tech regularly. Expensive, but necessary.

  Vera appeared beside her with a plastic crate, already half-filled with components. “I pulled lubricant, solvent, and a replacement set of precision drivers. Your old ones are probably worn down to nubs by now.”

  “Thanks.” Tess added her selections to the crate. “How much?”

  “Forty credits for the lot.” Vera’s tone suggested this was a significant discount.

  Tess pulled out her credit chit and transferred the payment without argument. Forty was fair for this much material, even if it hurt to watch her savings drop.

  One hundred and five credits remaining. Not terrible, but not comfortable either.

  Vera accepted the payment and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. Her look was one that probably made people confess things they hadn’t planned to share.

  “So,” Vera said. “Level 4.”

  Tess kept her expression neutral. “Yeah.”

  “It’s only been a few days since you got your class. And you’re already Level 4.” Vera’s voice was conversational, almost casual. “You’re leveling faster than anyone I’ve seen in twenty years, girl. What are you really doing down there?”

  “Following the class quest,” Tess said. “Tutorial system sent me to repair infrastructure. I fixed what it told me to fix.”

  “Uh-huh.” Vera didn’t look convinced. “And I suppose the tutorial also told you to save some rich girl from an Alpha-spawn yesterday?”

  Tess went still. “How did you—”

  “Whole district’s talking about it. Someone rescued delvers from Floor 1. House Tertian’s been making inquiries.” Vera waved dismissively. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to press. But people notice when a classless girl suddenly shows up with skills and starts pulling off impressive work.”

  BEE: Vera Kain’s inquiry patterns suggest genuine concern rather than interrogation. Stress analysis indicates a protective instinct rather than a threat assessment. Confidence: 77%.

  Tess relaxed. Vera wasn’t fishing for information to sell or report. She was just… worried.

  “It was a repair job,” Tess said carefully. “Some delvers got trapped. I accessed maintenance systems to help them out.”

  “While an Alpha-spawn was active.”

  “I stayed in the tunnels. Didn’t go anywhere near the combat.”

  Vera studied her for another moment, then shrugged. “Your business is your business. But Marcus is going to have a stroke if you keep taking risks like that.”

  “He already knows.” Tess shifted the crate of supplies. “We talked about it.”

  “Good.” Vera moved behind the counter and started organizing a display of connector housings that didn’t need organizing. “Then he told you to be more careful, and you promised you would, and now you’re here picking up components for safe city repairs.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “Something like that,” Tess admitted.

  Vera’s expression softened. “You’re talented. That’s rare enough that people will notice. The trick is making sure the right people notice before the wrong ones do.”

  “Like House Tertian?”

  “Like House Tertian,” Vera agreed. “Though if you’ve already caught their attention, that ship might have sailed.”

  Tess thought about Petra’s promise. If you ever need anything—anything—you ask for me. House Tertian doesn’t forget debts.

  She wasn’t sure what to do with that.

  “I’m keeping my head down,” Tess said. “City jobs. Surface work. Staying out of the dungeon for a while.”

  “Smart.” Vera pulled out a datapad and made a note. “Speaking of city jobs—that hauler diagnostic.”

  “Yeah, Marcus mentioned it. Thirty credits total if my recommendations fix the problem?”

  “About that.” Vera set the datapad down. “Forget the hauler job.”

  Tess blinked. “What?”

  “The hauler job. Forget it. Guy’s been sitting on a busted hydraulic system for weeks. He can wait another month.” Vera leaned forward. “Yuri is what you want if you need dungeon tech to level.”

  “Big Yuri,” Tess said flatly.

  “Big Yuri,” Vera confirmed. “You fixed his refrigerator in what, five minutes? Charged him seventy credits for the job. He paid you one hundred credits without blinking.”

  “He was being generous.”

  “He was impressed.” Vera’s tone shifted, becoming more businesslike. “Yuri deals in pre-Network equipment. Restaurant-grade, commercial-grade, all of it salvaged from who-knows-where. Which means it’s all dungeon tech or close enough that your class will recognize it.”

  Tess processed that. Network tech gave zero experience toward class progression—she’d learned that the hard way with Renna’s stove. But pre-Network tech used the same crystalline architecture as dungeon systems. Same Aether resonance patterns. Same skill trees.

  The refrigerator repair had given her enough experience to level up from 2 to 3.

  “He’s been asking about you,” Vera continued. “Wants to request your services for something specific. Won’t tell me what until he knows he’s got your interest.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Why wouldn’t he just message Marcus directly?”

  “Because Yuri is a professional, and professionals go through proper channels.” Vera’s expression suggested this was obvious. “I vouched for you once. He wants to make sure you’re available before he reveals what needs fixing.”

  She’d been counting on that hauler diagnostic. Thirty credits for remote work she could do this afternoon, safe and straightforward.

  But Vera was right. If she needed to level up—and she did—then working with dungeon-compatible tech was the only path forward.

  Even if it meant dealing with Big Yuri Kellmar.

  “I’ll make some calls,” Vera said, interpreting Tess’s silence as agreement. “He’s been asking. I’ll be in touch when I know more.”

  “Okay,” Tess said. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Yuri pays well, but he also expects results.” Vera’s voice carried a note of warning. “You fixed his refrigerator fast because it was a simple problem. If he’s specifically requesting you for something more complex, it won’t be five minutes of work.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good.” Vera picked up the datapad again. “Now get out of here. I’ve got inventory to process.”

  Tess lifted the crate of supplies. “What about the hauler job?”

  “Oh please, his hauler’s been busted for weeks. You can come back and do it later. Not like anyone else wants to do it.” Vera made a shooing motion. “Go. Make sure Marcus is resting and not trying to fix the freighter’s heat exchangers by himself.”

  “He wouldn’t—” Tess paused. “Actually, he might.”

  “Exactly.” Vera’s expression shifted, becoming something harder to read. “Whatever you’re doing, keep Marcus safe. He’s been through enough.”

  The weight behind those words caught Tess off-guard, something deeper than concern for a long-time customer, something almost personal.

  “I will,” Tess said quietly.

  “Good girl.” Vera returned to her inventory work, effectively dismissing Tess from the conversation.

  Tess headed for the door, crate balanced on one hip. The afternoon light hit her as she stepped outside, warm and steady. The freighter was a twenty-minute walk through the dock district. She could be home before Marcus started worrying.

  BEE: Tess. I have been listening.

  Tess waited until she was clear of Kain’s Components before responding, keeping her voice low. “I figured.”

  BEE: Vera Kain’s speech patterns are fascinating. She combines understatement with sharp observation. She conveys concern through actionable advice rather than emotional expression. This is extremely efficient communication.

  “She’s been running that shop for thirty years,” Tess said. “You learn to read people in that kind of work.”

  BEE: I want to know more about Vera. I want to be like Vera. Is that strange?

  Tess smiled.

  “No, Bee. That’s not strange.”

  BEE: She reminds me of you. Pragmatic assessment combined with underlying care. Efficient but not unkind.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  BEE: It was intended as one.

  Tess navigated through the dock district’s afternoon traffic. Haulers lifted off from berths, heading for delivery routes or salvage runs. Workers moved between ships, conducting repairs or loading cargo. The smell of recycled air and synthetic fuel hung heavy over everything—home, or as close to it as an old freighter could be.

  “Bee, what did you think about the conversation?” Tess asked. “Vera’s right that people are noticing.”

  BEE: Analysis suggests Vera Kain represents a minimal security risk. Her loyalty to Marcus Rivera extends to you by association. She is unlikely to share information that could harm your interests.

  “But other people aren’t like Vera.”

  BEE: Correct. Inspector Brennan represents active monitoring. House Tertian represents political complications. The broader community represents ambient risk through gossip and observation. Your visibility is increasing faster than your ability to control the narrative.

  Tess shifted the crate to her other hip. “I know.”

  BEE: The situation is not immediately critical. But it is trending toward instability. We should consider strategies for managing information flow.

  “Like what?”

  BEE: I am uncertain. My social dynamics metadata remains limited. However, Marcus’s advice to maintain the “Technician class quest” narrative appears sound. Consistency in cover stories reduces cognitive load for those attempting to detect deception.

  “You’ve been reading about lying.”

  BEE: I have been analyzing patterns of information concealment in human social interaction. It is a complex field. Humans are skilled at detecting inconsistency even when they lack conscious awareness of what triggered their suspicion.

  “That’s comforting,” Tess said dryly.

  BEE: I apologize. I was attempting to provide useful context. I failed to account for the emotional impact.

  “It’s fine. You’re right—we need to be careful.”

  She turned the corner toward Rivera’s Reprieve. The old freighter sat in its berth, exterior hull patched and weathered but its structural integrity solid. Marcus had kept the critical systems functional through sheer stubbornness and salvaged parts.

  BEE: Tess, you are disappointed at losing the immediate repair work?

  “Thirty credits would have been nice,” Tess admitted. “And I could have done it this afternoon. Remote diagnostics are safe. Easy.”

  BEE: But they would not generate experience toward class progression.

  “No. They wouldn’t.”

  BEE: And you require more levels to access the medical chamber’s critical systems.

  Tess stopped walking. The freighter was thirty meters away, close enough that Marcus might hear if she spoke too loudly.

  “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I do.”

  BEE: Marcus asked you to stay out of the dungeon “for a while.” But his health is declining. The time limit creates a paradox. Staying safe prevents you from acquiring the capability to help him. Pursuing capability increases risk to unacceptable levels from his perspective.

  “I know.”

  BEE: I do not have a solution to this problem.

  “Neither do I, Bee. Not an easy one anyways. I can’t just generate three more Arcwatts of power.”

  She stood in silence for a moment. The dock district hummed with activity around them—ships lifting off, workers shouting to each other, the distant clang of metal on metal from an active repair bay.

  BEE: Working with Big Yuri may provide a middle path. Dungeon-compatible technology that generates experience without requiring you to enter the dungeon itself. It is not as efficient as direct infrastructure repair, but it represents progress without violating your promise to Marcus.

  “If Yuri even has work for me.”

  BEE: Vera Kain believes he does. Her assessment has proven reliable thus far.

  “Yeah.” Tess started walking again. “We’ll see what he wants.”

  BEE: And if the work is too dangerous, or too complicated, or reveals information we cannot safely share?

  “Then I turn it down,” Tess said. “One problem at a time.”

  BEE: That is your preferred operating philosophy.

  “It’s kept me alive so far.”

  BEE: A compelling argument.

  Tess climbed the external ladder to Rivera’s Reprieve’s main hatch. The metal was warm under her hands from the afternoon sun. She keyed in the entry code, and the door slid open with a hydraulic hiss that sounded healthier than it had a week ago.

  Marcus was in the common area, reviewing something on his datapad. He looked up when she entered, expression shifting from concentration to mild concern.

  “Get everything you needed?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Tess set the crate down on the table. “Vera pulled a good selection. This should last a while.”

  “Good.” He stood and moved to inspect the contents. “She mention the hauler job?”

  “Canceled it.” Tess pulled out the crystalline substrate cleaner and started organizing supplies. “Told me to work with Big Yuri instead if I want dungeon tech that’ll help me level.”

  Marcus went still. “Yuri.”

  “She says he’s been asking for me. Has some kind of repair work, won’t say what until he knows I’m interested.”

  “And you told her what?”

  “That I’d think about it.” Tess met his eyes. “It’s city work, Dad. Commercial equipment, not dungeon infrastructure. And Vera’s right—if I need to level up, I need tech that’s actually compatible with the class.”

  He studied her with the careful attention that always made her feel transparent. Finally, he nodded. “If it’s city work, and if Vera vouched for him, then fine. But you check with me before you agree to anything. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “And Tess?” His expression softened. “If Yuri tries to push you into anything that feels wrong—if he asks about the dungeon, or about your class, or about anything that makes you uncomfortable—you walk away. Money isn’t worth the risk.”

  “I know.”

  “Good.” He returned to his datapad. “I’ll message Vera, let her know we’re open to hearing what Yuri has in mind.”

  Tess finished organizing the supplies, tucking everything into its proper place in the workshop. The substrate cleaner went on the high shelf. The friction tape in the drawer with the other adhesives. The precision drivers in the tool chest beside Marcus’s plasteel set.

  Small actions that made the chaos manageable.

  BEE: Tess. Thank you for bringing me to Vera’s shop. Observing her interaction style was valuable. I feel I understand human professional relationships more clearly now.

  “Glad it helped,” Tess murmured.

  BEE: When Vera told you to keep Marcus safe, her vocal stress patterns suggested significant emotional investment. More than a typical business relationship would indicate. Do you know why?

  Tess glanced at Marcus, who was absorbed in his datapad review. “I’ve got theories,” she said quietly. “But some things people keep to themselves.”

  BEE: Ah. Privacy protocols. I understand. I will not inquire further.

  “Thanks, Bee.”

  BEE: You are welcome. I am learning.

  The afternoon stretched toward evening. Tess worked in the workshop, cleaning her tools and restocking her belt with the fresh consumables. Marcus disappeared into his quarters to rest—or at least, that’s what he claimed. More likely, he was reviewing his collection of Network documents, cross-referencing information about sealed dungeons.

  Outside, the dock district continued its usual rhythm. Haulers coming and going. Workers finishing shifts. Life happened in all the small ways that added up to community.

  Tess’s communicator sat on the workbench, quiet but present. Bee was out there somewhere, watching Floor 1 through seventy-six percent of the available cameras. Learning about combat and spawns and the way Delvers worked together. Collecting data, building understanding, slowly remembering what it felt like to be part of the world.

  She had built up quite a bit of savings. No immediate work. A potential job with Big Yuri that might or might not materialize. A father whose health was declining. A promise to stay safe that conflicted with the only path forward.

  Not exactly perfect, but manageable for now.

  Tess picked up the first tool that needed cleaning and got to work. Just like always.