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The words were stripped of defense. Kesta understood then why every threat became a locked gate in his hands.

“You are trying to save Ash Camp by never making the wrong opening again,” she said.

“Yes.”

“And you may destroy it by never letting anyone choose one.”

His eyes closed once.

“I know.”

“No. You know the sentence. The knowing comes when it changes what you do next.”

A weak alarm sounded from the infirmary. Tavi was awake. Near dawn, Tavi woke and insisted the lower bypass could still be closed manually.

“Not by you,” Kesta said.

“Then the condenser dies.”

Dreven entered as the machine coughed again, a dry scrape that vibrated through the infirmary floor. Sera looked toward the eastern wall. “How long?” Keth answered from the doorway. “Until sunrise, perhaps less.” Kesta sealed her medical kit. “Show me the lower chamber.” Dreven said, “No.” She met his eyes. The word hung there, carrying every argument they had ever had. He closed his mouth. Then tried again.

“The chamber is unstable. I will not ask you to enter it.”

“That is better.”

“I am still going.”

“So am I.”

“You understand the risk?”

“Yes.”

“You may refuse at any point.”

“Yes.”

His tail moved once behind him, restrained anxiety given shape.

“Then tell me what you need,” he said.

Kesta looked at the red residue, the failing gauges, and the camp waiting for water.

“Rope,” she said. “Alkaline wash. Every spare seal Tavi owns. And someone strong enough to hold a pipe together while I teach a dead machine to breathe.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Night Work

The condenser shaft was narrower than Kesta expected and considerably hotter. She descended behind Dreven with a safety line clipped around her waist and her medical pouch replaced by a smaller repair kit containing alkaline concentrate, sample vials, sealant and the few tools Tavi insisted she could not possibly use correctly without him. Ena followed above them with a second line and two canisters of neutralizing wash, while Keth remained at the upper hatch with the workers controlling pressure from the surface.

Every few meters, Dreven stopped and tested the next section of ladder before allowing Kesta to put weight on it. He did not tell her to wait while he inspected the entire chamber, nor did he insist on taking the repair kit because it looked heavy. He simply moved first where his experience with the old structure mattered and gave her room when the work became hers. Kesta noticed.

She was beginning to notice far too many things about him.

The deeper they went, the more the machine seemed to surround them. Pipes disappeared through stone and old ship plating in every direction, vibrating beneath her boots with an irregular pulse. Moisture gathered overhead and fell in intermittent drops, turning the narrow platforms slick beneath layers of mineral residue. Dreven had to angle his horns beneath several crossbeams, and more than once the breadth of his shoulders forced him to turn sideways.

Kesta ducked beneath a fractured support and looked at the scales running along the exposed side of his neck.