Eshel’s calculation arrived from Cinder at the fourth hour of day twenty.
He had been working it since the sockets opened: three ribs, a long way short of the whole cage or every bowed strut. Three new ribs, slid into three of the opened sockets on the cold side, taking load off the bowing struts beside them. Spreading the lattice’s load across the cage instead of letting it pile onto the bow.
“Three composite ribs,” he said. On the link. “In three sockets. Spaced around the bow.” He read the positions. “They can spread the lattice load. Long enough for the returns to stabilize. Hearth’s, Lorn’s, Tal’s at half. Long enough for the outer ring’s return to be lined and opened. I’ve worked it twice. With the three real sensors and the four guessed ones. Both ways, three ribs hold.”
“Is three enough?”
“I can’t promise three is enough for good,” Eshel said. “The bow will come back if the well keeps drawing. It’s enough for the time we have.”
Mara wrote it on the plate. Three ribs. Spread the load. Enough for the time.
She looked at the three words enough for the time and thought of every repair she had ever made that had been enough for the time. The brace, which had held until the bridge came across and then burst. The halfway pulse, eleven seconds. Lorn’s crown patch. None of them had been for good. All of them had been enough for the time, and the…
