At Seyun’s question, the dark rock recess grew very quiet save for the rattle of wind-driven sleet against the outer granite lip. Every fighter crouched under the overhang knew that the duration of the window at the near recess guide-rod would govern the life-or-death timing of the entire second watch. If the guide-rod seam stayed wedged open long enough, Daro Kesh and Keth Or could push past the split returning plane in the eastern trough. Meanwhile, Seyun drove straight up the exposed central hub line to strike the drum’s lower collar. If the seam snapped shut. Meanwhile, a fighter was mid-stride in the open basin, the returning plane would shear them in half.
Vaska Ren looked down at the smooth bed of grey stone ash beside the diagram of the box-shaped guide-rod box. Raising his right index finger, the mute former Chief Judge drew a bold, clear numeral in the dust: 6.
Six breaths was the standard institutional upkeep interval recorded in the Aperture Court’s building manuals. The number of breaths a thirty-year-old Court artificer in full peak-health Bronze conditioning was expected to hold a manual bypass wedge inside a backup junction box before the heat cutout tripped. For twenty winters, Vaska had written that numeral 6 on work orders from behind his judge’s desk without ever doubting it.
