The service tunnels weren’t built for comfort. I descended the maintenance ladder, boots finding each rung by memory. Flinx clung to my shoulder, his claws puncturing my jacket just enough to stay secure.
The route never got easier, just more familiar.
Flinx sent.
“You hate everything that isn’t climate-controlled.”
The junction station opened up at the bottom. Pipes ran along the ceiling, carrying water to the manufactured beaches up top. Down here, everything exposed its mechanics. No decorative panels hiding the infrastructure. Just the truth of what kept Valyria’s fantasy running.
A Merrith waited near the central hub. Her six-fingered hands sorted components on a workbench built from salvaged cargo crates. She looked up as I approached, her large eyes reflecting the overhead lights.
“Curator.”
“Renna.” I pulled my slate from my pocket. “You got my list?”
“Some of it.” She gestured to three items.
I picked up the power source. The weight felt right. “Krelaxian military issue.”
“Was. Now it’s salvage.” Her pointed ears twitched. “Legally obtained salvage.”
“I didn’t ask.” I turned it over, checking the output specifications. Perfect. “Price?”
“Information. I need access codes to the villa’s environmental systems. Sections seven through twelve.”
“Guest quarters.”
“I’m aware.”
I set the power source down and met her eyes. Years of this. Every transaction a negotiation. Every negotiation a risk. “What are you planning?”
“To not freeze when management cuts heating to the staff areas.” Her ears flattened. “Access codes. That’s the price.”
I pulled up the codes on my slate, transferred them to a disposable chip, and handed it over. “They expire in seventy-two hours.”
“Acceptable. I can make my backdoors in time.” She pocketed the chip and pushed all three components toward me. “Anything else?”
“The stabilizer I asked about.”
“Still sourcing it. Two weeks.”
“I might not have two weeks.”
Her ears perked up. “Timeline moved?”
“Variables changed.” I slipped the components into my jacket. Power source against my ribs. Spoofer in the breast pocket. The relay I tested last, checking its weight. “Secondary supplier?”
“For that item? No.” She organized her remaining components by size. Everything had its place, even chaos. “But I know someone who might know someone. It’ll cost extra.”
“Everything costs extra.”
“Then you’ll pay.”
Flinx sent.
My stomach tightened. “We’re done.”
