Sallor gave them two hours, and refused to call it a promise.
“The wind has cleared the ledge since morning,” the vent technician said. “The lower sample is still poor. We stay above the marked step. If the upper reading changes, we leave. You don’t finish a sentence first.”
Iven repeated the stop instruction. So did everyone else.
First Vent’s lower exterior housing lay beneath the western corner of the station, accessible by a narrow stair and a maintenance ladder. On their first visit, gray bad air had covered the ledge. Today the wind had opened a temporary clear layer against the cliff. Beyond it, the canyon still held its slow pale sea.
They had come for a measured inspection, not to prove that a strong graft could replace lungs.
Leth remained at the station’s working controls. Rask joined the lower party with the housing key and the service drawings. Neri carried the corrected release dimensions. Kesh checked the ordinary retreat rope. Two paid station workers handled the lamp, record boards and spare supports. Sallor stayed where he could compare the air samples from the ledge and the stair above it.
Pera had arranged a separate visit with Delu to compare the later native marks. Her absence did not leave the human crew entitled to invent their meaning.
