She stepped forward without comment. A second-class cadet fitted her harness, quickly and efficiently. Too quickly. Thestraps were snug, but something about the tension felt wrong. It felt uneven. She flexed her shoulders, testing it.
“Any issues?” the cadet asked.
“No,” she said.
Krueger watched the exchange, eyes sharp, mouth neutral. “Begin when ready.”
Shannon climbed.
The first platform went smoothly. Then the second. She moved with care, not rushing, placing her weight deliberately. The wind picked up as she climbed higher, tugging at her sleeves, humming through the lines.
She reached for the next handhold and felt the harness shift. Just slightly. Her stomach dropped.
She froze, muscles locking as instinct took over. She tested her weight again. The strap at her left hip slid another inch. Below her, the ground looked very far away.
“Keep moving,” Krueger called up. “You’re holding up the course.”
She adjusted her grip and moved her foot. The harness slipped. Not all the way—just enough. Her balance went, and the world tipped.
For a split second, there was nothing but air and the sound of her own breath leaving her lungs. Then hands caught her—strong, immediate, and certain. The jolt rattled her bones, but she didn’t fall.
“Hold still,” a voice said, low and controlled.
She knew it. Olivo.
He had moved without waiting for clearance, without calling it in, without hesitation. He had arrested her fall with his own weight, anchoring her line manually while another cadre rushed in to secure the secondary tether.
The field had gone silent.
Shannon hung there, heart pounding, fingers numb.
“Lower her,” Olivo said.
She was brought down slowly, carefully. When her boots hit the ground, her knees buckled once before she caught herself.
Medical staff moved in. Questions followed. Checks. Hands on wrists. Light in her eyes.
She was fine. Shaken, not injured.
Krueger approached, expression calm. “Equipment failure. These things happen.”
Olivo looked at the harness. “That strap was improperly set.”
The course supervisor shifted uncomfortably. “It passed inspection.”
“Then your inspection failed,” Olivo replied.
Krueger stepped in smoothly. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. No one was hurt. No need to make this more than it is.”
The supervisor nodded. “We’ll log it as equipment malfunction.”
Olivo looked at him and held the look a second too long. Then he stepped back. The decision had already been made.
That evening,Shannon sat on her bunk with her hands wrapped around a cup of water she wasn’t drinking.
Mia sat across from her, knees pulled up, eyes sharp. “He did that,” she said quietly.
“Yes.”
