Mars Time: 15:15, February 18, 2295

  Maintenance corridor intersection, Section 4-Chetsun, Red Rabbit Warren

  "Yes." The word came out before Xin had fully processed it. "I mean, probably. What type of lock?"

  "Good old digital pad. Symbols and numbers. Keeps resetting."

  Pattern-based cipher lock. Standard issue for municipal supply caches. "Okay. Please show me."

  The supply box sat mounted on the restroom wall, 'SELF-SERVICE REPAIR KIT' stenciled in faded yellow above the amber-glowing pad.

  Xin stood in front of it, H?kon perching on his shoulder to peer at the display. The little Diabolisk's copper-blue scales reflecting the pad's amber glow.

  "Pappa fix?" H?kon asked.

  "Going to try, buddy."

  The pad displayed a grid of symbols: numbers, letters, some kind of sequence pattern. Twelve characters arranged in a three-by-four matrix. Xin studied it, mind already sorting through algorithmic possibilities. He looked to the side briefly.

  Sigrun leaned against the opposite wall, arms crossed, her sapphire eyes staring at a wall blankly. Tired. The torn shoulder of her coat hung awkwardly, exposing more of the navy turtleneck beneath. And more skin where the turtleneck had torn.

  Focus.

  Xin tapped a number experimentally. The screen blinked red, emitted a soft negative tone, then reset with different symbols.

  "That's where I was at." Sigrun muttered.

  "Diagnostic." He leaned closer, nose nearly touching the screen. "The pad changes the display on failed attempts. There's an algorithm governing symbol rotation."

  "That box bright-bright!" H?kon observed, pressing tiny claws to Xin's temple for balance as he leaned forward too. "Like Pappa's com-pew-turr!"

  "Yeah, exactly like that." Xin pulled up his Nucleus Watch display, scrolling through the notes he'd kept for hacking sessions. "Water Treatment facilities operate on strict maintenance schedules. Five equalization cycles per day at predetermined intervals. Maintenance crews would need regular access to these supply caches, which means..."

  "Which means what?" Sigrun asked.

  "Which means the lock code probably correlates to their work schedule." His fingers moved across the pad, hovering. He adjusted his glasses, tilting his head. "Maintenance crews usually press the same keys repeatedly, day after day. Creates micro-abrasions on the touch surface that…there!"

  Faint discoloration on four specific keys: 1, 3, 5, and 0. The kind of wear you'd only notice if you knew to look for it.

  "Pappa smart!" H?kon chirped proudly.

  Xin pulled up his watch display, cross-referencing the maintenance schedule data.

  A time code made sense, but in what format? Military time without the colon? That would be 1530. Or maybe the system expected just the minutes?

  He tried 1-5-3-0.

  The screen blinked red. Reset with new symbols.

  "Dritt," Sigrun said.

  "No, no, that's fine. Eliminates one possibility." Xin scratched his chin, thinking.

  "Box say no-no to Pappa?" H?kon asked, concerned.

  "Box is just being difficult, buddy."

  He tried 1-1-4-5. The previous cycle's time.

  Red blink. Negative tone. Reset.

  Sigrun shifted against the wall, frowning. "How many attempts do these things give you before they lock out?"

  "Uh..." Xin hadn't actually considered that. "Usually three to five? But municipal models might be more forgiving."

  "'Might be' isn't good enough."

  "Hey, hacking isn't always a clean process. It's iterative." His voice pitched up defensively. He took a breath, steadied himself. "Let me think. The wear pattern shows these four numbers get used most frequently. But there are other keys with minor wear…see that 7? And the 9?"

  "So?"

  "So maybe the code rotates between different equalization windows. Today it might be fifteen thirty, but yesterday it was nineteen hundred, and tomorrow..." He pulled up a calendar on his watch. "If the system cycles codes based on day of the month or week..."

  "Pappa use brain-brain!" H?kon announced. "Sky Lady see?"

  "Yeah. I do." Sigrun said, but there was less edge in her voice now. More curiosity.

  Xin tried several more combinations: variations on the time codes, different cycle windows, attempting to account for day-based rotation algorithms. Each attempt brought a red flash and reset.

  He checked his watch: 15:22 now. His eyes widened behind his glasses. "Oh. Oh, that's elegant. The municipal engineers built in a solve-path for smart maintenance crews who might forget the current code."

  "You're losing me," Sigrun said.

  "Pappa found answer!" H?kon declared confidently.

  "Not yet, buddy. But close." Xin stared at the pad, then at his watch, then back at the pad.

  He input another code: 0-7-3-0. The earliest cycle time.

  Red flash.

  "But that tells me something!" He updated his calculations. "The rotation pattern just shifted again, which means—yes, okay, I see it now. The code isn't based on what time it currently is. It's based on what time the next cycle begins. But it's asking for the time in a specific format."

  He tried 3-0—just the minutes, no hours.

  Red flash.

  "Dritt! I thought you were good at this." Sigrun muttered again.

  "No, no, that's good too! Each failure teaches me more about the system's expectations." His fingers were already moving, trying another variation: 15-30 but inputting it as separate tens and ones digits somehow? No, that didn't work either.

  H?kon's tail wrapped around Xin's neck, the little Diabolisk chittering nervously. "Box make Pappa sad?"

  "Little bit, buddy." Xin sat back on his heels, staring at the pad. Four worn keys: 1, 5, 3, 0. The system had rejected every obvious input method. Which meant...

  "Wait." He looked at his watch again, but this time at a different display—the one showing atmospheric pressure readings. Water Treatment facilities monitored pressure constantly. The equalization cycles existed to prevent dangerous pressure buildups in the underground system.

  "It's not asking for the time," he said slowly. "It's asking for the pressure reading at the time of equalization."

  "You just said it was time-based, or whatever." Sigrun pointed out.

  "It is! But not the clock time. The pressure reading, which correlates to specific times..." He pulled up the facility data again, drilling down into the atmospheric monitoring logs. "I need to input it in the correct sequence relative to where the symbols have rotated to after all my failed attempts."

  He counted. Failed attempts meant clockwise rotations. Which meant the symbols that now occupied the positions where 1, 5, 3, and 0 had been on his first attempt were...

  His finger moved across the pad, pressing symbols that looked wrong but were right.

  The pad's amber glow shifted to green. A soft mechanical click echoed in the small restroom space.

  [SSRK Access Granted]

  "HAW-koon knew Pappa could do!" The little Diabolisk bounced on his shoulder excitedly.

  "Fifteen thirty." Xin pulled the box open, revealing neatly organized contents inside. "I was right about the time correlation, though wrong about how to input it."

  Sigrun pushed off the wall, moving closer. Close enough that he caught her scent—lavender mixed with sweat and tunnel grime. "Lucky guess?"

  "Not luck. Pattern recognition plus iterative problem-solving plus atmospheric data correlation." He couldn't help the slight pride in his voice. "Though I'll admit the solution was more elegant than I expected from municipal engineering…"

  "Hey. I'm just glad you helped." Sigrun held up a hand, a smile on her ivory face. "Thanks."

  He stared into those twin oceans that were her eyes and managed. "I'm glad."

  Xin then started pulling items from the box, cataloging contents. "Industrial fabric patches—six of them, good quality. Two tubes of thermal sealant, should be fresh based on the packaging date. Stitch-gun, emergency blanket..." His hand closed around something unexpected in the hidden compartment at the bottom. "Cigarettes and a flask. Someone's personal stash?"

  "You want them?" Sigrun said.

  "I don't smoke. Do you?"

  "Not anymore. And that flask..." She leaned closer, squinting at it. "Jovian whiskey. Someone's left it here, could be a janitor that used to work this section, but escaped before the Warren became Radi-Mon park."

  "Oh, well." Xin shrugged as he continued cataloging: "Basic medical supplies, burn gel, water—these will be useful—and..." He pulled out two rectangular packages. "Self-heating instant noodles. Dragon District Municipal brand."

  "Pappa find yummies!" H?kon declared.

  Sigrun reached past him for the patches and sealant. Her arm brushed his shoulder and he froze mid-motion, a fabric patch halfway between box and floor.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  She pulled back immediately, packages in hand. "I can fix this myself. Just…hand me the kit."

  But he'd already seen how extensive the damage was. She'd need to contort her arm behind her back, apply sealant while looking in a mirror, all while making sure the patches aligned correctly.

  "I can do it." he heard himself saying. "But I'll need to... touch your shoulder area."

  Her hand went to her axe handle. Instinct.

  Then relaxed. "You'll make it quick?"

  "I will." He replied instantly.

  "Pappa fix! Make Sky Lady pretty-strong!" H?kon chirped encouragingly, bouncing excitedly on Xin's shoulder before leaping onto the sink nearby.

  Xin's hands shook slightly as he applied thermal sealant to the torn section of her turtleneck.

  Sigrun sat on a closed toilet lid, trench coat removed and draped across her lap. Her torn turtleneck exposed snowy skin beneath. The damage ran from collarbone to shoulder blade in three distinct tears, and he had to force his eyes to focus on the fabric edges, not the curve of her shoulder or the way her collarbone was angled just right or—

  Stop. Focus. This is repair work. Just fabric. Fabric that happened to be on this woman-from-another-world Sigrun Fjeld's body, but still. Just fabric.

  He pressed the sealant tube carefully, the compound hissing as it activated. His fingers brushed her skin through the tear and she tensed.

  "Uh. Sorry."

  "Just work."

  H?kon watched from his new position on the sink counter, head tilted with innocent curiosity. "Pappa ner-vvvous. Why Pappa nervous?"

  Xin's glasses fogged slightly. The restroom felt smaller. Warmer.

  He moved to apply a fabric patch, fingers working with the same precision he used for circuit boards. Steady hands.

  "You're good at this. I can tell." she said quietly.

  The unexpected compliment derailed his anxiety spiral. "Thanks. I mod a lot of equipment." His voice came out steadier than he felt. "Fixed H?kon's temperature regulator vest last week. Rebuilt my Quantum Laptop's cooling system twice. This is just... bigger fabric. With more..." He gestured vaguely at her shoulder, choosing his words carefully. "...structural importance."

  "Yeah, right." She replied.

  The patch adhered with a soft hiss, thermal bonding activated by body heat, generating the same fabric to match her deep navy turtleneck's. He smoothed the edges, making sure the seal would hold.

  "Pappa very care-ffful!" H?kon observed from the sink. "Like when Pappa fix H?kon's nest."

  "Thanks, buddy."

  Sigrun made a sound that might have been a laugh or a scoff. Hard to tell.

  Xin applied the second patch, this one near her shoulder blade. She had to lean forward slightly, and the motion brought her closer. Close enough that he could count the individual strands of blonde hair that had escaped her half-up ponytail. Close enough to see a small scar just below her ear, partially hidden by hair.

  Close enough that Sigrun's lavender perfume enveloped the space. Mixed with the sharp tang of sweat and something else he couldn't identify. Aether residue, maybe. Or just her. It was the kind of smell he'd remember for the rest of his life.

  His glasses fogged again.

  "Hey. Are you okay?" Sigrun asked.

  "Yes! Fine. Just…pretty warm in here, huh? Small space. Poor ventilation." He adjusted his glasses with his shoulder since both hands were occupied with applying sealant. "The thermal compound generates mild exothermic reactions during bonding. Raises ambient temperature by approximately two-point-three degrees Celsius in enclosed spaces."

  "You calculate that a lot?"

  "I calculate most things. Helps with—" He caught himself before saying 'helps with anxiety.' "—helps with precision."

  The last patch went near her collarbone. The most visible tear, and the one that would be hardest to hide if not sealed properly. He aligned the fabric edges before activating the thermal bond.

  His knuckle brushed against her skin. She didn't tense this time.

  "When I move to repair the coat, you'll need to hold it open," he said, then realized how that sounded. "The coat, I mean. Hold the coat open. So I can p-p-patch the lining. Which is inside the coat. Obviously."

  "Obviously," Sigrun echoed. Was that amusement in her voice?

  She lifted the beige trench coat, holding it open. The motion accentuated more of her fitted turtleneck, the fabric hugging her voluptuous yet strong frame in ways that made his mouth go dry.

  Professional. Stay professional. He willed himself.

  He applied sealant to the coat's torn lining, working quickly.

  The coat's outer shell had three tears, all cleanly cut—probably from whatever Radi-Mon or human weapons had attacked her. The lining beneath had shredded worse, thermal protective layers compromised. He sealed each section methodically, hands moving quickly even as his brain threatened to short-circuit at her proximity.

  "Done. I th-th-think your pants also need—"

  "I'll do that myself." Her voice cut sharp. Final. "Just hand me the kit."

  Right. Of course. The tear near her thigh. He should have realized she wouldn't want him anywhere near that area.

  "Yyyyep!" He stood quickly, nearly stumbling, and handed her the remaining patches and sealant. "Here. Should be enough for—" He gestured vaguely at her legs without actually looking.

  "I've got it."

  He turned away, busying himself with organizing the remaining supplies from the box. Medical kit components, bottles of purified water, emergency blanket.

  "Why Sky Lady fix ah-lone? Pappa help eve-ry-one!" H?kon asked loudly.

  Both adults flushed.

  "Well, buddy, sometimes people need privacy for…certain types of repairs," Xin explained, keeping his eyes firmly on the supply inventory.

  "But why? Pappa help HAW-koon with eve-ry-thing! Even when HAW-koon make stinky!"

  "That's different. You're little. And you're my..." He hesitated. "…my responsibility. Adults have boundaries."

  "Boun-dah-rees?" H?kon tested the word carefully. "Yummy? Magic?"

  "New concept. I can explain later."

  Behind him, Sigrun made a sound that was definitely a laugh this time. "That's going to be funny."

  "Yeah. H?kon is curious," Xin admitted, still not turning around. "About everything. Last week I had to explain why humans wear clothes but Radi-Mons don't. Which led to a discussion about social conventions versus biological necessity. Which somehow ended with questions about my laptop's cooling fans."

  "How did clothing lead to cooling fans?"

  "I have no idea. His brain makes connections I don't always follow. But he's smart. Really smart. The scan someone did showed his intelligence metrics are way above normal for a three-year-old Diabolisk."

  "Someone scanned him?"

  "At the Slumbering Mantis Inn. The scanner said..." He trailed off, remembering that conversation with Fuuka. Stunted growth but high intelligence. Genetic anomaly. "She said he's special."

  "Special how?"

  "Smart-smart!" H?kon confirmed proudly. "HAW-koon know lots-lots!"

  "You do, buddy." Xin finally risked a glance back. Sigrun had finished the repairs of her pants and was standing, testing the fabric. The generated patches held well, barely visible against the dark material of her pants.

  She caught him looking and raised a golden eyebrow.

  He immediately looked away again. "Soooo, the thermal sealant should cure fully in about ten minutes. Try not to stress the repairs too much before then."

  "Xin, I'm a certified Psi Lynx. I know how thermal sealant works."

  "Of course, you do. You've probably done field repairs hundreds of times." He stopped mid-sentence.

  "Thank you," Sigrun said simply.

  Xin nodded. He turned his attention back to the supply box, pulling out the remaining items. The two packets of instant noodles rattled at the bottom, along with disposable chopsticks still wrapped in paper and a trio of collapsible plastic containers. Behind those, a generous supply of sealed water bottles.

  "So, we could have a late lunch, if you're feeling hungry," he said, holding up the noodle packets.

  Sigrun glanced at them, something unreadable crossing her face. "Haven't had those in years."

  "Not very healthy, but they're calories." Xin tore open the first packet, the cellophane crinkling. The self-heating mechanism sat at the bottom, a reaction pad. "Just need to use the water supply from the kit."

  He grabbed two of the sealed bottles, breaking the safety seals with a twist.

  "H?kon help!" The little Diabolisk scrambled down to Xin's side, sitting on the floor.

  "Okay, buddy. You can hold the chopsticks." Xin handed over the wrapped pair, which H?kon clutched like treasure.

  Xin opened both packets, poured in measured amounts of water from the bottles, then folded the activation tabs. A soft hiss filled the corridor as the pads began generating heat. Steam rose, carrying the oddly comforting smell of pork stew flavoring.

  Sigrun watched the process, arms crossed but posture less rigid than before. "How long does it take?"

  "Three minutes." Xin checked his Nucleus Watch, then glanced at her. "You want to sit?"

  She hesitated, eyes flicking to the tunnel darkness behind them. Then she moved to the opposite wall, sliding down into a seated position with her back against the concrete. Her hand never left Járn's grip.

  Xin sat across from her, H?kon settling into his lap. The little Diabolisk was still clutching the chopsticks, looking at them with fascination.

  "Pappa, why stick-sticks two-two?" He asked, holding them up. "Why not one? Like sssword."

  "Because you need two to grab things, buddy. Like claws, but for humans."

  "Ohhh." H?kon nodded sagely. "Stick-sticks?"

  "Chop-sticks." Xin correctly gently.

  The timer on his watch chimed. He reached for the noodle packets, peeling back the lids. Steam billowed out, and even Sigrun's expression softened slightly at the smell. Cheap food, but warm and safe.

  He divided the contents using the plastic containers. Most of the noodles went into two containers—one for him, one for Sigrun. A smaller portion went into a third container for H?kon, though Xin made sure to cool it first, blowing across the surface.

  "Chop-sssticks!" H?kon announced proudly, presenting the wrapped pair to his father.

  "Good job, buddy." Xin unwrapped them, snapping them apart then handed one set to Sigrun along with her container.

  She took them, fingers pausing briefly as if remembering something. Then she tested them, the wood clicking together.

  They sat on opposite sides, backs against walls as they ate.

  The little Diabolisk made happy eating sounds, slurping noodles that were just big enough for his tiny mandibles.

  Sigrun did not have cheap instant noodles often. Xin could tell from the way she paused after the first bite, something flickering across her expression.

  They ate in relative quiet, the slurping sounds oddly domestic in the dangerous tunnels.

  "Thank you," she said. "For the repair work."

  "No problem." He adjusted his glasses. "Least I could do after, you know. Following you."

  A ghost of a smile. "You followed the bio-signature. Not me."

  "Right. The bio-signature."

  H?kon burped. A tiny, adorable sound that broke the moment completely.

  Sigrun actually laughed. Short but genuine.

  Xin felt something shift in his chest.

  "So, my estimate," He said carefully, "two people have three hundred percent better survival odds than one."

  Sigrun scoffed. "You're Level 6. I'm Level 11."

  "But I know the maintenance routes. And the equalization windows."

  "Pappa smart-smart! Sky Lady strong-strong! Together best-best!" H?kon interjected, tail swishing enthusiastically.

  Sigrun's jaw tightened. But something in her eyes shifted when H?kon spoke.

  "So, I need the money for H?kon's medical needs," Xin continued. "Better food. Proper growth supplements. Maybe a real apartment instead of Silver Orchid Quarters." He met her gaze directly. "Fifty thousand Atomic Dollars changes everything for us. What about you?"

  "Fifty thousand would help me get closer to the way home." Her voice came out quieter than before. "I left someone there. A long time ago."

  "Someone. Where's this home of yours?" He probed.

  A distant explosion shook the tunnel. Somewhere deep in the Warren, another signature going dark.

  Xin checked his watch. "That's the seventh bio-signature gone dark since I entered. The Warren is eliminating hunters systematically, whoever's behind it."

  He hesitated, then continued. "I also scheduled information about the equalization windows to broadcast at fourteen thirty. Warned everyone about the safe routes."

  "You what?"

  "But that was forty-five minutes ago. Every hunter knows the safe routes now. Competition just got worse."

  Sigrun stared at him. Her expression cycled through several emotions too quickly for him to track—anger, confusion, something that might have been respect.

  "You gave up your advantage," she said slowly. "To warn people? For what? It'd hurt your odds."

  "People were dying." He adjusted his glasses, uncomfortable under her scrutiny. "Seemed wrong not to share."

  She was quiet for a long moment. After they'd finished their meal, she spoke again, her voice with a strange warmth now. "Fifty-fifty split."

  "Excuse me?"

  "If we team up. Fifty-fifty split of the bounty."

  "I—" His brain struggled to process. "Really?"

  "Actually. Sixty-forty," she corrected, raising a finger. "I'm doing most of the fighting."

  "Hmm." Xin wasn't sure whether to push or to settle for it. He disliked arguing with people, let alone someone so different.

  H?kon chose that moment to crawl from Xin's left shoulder to Sigrun's right, tiny claws gripping fabric carefully. He nuzzled against her neck, a contented trill escaping.

  "Sky Lady family!"

  Something in Sigrun's expression cracked. Just for a second. Long enough for Xin to see past the armor to someone younger, more vulnerable, underneath.

  "Okay, fine. Fifty-fifty." She reached up, hand hovering near H?kon as if unsure whether to push him away or let him stay. "But if you slow me down, I go my own way. Makes sense?"

  "Makes sense."

  They shook hands. Her grip was gentle despite being bigger, taller, stronger than him.

  "Should hide your Diabolisk, though." Sigrun's other hand was gentle as she lifted H?kon from her shoulder. "What if he gets injured, or gets us killed?"

  "H?kon has enhanced senses. He'll smell danger before we see it."

  "HAW-koon protect family!" The little Diabolisk puffed his tiny chest proudly as Sigrun transferred him back to Xin.

  "Hey, we're not family. This is business."

  H?kon tilted his head, innocent and curious. "What's bee-zy-ness? Yummy?"

  Sigrun's hand lingered for just a moment as she passed H?kon over. When she spoke, her voice had lost some of its edge. "Business…well…how'd you even explain?"

  Xin took H?kon gently and let the Diabolisk stand on his left shoulder. "It's a kind of magic. Unlocks new adventures."

  H?kon's eyes lit up. "HAW-koon like ad-ven-chuuure!"

  Sigrun chuckled despite herself. "Nice one, Xin."

  He awkwardly scratched his head. "Glad you found that funny."

  She stood, checking her weapons. Járn on her belt, Skuld at the small of her back, the new signal scrambler integrated into her watch system. Ready.

  Xin stood as well, adjusting his puffer jacket and making sure Jade—his 10mm Magnum with AI-targeting—was secure.

  "Ready?" Sigrun asked.

  "Ready."

  "Ad-ven-chuuure!" H?kon chirped.

  They advanced into the deeper tunnels together. Behind them, the restroom lights flickered and died. But ahead, somewhere, fifty thousand Atomic Dollars waited.

  If they could survive what was to come.