Chapter 5

Three weeks had passed since Kiri’s diagnosis. The heart medication had worked better than either sibling had dared hope. Kiri could walk the tunnels without gasping for breath now, and her color had improved enough that strangers no longer stared with the mixture of pity and discomfort reserved for the obviously dying.

Their first return to the abandoned factory had been cautious, almost tentative. Raelin had insisted on going alone, but Kiri’s newfound stability gave her the leverage to argue. She would stay at the entrance, she promised, serving as lookout while he worked. The compromise felt strange after months of her being too weak to contribute meaningfully to their survival.

The factory had yielded two more power cores that day, hidden in robotic arms on the far side of the production floor. While they knew the cores should be plentiful here, extracting each one safely took time, and they were deep enough into the Steelroots that travelling back and forth took most of their day. Raelin worked methodically, his nano-torx driver’s gentle hum the only sound in the vast, dusty space while Kiri monitored the entrance corridors. They had mixed the precious core with scrap metal, broken circuit boards, and corroded wiring, creating the appearance of a typical salvage haul. One power core they delivered, while the other they saved at home.

Their second expedition took them through a different route entirely. Instead of the main tunnel they had used before, they had pored over the old maps from their father’s library and found a maintenance shaft that connected to the factory complex through what used to be a ventilation system. The passage was narrower and more treacherous, requiring them to crawl through sections where the ceiling had partially collapsed, but it eliminated the risk of running into other scavengers or worse.

“Left here,” Kiri whispered, consulting her hand-drawn copy of the map. Her headlamp cut through the darkness ahead, revealing another junction in the maze of service tunnels. “The vent should connect to the factory’s upper level.”

Raelin squeezed through the opening she indicated. He cursed as his tool belt caught momentarily on a jagged piece of metal. The space beyond was barely tall enough for him to crouch, but it opened into a catwalk that overlooked the factory floor from above. They had never seen the facility from this angle before, and the perspective revealed additional machinery they had missed on previous visits.

That trip netted them three cores and a handful of rare components that Kiri identified as navigation sensors, worth nearly as much as a core when put together. Their point total was increasing steadily, even after covering expenses, including a new pair of boots.

By their fourth expedition, they had established a pattern. Every five to seven days, they would venture into the Steelroots through a different route, spending no more than two hours in the factory before making their way back through yet another path. They had mapped seven distinct approaches to their treasure trove, each with its own challenges and advantages. They only ever delivered a single power core, and sometimes none, but even with spreading out their valuable loot deliveries, they were still rewarded significantly more points than the average scavenger.

Each route had its own risks: collapsed tunnels with shifting rubble, storm drains prone to sudden flooding, maintenance shafts so tight they had to crawl single-file.

On their fifth trip, they’d found something unsettling. Fresh bootprints in the dust, not theirs, leading toward the factory entrance before veering off into a side tunnel. Someone else had been exploring, getting dangerously close.

Their sixth expedition brought another warning. They encountered a group of three scavengers near the entrance to the storm drain system. The strangers wore the patched leather and reinforced clothing typical of long-term tunnel workers, and carried the kind of heavy excavation tools that suggested they were searching for larger salvage than the siblings typically pursued.

“Haven’t seen you two down this way before,” the apparent leader had said, his tone conversational but his eyes calculating as they took in Raelin and Kiri’s lighter gear. “Find anything interesting in the old maintenance areas?”

“Just the usual scrap,” Raelin replied, adjusting his backpack to conceal its true weight. “Wiring, broken components. With the upper levels cleared out, we’re forced down lower and lower these days.”

The man’s gaze lingered on their packs for a moment longer than comfortable before he nodded. “Fair enough. Plenty of tunnels for everyone, I suppose. You keep to your parts and we’ll keep to ours.”

They had taken a circuitous route home that day, doubling back through familiar passages to ensure they weren’t being followed. Kiri kept pace through the detours, but by the time they reached the Stockpile her steps had slowed and her hand gripped Raelin’s arm for balance.

Their seventh expedition began like the others, but on the way back they decided to try something different. Instead of their usual paths through dilapidated corridors and vents, they ventured through more trafficked areas of the Steelroots, arguing that never being seen was suspicious as well. Raelin led them toward a section where the natural caverns opened into vast chambers that had been reinforced and repurposed during the early days of Nexus.

The sound hit them first, a deep, rhythmic grinding punctuated by mechanical thumps and the distant hiss of pneumatic systems. Following the noise, they climbed over rubble and squeezed through gaps in collapsed support beams until they reached a vantage point overlooking a cavern in constant motion. The space was so large their headlamps couldn’t reach the far walls.

Raelin noticed fresh markings on the walls. Gang tags, including the three interlocking circles that marked Kozar’s territory. Even here, in this remote corner of the Steelroots, someone was staking claims.

“What is this place?” Kiri gasped, eyes widening as she took in the scene below them.

“This is where food comes from, Ki,” Raelin grinned, voice raised to carry over the din. “Leftovers from the folks above, leaving us to dig through the garbage.”

The Cascade Terminal stretched out below them, a vast chamber where massive tubes descended from the ceiling like the roots of some enormous metal tree. Each tube was easily large enough for a person to crawl through, and they terminated in collection bins and sorting areas scattered across the cavern floor. As they watched, the tubes periodically disgorged their contents with thunderous crashes, cascade after cascade of discarded materials from the tiers above.

“Oracle’s wisdom,” Kiri breathed, her voice barely audible over the mechanical symphony.

Teams of workers moved with practiced efficiency through the tumult. Raelin recognized the organized patterns immediately. These weren’t desperate scavengers picking through trash, but coordinated labor crews with specific roles and territories. Near the largest tube, which seemed to handle organic waste, a group of six workers moved like a pit crew, racing to collect the steady stream of food packages, canned goods, and sealed containers that tumbled down from the Greenbelt’s disposal systems.

“How can there be so much?” Kiri exclaimed, disgusted. “That dump alone must be enough to feed hundreds for a day, if not more.”

“The Greenbelt has quotas they must meet, but not enough people to buy the food and no cities to trade with. Taking the food is punished as theft, so most of it is dumped.” Raelin explained bitterly. “This is one of the few blind spots where the trash can be salvaged before incineration or reclamation.”

Kiri watched the team’s frantic pace. “Look at the volume…”

The workers gathered around the organic waste tube, stuffing canvas sacks with preserved goods, their movements efficient and desperate in equal measure.

A different crew worked the smaller tubes, where luxury items from the Skyline Residences and Transition Zone clattered down in irregular intervals. Broken electronics, discarded clothing, furniture pieces, and an endless stream of items that the upper tiers had deemed no longer worth keeping. A multitude of overproduced consumer goods which no one needed. Here, the workers moved more methodically, sorting components and materials into different containers with an expertise that spoke of long practice.

“It’s incredible,” Kiri said, her voice filled with something between admiration and envy. “They’re processing more valuable materials in an hour than most scavengers see in a month.”

She moved forward, but Raelin grabbed her by the arm and shook his head.

“Look more closely,” Raelin instructed her.

Kiri’s eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed, taking in the scene once more.

“They each have their own territories,” she said, finally. “Each crew has claimed specific tubes and is being careful to avoid stepping on each other’s toes.”

Raelin nodded. “We would not be welcome down there, and hard-pressed to find a crew who would take us on.”

A warning tone echoed through the chamber, and all the crews immediately began moving toward exits scattered around the cavern’s perimeter. Within moments, the bustling activity had vanished, leaving only empty sorting bins and scattered debris.

“Maintenance cycle,” Raelin explained. “They have to clear out before the automated systems activate.”

A series of mechanical arms descended from the ceiling, collecting whatever materials the crews had been forced to leave behind. The waste would be processed, most of it incinerated or recycled into basic building materials. The human element, the recovery of actually useful items, existed only in the brief windows between disposal and automated collection.

They waited in silence until the maintenance cycle completed and the mechanical arms retracted. Slowly, the crews began to return, guarding their territories while waiting for the next disposal.

“We should go,” Kiri whispered. “I don’t want to be seen watching, in case they think we are up to something.”

Raelin agreed. “I think we’ll go back to the shadows after all. I’m starting to really appreciate our own, smaller operation, at least for the privacy,” he grinned.

Kiri smiled back, grabbing his hand as they continued back home. The grinding noise faded behind them as they emerged from the cavern into more familiar tunnels.

“Makes you think,” Kiri said after they had walked in silence for several minutes.

“About what?”

“About scale. About territory. About…” She paused, searching for the right words. “About how many people are doing exactly what we’re doing, just in different ways.”

“We do what we have to, I guess,” Raelin mused. “I wish there was a way to change all this.”

Kiri squeezed his hand. “I’ll add it to our to-do list,” she chuckled, but stopped once she saw her brother’s expression, staring into an unknown distance as they continued. It was a rare moment for them to actually consider their long-term future. The rest of the way to Undertown, they walked in silence.

The Stockpile was busier than usual when they arrived. Geln was at his usual station, but he wasn’t smiling. He kept glancing toward the back entrance, fidgeting with his stylus.

“Good haul today?” he asked, not quite meeting Raelin’s eyes.

“The usual,” Raelin replied carefully.

Geln logged their salvage, his hands unsteady. When he leaned forward, his voice dropped to a whisper.

“People are noticing your success. Asking questions about the two scavengers who keep bringing in quality finds.” He swallowed hard. “Be careful out there, ok?”

He pulled back before Raelin could respond, already waving the next person forward. Neither sibling spoke until they were well clear of the Stockpile.

“Geln looked scared,” Kiri said quietly once they were clear.

“Yeah.” Raelin didn’t have a better answer. “Yeah, he did.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

“Take my points and send me to incineration!” Raelin cursed as he fished the two power cores they had retrieved earlier out of his backpack.

“What’s the matter, Rae?” Kiri wondered, hurrying over to her brother’s side.

He set the first cylinder under the bulb and rotated it slowly. At a certain angle, the light caught hairline fractures that spidered across the otherwise flawless ceramic sheath. The second core looked better until he tilted it and a crescent of bruised material flashed dull instead of glossy.

“They’re cracked,” he said, voice flat. “Both took a hit somewhere… Maybe when the conveyor collapsed, maybe when we were crawling the vent. One’s superficial.” He tapped the better one with a fingernail; it rang true, if a touch sour. “Stress in the outer shell. It’ll flag, but it might pass as degraded.”

He lifted the other, more carefully. A tight fissure ran dead straight along the containment seam like a razor parting flesh.

“This one’s worse. The fracture carries into the lattice. If anyone knocks it, or if the seal shifts in temperature, it could spit charge without warning.”

Kiri leaned close, eyes narrowed. “Localized? Or creeping?”

“Hard to say. The containment layer on these is layered like bark. A crack like this can wander. The Oracle’s scanners will see it, and then the Stockpile will tag it as hazardous reclamation. Best case we get a fraction of value.” His jaw clenched. “Worst case, we’re docked for unauthorized transport of unsafe salvage.”

Kiri exhaled through her nose. “Points down for bringing them, points lost for not bringing anything. Perfect system.”

He set them side by side on the table, the two pieces of treasure now feeling like grenades. The room felt smaller for how gently he moved around them.

“Can we fix them ourselves?” Kiri asked.

“Core casings need ovens and pressures we don’t have. The sealants aren’t available for non-specialists.”

The cores sat between them, and so did the silence.

“We can’t keep them here,” Kiri said quietly.

“I know.”

“And we can’t take them to the Stockpile like this.”

“I know.”

She waited.

“I’m thinking,” he muttered.

“You’re stalling.” She pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “There’s one person we can take this to. You know who.”

He didn’t look at her. His thumb traced the edge of the table.

“Lily.”

The name landed between them. Raelin’s hand stopped moving.

“She does guild work,” he countered. “Records. Licenses. The kind where you sign things with your OmniLink.”

“She does off-book work too. Favors, trades.” Kiri tilted her head. “And she stabilized a Greenbelt relay battery once. The kind that should have cratered her whole bench.”

Raelin was looking at the cores, but Kiri could tell he wasn’t seeing them.

“When did you last actually talk to her?” she asked. “Not drop off salvage. Talk.”

“I talk to her.”

“You mumble at her workbench and suddenly remember somewhere you need to be.” She leaned forward. “Last month. The capacitor order. You said ‘thank you’ three times in one sentence.”

“I was being polite.”

“Polite.” She raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe nervous around a certain redhead with a soldering iron?”

His neck was getting warm. “Her hair’s not red. It’s copper.”

Kiri’s eyebrows climbed higher.

“She hums when she works.” It came out before he could stop it. “Old songs. Pre-Collapse stuff.”

Kiri’s teasing expression softened. “You like her.”

“I respect her work.”

“Rae.”

He finally met her eyes. She wasn’t grinning anymore. Just watching him with something warm and sad and hopeful all at once.

“It doesn’t matter,” he sighed. “What matters is whether she’ll help without asking questions.”

Kiri didn’t push. “She’ll help. And she won’t talk.”

He stared at the cores for a long moment. Then nodded once, decision made.

“All right.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Lily. First light, before the rush. We cut through the washerworks to her block. Fewer Eyes.”

“And if she can’t fix them?”

“We leave them with her under her guild license. Safer than hauling live cracks through Undertown while we figure something out.”

“And you’ll ask nicely. Actual words. Maybe even full sentences.”

He shot her a withering look. Kiri grinned in return.

“Then we pack smart,” she said, already moving. “Foam inserts from the sensor crates. Cloth first so the dust doesn’t contaminate the shells, then foam, then canvas. Scrap on top. If anyone asks, we’re running broken housings to Lily’s for recycling credit.”

Raelin’s eyes softened. “You already planned this.”

“Since the minute you swore like a slag hauler.” She pulled the foam from a crate. “I don’t like gambling either.”

Kiri wrapped the first core in foam and canvas. Raelin took longer with the cracked one, adding rubber sheeting and checking the padding twice before tying it off. Scrap metal on top finished the disguise.

When they finished, the bundles looked like nothing more than junked components.

“Left one’s mine,” he said. “You carry the other as far as the washerworks. After that, I take both.”

Kiri nodded, her hand resting on the neater bundle. “Lily will know what to do.”

“Yeah.” He wished he felt as confident as she sounded.

“Eat,” he said, reaching for the cupboard. “Long day tomorrow.”

“Bossy,” she said, taking the stale ration bar anyway.

“Methodical,” he corrected, and the word tasted like their father’s voice.

They ate in quiet while the foam-wrapped bundles sat like sleeping animals on the table. When they finished, Kiri tucked the shapes into the corner behind their tool crate, where a falling pot or clumsy knee couldn’t find them.

“Tomorrow,” she said.

“Tomorrow,” he echoed.

She was halfway to her cot when she turned. “Copper, huh?”

“Go to sleep.”

“Most people would just say red.”

“Good night, Kiri.”

“Good night. Want me to hum you a pre-Collapse song to help you sleep?”

He didn’t answer, but she heard the almost-laugh in his breath. That was enough.