Gins shoulder twinged as he hauled Tamsin up. Lightning licked faintly along the nerve, a ghost of Holst's touch. Good. A reminder.
His bones thrummed as he straightened, waking properly now that they'd been given something to hit.
"Alright," Gin told them under his breath. "Let's go test a hypothesis."
Tamsin sniffed hard, shoved her goggles back over her eyes, and led the way
The staff passage entrance was disguised as a maintenance hatch near the back edge of the sanctioned yard. Signs around it screamed AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY in big, polite letters.
Tamsin stopped just before the painted warning line. Her fingers flexed on empty air, like they missed the familiar weight of a tool belt.
"Through there," she said. "Down two levels, third door on the left. Intake."
Gin squinted at the hatch. "Anybody watching?"
"Not unless Marren installed new cameras today," Tamsin said. "They don't expect anyone who doesn't work for them to know this exists."
"Excellent." He rolled his shoulders, feeling the ache flare and settle. "You find yourself a nice piece of ducting to hide behind and be ready to run if things go loud."
"If?" she echoed.
He smiled crookedly. "Trying optimism on for size."
She made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh and might have been a sob. Then she stepped backward, into a nest of shadows under a catwalk, and vanished with the ease of someone who knew every bolt on this level by touch.
Gin let his hand rest on the hatch handle.
"Once we're in," he murmured inward, "no more getting caught off guard, alright? We do this smart."
He cracked the hatch and slipped through.
The air in the intake corridor was different from the clean chill of the main Hydrarchy office. Warmer. Damp, but not with sea-salt—more like recycled breath and too many bodies in too little space.
Lights buzzed overhead in a steady, insect hum. Doors lined one wall: reinforced, each with a tiny reinforced window. Names and numbers were etched into small plates beside them.
Debt Rotation Processing. Contract Review. Asset Reassignment.
Gin had opinions about the word "asset" being used on doors like that.
He moved fast but quiet, boots whispering against grating. His shoulder had stopped complaining and moved into a low, simmering ache. The Hemovore colony in his bones pulsed slow and deliberate, as if testing the air for opportunity.
Third door on the left.
Raised voices seeped through the seal before he even reached it.
"—more than I make in ten years," Rell growled. "You know that, Marren. You wrote the damn contract."
Gin flattened to one side of the door, listening.
Administrator Kael Marren's reply came calm, almost bored. "The numbers aren't personal, Rell. You accepted a Hydrarchy maintenance stipend. In return, you agreed not to undermine sanctioned services. Your side work with unregistered skiffs has caused quantifiable loss."
"Helping a man not drown is 'loss' now?" Rell demanded.
"You diverted your time and materials from paying work. The Hull operates on quotas and projections. When those fail, everyone pays. You chose to break contract. The penalty is clear. Debt labor in the dry-works until your account returns to balance."
"And if the number's bigger than my lifetime?" Rell asked.
There was a pause. Gin could imagine Marren's faint, polite smile.
"Then consider it a legacy your descendants can help repay."
Silence.
The kind that buzzed like a cut power line.
"No," Rell said.
It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
"You don't have a choice," Marren replied. "Compliance is mandatory."
"Then beat me," Rell said flatly. "Break my hands so I can't work. Drag me out back and throw me off the hull. But I'm not signing myself into a grave."
Gin's bones surged, iron-hot.
He wrapped a hand around his own forearm, thumb pressing into the faint pulse of light beneath his skin. The ache sharpened into focus, into readiness.
Marren sighed. "You are making this more unpleasant than it needs to be."
"Funny," Rell snarled. "I was thinking the same about you."
A new voice cut in, smooth and cold. Venn Holst.
"Sir," he said. "We can encourage cooperation. There are other dependents listed on his file. The girl—"
"Leave her out of this," Rell snapped. Chairs scraped, like he'd tried to stand.
"Sit," Venn said, the word snapping like a live wire. "You're under Hydrarchy review, shipwright. Your daughter is, technically, a minor apprentice under Hydrarchy sponsorship. If you will not repay your debt, we can redirect the obligation. She seems eager to work. We could find a use for her in the lower pumps—"
The handle was under Gin's hand before he realized he'd moved.
His bones roared.
He opened the door.