Ruby Redfeather spread three cracked circuit boards across the table, studying the military stamps etched into their corners. She wanted to build a network that traded components like these—rare tech that caravans would pay good money for. Her claws traced the serial numbers as she calculated routes and contacts in her head. The trick was finding people who needed what she could supply and making sure they stayed loyal. She pulled out her notebook and added another name to her list of potential traders, then crossed out two others who'd failed her tests. She needed a real hub for this operation. Ruby walked through Broken Hills until she found it—a stone building with metal fixtures that could work as both storefront and storage. She pushed open the door and examined the back room. Space for inventory, a counter for customer meetings, and thick walls to keep things secure. Ruby Sundays Tech & Coffee, she decided. The name would make it sound harmless while she moved military-grade components through the back. Behind the building sat a metal shipping container painted in matching colors. Ruby pried open the doors and stepped inside. The container would hold her high-value stock—the circuit boards, servo parts, and encrypted drives that needed inspection before deals went through. She set up a workbench and testing equipment, then locked it tight. Only she would have the key. Ruby climbed the tall signal tower at the edge of town, its polished metal mirror catching the sun. She studied the angles and tested different positions with a scrap of reflective metal. Coded light signals could reach smugglers miles out, bringing in components from outside the usual caravan routes. She memorized the flash patterns she'd use—three short, two long, one short meant high-value tech available. Her network was taking shape. All she needed now was for the right traders to notice her signals and come looking for what she could provide.

Ruby tested her first signal from the tower at dawn, flashing three short, two long, one short toward the horizon. Two days later, a trader arrived asking about servo parts. She sold him a refurbished motor controller and watched him count out caps without haggling. That told her the price was too low. She adjusted her rates and started tracking what each type of component actually sold for. Her notebook filled with numbers—what she paid, what traders would pay, and the markup that made this worth her time. Word spread faster than she expected. Ruby needed a place for bigger deals, somewhere off the main streets where she could talk numbers without drawing attention. She found The Hole in The Wall Cantina three blocks from her shop—tan and gray sandstone walls, black lettering above the door, and a back room that stayed empty most afternoons. The owner wanted fifty caps a month. Ruby offered thirty plus first pick on any coffee supplies that came through her shop. They settled at forty caps and a pound of beans every two weeks. Security came next. Ruby mounted a prewar infrared security camera on a steel pole outside the cantina's back entrance. The motion sensor still worked, and she wired it to a small alarm in her pocket that buzzed twice when someone approached. She tested it by walking the perimeter herself, adjusting the angle until it covered the full approach. Now she'd have warning before anyone reached the door. The cantina meetings brought in steady trades, but power was a problem. The grid cut out twice in her first month, killing deals when buyers couldn't inspect components properly. Ruby tracked down a military surplus helium-3 generator and hauled it to the back room. She ran the connections herself, testing each wire against the specs in her field manuals. When the lights stayed on during the next outage, she knew her network had the foundation it needed. Traders could count on her to deliver, and that reliability was worth more than any single sale.