Jason noticed the figure instantly — Vincent. After living in the same cell, his body shape alone was enough to recognize him.

  “Hey, what—”

  Before Jason could finish, the guard yanked his arm. “Move along!”

  Jason stumbled forward, casting a lingering look over his shoulder. Vincent was watching him but quickly curled back into the background, pretending to busy himself with his work.

  Jason’s thoughts raced. What is he doing? What is he hiding?! The world around him shifted back into the familiar haze of survival. The smell of iron and oil thickened as the guard marched him down the corridor toward the cell blocks. Shadows grew deeper.

  By the time they reached his cell, Vincent was still absent, leaving Jason alone with his restless thoughts.

  I need to ask him when he returns.

  Hours passed. Eventually, Vincent slipped back inside. He avoided Jason’s gaze, his movements deliberate, careful. He went to the corner where their stash was hidden, slid something inside, then covered it again. Jason couldn’t see what it was — but his gut told him it mattered.

  “Vincent…” Jason muttered.

  No response. Vincent climbed into his bed without a word.

  Jason sat up. “Why were you eavesdropping outside Veyrn’s office?”

  Vincent’s voice was calm, almost too calm. “Because information is necessary for survival here.”

  Information you can use against me? Jason thought.

  Vincent turned onto his side. “…Not just for me. The deals I make… they help others, too.”

  Jason narrowed his eyes. “Those deals. They’re not the same as the ones I’ve seen, are they?”

  Silence stretched before Vincent finally spoke. “They’re different. When I deal with the guards, I have to trade for things we need. In return, I give them things they… enjoy.” His voice trailed off, clipped, unwilling to say more.

  Jason waited, but Vincent’s back remained turned. “That’s all I have to say.”

  Jason lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. More questions clawed at him than answers. He wouldn’t get anything else tonight. Closing his eyes, he resolved to press again — later.

  The next morning, Jason woke to the sound of rustling. Vincent was already up, sliding items into his pockets. Soap. Small tools. Other things Jason didn’t recognize. Always preparing, always hiding, Jason thought, watching him closely for patterns.

  The guard arrived, cutting short his scrutiny. They were escorted to the recreation area. Vincent peeled away toward his usual booth, while Jason approached the counter.

  “I’m here for my job in maintenance,” Jason told the officer.

  “Alright. Trev, take over here,” the guard said, rising from his seat. He waved Jason along, leading him down a side door, then through a series of dim corridors sloping deeper underground. The smell of oil and scorched metal grew stronger with every step.

  Finally, they stopped at a grilled enclosure. Inside sat an older man surrounded by toolboxes and mounted equipment. His chair squeaked as he leaned forward.

  “This guy’s your boss. The mechanic,” the guard said flatly. “He’ll bring you back at the end of your shift.”

  Jason gave a last glance at the guard as he left. When he turned back, he nearly flinched — the mechanic was already right in front of him, moving with surprising quietness for his age.

  Jason’s eyes widened. The man gave a small, wry smile. It softened the weathered lines on his face, his grizzled beard peppered with grey.

  “You the new guy?”

  “Guess I am…” Jason said cautiously.

  The mechanic chuckled. “Well, you have to be. Nobody else gets sent down here. Nobody knows how to do this work — not properly, anyway.” He turned and gestured toward a grilled door further left. “Get in here. Door’s open.”

  Jason walked closer to the door. Gears turning echoed through the hallway, sometimes drowned by the rev of engines or the hiss of steam. The living heartbeat of the spaceport.

  His uneasiness eased. The sound was oddly comforting — a playground of pipes and valves, of problems with solutions. Here, at least, things made sense. A sharp contrast to the locked doors and shifting faces above.

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  “Finally, a newcomer…” the mechanic muttered, counting on his fingers as if solving an equation. “Newcomer isn’t right. I’ve been doing this job alone for… ah, I don’t remember. A long time.”

  Jason blinked at him. The man shuffled around, avoiding eye contact as he shifted tools from one dirty pile to another equally dirty pile.

  “So, should I—” Jason began.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone down here as young as you,” the man interrupted. “Must be a smart head on those shoulders. Anyway, I’m Max. …I think. Haven’t introduced myself in a while.”

  “I’m Jason.” He said it quickly before Max could wander further off.

  Max looked up, eyes catching Jason’s. “Jason, good to have you.” He extended a dirty glove, grinning wide.

  Jason shook it. “You’ve been down here alone all this time?”

  “More or less. Guards drop food now and then. Otherwise… it’s me, the tools, and the machines.”

  The air hung awkward. Jason realized Max wasn’t just eccentric — he was starved for conversation.

  “What do you need me to do here, Max?”

  “Right, right…” Max rummaged around until he pulled out a pair of oversized gloves. “Here. First job’s easy — broken pipe under the arena. Vibrations probably loosened it. Let’s fix it.”

  Jason was already scanning the heaps of tools, pulling out what he needed without hesitation. Max’s eyebrows lifted.

  “I’ll let you show your skills. First day and all. Do what you need.”

  They walked to the section beneath the arena. Sand drifted down from cracks above as the ceiling vibrated with distant stomps. The pipe wasn’t shattered, just loose. Jason tightened the bolts one by one, then sealed the joint with a protective coat.

  “Very nicely done!” Max clapped.

  Jason smiled despite himself. It felt almost like home. “We’re under the arena, right?”

  “Yep. I’ll give you a tour.” Max’s words tumbled faster, his excitement bubbling.

  They passed corridors and engine rooms until they came to a broad hall. A heavy door loomed at the end, a guard standing watch. Jason’s curiosity flared.

  “You can’t go there,” Max interjected quickly. “Only authorized personnel. Such as me!” He grinned, proud of himself.

  “What’s inside?” Jason asked.

  Max hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Gravity generators. The things keeping this station in orbit. Don’t spread that around.”

  Jason’s eyes widened. He filed the information away, his mind already turning.

  The tour continued. Max rambled about gate mechanisms, energy conversion, the sun harvesters — his words a constant hum of technical trivia. Eventually, they circled back to the workshop.

  Jason set down his tools, glancing at a small room in the back. A cot. A toilet. Nothing else. Max’s living space.

  There’s always someone who has it worse, Jason thought. His cell, for all its dangers, suddenly seemed less bleak.

  Jason turned back toward Max, who still carried that nervous energy of a man thrilled to finally have someone to talk to. A thought sparked in Jason’s mind—if Max lived among the hidden guts of the station, maybe he had overheard things, since information is also necessary for survival…

  “Hey, Max… do you know someone named Vincent?”

  Max blinked at him with a blank stare. “Vincent? No, doesn’t ring a bell. Is he another mechanic?”

  “Not exactly…” Jason pressed. “Then what about the guards, or the casino? You ever hear anything?”

  For a moment, Max’s cheer faltered. His lips tightened, reluctant, but loneliness and the fear of losing a companion pried him open.

  “I’ve heard whispers,” he said quietly. “The guards do things they don’t want ‘management’ finding out. In the casino… they play with people. Make deals to get their… toys.”

  Jason froze. His stomach turned, his thoughts leaping to Vincent. Was he supplying them with tools? Were those trades feeding into whatever sick games the guards ran? The disgust in his chest threatened to spill over.

  “How—how do you know this?” Jason asked.

  Max’s eyes widened. For a moment they shimmered with something raw and fragile. Then his face closed, lips pressed tight. He turned away, retreating into silence.

  Jason realized instantly he had pushed too far. He had pressed on a wound that never healed. Best to leave it.

  “Thanks for today, Max. The shift’s over—I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Mm. Tomorrow,” Max muttered. He shuffled back to his chair, mumbling to himself, already retreating into the cocoon of machines and wires that were easier to fix than memories.

  Jason gave one last look back, a quiet sadness stirring in him. He wondered if this was what he might have become, if not for Tahuuk’s words.

  By the door, Jason spotted a button. He pressed it, releasing a low buzz. After a short wait, a face appeared in the glass pane—a guard. The officer keyed the lock and led Jason out into the rec area.

  The room was alive with chatter: prisoners bickering over tokens, others spending theirs on better scraps of food. And there, by the booths, was Vincent—handing a bar of soap to a gaunt woman with tangled hair and hollow cheeks. The exchange was quick, practiced.

  Vincent looked up. Their eyes met. Jason’s gaze no longer brimmed with raw suspicion—it had cooled, sharpened, wary but not ignorant. Now he knew.

  They walked back to their cell together, silent. Vincent avoided Jason’s eyes, and Jason held his questions for the right moment.

  They lay in their bunks, the air thick with quiet, until Vincent’s voice broke it.

  “I was brought here from a colony in the Dalian system. We didn’t have much—my parents and I hunted rare animals, sold their pelts. That’s how we survived.”

  Jason stayed still, listening.

  “When the animals ran dry… we couldn’t pay the overseers. They sold us here. The ones who didn’t fight back, anyway.” Vincent turned toward the wall. “The things I do now… they’re necessary. Necessary to survive.”

  Jason didn’t reply. He understood the logic all too well. Survival demanded choices—and every choice left scars. He lay there, thoughts heavy, until sleep finally pulled him under. Morning came. Vincent rose again to his routine, though this time with a shadow across his face.