Tess closed the oven’s access panel and stood back, wiping coolant residue off her hands with a rag.
The industrial unit hummed to life with a low, steady sound that hadn’t been there when she’d arrived. The temperature display cycled through its startup sequence, settling at a stable idle temperature. No flickering. No error codes. Just smooth, functional operation.
She’d used [ANALYZE] when she first opened the panel, and the patterns had told her everything she needed to know.
·········································
INDUSTRIAL OVEN IY-4400
Designation: Commercial Cooking Unit
Loot Seed: 0x4400
Status: Critical
Hardware: Critical
Last Error: Thermal Overload (Sustained)
User Tech Skill: 4
·········································
WARNING: Temperature exceeded safe limits
Operating Max: 425°C — Recorded Peak: 687°C
·········································
Flame ……………….. Damaged [Tech 4]
Heat Regulation ………. Damaged [Tech 3]
Thermal Distribution ….. Damaged [Tech 3]
·········································
Six hundred and eighty-seven degrees.
Someone had cranked every fire skill to maximum and left it running. The [FLAME] crystal was scorched through, the substrate cracked and blackened. She’d replaced it with an actual spare Yuri kept in the back room. The [HEAT_REGULATION] crystal needed careful realignment and a parameter reset to restore the thermal limiters. [THERMAL_DISTRIBUTION] just needed the flow channels straightened out. Everything only took her 2AP.
The whole repair had taken her ninety minutes.
She still wasn’t going to ask why it was broken.
BEE: The temperature exceeded safe operational limits by 261 degrees. Possible explanations include: disposal of organic materials, sterilization of equipment, destruction of evidence, metallurgical work, or perhaps an experiment in accelerated protein breakdown.
Tess packed her tools back into her belt. “I said I’m not going to ask, Bee.”
BEE: You could also consider ritualistic purposes. Fire has been used ceremonially across multiple cultures for millennia. Though at 687 degrees, this would be less ceremony and more… incineration.
“Still not asking.”
BEE: But I want to know.
The back door to the kitchen opened, and Big Yuri stepped through. He was as tall and imposing as Tess remembered. He glanced at the oven, then at Tess.
“Fixed?” he asked.
“Fixed. Replaced the [FLAME] crystal, realigned the regulation pathways, and straightened out the thermal distribution channels. Should run clean now.”
Yuri nodded slowly. He walked to the oven, checked the display, and tested the temperature controls. The unit responded smoothly. No lag. No errors.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a credit chit, setting it on the counter between them.
Tess picked it up and checked the balance: 125 credits.
“That’s generous,” she said.
“You do good work.” Yuri’s expression didn’t shift. “Fast, thorough, discreet. I appreciate discretion.”
“I appreciate being paid.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “Vera said you might need more jobs. Dungeon-compatible work.”
“I’m interested.”
“Good. I’ll be in touch.” He gestured toward the door. “You’re free to go. Say hello to your father for me.”
Tess pocketed the chit and headed for the exit, leaving Big Yuri standing in his kitchen beside the now-functional oven that had definitely not been used for cooking.
BEE: I have calculated seventeen additional hypotheses regarding the oven’s misuse. Would you like to hear them?
“No, Bee.”
BEE: Understood. Saving hypotheses for future reference.
The freighter felt warmer when Tess stepped inside.
Not physically warmer, the environmental controls were stable as always. But there was a distinct energy in the air. Something felt lighter.
She walked past the workbench and paused.
Sitting on the deck near the bulkhead were four industrial capacitor banks, each one the size of a storage crate. They were wrapped in House Tertian livery, but the cloth had been pulled aside to reveal the components beneath.
Pre-Network design with crystalline architecture—genuine dungeon-tech.
Tess crouched beside the nearest one and activated [ANALYZE].
·········································
CAPACITOR BANK CT-8800
Designation: High Capacity Aether Storage
Loot Seed: 0xC8800D4F
Status: Online
Hardware: Pristine
Charge: 4.2 / 4.2 AWH — Full
User Tech Skill: 4
·········································
Energy Storage ………. Functional [Tech 5]
Flow Regulation ……… Functional [Tech 5]
Thermal Management …… Functional [Tech 3]
·········································
Four of them, totaling sixteen-point-eight Arcwatt-hours of clean, stable dungeon power.
More than enough to run the medical chamber. Overkill, and a vulgar display of wealth from Petra.
From the back corridor came the faint hum of the chamber activating, a steady rhythmic pulse.
She stood and walked toward Marcus’s workshop.
The door was open. Inside, Marcus sat in the med chamber’s diagnostic cradle, his shirt off, electrodes attached to his chest and back. The chamber’s display showed a treatment cycle in progress—[Toxin Filtration] running at 73%, steady green indicators across the interface.
He looked up when she entered.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” Tess leaned against the doorframe. “How’s it feel?”
“Like I can breathe without my lungs trying to kill me.” He smiled, and it was the first genuine smile she’d seen from him in weeks. “The capacitors are perfect. Petra came through.”
“Yeah.” Tess glanced at the chamber’s display. “How long have you been running it?”
“Couple hours. The toxin filtration is clearing out the old Aether exposure damage, bit by bit.” He tapped the display. “Doc said it’ll take a few weeks to fully repair the lung tissue, but I’m already feeling better. Coughing less. Sleeping better through the night. Just trying to go easy on the power.”
Relief settled through her shoulders. “Good.”
“Yeah.” Marcus met her eyes. “You did that, Tess. You fixed the dungeon enough to get the Aether flowing. You saved Petra, and she sent us the capacitors. You made this possible.”
“Petra made it possible. I just… helped.”
“You always just help.” His tone was dry but affectionate. “One of these days you’re going to accept that you’re actually good at what you do.”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Tess scoffed. “I know I’m good at what I do.”
“Yeah.” He laughed, leaning back in the cradle as the chamber cycled through another filtration pass. “Kade’s coming over tonight, right?”
“Yeah. Game night.”
“Good. You could use the break.” Marcus waved her off. “Go. Get ready. I’ll be done here in twenty minutes.”
Tess left him to his treatment and headed back to the hold.
The capacitor banks sat there like gifts from another world—expensive, generous, and outside the normal rules of the dock district.
House Tertian didn’t do anything without purpose.
But right now, watching her father breathe easier for the first time in years, Tess didn’t care about the politics.
She’d helped him. That was enough.
Kade showed up at nineteen hundred with a six-pack of cheap beer and a deck of cards so worn the corners were soft.
“You shuffle,” he said, dropping into the chair across from Tess. “I don’t trust myself not to cheat.”
“You always cheat.”
“Exactly.”
Tess shuffled the deck while Kade cracked open two beers and slid one across the table. The cards were just there so they weren’t sitting around drinking without an excuse, but it gave their hands something to do.
She dealt. Kade picked up his hand, frowned, and immediately discarded two cards.
“So,” he said. “How was the oven job?”
Tess took a sip of her beer. “Fixed it. 125 credits. Don’t ask what Yuri used it for.”
Kade grimaced. “That bad?”
“Six hundred and eighty-seven degrees.”
“Jesus.”
From the ceiling speaker, Bee’s voice chimed in. “I have seventeen hypotheses regarding potential uses for sustained thermal output at that temperature. Would you like to hear them?”
Kade laughed. “Remind me not to ask a dungeon AI what to use that kind of heat for.”
“Hypothesis one: Disposal of…”
“Bee,” Tess interrupted. “We’re good. Thank you.”
“BEE: Understood. Saving hypotheses for future reference.”
Kade grinned and played a card. “I still can’t believe you have a dungeon AI living in your freighter.”
“She’s not living here. She’s just… connected.”
“I can hear you,” Bee said.
“I know.” Tess played her own card. “You’re always listening.”
“I prefer the term ‘monitoring.’ It sounds less intrusive.”
Tess threw her hands up. “It’s the same thing.”
“Diagnostics on my semantics engine indicate that is not correct.”
Kade leaned back in his chair, still grinning. “You two sound like an old married couple.”
Tess threw a card at him. He dodged, laughing.
They played a few more hands, drinking cheap beer and talking about nothing important. Kade’s hauler was still holding together… barely. Vera had stopped by his berth earlier in the week to offer him a job running salvage to Sector 8. The nutrient dispensers in the dock district were fully stocked now, and someone had even fixed the broken lighting in the main plaza.
Small things, but good ones.
“It’s weird,” Kade said after his third beer. “The city feels… different. Like it’s waking up.”
“More Aether,” Tess said. “Stuff that’s been offline for years is coming back online.”
“Because of you.”
“Because of the repairs.”
“Same thing.” Kade set down his cards. “You know people are talking, right? About the girl who saved House Tertian.”
Tess frowned. “I didn’t ask for that.”
“I know. But it’s happening anyway.” He met her eyes. “Just… be careful, okay? You’re getting visible. And visible people attract attention.”
“I know.”
“Good.” Kade picked his cards back up. “Now stop worrying and play. I’m about to destroy you.”
He didn’t. Tess won the next three hands in a row.
By the time Kade left, it was past midnight, and the freighter was quiet. Tess cleaned up the cards and empty bottles, tossed the recycling into the bin, and stood in the hold for a moment, listening to the steady hum of the environmental systems.
It felt like home—stable and safe.
For the first time in a long time, things felt manageable.
The next morning, Tess stood in front of the companion dog again.
It sat on the workshop bench where it always sat. Lifeless, covered in a thin layer of dust. She’d cleaned it a few times over the years, but it always seemed to accumulate more grime.
She activated [ANALYZE].
The patterns bloomed in her vision, more detailed than they’d been the last time she looked.
·········································
COMPANION UNIT TC-847
Designation: Therapy Class Companion
Loot Seed: 0xA847CF2D
Status: Offline (1,254 days)
Hardware: Critical Failure
Last Error: Neural Processor
User Tech Skill: 4
·········································
Companion Protocols …… Offline [Tech 4]
Environmental Awareness .. Offline [Tech 3]
Autonomous Navigation …. Offline [Tech 4]
Behavioral Adaptation …. Locked [Tech 7]
Loyalty Binding ………. Online [Tech 3]
Structural Configuration . Locked [Tech 11]
·········································
Tess blinked.
Days ago, every skill had been locked. Now, at TECH 4, she could access four of them. Companion Protocols. Environmental Awareness. Autonomous Navigation. Loyalty Binding.
She reached out and touched the collar interface junction.
Her [INTERFACE] skill activated, and suddenly she was inside the dog’s architecture. Not seeing it from the outside, but actually interfacing with the subsystems.
She navigated through the skill trees, tracing connections. Companion Protocols controlled interaction behaviors: how the dog responded to commands, how it engaged with people. Environmental Awareness handled spatial recognition and obstacle detection. Autonomous Navigation managed movement and pathfinding. Loyalty Binding…
She paused at that one.
It was a biometric lock. A pattern that tied the companion to a specific person. And it was active.
Tess swallowed and moved on.
The neural processor was still offline—that was the core problem. And when she tried to access Behavioral Adaptation, the system rejected her. TECH 7 required. She wasn’t high enough level yet.
But she was close. Closer than she’d ever been.
“I might actually be able to fix this thing,” she muttered.
BEE: That is excellent progress. The companion unit would be a valuable asset. Therapy-class companions are designed to provide emotional support and situational awareness.
“Are you saying I need therapy, Bee?”
BEE: No?
Tess laughed and stepped back from the workbench, letting the [INTERFACE] connection fade. The dog sat there, still lifeless, but now it felt less impossible.
Three more levels. TECH 7. Then she could access Behavioral Adaptation and maybe—maybe—get the neural processor back online.
She was getting closer.
BEE: Tess. May I ask you something?
“Sure.”
BEE: I have been observing behavior patterns. Both in the dungeon and in the city. And I am… confused.
Tess leaned against the bench. “Confused about what?”
BEE: Yesterday, I observed a delver team on Floor 1. Three members. One was injured during a spawn encounter—minor leg wound, mobility reduced. The other two took the loot from the encounter and left him behind. They sealed a blast door to prevent pursuit and abandoned their teammate to extract alone.
Tess frowned. “That’s awful.”
BEE: Yes. But then this morning I observed the opposite. Near the plaza outside of the freighter, an elderly woman’s cart collapsed. She was carrying food supplies. Three people stopped to help her. They repaired the cart, helped reload the supplies, and one of them walked with her to ensure she reached her destination safely. No compensation was offered. No expectation of reward.
The text paused.
BEE: The dichotomy is confusing. Why do people abandon each other in one context and help each other in another? The environmental variables are similar. The species is identical. But the behavior is opposite.
Tess thought about it for a moment. “That’s people, Bee. Not everyone is good. Not everyone is bad. Most are somewhere in between.”
BEE: But what determines the behavior in a given moment?
“Context. Stress. What they think they can get away with. What they value.” Tess shrugged. “The delvers in the dungeon were probably scared. Thought the loot was more important than their friend. The people in Sector 6 weren’t under pressure. They saw someone who needed help, and they helped.”
BEE: So the environment influences behavior.
“Yeah. But so do choices. The delvers could’ve helped their friend. They chose not to. The people in the plaza could’ve walked past. They chose to stop.”
BEE: You chose to help Petra.
“Yeah… I did.”
Bee was quiet for a moment. Then: BEE: For what it’s worth… when I observe you, I see the second pattern. You help people. You share resources. It is… pleasant to witness.
Tess smiled. “Thanks, Bee. You’re a good friend.”
BEE: I see. I believe I understand friendship. I have several definitions in my database. But experiencing it firsthand differs from researching it.
“Yeah. It does.”
Tess stood there for a while, looking at the dog, thinking about Marcus and Kade and Bee and all the people in Sector 6 who were just trying to survive and help each other along the way.
But here, in the freighter, with the lights on and her father breathing easier and Bee learning what it meant to be part of something… This was enough.
A week passed.
Tess took on a few more minor jobs through Vera—a plasma welder in Sector 6 turned out to have a skill crystal in it, a hauler pilot’s broken comm-array was also dungeon tech, a compressor in a refrigeration unit at a corner market was sadly not. And the remote hauler diagnostic job introduced her to one of the most annoying people she’d ever met—Vera’s nephew Dean. But with that job done, she’d hoped she wouldn’t have to speak with him again.
The work was steady. The pay was decent. And every job involving dungeon-tech gave her a little more progress toward Level 5.
She was at 68% now. Getting close.
Marcus continued his treatment. The coughing stopped. He started sleeping through the night. The dark circles under his eyes faded, and he moved through the freighter with more energy than Tess had seen in years.
Kade stopped by twice more for game night. They played cards, drank beer, and talked about nothing important.
Bee continued her observations, asking questions about human behavior, city infrastructure, and why people in the dock district seemed to prefer coffee over tea.
The city felt different. More alive. The increased Aether output from Tess’s repairs was making itself felt in small, tangible ways. Lights stayed on. Dispensers stayed stocked. People walked the streets with a little more confidence.
Tess sat in the freighter’s hold one evening, watching the amber light from the viewports spill across the deck. Marcus was in his workshop, tinkering with something. Bee was monitoring the Floor 1 cameras, watching Delver teams navigate spawns with what she described as “predictable but effective tactics.”
Everything felt… settled.
Tess knew it wouldn’t last. Senna was still investigating. House Tertian had their own plans. The dungeon had twenty-four more sealed floors to get through.
There was more work to do. More repairs. More risks.
But tonight, the freighter was warm, and her father was healthy, and the city was recovering.
For the first time since she’d received the {null} class, Tess let herself believe maybe they could actually pull this off.
