Igniting fifty million kilowatts of clean geomantic power didn’t need a spell, a sacrifice, or a prayer.
It needed a machinist with a pair of depth verniers and an unbending commitment to phase exact timing.
Giles Croft stood on the bronze service platform of Plasma Siphon Number One, his hand sighting scope mounted on a temporary magnetic bracket attached to the holding ring.
“Check the coil posture on Sector B, Toby,” Giles commanded, his voice echoing through the vast iron-hard metal round hall.
“The zero-pushback ribbons must maintain an outward gap of exactly one point five tiny fractions of an inch from the central star-fire chamber.
If a single coil is out of phase by a fraction of a degree, the magnetic bottle will pinch, and the star-fire will arc into the quartz shielding.”
Toby Karr was adjusting the heavy brass jack-screws at the base of the coil housing.
“Coil posture checked to within thirty seconds of arc, Master Giles. Magnetic gap is point zero five nine inches around the entire outer rim.
