Page 137 of Pocket Wife

There it is.

Half-buried, slick with moss, a crescent carved into stone.

Sen objects. “Any manipulation of that bypass could damage Helix-installed shelter systems.”

Noll says, “The shelter system was not disclosed and appears to be drawing from a contested emergency route. Objection denied.”

Salo adds, “Miss Hartwell, you may operate the historical bypass under live record, with witnesses, and without damaging the modern coupling if avoidable.”

If avoidable.

The words matter.

Lucy crouches and clears moss from the crescent stone. The field worker hands her a pry bar, then pulls it back as if the tool might incriminate her.

Lucy shakes her head. “No tools.”

She places both hands on the stone.

Nothing moves.

The second field worker kneels beside her.

Still nothing.

The schoolteacher sets the slate down on a rock, record light pointed at them, and joins too.

Three pairs of hands.

The crescent stone shifts.

Water roars beneath it.

Lucy scrambles back as a hidden channel opens with a force that sends mud splashing across her boots. The wet line near the Helix coupling slows, thins, then stops.

Torren shouts from the cistern feed. “Feeder draw dropping. Lower tower rising. Keep it open.”

Lucy returns to the wheel.

“Third stage,” Torren says. “Slow.”

She pulls.

The wheel fights hard, metal grinding against pressure and age.

The field workers join.

The wheel turns.

Third notch.

The pipe sings.

This time the sound comes through the whole meeting hall floor.

Low, steady, undeniable.

Jessa looks down as if she could see water moving beneath the boards.