The Compact service frame left First Vent on the thousand and thirty-sixth morning.
The repeated local tests had passed the previous day. Tull and Mett had run the receiving path through its accepted range, stopped it from both positions and restarted without Venn’s hands or apparatus carrying an undeclared part. Rask had checked the warm joints. Neri had compared the support marks under load.
Then the local crew and Leva’s operator disconnected the standby frame in the agreed sequence.
Fuel, tools and remaining materials were counted. The three-day extension closed under its own account. The wagons took the gear back down the six-kilometer road to the Compact receiving enclosure that afternoon. Venn did not leave the region. His machinery had left this particular working dependency, on the terms its users had signed.
For four days, the new bank had served its known local duty.
Now, on the thousand and fortieth morning, Iven stood above it watching an enemy battery build a line toward its roof.
Cenn lowered the field glass.
“Two throw frames. One ready. The second still being set.”
