Flint leaned back against the cushions of his quarters, the faint scent of the meal they'd shared still lingering in the air. He swirled the last of his cactus juice in its cup before speaking. "The person you're looking for is Gemma. People call her the Tinkerer. She's one of us—an Eastern Alliance merchant—but she's a different breed entirely. Specializes in Once-World artifacts. If anyone can make sense of that data drive of yours, it's her."
Rain's eyes lit up. "Where can we find her?"
Flint grimaced as though he'd bitten into something sour. "That's the tricky part. Gemma isn't exactly... approachable. She's brilliant, sure, but also eccentric and more than a little prickly. She has a way of testing your patience, and you'll want to keep a tight grip on your belongings—she's not above making things 'disappear' if she decides she likes them."
Snow folded her arms, already skeptical. "And you think she'll help us?"
"She owes me a favor," Flint said with a wry smile. "I'll set up a meeting. But don't expect a warm welcome. She's a real pain in the neck, but if you can get her to focus, she might just be worth the trouble."
Rain nodded enthusiastically, her determination undiminished. "Thank you, Flint. Really. This means a lot."
Flint waved a hand dismissively. "Don't thank me yet. You haven't met her." He stood and stretched, his joints popping audibly. "For now, you two can stay here for the night. I'll have Jade set up some bedding."
Rain's face lit up again, and she glanced around the room with an expression of pure relief. "This is amazing," she said, running a hand over the soft cushion she was sitting on. "A real bed, real food... It's so much better than scrounging in the dust and sleeping under broken roofs."
Snow gave her a sidelong glance. "You're getting too comfortable already. Don't forget who we are."
Rain tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Do you think the Niners could settle here? I mean, look at this place! It's clean, it's safe—well, safer than most places—and there's real technology here. They could have a life here, Snow."
Snow shook her head, her expression distant. "The Niners don't settle. They don't know how to. We're too used to the struggle. If we're not scavenging or fighting raiders, we're fighting each other. And even if they could settle, they wouldn't want to. They'd see it as soft, as giving up."
Rain's shoulders slumped slightly, but she didn't lose her optimism. "Still, it's nice to imagine, isn't it? A life where we don't have to run, where we don't have to fight every single day just to stay alive."
Snow regarded her for a long moment. "You're something else, Rain. After everything they've put you through, you still want to help them."
Rain smiled faintly. "They're my family, in a way. Dysfunctional, maybe, but family all the same."
Snow didn't reply, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—respect, perhaps, or a quiet admiration she wouldn't voice aloud.
The following morning, Flint led them out of his quarters and back to the rope-pulley elevator. This time, instead of ascending to the upper levels, they descended deeper into the spire, the creak of the ropes and the groan of the machinery echoing in the confined space.
"Where are we going?" Snow asked, her voice wary.
"To the under-level," Flint replied, leaning casually against the elevator's railing as it descended. "It's the heart of Greybranch, though most people don't know it. This is where the real work happens—where the old tech keeps this place running."
The elevator opened onto a cavernous space that sprawled beneath the city. It was a stark contrast to the polished steel and orderly streets above. Here, everything was functional but worn, the machinery covered in grime and the walls streaked with rust. Massive generators hummed and clanked, their ancient workings patched together with scavenged parts. Pipes ran along the ceiling, dripping condensation, and the air smelled of oil and metal.
Rain's eyes widened as she took it all in. "This... this is incredible."
Flint smirked at her reaction. "This is what makes Greybranch more than just another settlement. Those spires above? They're powered by these generators. Solar inverters hidden on the roofs soak up sunlight and feed it into the grid. Down here, we've got foundries that recycle scrap into usable metal. The toppers might look down on the grounders, but without the under-level, there'd be no city at all."
Snow glanced at a nearby workstation, where a group of workers in grease-stained overalls were hammering at a piece of machinery. Sparks flew, and the clang of metal echoed through the space. "It's not pretty," she said, "but it's... something."
"It's survival," Flint said simply.
As they walked deeper into the under-level, Rain couldn't help but ask questions. "How do the generators still work after all this time? Aren't they from the Once-World?"
"Most of them, yeah," Flint replied. "The Tinkerer's the one who keeps them running. She's got a knack for coaxing life out of old machines. Half the stuff down here would've fallen apart years ago without her."
Rain glanced at Snow, her excitement barely contained. "Can you believe this? Generators, foundries, electricity... It's like the Once-World is still alive here."
Snow gave a small nod, though her expression remained guarded. "It's impressive. But it's also fragile. One thing goes wrong, and the whole system could come crashing down."
Flint stopped in front of a large, reinforced door. "Speaking of fragile," he said, rapping his knuckles against the metal, "this is where Gemma works. Brace yourselves—she's not exactly the warm and welcoming type."
Rain exchanged a glance with Snow, her earlier excitement now mingled with apprehension. Snow shifted her weight, her hand resting casually on the hilt of her longshooter.
Flint knocked again, louder this time. "Gemma! Open up, it's Flint!"
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, with a loud creak, the door slid open, revealing a small, cluttered workshop bathed in the flickering glow of old-world lamps.
"Flint," a voice drawled from somewhere within. "What do you want, and who are your friends?"
————————————————————————————————————————————
The door to the workshop groaned open, and Flint led Snow and Rain inside. The air was thick with the tang of machine oil, old metal, and faint ozone. The space was chaotic, a labyrinth of workbenches piled high with wires, tools, and strange contraptions scavenged from the Once-World. Sparks flew from a corner where something was being welded, and the faint crackle of electricity was a constant undercurrent.
Rain's eyes roamed the room, wide with wonder. There were stacks of gleaming panels etched with alien symbols, tangled nests of copper wiring, and glass cases holding blinking devices that seemed to hum with a quiet life of their own. Snow, meanwhile, took it all in with a cautious gaze, her hand instinctively resting on her belt, near her longshooter.
"Welcome to my palace of junk!" a voice called out, bright and sharp. From behind a tall heap of rusting machinery emerged a figure so out of place it almost felt like a trick of the light—a girl, no older than fifteen, with oversized goggles perched on her head and a smudge of grease smeared across one cheek. Her small frame was swamped by an oversized leather apron covered in pockets stuffed with tools.
"This is the Tinkerer?" Snow muttered under her breath.
The girl pushed up her goggles, revealing sharp brown eyes that glinted like freshly polished bronze. "That's right, lady! And you must be the intruders Flint's dragged into my sanctuary. You break anything, you buy it—at double price."
Rain stepped forward, her excitement bubbling over. "You're Gemma? You're a Knower too, aren't you? You study the old technology, like me!"
Gemma's sharp gaze flicked to Rain, and her lips twisted into a smirk. "Knower, huh? That what you're calling yourself these days?"
Rain faltered, caught off guard by the sarcasm. "I—yes. I mean, it's what I've always been. I want to uncover what the Old Ones left behind, understand it, use it to—"
"To what?" Gemma interrupted, folding her arms. "Sit in a circle and talk about how interesting it all is? Let me guess, you're one of those Knowers who think knowing is enough."
Rain blinked, visibly taken aback. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Gemma said coolly, "you're useless. You poke around in ruins, scribble down notes, and get starry-eyed over broken junk. Meanwhile, I'm down here keeping Greybranch running, designing systems, fixing machines, making a difference." She jabbed a finger at Rain. "You're not a Knower, not like me. You're just a dreamer."
Snow took a step forward, her tone low and dangerous. "You've got a lot of nerve for someone so small."
Gemma tilted her head, unfazed. "Small, but important. Can you say the same, scav girl?"
"Stop it, both of you," Rain said, stepping between them. She turned to Snow, her voice soft. "She's right, Snow. I don't do anything that matters, not like she does. I just want to learn because... because I can't stop myself. But she's out here keeping people alive."
Snow's jaw tightened, but she didn't argue. She simply stepped back, letting her silence speak for her disapproval.
Flint cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. "As much fun as this is, we're not here to trade insults. We're here because these two need your help, Gemma."
Gemma raised an eyebrow. "Help with what?"
Rain pulled the data drive from her pouch and held it out. "This. We found it out in the wastes. In the western region. I think it might have something important on it, but we don't have the equipment to read it."
Gemma took the drive, her nimble fingers turning it over as she examined it. "Huh. Interesting. This is a proper artifact. Not the junk you usually find in ruins. Where'd you get it?"
"In a fallen star," Rain said. "Called Solus-9, it is unlike any place in the world, like, it's come from another world entirely."
Gemma snorted. "Figures. Anyway, I can tell you right now, you're not reading this without a working thinking box."
"A thinking box?" Snow asked, frowning.
"Computer," Rain clarified. "It's what the Old Ones used to process information. But I've never seen a working one."
Gemma nodded, setting the drive down on a cluttered workbench. "Most of them are dead, or stripped for parts. I don't have one here, but I know where you might find one—Deep-1."
Flint's expression darkened. "You can't be serious."
"Dead serious," Gemma replied, planting her hands on her hips. "Deep-1 was a research facility back in the Once-World. If any place still has a working computer, it's there."
"And how far is it?" Snow asked.
"Far enough, but that's not a point," Flint said grimly. "That place is cursed. Full of old tech that doesn't play nice with visitors. Security systems, automatons, and who knows what else. People who go looking for Deep-1 don't come back. So much so that many dubbed the place the death trap."
Rain stepped forward, her expression resolute. "Then we'll have to take that risk. If it has what we need, we can't just ignore it."
Gemma studied her for a moment, then sighed. "You're either brave or stupid. Maybe both. But don't fret, 'cause I'll go with you two."
"What?" Flint and Snow said in unison.
"I'm not letting you two wander into Deep-1 without someone who knows what they're doing," Gemma said. "Besides, I've been meaning to check that place out myself. Call it professional curiosity."
Flint pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're insane."
Gemma grinned. "Maybe. But at least I'm useful."
Rain beamed, her earlier doubts momentarily forgotten. "Thank you, Gemma. Really."
"Yeah, yeah," Gemma muttered, waving her off. "Don't thank me yet. We've got a lot of work to do before we even get near Deep-1. I'll head out first, scout the area, and set up a temporary shelter. You two go pack your things and meet me outside the city gates tomorrow morning. Don't be late."
Snow glanced at Rain as they turned to leave. "You're sure about this?"
Rain nodded, her grip tightening on her pack. "I have to know, Snow. Whatever's on that drive... it could change everything."
Snow didn't respond, but as they made their way back toward the upper levels, her protective gaze never wavered from her companion's determined face.