"If word of the crash site spreads," Elias said, "I lose any chance of reaching it before every scavenger and patrol in the district."

Kellen said, "And if word doesn't spread, I lose the only reason to risk helping you. Trade, doctor. Not charity."

The title hit Elias a beat late. Doctor. Kellen had pulled it from Mara's account or from the way Elias held himself when he forgot to hide it. Either way, it felt like a small blade laid on the table.

"There's more," Mara said.

Kellen nodded. "Always. Route lead says intake shifted a patrol net toward coolant sector twelve after a breach two nights ago. Could mean the path is thinner. Could mean they're waiting for whoever comes through thinking it's thinner."

"And you are generously offering us that uncertainty at full price," Elias said.

Kellen smiled without warmth. "Discount price. Full price would include me not warning you."

Silence settled over the room. Somewhere behind the mesh screen, a small fan clicked as it turned. Elias looked at the wall of maps, the hand-drawn arrows crossing out older certainties, the whole place built on partial knowledge sold by people who expected betrayal as weather. Above, in the gardens, systems hid themselves so well that comfort could pass for innocence. Down here, nothing pretended to be clean.

He wanted a direct route, a controlled entry, a plan built from first principles. He wanted his own competence back. What he had instead was a broker with hungry eyes and a woman who had saved his life by knocking him into runoff.