Chapter 978: Nessa Joins Two Incompatible Anchors

Nessa’s fingers folded around Vask’s black plate before pain reached her elbow.

Her thumb and first two fingers held the near edge. Her shortened ring finger caught the corner while the missing side of her hand hurt against empty air.

The two anchor teeth turned toward each other beneath Tower Five.

Lower Nine’s rope ran through the left tooth with four residents above Iri Tolland and a medicine cage at her boots. The right tooth held Lower Eleven’s line, Lera’s key, and thirty two ward straps.

One tooth tightened whenever the other gave.

Nessa pinned the plate against her knee before her suit could place it for her.

"Both teeth carry people. Give me exact slack, not brave guesses."

Iri answered from below the left tooth.

"Lower Nine carries Senn Kitt, Ova Renn, Mero Tull, and Brann Olt with the medicine cage behind them."

Jade hung beneath the other line with one arm around Lower Eleven’s last address knot.

"Lower Eleven cleared its residents. The line still carries our rescue road and thirty two ward beds."

Nessa watched the ropes rub black dust from both teeth. Senn Kitt had one boot hooked through Ova’s waist cord. Mero held Brann upright by the back of his coat. Every time the medicine cage swung, all four bodies shifted closer to the closing metal.

The cage held enough breathing ampules for the upper ward. It also had an iron frame built for a floor that still existed.

Vask put one hand near the six tooth transfer comb at his belt. Lera’s rope bound his other wrist to Tower Five.

"The transfer comb divides both loads before either tooth can close. Use it once, record the split, and cage it again after both ropes clear."

The plate turned inside Nessa’s grip. Its copied pulse cage curve might fit between the teeth, which made touching it worse.

"The comb still hides support seven, and nobody becomes foundation without a name."

"Your arm already copied my plate, and the plate can span both teeth."

His satisfaction made Nessa want to break the comb across his ear cap. She saved the idea for later.

She shoved the comb farther beneath Lera’s council rope with her heel.

"Then mark me as the hinge and keep your comb caged."

Lera pulled herself along the right rope. Her council key remained driven through Lower Eleven’s address knot, but she had a short load knife and one strip of blank black metal.

"I can mark the plate. I cannot make your arm public property after we use it, and neither Vask nor this city gets to call today consent for tomorrow."

"Write the limit where even his hardware can read it."

Vask opened his mouth. Lera set the knife against his plate, and he decided to let her finish.

She cut each word deep enough to raise a burr.

"Nessa Cord, living hinge, one count, no transfer beyond her pulse cage."

Nessa rubbed her thumb across the cuts. The plate pushed each new groove into her skin. Vask’s metal wanted a body it could remember. Today it would remember the terms too.

Tressa Bohn called from the ward pulley.

"Lower Eleven can give three fingers before an upper bed starts walking."

"I need those fingers after Lower Nine gives two."

One cage corner had caught behind Senn’s ankle buckle. Three glass ampules sat inside padding. Iron mesh, locking feet, and empty cloth made up the rest.

"Lower Nine gives two when I cut the medicine frame. I keep the breathing ampules."

"Cut after Senn clears the lower buckle. Leave the frame, keep every ampule, and curse me later."

Iri drew her knife and braced the cage against her thigh.

"I have several curses ready. You can wait for the complete list."

That sounded like a person planning to survive. Nessa trusted it more than Vask’s clean answer.

She pressed the black plate between the teeth until both edges caught. Lower Nine took the left edge. Pressure from the ward beds traveled through the right and into her wrist, where the suit tightened before she chose a side.

Nessa yanked her elbow back.

Four pulse cage needles drove into the muscles of her forearm. The movement stopped at her shoulder, but the suited hand stayed around the plate.

Vask leaned close enough to inspect the emergency port beneath her thumb.

"Keep your thumb in the port until both teeth settle."

"Do not tell me how to wear my own cage."

"Then do not bleed on my only plate."

Nessa pushed her thumb into the port.

The cage answered with a hard turn under her skin. Her index finger straightened. The middle followed. Her shortened ring finger lagged, caught the raised words, and completed the grip.

The suit could move before her now. The cage forced it to move in her order.

Above, Tressa divided the ward workers by bed number. Some held patients. Others strapped themselves to floor cups and braced against the lower pull.

"Thirty two hands are ready. They are frightened enough to follow numbers."

"Give them three fingers of slack on my second pull."

Tressa repeated the order by bed number. A few workers answered too early. She made them say it again until the calls reached the pulley in order.

Below, Iri worked the cage knife through its first iron joint. Senn lifted his ankle while Ova held his leg away from the rope.

"The lower buckle is clear, and Senn keeps both boots."

"Cut the frame and let the empty iron pay."

Iri put her weight on the knife. The joint broke. The cage frame dropped past her, struck Lower Nine’s old cooking rail, and took the empty drawer with it. She caught the padded ampule rack against her chest.

With the frame gone, the left rope rose two fingers and gave Nessa space to draw the black plate deeper.

The first tooth closed over its left edge. Across her wrist, the second bit the right. Vale tissue spread from her glove and divided around both pieces of metal. It had no trouble deciding that both belonged inside her arm.

Nessa did.

"Tressa, second pull now. Iri, keep Lower Nine still."

Thirty two ward hands drew Lower Eleven’s line three fingers toward the upper gallery.

The right tooth turned. Its edge drove through the suit and pushed one pulse cage needle sideways. Nessa’s forearm cramped around the bent metal. She kept her thumb buried in the emergency port and felt blood fill the glove beside her missing finger.

The left tooth tried to spend the new slack first.

Her suit closed around it before the warning reached her nerves.

Lower Nine’s rope jumped. Senn’s ankle buckle struck the tooth and tore loose. Ova swung under him. Mero lost one hand from Brann’s coat.

Nessa’s suited middle finger clamped the rope against the marked plate. She felt the pressure after the line had stopped.

Iri caught Ova with her free elbow and shoved the ampule rack against Brann’s chest.

"Hold the medicine and keep Mero attached to you."

Brann wrapped both arms around the rack. Mero found his coat again. Senn kicked the broken buckle away before it could enter the tooth.

Nobody fell.

Her knees weakened after the rope held, and Tower Five struck her back when she sat.

Vask reached toward the plate. Lera caught his bound wrist.

"Her name carries the load until she releases it herself."

"The left edge will shear if she releases under pull."

"Then use your mouth and tell her something useful."

Vask stared at the two teeth, the writing under Nessa’s bloody thumb, and the rope held beneath her middle finger.

"Lower Eleven moves first by half a finger. Lower Nine follows before the plate twists."

Nessa checked the angle herself. His angle matched hers, and she hated him accurately for the next pull.

"Tressa, half a finger. Iri, follow her pull when my ring finger opens."

The ward line moved. Nessa lifted her shortened finger from the raised letters. Iri hauled Lower Nine through while Senn and Ova kicked away from the tooth.

Mero crossed with Brann against his chest. The padded ampules scraped the black metal and stayed in his arms.

Both ropes cleared.

Lera’s key struck the upper pulley. Tressa caught Lower Eleven’s address knot before it could wrap around a bed frame. Iri brought all four Lower Nine residents through Tower Five’s lower mouth, then counted the ampules before she counted her own cuts.

Nessa tried to pull her thumb from the emergency port.

The cage kept it there.

Vale tissue loosened from the two anchor teeth and slid back around her glove. A fresh line of blood ran along the side where her smallest finger used to be. Beneath it, the suit drew itself toward the nearest longer piece of hard white material.

Ty stood three steps away with his right foot inside Dimitri’s outer ring.

The inner ring waited near his ribs.

Nessa’s suited hand reached for one of them.

She drove her left hand around the cage and trapped the reaching wrist against her chest. The movement bent another needle. Her thumb finally came free.

Ty looked from her glove to the rib it had chosen.

"Ask before your arm borrows me, and I can give you a better piece."

Nessa held the suit until every finger stopped.

The two cleared roadbacks pulled apart behind him, already wider than the reach of her arm.