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Part 4 Chapter 17: Headquarters
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The Military Tribunal
Matt stood four stories up the drill yard, helmet buckled, harness fastened, one hand resting lightly on the primary line.
Mason had rappel station today, and he was handling it by the book. But Matt was the lead instructor on this rotation, and it didn’t matter if Mason had it under control. He was there to catch what others missed.
Like the way Briggs had been too casual all morning. The jokes. The posturing. The way he smirked at Carter like this was a game.
From a few paces away, Matt saw it.
Mason was halfway through checking Carter’s rig when Briggs, impatient and grinning, tossed out something snide and leaned too far over the edge. His foot caught Carter’s tether.
Carter was yanked to one side. His glove slipped on the brake line. The rappel rope went taut before Mason could grab him, and Carter swung out from the tower.
Matt was already moving. He clipped in clean and dropped.
Not a rappel. A fall with brakes.
Three meters. Four. Fast.
The tower wall blurred past.
Carter hit the low swing, harness twisting, seconds from impact.
Matt caught him mid-arc, brake rope burning through his glove as he redirected all that force sideways. His shoulder slammed the net frame, and they bounced hard, tangled but alive.
“You hurt?”
“No. I—I don’t think—”
“Good.”
From above, Mason leaned over the edge. “Damn, Hartfield. Now you’re just showing off.”
Matt’s grip didn’t ease as he looked up. “All clear. Lower us down.”
“You don’t move. You don’t open your mouth. You stay in the damn check. Hartfield had to pull that stunt because you can’t follow a basic order.”
Once Mason was done chewing him out, Matt called.
“Briggs!”
Everyone looked.
“Down. Now.”
Briggs froze, then made his way down awkwardly. Mason followed.
Matt was waiting. Dead still. He let Briggs stand there for a full three seconds longer than was comfortable.
“You broke position mid-check and made a scene.”
“I didn’t think—”
“No,” Matt said. “You didn’t.”
The trainees closed in around the staging area.
“Your boot caught Carter’s tether before his system was locked in. You yanked him off balance mid-setup. Another second, and he’d have taken that fall straight into the frame. You’d be looking at a spinal injury at best.”
Briggs paled.
“You don’t get to play casual here. You don’t get to distract during a safety check. You don’t get to turn your back on a partner while they’re clipped in and trusting the system.”
He swept his eyes over the other trainees.
“This is not a gym class. This is not a trust fall. This is high-angle ropework in uncontrolled conditions. And if this were an actual structure collapse? Carter would be dead, and you’d be the one who kicked him.”
“It was just—”
“It was reckless. And if you pull that again, you’re looking for another career.”
He turned to Mason. “Effective immediately, he’s ground-side only. No clearance until I say so.”
“Good,” Mason said. “He can scrub the lifts and reset the tower every night.”
The trainees watched in stunned silence.
Carter, still shaking, barely dared to breathe. Briggs didn’t move.
Matt walked off.
A ripple went through the group behind him, but he didn’t catch the words.
He headed for the medic bench. His hand was blistering up, and his shoulder had begun its own slow protest.
That wasn’t the problem.
Lucy was going to kill him. He already knew how.
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