Before the flight platform climbed into the clouds, Giles Croft had inspected the legal documents on the dispatch terrace.
Giles ran his thumb along the heavy rag paper, examining the red sealing wax embossed with Haven-Hold’s gear-and-trowel insignia.
‘Make sure the lawful citations are exact, Ostrander,’ Giles had instructed, adjusting his glasses.
‘If we cite the wrong subparagraph of the Municipal Code, the office court will throw out the summary abatement order.’
‘Every paragraph is cross-referenced with the Revised Statutes of Year Twelve, Lord Giles,’ Ostrander had replied.
‘The respondent will have no procedural grounds for an injunction.’
Now, at forty thousand feet above Haven-Hold, the air was fifty degrees below zero and thin enough to make a mortal’s lungs freeze.
high-sky Inspection Platform HA-01 hovered in the freezing twilight, its four polished brass anti-gravity spheres humming steadily.
