To the gathered dignitaries of the southern continent, the Thousand-Array Deep gap was a divine sepulcher. It was a sacred flat scar carved into the world by ancient powers during the First Epoch, an expanse of ancient wrath where only the mighty could hope to crawl forward one painful inch at a time.
To Frank, it was an unimproved state highway with atrocious potholes and zero shoulder upkeep.
“Look at this low spot,” Frank said, nudging a depression in the spatial map point mesh with the toe of his work boot. “You’ve got a three-inch drop-off right along the wheel track. If a farm wagon or a gravel truck hit that at forty miles per hour, they’d snap an axle clean in two.”
He turned back toward the Mobile Workstation Mark Four. There, the five students of Ironwood Peak stood at attention, all wearing bright orange and yellow vests over their robes.
“Alright, crew, listen up,” Frank commanded, clapping his leather work gloves together. “The main blocked path is cleared. The execution array is powered down and tagged out. Now we need to bring this sub-base up to code before we open the hall to two-way traffic.”
Frank pulled a wooden clipboard from his tool chest and unclipped a stubby carpenter’s pencil.
