Three days after the SSS almost caught me, I was still laying low.
Laying low meant different things for different people. For Betas and Alphas, it meant staying out of sight, keeping your head down, maybe taking a vacation to another level. For Gammas, it meant the same thing we always did - surviving in the margins, invisible by design, trying not to attract attention that would get us killed.
I'd moved my stash to a new location. Cut contact with my regular buyers. Stuck to the deep undercity where the surveillance cameras couldn't reach and the SSS wouldn't bother going even if they could.
That's how I found the old man dying in the alley behind the abandoned hydroponics facility.
I almost walked past him. In the undercity, you see a lot of people dying. Drift overdoses, industrial accidents, simple starvation. The station doesn't keep records of Gamma deaths unless they happen somewhere that makes paperwork necessary. Most of us just disappear, become another ghost in the rain.
But something made me stop. Maybe it was the way he was clutching something to his chest, protective even in death. Maybe it was the expensive boots he was wearing - real leather, the kind that cost more than I made in a month. Maybe it was just that I was bored and paranoid and tired of hiding.
I crouched down next to him. "Hey. You alive?"
He opened his eyes - clouded with pain but still sharp underneath. Old eyes. The kind that had seen too much and remembered all of it.
"Gamma," he whispered, reading my features the way we all learned to read each other. "Good. Can't trust... the others."
"Can't trust Gammas either, old man. We steal from each other same as anyone."
He smiled, showing bloody teeth. Internal bleeding, probably. Whatever was killing him had been doing it for a while.
"You're Jax Varro," he said.
I tensed, ready to run. "How do you—"
"Everyone knows the dealer. The one who runs the good Drift, doesn't cut it too much, won't sell to kids." He coughed, red spattering his lips. "I asked around. Needed someone... smart. Someone who'd understand."
"Understand what?"
"Treasure." The word was soft, almost reverent. "Real treasure. Not undercity scraps. Earth treasure."
My interest sharpened despite myself. Scavengers talked about Earth artifacts sometimes - remnants from before the exodus, valuable to the right collectors. But most of it was bullshit. Dreams sold to desperate people who wanted to believe there was value hiding in the ruins.
"What kind of treasure?"
"Show you. But first..." He gestured weakly at the object he was clutching. A small photo display, cracked and ancient. On the screen, a woman and two children, smiling. A life that had existed before whatever brought him here. "First, I need something."
"Medical care? I can get—"
"No. Too late for that." He coughed again, worse this time. "I need... easy. Need the pain to stop. Need to not feel it anymore."
I understood. He wanted Drift. The final dose. The one that would let him slip away soft instead of hard.
I should have said no. Should have kept my stash for paying customers. Should have walked away from a dying old man and his probably-fictional treasure.
Instead, I pulled out a vial. Pharmaceutical grade, the good stuff I kept for myself.
"This'll make it stop," I said. "But you gotta tell me about the treasure first. Fair trade."
He laughed, wet and broken. "Fair. Yeah. Tell me about fair, Jax Varro. Tell me how it's fair we were born Gamma. How it's fair we die in alleys while Alphas die in clean beds with their families around them."
"I can't. But I can make the dying easier. That's worth something."
"Worth everything, in the end." He released the photo display, let it fall into a puddle. The smiling family distorted in the reflection, broke apart in ripples. "Deep city. Sector 13, subsection D. Below the old residential levels. There's a maintenance corridor, marked with yellow stripes. Follow it to the junction, take the left fork. Keep going until you find the door with the broken biometric lock."
"That's half the deep city. Can you be more specific?"
"Inside... inside there's a vault. Real vault, from before the castes. Before the Engineering. Before they decided we were livestock." His breathing was getting worse. "I found it last month. But I'm old. Sick. Couldn't open it. Couldn't move what's inside. Just saw enough to know it's valuable. Real valuable."
"What's in it?"
"Go see. Take someone you trust. Bring tools. And Jax?" He grabbed my wrist with surprising strength. "Don't tell anyone else. The second word gets out, you're dead. Everyone wants Earth treasure. Everyone will kill for it."
I nodded slowly. "Fair trade. Information for Drift."
I administered the injection with practiced efficiency. The old man's grip loosened almost immediately, his face relaxing as the chemical peace spread through him.
"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for making it soft."
"What's your name?" I asked. Felt like I should know it, if I was going to be the last person to see him alive.
"Marcus Chen. Used to be an engineer. Before they reassigned me. Before I got too old to be useful." His eyes were glazing now, the Drift pulling him under. "Tell my daughter... tell Lin Chen... her father died thinking of her."
"I will," I lied. I didn't know Lin Chen, didn't know if she existed, didn't know if I'd ever have the chance to deliver a dying man's message.
But it made him smile, and then he was gone. Just stopped breathing, soft and easy, the photo display reflecting rain next to his still hand.
I sat there for a minute, watching the water collect in the lines of his face. Marcus Chen. Engineer. Father. Scavenger who found something in the deep city and couldn't survive long enough to profit from it.
I took the photo display. Someone should remember him, even if it was just me.
Then I covered him with some old plastic sheeting from the hydroponics facility. It wasn't much, but it was better than leaving him in the rain for the rats.
Finn found me an hour later, in my new hiding spot in Sector 6.
"You look contemplative," they said, settling into the corner with their usual economy of movement. "Usually means you're planning something stupid."
"Probably." I showed them the photo display. "Found a dying scavenger. Gave him Drift in exchange for treasure map."
"Treasure map." Finn's voice was flat. "Jax. We've talked about this. There's no treasure in the deep city. Just rust and ghosts and stories desperate people tell themselves."
"This was different. He was specific. Sector 13, subsection D. Yellow-striped maintenance corridor. Vault with broken biometric lock."
"That's still half the deep city."
"But it's more than just 'somewhere down there.' And he had expensive boots. Real leather. Where'd a dying scavenger get boots like that unless he'd found something worth selling?"
Finn was quiet for a moment. "What did he say was in the vault?"
"Didn't know. Said he couldn't open it all the way. But called it Earth treasure. Real valuable."
"Earth treasure could be anything. Could be worthless junk someone sealed away two hundred years ago."
"Could be. But what if it isn't?" I pulled up the photo display image - Marcus Chen's family, smiling in some moment before the universe broke them. "He died for this information, Finn. Died rather than try to go back down there himself. That means something."
"Means he was old and sick and knew he couldn't survive another trip."
"Or means it's dangerous. Valuable enough to die protecting the location." I set the display down. "I'm going to check it out. You in?"
They sighed, long and theatrical. "This is the stupid thing I was worried about."
"That's not an answer."
"Of course I'm in. Someone needs to keep you from dying in the deep city chasing a dead man's fairy tale." They pulled out their supply pack, started checking equipment. "When do we go?"
"Tomorrow. Need to gather supplies, get better lights, maybe some tools in case we actually find a vault."
"And if we don't find anything?"
"Then we waste a day exploring the deep city and come back with nothing but exercise and disappointment." I smiled slightly. "Won't be the first time."
"True. Most of my life has been exercise and disappointment."
We spent the rest of the evening planning. The deep city was dangerous - unstable gravity, failing life support, sections that had been sealed for good reasons. We'd need food, water, lights, tools, rope, medical supplies. We'd need to tell someone where we were going in case we didn't come back.
Except we couldn't tell anyone. Don't tell anyone else, the old man had said. The second word gets out, you're dead.
So we planned in silence, two Gammas preparing to descend into the abandoned depths of the station, chasing a dying man's treasure map, betting our lives on the possibility that something valuable was hiding in the dark.
"You know this is insane," Finn said as we finalized the supply list.
"Yep."
"We could die down there. Could get lost, trapped, suffocated, crushed."
"Yep."
"And even if we find something, it might be worthless."
"Yep."
"So why are we doing this?"
I looked at the photo display. Marcus Chen and his family, frozen in a moment of happiness. A man who used to be an engineer before the station decided he was too old to be useful. Who died in an alley clutching memories and secrets.
"Because maybe there's something down there worth finding," I said. "And maybe sitting here dealing Drift and hiding from SSS and waiting to die isn't enough anymore. Maybe I want to see if there's treasure in the deep. Maybe I want to know if the dying old man was right."
"That's almost philosophical."
"I'm high."
"That makes more sense."
We gathered our supplies. We planned our route. And we tried not to think about all the ways this could go wrong.
Because the thing about the undercity - the thing about being Gamma - was that everything could go wrong at any time anyway. Every day was a risk. Every choice was a gamble.
At least this way, we were gambling on possibility instead of just survival.
At least this way, we might find something worth the risk.
Even if that something was just the answer to a dying man's riddle.
Even if the only treasure was knowing we tried.
The rain kept falling. Marcus Chen's body was probably being discovered by now, logged as another unnamed Gamma casualty, if it was logged at all.
And tomorrow, Finn and I would descend into the deep city.
Into the dark.
Into the unknown.
Chasing treasure that probably didn't exist.
But might.
Just might.
And in the undercity, might was sometimes all you got.