Chapter 5: The Weight on the Line

The climber breathed against Elias’s burned palm.

Barely, but twice.

For a moment he thought the tremor of the lower grille had deceived him. He lowered his face until his cheek nearly touched hers and watched the strip of scarf beneath her jaw.

The cloth lifted.

Fell.

Lifted again.

Alive.

“Cassian. Second casualty alive.” Elias found the pulse beneath the woman’s jaw, rapid and thin but unmistakable. “Do not load the rope.”

“The far hatch remains unsupported,” Cassian answered through the witness tube. Metal hollowed his voice. “We do not know how long it will remain open.”

“We also do not know whether pulling her will kill her. Let us reduce our collection of unknowns in the traditional order.”

Elias drew the lamp closer.

Blood darkened the woman’s clothing beside her right hip. A broken harness clasp had punched through coat, trousers, and flesh, then torn free. The bent clasp remained attached to the webbing, bright along one edge and red everywhere else. Each vibration of the grille coaxed another pulse from the wound.

He touched the front of her pelvis with minimal pressure.

Bone shifted beneath his fingers.

Elias stopped.

“Probable pelvic fracture,” he reported. “No lifting one side. No harness drag. Mara, record that.”

“Recorded,” Mara called from the outer platform.

The woman’s eyelids fluttered. Her pupils reacted unequally when Elias moved the lamp, the right lagging behind the left, but her gaze followed the beam.

“Can you hear me?”

Her fingers moved against the grille.

“Right hand.”

A twitch.

“Left.”

Another.

“Right foot.”

Her boot scraped metal.

“Left.”

The second scrape was weaker, but deliberate.

“Good. Annoyingly competent so far.”

Her gaze settled on his face.

“I need a way for you to answer. For each question, one tap means yes. Two rapid taps mean no. Two rapid taps also mean stop immediately if I am touching you. Do you understand that rule?”

One tap struck the grille.

“That confirms the rule, nothing else.”

He laid her right hand flat where she could tap without lifting her arm.

“Do you currently have pain along the centerline of your neck or back?”

Two rapid taps.

“No current centerline pain reported,” Elias said for Mara’s record. “That does not exclude spinal injury.”

“Recorded,” Mara replied.

Elias followed the lines of the woman’s harness without moving her. The chest strap had twisted beneath one shoulder and drawn tight across her ribs. Each breath expanded her chest until the strap caught, leaving the inhalation short and hurried. The puncture continued to bleed. Her pelvis could not tolerate a drag, and the unequal pupils made unnecessary movement more dangerous.

“I am going to explain the treatment before I ask permission. Your chest strap is restricting your breathing. I propose to cut it without rolling you. Then I would pack the wound beside your hip, bind your pelvis, and secure your shoulders and hips to this grille so you remain level while the others prepare a haul.”

Her eyes stayed fixed on him.

“The packing will hurt. Binding the pelvis may also hurt. Any movement could worsen the fracture, the bleeding, or a possible spinal injury we cannot rule out here. The floor mechanism may move before we finish. I will stop if you give two rapid taps.”

The tendons in her hand tightened.

“The alternative is that I do none of those things, or only the parts you authorize. That avoids treatment movement, but the strap will continue restricting your breathing, the wound may keep bleeding, and an unbound pelvis is more likely to shift during extraction. Refusal will not make us abandon you. It will limit what I do while we find another plan.”

Above them, the rope creaked softly.

Elias looked toward the witness tube. “Keep that slack.”

“It is slack,” Cassian said.

“Keep it more convincingly slack.”

The rope settled.

Elias returned his attention to the woman. “Comprehension check only: do you understand the treatment, the risks, and the alternative I described?”

One tap.

He waited until her hand rested again.

“Reset. That answer authorized nothing. One tap now means yes to the exact treatment I am about to name. Two rapid taps mean no, or stop at any point.”

Her fingers remained poised against the grille.

“Do you freely consent to me cutting the restrictive chest strap, packing the wound, binding your pelvis, and securing you level to this grille for extraction?”

One clear tap answered him.

Elias waited another breath. No second tap followed.

“Consent witnessed,” Mara said through the tube.

“Consent witnessed,” Cassian repeated.

“Excellent,” Elias murmured. “Now we may proceed to the regrettable portion.”

He slid the knife beneath the twisted chest strap, keeping the flat of the blade against her coat. His burned palm split further when he tightened his grip. Heat flashed through the old injury, followed by wetness beneath the cloth wrapped around it.

The strap parted.

Severed webbing recoiled away from her ribs. The woman dragged in a deeper breath and coughed once. Pain tightened her face, but air entered more freely afterward.

“Breathing improved,” Elias reported. “Preparing the wound.”

He cut away only enough fabric to expose the puncture. The opening was narrow, the damage beneath it deeper. He positioned the lamp away from her eyes and folded the first length of clean packing cloth.

“Starting wound packing under the consent already given. Two rapid taps will stop me.”

He pressed the cloth into the wound.

Her body locked. One hand caught his sleeve with surprising strength, and her breath stopped behind clenched teeth.

Elias paused without withdrawing the packing. “Breathe if you can.”

No taps came.

A thin breath escaped her. Then another.

He advanced the cloth in controlled increments. Blood saturated the first fold and stained the second, but pressure began to slow the flow. Her grip tightened until he could feel each finger through his coat.

“I know,” he said. “A useless phrase, but the accurate ones are longer.”

The grille shivered beneath them.

Elias froze. The packing remained in place. The woman’s eyes widened, but she did not signal stop.

“Cassian?”

“No load from us.”

“Good. Continue doing nothing with discipline.”

Cassian did not answer, but the rope remained slack.

When the vibration faded, Elias finished packing the wound. A dark seep persisted around the cloth; the active welling had stopped.

His last compression wrap was narrower than he wanted. To position it without lifting her pelvis, he needed the end passed through the gap beneath her coat.

“Cassian, lower the narrow guide line through the third opening to my left. No hook.”

A few seconds later, the line descended exactly where Elias had requested.

He tied the wrap to it with one hand. “Draw six inches. Slowly.”

Cassian obeyed. The guide line pulled the wrap beneath the woman without raising her from the grille.

“Hold.”

The line stopped.

Elias reached across to flatten a fold before it could press against the puncture. His weight shifted onto his damaged right knee.