By four in the afternoon, the working roles for the ninety-minute turning basin drill were locked onto the master slate. There was no ambiguity, no overlapping power, and no competing egos.
Ada Morland took command of the pressure sequencing at the intake water gate. She used her tuned dial gauges to guide the gate travel. Jo Saye was assigned to the twin reed sleeves on the southern levee. He watched the ash cradles and the offering tear-seams. Imran Bell manned the tracking data station in the washroom, tracking ground shakes, water heat levels, and the karst messenger route. Eren Tal commanded the physical rigging crew on the narrow high walkways. He held the master stop whistle.
Pella Rook stood at the center, Hal Rook’s service diary open in her hand, coordinating the timeline and logging every pressure change in the public town record. Senior Inspector Korr Var stood beside her, his signed council warrant ready to validate every step of the drill.
‘Rules of the drill,’ Pella announced, looking at the assembled crew. ‘We test the system at sixty percent of maximum flood head. If a seam weeps, if a bell fails, or if Ada’s arm aches, we blow the whistle and halt. We have ninety minutes on the clock, and we use the final twenty minutes for safe packing and debriefing. Shovels up, tools checked. Move out to the basin!’
