Kael was out with his squad in a city that seemed as grim as he felt.
The streets of District Five ran quiet at this hour—past midnight, before dawn, the dead zone where even criminals went home. Just patrols and the occasional drunk stumbling between lamps. Mara walked point, her binding threads coiled loose at her belt. Dex covered the flank, gauntlets dark but ready. They moved with the practiced silence of people who'd worked together long enough that words were waste.
He thought about Arin. About the greenhouse and Bram's grim assessment and the way the kid had looked when Lira brought him out that first night—exhausted and terrified. Thought about what the Council would do if they got their hands on him, and felt oddly defiant.
"Boss," Mara said quietly. She'd stopped at the corner where the patrol route split. "You're thinking loud."
Kael blinked. "Am I?"
"Your jaw does that thing." She tapped her own chin. "Means you're planning something stupid."
"Or interesting," Dex offered from behind. His voice carried the flat pragmatism of someone from the lower districts who'd seen too much. "Those overlap sometimes."
They knew him too well. That was the problem with good squads—they read you whether you wanted their therapy or not.
"I have work to do tonight," Kael said. "It's off-books and risky, so don't feel obligated."
Mara and Dex exchanged a look. Some silent communication passed between them that Kael wasn't part of.
"We're in," Mara said.
"Didn't even hear the job yet," Kael pointed out.
"Don't need to." Dex adjusted his gauntlets like he was preparing for a fight. "You helped me when the quartermaster tried screwing my supply requisitions. You covered Mara's ass when that noble's brat filed assault complaints after she stopped him from beating a servant. We're in."
Simple as that.
Kael nodded once. "Then we move."
*******
The maintenance node sat under the Archives like some structure added as an after-thought. Access through a service corridor that smelled like oil and old metal. A single lamp coughed weak light across walls marked by decades of grime.
Junet was already there when they arrived. She leaned against a workbench cluttered with tools that looked older than the building, grease under her nails, suspicion in her eyes. Mid-forties, maybe. Hair going grey at the temples. The kind of woman who'd spent decades keeping things running while administrators took credit.
"Kael," she said flatly, clearly not pleased.
"Junet."
"You said this would be quick."
"Promise."
"You also said that last time. Took me three days to explain why half the resonance conduits in the eastern wing were reading backwards." She wiped her hands on a rag that looked like it had given up on being clean years ago. "What do you need?"
Kael glanced at Mara and Dex. They'd positioned themselves at the corridor entrance—casual, like they were just standing around, but their angles covered both approaches. Good.
"Chamber 4B," Kael said. "Assessment chamber. I need it offline."
Junet's expression didn't change but something shifted behind her eyes. Calculation, maybe. "That's High Circle equipment. Specialized and expensive."
"I know."
"And you want it broken?"
"Not broken. But out of commission for some time." Kael moved closer, lowering his voice though there was nobody to hear but his squad. "I need a calibration drift. Something that triggers self-check anomalies. Makes the equipment read inconsistent. Forces them to bring in specialists to diagnose."
"That'll take days to fix properly," Junet said.
"I know."
She studied him. Her hands had stopped moving—always a tell when Junet was thinking hard.
Junet sighed. "You pulled me out of that mess with the quartermaster last year. Kept me from getting blamed when those resonance cores went missing." She set down the rag. "I owe you. But if this goes wrong—"
"Then we run," Kael said simply. "And I make sure your name stays off everything."
"How?"
"I'm good at covering tracks."
"You're good at making messes that other people have to clean up," Junet corrected. But she was already moving toward the back of the node, where diagnostic equipment sat in neat rows. "Non-lethal only. I'm not hurting anybody."
"Agreed."
"And plausible. Has to look like natural drift."
"That's why I came to you."
She pulled out a metal case, opened it to reveal components Kael couldn't name. Tiny things. The kind of equipment that required steady hands and years of experience.
"Tolerance pin," Junet explained, holding up something that looked like a sliver of copper. "Goes in the harmonic regulator. Introduces micro-variance. Chamber still works, mostly, but the readings drift. Slow enough nobody notices at first. Fast enough to fail calibration within a day or two."
"How long to install?"
"Ten minutes if I'm careful. Five if I'm not." She glanced at him. "You want careful."
"Always."
Junet selected a few more components, placed them in a smaller case. Then she reached for a diagnostic photo—official Archives documentation of Chamber 4B's current status. As she handled it, Kael's thumb pressed against the corner, leaving a smudge. Barely visible. Just finger oil and grime.
She noticed. Raised an eyebrow.
"Insurance," Kael said quietly. "If anyone traces this back, that mark says I handled the documentation. Puts the trail on me, not you."
"That's stupid."
"When have I actually done reasonable?"
Junet's expression softened slightly. Not much—she wasn't the type for sentiment—but enough. "You're going to get yourself in trouble doing this kind of thing."
"Probably. But not for a long time."
*******
The Archives at night was a different creature than the Archives during the day. All that polished stone and careful scholarship turned into shadows and empty space. Sound carried strange—footsteps echoed, then vanished, then returned from unexpected angles.
The assessment chambers sat in the eastern wing, three floors down. Specialized space. Heavily monitored during work hours, barely checked at night because who would be foolish enough to tamper with High Circle equipment?
Kael knew the patrol routes. He'd walked them himself often enough. Knew the gaps. The blind spots.
They moved as a unit. Kael took point now, using his patrol access to unlock doors they had no business snooping into. Mara stayed close, her binding threads ready but contained. Dex watched their back, gauntlets powered down but warm—ready to activate in heartbeats if needed.
The access corridor to Chamber 4B was narrow. Metal walls. Low ceiling. Warm air that smelled like ozone and machinery. Resonance equipment hummed constant background noise that set Kael's teeth on edge.
Junet worked fast. The chamber door opened with her maintenance override—one of the few people who had it, which was why Kael needed her. Inside, the chamber looked like the inside of a clock built by someone who hated simplicity. Crystalline panels lined the walls. Diagnostic equipment clustered in one corner. And in the center, the assessment platform where they'd eventually bring Arin sooner than if Kael failed.
Not happening.
Junet moved to the harmonic regulator—a device about the size of a closed fist, mounted chest-height on the eastern wall. Her hands worked with the efficiency of long practice. Unscrewing the access panel. Removing the existing tolerance pin. Replacing it with the modified one.
Kael watched the corridor. Mara stood ready, threads loose between her fingers in case they needed quick binding. Dex positioned himself where he could see both directions, his bulk blocking casual sight lines.
Time stretched. Seconds felt like minutes. Every sound amplified—Junet's breathing, the soft click of tools, Kael's own pulse.
Footsteps.
Distant but getting closer.
"Company," Dex said quietly.
Junet's hands didn't falter. "Thirty seconds."
The footsteps grew louder. Night maintenance, probably. Or a tech doing rounds. Either way, not someone they wanted to explain their presence to.
"Twenty seconds."
Kael moved to the door. Prepared to step out, run interference, spin some bullshit story about routine patrol checks.
"Ten."
The footsteps stopped. Right outside.
Kael stepped into the corridor.
The tech was young. Maybe mid-twenties. Tired eyes. Clipboard in hand. He blinked at Kael with the confusion of someone whose routine had just been disrupted.
"Evening," Kael said. Casual. Like he belonged.
"Officer." The tech glanced past him toward the chamber. "Is there a problem?"
"Routine check. Had reports of anomalous readings in this section." Kael's voice carried the bored certainty of someone who did this every night. "You see anything unusual?"
"No, sir. Everything's been quiet."
Behind Kael, he heard the soft sound of the access panel being screwed back into place. Junet finishing.
"Good, we would have to keep it that way." Kael gestured down the corridor. "You heading east?"
"Yes, sir."
"Walk with me. I need to verify the logs in the next section anyway."
Dex appeared beside Kael, his bulk and serious expression adding weight to the request. The tech looked at their weapons and nodded—choosing not to suspect anything, since that wouldn't be good for his health.
They walked. Kael asked questions about readings and maintenance schedules and other boring administrative details that he didn't care about but that kept the tech talking. By the time they reached the eastern junction, Mara and Junet had slipped out of Chamber 4B and disappeared down a different corridor.
"Thanks for your time," Kael said, dismissing the tech with a nod.
The young man left. Kael waited until the footsteps faded completely.
Then he exhaled.
It had been close, but at least it was done.
*******
The forgery happened in a storage room that smelled like old paper.
Coren worked as a clerk in the administrative wing and owed Kael for reasons that didn't matter now. The kind of favor-debt that accumulated in any large organization—small helps that built into obligations.
The requisition form was standard Archives documentation. Priority maintenance request. Chamber 4B. Calibration anomalies detected. Vendor consultation required.
Kael's handwriting was adequate at best. He'd forged signatures before—not often, but enough to know the basics. Keep it rushed. People signing dozens of forms a day didn't make every letter perfect.
He copied the signature from an old approved form. Added the date. Stamped it with the priority seal that Coren had "accidentally" left on the desk.
The stamp came down slightly off-angle. Barely noticeable. Just enough misalignment to look like someone had been careless, stamping forms at the end of a long shift.
Kael blurred the ink with his thumb. A smudge that marked the forgery if anyone looked too close.
"That'll do it," Coren said. He was thin and nervous. Looked like the kind of man who jumped at shadows. "Gets filed tomorrow with the morning batch. Looks legitimate."
"Good."
"But Kael—" Coren hesitated. "The signature's off. Not much. But someone careful might notice."
"I know."
"Why not make it perfect? You could—"
"Because a perfect signature looks suspicious," Kael interrupted. "Someone tired at the end of shift who didn't line up the stamp right isn't so farfetched. That's believable."
Coren frowned but nodded. He'd question it later, probably. File it away as another odd detail in the strange things Kael sometimes did.
That was fine. Kael needed the trail to look natural.
He left through the back exit, form filed in the morning routing queue, marked priority, waiting for an administrator to approve it without thinking twice.
One more domino placed.