The near jaw lifted cleanly from its seat, opening a bright line beneath the steel. Mara felt the pin turn through the lever as Nessa fed weight into the far support. For the first three minutes, the bearing moved where Mara put it.
But the old station arm still dragged downward. She gave the jaw another lateral correction, and the pressure jumped.
Mara stopped. Her fingers remained loose. Tight hands overcorrected. She had learned that lesson from Sal long before she could afford the sort of mistake it prevented.
"Binding," she said.
Hester answered immediately. "Where?"
"Pin's not square in the seat. I'm backing."
Mara released the lateral load. The pressure fell. The bearing did not move back.
A faint ticking came through the frame. One, two, then a longer scrape. The window showed the old station moving downward behind the support. Its patched shoe held high on one side. The rest of the foundation continued to settle around it, bringing the load into the bearing at an angle her preliminary alignment could not preserve.
"Nessa. Give me near-side vertical from your model."
The reply came quickly. "Higher than the sensor says. It's twisting."
"How much?"
"I don't have an actual angle. Camera's behind the cradle."
Mara moved her head to the side of the pod window. From there she could see the lower edge of the bearing housing, a line that should have been parallel to the frame. It was not. A new crescent of darkness lay beneath the far side.
She took a photograph with the wrist camera and sent it.
Nessa swore. "Eight degrees?"
"Less. The lens distorts. Call it enough to bind."
Mara needed to take the vertical load farther off before making the lateral correction. The hydraulic cylinder could do it, but the added lift would draw the cradle-side frame toward the station until Nessa compensated. Five people depended on the same assembly remaining aligned. She did not have room for a grand gesture. She had little movements with narrow consequences.
"We lift together," she said. "I unload near side. You feed far side into it. Don't chase my pressure. Watch the cradle feet."
"Ready."
Jonah's voice came from farther back at the refuge. "Flow ready."
Benji said, "Return clear."
Kit said, "Bundle in hand."
Leonie said, "All branches open."
Mara looked at the bottle reading. Seventeen working minutes when she had last checked, now less. She still had time to finish and get back to Hester.
She lifted.
The cylinder took the load. Nessa fed the far support. The dark crescent under the housing narrowed. Mara gave another fraction of stroke, paused, watched the bright wear mark. It changed direction, sliding inward instead of down.
"Moving," she said.
She added lateral correction. The pin turned, caught, turned again. The rough sound through the seat became a smooth deep groan. The bearing came square.
Mara let out a breath so loud Hester asked if she was all right.
"Square," she said.
"Then transfer."
She began to transfer.
The far support took weight. Nessa's reading rose steadily. Mara paid out the local cylinder a fraction at a time, watching the old station arm relax. Beyond the window a pale sheet tore away from the cracked shoe and drifted upward in the water. The hull moved after it.
The bearing jammed again.
This time the lever kicked beneath her hand.
Mara caught it, stopped the stroke and braced both boots on the foot rail. The local pressure surged against the relief, dropped, surged again. The old station's movement was now pulling through the arm faster than she could transfer its load. The new side had weight, not enough. Cutting here would snap the remaining share into the far structure sideways.
"Hold," she said.
Nessa held. The source trace wavered. Benji called it, not loudly, just a change in the living system that meant the load was not only in the steel.
Mara looked at the mechanical shear control. A protected handle. A simple movement she could do with one hand. Wrong now. She put her hand back on the hydraulic lever and studied the jam.
The near jaw had seated on the bright scar made during the earlier recovery. Not a flat face anymore. A little ridge of displaced metal caught under the lip. She had aligned the pin, but the jaw could not move across its damaged seat under full load.
"Need lift past the scar," she said.
Hester's voice came back. "How much time?"
Mara checked the bottle. The estimate moved with her breathing. She slowed, not withholding air, just stopping the useless fast breaths fear had made her take.
"Twelve working minutes."
"You can still come back."
She looked at the crawl door. Its seal held. The return path indicator was green. She could close the local hydraulics on hold, go through the tube, climb to the dock and sit in the capsule. Hester could take her up. The support would continue pulling against the refuge until something gave. Maybe it would hold long enough for a different operation. Maybe not. Mara had seen the far-side load and the speed of the station's settling. She knew which part of that maybe was hope made of nothing.
"If I leave it loaded, it tears the bundle," she said.
"I asked whether you can come back."
"Yes."
Hester said nothing. She had made Mara say the fact clearly. It did not make the choice easier.
On the refuge camera Jonah sat with the manual handle between his palms. Nessa watched the rig. Kit stood ready at the bundle he had kept open for a woman he could not forgive. Benji's supported hand rested against his chest while his good hand pointed out the return color to Leonie. Five people doing exactly what she had asked.
Mara looked at the capped branch at her shoulder. She knew what it could cost. She knew what she wanted above water. June's table at the booking. The refrigerator she would have helped move back. A cheap early breakfast, outside air cold on her face. None of it had become less desirable because she could see a terrible alternative.
"I'm lifting past the scar," she said.
Hester made a sound, then stopped. "I have you."
Mara set the second cylinder to a short stroke. The load would have to cross from one hydraulic face to another while she shifted the jaw. It required both hands and a feel for when weight became motion. She could not do it by reading a number alone.
"Nessa. Far side follows me. Very small."
"Ready."
She lifted.
The scar caught, resisted, then came free with a hard click. The lever moved under Mara's hand. She did not chase it. She held, waited for the load to settle and eased the jaw sideways over the raised metal.
The near arm swung a fraction toward the pod.
A steel guard struck the crawl tube.
The return path indicator flickered.
Mara looked at it. Green, amber, green. The tube had not failed. Its alignment had begun to go.
"Path moving," she said.
Hester answered, "Dock too."
Mara put her left hand on the transfer lever and her right on the correction. She could still stop. The fact stayed with her as clearly as the metal under her fingers.
She made the next stroke.