Iven reached the upper eye with an ordinary line over his shoulder and thirty-two charges already committed to the crossing.
The twenty-nine-meter turbine burst carried him from the dry starting shelf to a sound landing beyond the broken path. He landed with his knees bent, clear of the wet edge, and waited until his own footing was certain before turning toward the anchor. Below him, the partly blocked heat throat breathed white vapor through its remaining opening.
It was the morning of day 1298. His reserve had begun at five hundred, recovered through six actual hours of fed rest while ordinary props carried the inspection hood. His measured maximum remained five hundred and eighty-four. Plate, hammer, boiler, turbine, winch and ratchet occupied six channels. The other twenty-two physical patterns remained retained, with the passive return separate; none had vanished overnight.
The iron eye stood in a collar seated into the upper rock, not a loose loop waiting to be trusted because an old drawing named it. Tamis’ last inspection mark remained visible. Iven cleared mud from the surrounding stone by hand, found no new split running through the collar and called the actual condition down to her.
She checked it through the station glass from the protected shelf. Then they took the ordinary line through the eye and tested its intended direction with the station’s rated service tackle. The crew stayed clear of the line of pull. The eye did not lift or turn under the keeper’s proof load. That…
