Mars Time: 11:32, February 18, 2295

  Room 886, 11th Floor, Silver Orchid Quarters (銀蘭舍), Dragon District, Xing Hong

  Xin woke to silence. The kind that made his chest tight before he was fully conscious.

  He sat up on the fold-out bed, eyes finding H?kon's heated cushion immediately.

  The little Diabolisk was still asleep, curled into himself. His scales had dulled further overnight. Not the vibrant sapphire blue from a week ago, not even the tired gray-blue from yesterday. This was something closer to ash with hints of color underneath, like a painting left too long in the sun.

  Xin stood, feeling the floor's chill through his socks. He moved to the cushion and knelt, reaching out slowly. His palm cupped H?kon's small body—barely larger than his hand—and his thumb stroked the tiny head ridge gently.

  The scales felt rough. Dry.

  "We're going to make things better, buddy," Xin whispered, holding back the wetness building in his eyes. "I promise."

  H?kon stirred, those bubble-like blue eyes blinking open. "Pappa?"

  "Morning. How'd you sleep?" Xin said, forcing calmness back into his tone.

  "Good sleep. Warm sleep." H?kon stretched, small tail lifting. His movements were slower than usual. "HAW-koon hungry."

  "Let's get you breakfast."

  The apartment's kitchenette consisted of a hot plate, a sink, and two shelves. Xin pulled out eggs from the mini-fridge: a half-dozen carton, $3 AD from the corner grocer. Not the cheapest calories, but protein was protein, and he needed his brain working today. Next came a small bag of frozen mixed vegetables, the kind that came in bulk: $5 AD for a kilo that would last the week.

  The supplement powder canister came last. $8 AD per packet. H?kon's scales needed it: young Diabolisks couldn't synthesize certain minerals on their own, especially calcium and trace elements, according to what Doctor Nikki had told him.

  Forty-two packets left. The math was always there, running in the background like bad code he'd written back on previous jobs but couldn't debug.

  He set a dented pot of water on the hot plate for the vegetables while cracking three eggs into a bowl. Two for him, one for H?kon. The little guy needed the protein even more than the supplements alone could provide.

  "HAW-koon hungry!" H?kon waddled over to the desk, clambering up using the chair as a step.

  "Almost ready, buddy. Pappa's making the good stuff today."

  While the vegetables boiled, Xin mixed the supplement powder with lukewarm water in H?kon's bowl—the gray-brown paste looked unappetizing, but it dissolved cleanly. He'd learned the hard way that Diabolisks needed this mixed with real food, not instead of it. The paste alone didn't digest properly, just passed through without absorbing.

  Everyday for them, the breakfast had been the same: eggs, vegetables, alternatives between breads, instant noodles or supplements. But it was what kept life going.

  The eggs went into a second pan with a small pat of margarine. Xin scrambled them quickly. When the vegetables finished—broccoli, carrots, snap peas—he drained them and split the portion. Some went on his plate with the eggs. A smaller portion went into H?kon's bowl, chopped fine and mixed with the supplement paste and three spoonfuls of scrambled egg.

  The water ration dispenser hummed as he filled his ancient coffee press—the one luxury he'd kept from better days. Instant coffee was cheaper, sure, but this was his ritual. The French press had been a gift from his late father, and the grounds were $6 AD per bag at the discount market. One bag lasted two weeks if he was careful.

  He poured the hot water over the grounds, watching them bloom. The smell alone helped wake him up.

  "Eat slow, okay?" Xin set H?kon's bowl down on the desk.

  "Okay, Pappa!"

  H?kon dove in, and for a moment his scales brightened from the nutrients hitting his system: not just from the supplements, but from the real food carrying them into his bloodstream.

  Xin pressed the plunger on the coffee and poured himself a cup. Black, no sugar, no cream. Both cost extra. He took his plate to the desk and ate standing up, eyes already moving to his Quantum Laptop.

  The eggs tasted like eggs. The vegetables tasted like vegetables. Nothing special, but everything his body needed to function. This was survival with dignity: cheap staples, cooked competently, eaten efficiently. His father had taught him: 'You could be poor without being stupid about it'.

  The color shift of H?kon's scales lasted about thirty seconds before dulling again to that ash-gray. But H?kon didn't seem to notice, too busy munching with single-minded focus, his small snout getting covered in egg bits and vegetable pieces.

  Xin turned away before his expression could betray anything. He refilled his coffee cup from the press, the dark liquid still hot enough to steam. The French press sat on the hot plate's edge, keeping warm.

  He took another sip. It was black and bitter, the way it needed to be. He then pulled up his Quantum Laptop, the screen casting blue light across the cramped space

  Atomic News Network loaded first. The holographic anchor materialized above the keyboard, her face composed.

  "—following yesterday's incident in the Red Rabbit Warren beneath Dragon District. Authorities have confirmed nine additional casualties overnight, bringing the total to sixteen bounty hunters dead or missing since the High-Grade Zephyrium cache was posted. The fifty-thousand Atomic Dollar bounty remains unclaimed. Prefect Dilinur Altai has declined to comment, stating only that 'capable individuals accept the risks inherent in bounty work.' We go now to—"

  Xin muted it, fingers already moving. He opened a second window, Dragon District Public Safety, and played their morning briefing.

  "Entrance 3 was just sealed due to 'structural damage'. All bounty hunters are advised to use Entrances 1, 2, or 5. Dragon District maintenance crews continue assessment of—"

  Third window. Bounty Board Network's live feed. Someone was streaming from outside Entrance 3.

  "—telling you, something's not right. I just saw another crew heading in there. If it's sealed, how are they getting through? And why would maintenance be working the graveyard shift unless—"

  Xin switched to a fourth feed. A gossip channel, low production value but high on ground-level information.

  "Sources say Prefect Altai's been routing hunters to specific entrances at specific times. Could be they're using us to map the Warren without risking official personnel. My cousin works sanitation, says the tunnels down there shift. Like, actually move. Every few hours, everything changes—"

  Xin stopped the video.

  H?kon looked up from his bowl, supplement paste smeared on his snout. "Pappa find treasure map?"

  "Yeah! Maybe…" Xin grabbed a cloth and wiped H?kon's face. "Did you get any in your mouth, or just on your face?"

  "Both!"

  "Good." Xin scratched behind H?kon's head ridge. The Diabolisk leaned into the touch, scales flickering a slightly warmer gray-blue. "Pappa needs to work for a bit. You can watch videos if you want."

  "Yay! HAW-koon watch jumping game!"

  Xin pulled up a kid-friendly Extranet channel on a corner of the screen: some kind of platformer where cartoon creatures bounced through levels. H?kon settled in immediately, his tail doing a little metronome swing.

  Xin gathered the dishes: two plates, H?kon's bowl, his coffee cup, and brought them to the sink. The water was cold, but soap was soap. He scrubbed fast, rinsed, and set everything on the drying rack. One minute, maybe less. The kind of task his hands did while his mind was already elsewhere, mapping out the day's plan. He dried his hands on his pants and sat back down at the desk.

  Then he got to work.

  He started with Dragon District's public transit schedules, looking for patterns near the Warren. The system should've been straightforward: busses and autocabs running predictable routes. But when he pulled the data, something felt off. Gaps in the schedule, perhaps?

  He tried accessing the transit authority's maintenance logs.

  [ACCESS DENIED]

  [ADMINISTRATIVE CREDENTIALS REQUIRED]

  Xin's fingers paused. He looked at H?kon, who was completely absorbed in the jumping game, small tail waggling, chirping tiny chuckles. Then he looked at the Nucleus Watch on his wrist, its emerald face reflecting his own image.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  His system breaching skills came from his Rigger days—security audit contracts through ZenFusion, helping transit authorities identify breach attempts. The platform had rated those jobs "high complexity" and taken its 28% cut all the same.

  And he knew well that Dragon District's traffic management had a hole.

  He found it three minutes later: an unsecured backdoor someone had probably installed for convenience and forgot to lock down. Nothing malicious, just sloppy network architecture. The kind of patch job Riggers did on 11-hour shifts when the contract paid flat rate and quality meant nothing to the algorithm.

  He was in.

  The internal memos loaded like evidence at a trial.

  {{

  From: Prefect D. Altai

  To: District Operations

  Re: Warren Incident Management

  [Continue routing registered bounty hunters to Entrances 1, 2, and 5 between 07:00-17:00. Entrance 3 flows to be managed separately. Maintain public narrative of structural damage. Actual purpose: civilian mapping of Warren interior during active shifts. Acceptable casualties within projected parameters.]

  }}

  Xin read it twice before muttering. "Using bounty hunters as disposable scouts?"

  Sending them in while the Warren's structure was actively changing, watching who survived, learning the layout without risking official personnel?

  His hands had stopped moving. On the screen next to the memo, H?kon's cartoon creatures kept jumping, cheerful music playing at low volume.

  "Pappa okay?" H?kon had turned from the video, head tilted.

  "Yeah, buddy. Just found something interesting. Treasure map and such."

  "Good interesting?"

  "Maybe." Xin forced a smile. "Like your show?"

  "Good good show. HAW-koon like." The baby Diabolisk's scales turned to a content sand yellow—it'd had been a warm gold were it not for his worsening scale problem.

  "Great. I'm almost done." Xin nodded, keeping his smile on.

  He pulled the Warren's maintenance schedule next. Water recycling systems, air filtration, power conduits—all the infrastructure that connected to the old transport tunnels. Water Treatment Facility #7 showed the clearest access point, its pressure equalization tied directly to the Warren's eastern cargo depot. And there it was:

  [Pressure equalization protocols running at 06:00, 10:00, 14:00, 18:00 and 22:00]

  Five times per day. Four hours apart.

  The gossip channel had been right. The Warren's structure shifted continuously between equalization cycles, but during the pressure equalization, the fifteen minutes when the system stabilized. The old paths aligned and held steady.

  Xin cross-referenced casualty reports with time stamps.

  Every hunter who'd made it in had entered within fifteen minutes of a transition window. Some had known, most hadn't. But the survivors shared that pattern.

  His mind assembled the pieces. The Zephyrium cache was probably in a stable zone that only connected to accessible areas during transitions. Everyone was fighting through active shifts, trying to survive in tunnels that rearranged while they were inside.

  But if one entered during a transition, used maintenance shafts instead of main corridors, avoided the combat zones entirely...

  Xin pulled up a map of the Warren from five years ago, before it became Radi-Mon territory. He overlaid it with current maintenance access points. Then he added the pressure equalization schedule.

  A route emerged. Not the fastest, not the most direct. But one that threaded through maintenance passages—starting at Water Treatment Facility #7's back entrance, using service elevators instead of main shafts, and keeping to the stable zones where the old cargo depot maps still held true.

  A route for someone who couldn't win a fight but could read a schematic.

  "Pappa sssmart, treasure map!" H?kon had climbed onto his shoulder, peering at the screen. "Find sssecret way?"

  "Maybe." Xin reached up, letting H?kon climb into his palm. He brought the little Diabolisk down to eye level. "We're going on our adventure today. Remember?"

  H?kon's scales flickered uncertain brown. "Dangerous ad-ven-chuuuure?"

  "A little. But Pappa has a plan. We're going to be smart about it." He scratched under H?kon's chin. "And when we come back, you're getting the best foods and supplements money can buy. The ones that make your scales shiny again."

  "Shiny?"

  "Shiny. Very shiny."

  "Prah-missse?"

  "Promise."

  H?kon's scales warmed to a hopeful blue-gray. "HAW-koon help, Pappa brave!"

  "I know you will, buddy."

  Xin set H?kon on the desk and turned back to the laptop. The route was good. But every other desperate hunter with half a brain might figure this out eventually.

  His cursor hovered over the data he'd compiled.

  He could broadcast it. Post it to the Bounty Board Network right now. Every hunter in Xing Hong would see it within minutes. Lives would be saved. People with families, with 'their own H?kons' waiting at home, would have a better chance.

  But then he'd be competing against dozens of people for the same prize. And H?kon needed that prize more than his scales were showing.

  Xin looked at the drawing on the wall—those wobbly green crayon circles, the stick figure with glasses, the spiky blob that was supposed to be H?kon.

  His fingers moved.

  He wrote a program. Simple, elegant. It would compile all his findings, format them clearly, and broadcast them to every Bounty Board terminal in Dragon District. Just not immediately.

  [SCHEDULED BROADCAST: 14:30]

  A little less than three hours. Enough time for him to get in, get the Zephyrium, and get out. After that, anyone still alive in the Warren would have the information they needed.

  He uploaded the program to the Bounty Board Network's public submission queue, masked behind a generic user ID. No one would trace it back to him.

  "There," he said quietly. "Help later. Survive now."

  H?kon had gone back to watching his show, oblivious to the moral calculus his Pappa had just done.

  Xin checked his equipment. Jade—his 10mm magnum—sat in its holster, the Castor & Pollux A.I. targeting system pulsing with faint green light. Two Indra-Sprites in his utility belt, their liquid catching the room's dim illumination. One Medi-Vap in the quick-release holster.

  He pulled up his Nucleus Watch's programming interface. Ten minutes of work, and he'd modified the identification broadcast to match Water Treatment Facility #7 personnel. Any maintenance scanner would read him as a technician checking pressure valves, not a bounty hunter.

  Then he downloaded the Warren's pre-shift structural data from 2290, back when it was still part of the city's functioning transport network. Old maps, but maps that showed the bones of the place. Where things should be, even if they'd moved.

  "H?kon." Xin turned from the laptop. "Time to practice your quiet mode."

  The Diabolisk perked up immediately. "Quiet mode. Sssnea-ky mode?"

  "Yep, that's right. Can you show me?"

  "HAW-koon hiiide." H?kon chirped then concentrated, his scales shifting to a flat gray that blended with the apartment's concrete walls. Not invisible, but close. Camouflage refined through three years of time with Xin.

  "Perfect. Good job, buddy!"

  "HAW-koon good sneaky?"

  "The best." Xin stood, bones protesting. The heater had kept the apartment warm overnight, but he still felt yesterday's ten-floor stair climb in his knees. "Let's get ready."

  He pulled on his cargo pants—the ones from his father, six years old and still solid. His thermal undershirt next, then the green ZenFusion hoodie. The ballistic puffer jacket went over everything, its reinforced chest pocket perfect for carrying H?kon.

  Socks. Shoes. Utility belt. 10mm in the jacket pocket, safeties engaged.

  Shifting back to pale blue, H?kon watched from the desk, head tilted. "Pappa look ready."

  "Almost." Xin reached for his Nucleus Watch, but stopped. His eyes went to the drawing on the wall one more time.

  Those scribbles meant something. Not to anyone else, maybe. But to him and H?kon, they meant everything.

  "Come here."

  H?kon made a short hop that ended in Xin's waiting hands. Xin lifted him gently, looking into those bubble-like eyes.

  "No matter what happens today, you stay safe. If something happens, I say run, you run. If I say hide, you hide. Okay?"

  "But HAW-koon help—"

  "Hey, you help by staying alive. It's important." Xin's voice was firm, but gentle. "I need you safe, buddy. Can you do that for me?"

  H?kon's scales flickered uncertain brown before settling to determined blue. "HAW-koon be safe for Pappa!"

  "Good. Good." Xin slipped H?kon into the chest pocket, making sure the little Diabolisk was comfortable. Just his head poked out, blue eyes bright.

  The Nucleus Watch vibrated as he fastened it onto his left wrist, the device logging his equipments:

  [+Equipped: Nucleus Watch, ZenFusion Data Solutions Engineer's Model, Void-attuned, Level 6 user profile; Monitoring resumed]

  [+Equipped: Ballistic Puffer Jacket, AsahiTech civilian variant, Osaka II variant]

  [+Equipped: Field Tech Hoodie, ZenFusion Interplanetary variant]

  [+Equipped: Ballistic Jogging Shoes, The Boreum Face variant]

  [+Equipped: Utility Belt, generic civilian model, Manufacturer: N/A]

  [+Equipped: Tactical Cargo Pants, Revolution Anniversary Edition, Manufacturer: Taiwanese Rebellion Surplus]

  [+Equipped: Jade, 10mm Magnum, Castor & Pollux A.I. targeting variant]

  Then suddenly, new messages. Two of them.

  The first loaded:

  {{

  From: Board Moderator I.R., Ln. 37, Alfalfa St.

  Subject: (No Subject)

  User X, your recent access of restricted transit data has been logged. Security protocols flagged unauthorized entry to Dragon District infrastructure.

  }}

  Xin's stomach dropped. Shit. He'd been careful, but not careful enough. If Roach—no, if anyone—reported this to Prefect Dilinur Altai...

  The second message loaded immediately after:

  {{

  From: Board Moderator I.R., Ln. 37, Alfalfa St.

  Subject: (No Subject)

  And log deleted. Shift change soon. Good hunting.

  - IR

  }}

  Xin stared at the screen.

  Roach knew. He'd seen exactly what Xin had done, could absolutely report him for accessing restricted systems. Could have him arrested, maybe worse.

  But he wasn't going to.

  "Pappa?" H?kon's voice came from inside the pocket. "Is okay?"

  "Yeah." Xin exhaled slowly, something tight in his chest loosening. "Everything's okay."

  He grabbed his glasses and slid them on. The world sharpened.

  [+Equipped: Space Delver v8, Burrell & Kao variant, Manufacturer: Taiwan Optical Ltd.]

  His Quantum Laptop went into hibernation. The apartment lights dimmed to standby. The drawing on the wall rustled slightly.

  The noon lunch break was starting around the city. Workers would be flooding the streets, looking for food or doing their own thing. Great cover.

  Xin locked the apartment door behind him and headed for the elevator.

  A handwritten note was taped to the call button: 'Emmanuel came by. Fixed! -Maintenance'

  Small miracles. He pressed the button and the doors opened immediately.

  "Pappa?" H?kon whispered from the pocket as they descended.

  "Yeah, buddy?"

  "Sky Lady go ad-ven-chure, tew?"

  "Maybe." Xin watched the floor numbers tick down, the image of Sigrun Fjeld in his mind suddenly. "If we meet her, who knows what will happen."

  "Shiny magic?"

  "Shiny magic. Among other things." Xin's mind drifted. With her axe, Járn, what Sigrun did on quests like this would likely be anything but shiny.

  The elevator hummed. Xin's mind traced the route one more time, committing it to memory. Water Treatment Facility #7, maintenance entrance around back. His Watch would broadcast the worker ID when scanned—just another technician checking pressure valves during the 14:00 equalization window.

  Fifteen minutes of stable paths. That's all he needed.

  Service elevator down to sublevel 3. Maintenance corridor 7-B, which according to the old maps connected to the Warren's eastern cargo depot. The stable zone where the Zephyrium cache sat, waiting. Avoid the main tunnels where everyone else was fighting. Avoid the Radi-Mons in the collapsed sections. Just follow the pipes, trust the timing, and move fast.

  In and out before the paths shifted again. Before anyone else figured it out.

  The elevator doors opened to Silver Orchid's lobby. Morning workers flowed past—autocab drivers, recycling crews, maintenance staff. Xin joined them, another face in the crowd heading toward Dragon District's industrial zones.

  "Pappa?" H?kon's head peeked up from the pocket, scales shifting to cautious navy blue.

  "I'm here, buddy."

  "HAW-koon ready for ad-ven-chuuure!"

  Xin chuckled. "Me too, H?kon. Me, too."

  He adjusted his glasses and kept walking, Jade's weight solid in his jacket pocket. The drawing of wobbly green circles waited back home.

  Today, they'd do more than survive.

  They'd change life for the better.