Neri was fitting a label to the first city-side receiving frame when Iven asked for a private minute.
She looked at his face, handed the brush to Jem and walked with him to the empty side of the cooperative yard.
The morning of the two hundred and fortieth day was clear. Workers moved between racks carrying the last spares to their traveling places. Somewhere beyond the wall, a marshal practiced the assembly call that would wake households before dawn. The sound had become part of the city without yet becoming an alarm.
Iven kept his hands away from his tools.
“You know I signed the Sixth Lift approval,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You’ve seen the valve specifications. You know the test wasn’t adequate.”
“Yes.” Her expression had sharpened. She waited.
