Chương 59: Ch 33b – Breathing

Cara can feel her heartbeat throb through the balloon of air in her lungs. Every pulse is a building insistence to breathe. She looks past Crathsun to the door of the hall where Flavitt is nervously peering into the large room. He keeps his head low and his shoulders hunched as he slinks towards the shelving units at the far end. His distraction buys her extra seconds. As soon as he disappears from view, she releases her breath, unable to find the desire to hold out any longer.

The short length of pipe clatters noisily to the ground.

"You're getting worse," Crathsun says in disappointment.

"You're still holding the air too high in your chest. I've told you, push your diaphragm lower. Your belly should be pushing out not caving in as you inhale." Erro had been right about Crathsun, she reflects, his new exercise is worse than the skittles they had bowled that morning.

"You're barely hitting 20," he complains.

"You should be capable of 45 to 60 even without breathing techniques." She sighs. His exercise is simple; suspend the pipe in mid-air for as long as possible. What Crathsun doesn't know is that her walk with Draig has left her stomach tied up in a tight knot. It is a complication that he didn't cover in his mind-numbing explanation of diaphragmatic breathing techniques.

It was a situation made worse by the fact that Erro and Magse are still out on fence duties, leaving Draig, as per the rules, as Crathsun's mandatory second. Frustratingly, instead of assuming his usual place leaning against the gym wall, Draig has joined them in their triangle of three chairs. Her knotted stomach isn't going to be loosening anytime soon. Her shoulders raise a limp shrug as she hands Crathsun the shard.

She has already offered excuses and suggestions to try a different exercise, all of which he has considered and rebuffed. Crathsun is proud of his training programme. His, not hers.

"I'm going to suggest some cardiovascular training," Crathsun says to Draig.

"An improvement in overall fitness will improve her lung capacity and oxygen efficiency. Will IAAS raise any objections?"

"As long as it's tailored, not cadet or Trisec level training, I'm sure Argatta will find the request reasonable." Draig replies dispassionately. Annoyance bristles across Cara's shoulders, straightening them from their slump. Yet another conversation about her, in front of her, but not with her.

"Of course, " Crathsun says with an edge of annoyance, "she's clearly not capable of anything at those levels." Draig shows the palm of his hand in a pacifying gesture.

"Just raising the concerns Argatta will undoubtedly want recorded so that we can get ahead of them. Wyndeer has already shared your programme for shard development, it was very comprehensive. It will be easy to reassure Argatta that any physical training will be just as considerate." Draig's schmoozing patter brings another twist to her stomach. She turns to mask her eyeroll and decides she needs to move away from the conversation before the sarcastic remarks building on her tongue escape her tightly clasped lips.

Muttering something about going for a walk, she walks away from the men without a pause for their acknowledgement or permission.

"Cara, we're in the middle of shard training," Crathsun growls at her back.

"I'm just walking around the room Crathsun," she calls over her shoulder. While you decide my every move with Draig, she almost adds but manages to catch the words before they are voiced. She is sure Draig is already planning to hiss a warning at her to not provoke Wyndeer and Crathsun. She slows down her strides, ensuring her brief promenade around the hall takes longer than necessary.

Along the wall, as she heads towards the hangar doors, Crathsun has stacked more sandbags in preparation for future shard exercises. Her shoulders release some tension, curving instead under a growing disquiet. It is easy to get lost in the distraction of exploring what she can do with the shards, but doubt is creeping in as to how much it helps her understand why she is here and why the shards have arrived with her.

The disquiet stems too from the growing enthusiasm Wyndeer's team have in developing her abilities, and the way she is evolving into an animal to be trained not a human to be helped. Movement amongst the shelving units catches her eye as she crosses in front of the hangar doors. She makes her way over to where Flavitt, raised on his tip toes, is easing a box off a shelf above his head. His actions are careful, as if to avoid sudden movements or loud noises.

Not wanting to startle him, she waits until the box is comfortably in his hands before tapping him on the shoulder. He still almost drops the box and for the second time she finds herself helping to steady his load. This time she does not offer to help carry it, she releases her hands once it is secure in his. He regards her, wide eyed and pale faced, as if scared to be in her presence.

"Flavitt," she says, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry about all the trouble I got you into. I told Wyndeer it was my fault." Despite it being a few days ago, this is the first opportunity she has had to apologise for stabbing herself with his slug extractor, such is the extent of his avoidance of her, and, the oppressive group monitoring on her. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

He mumbles something incoherent; his words lost to his chest as he keeps his head dropped down. She is dismayed to see he has started shuffling backwards.

"If there's anything I can do to make it up to you," she continues, taking a step forward. He flinches at her approach. She quickly withdraws.

"Cara," Crathsun yells. The sound of his boots echo off the hall walls. She swears under her breath.

"Coming," she calls back, quickly backtracking away from Flavitt so that she doesn't get him into more trouble. Emerging from between the shelving units just before Crathsun reaches them, she forces a smile.

"Same exercise or something new?" she asks walking past him, forcing him to make a quick about turn.

"The same one," Crathsun replies gruffly, easily catching up with her.

"Remember. Engage your core. Pull the breath low into your belly, pushing your diaphragm down. Your head will tell you to breathe, but you can hold out far longer. Your body will force the breath when it truly needs it."

"Yes, yes," she mutters as she reaches her chair. Draig, predictably, flashes her a warning look. ….. Flavitt finally approaches as Crathsun and Magse gather up their tiles. Magse has won their game of Brohjan's Toil. Or just Toil, Magse had said after reconfirming the name. She had started to tell Cara the myth the game was based on but then Crathsun had blindsided her with a contentious move. Magse had quietened to concentrate on the game. Cara is disappointed that Erro has not reappeared this evening.

She thinks she overheard Wyndeer say something about patrols to Crathsun as they sat down to eat. Crathsun shuts down the cube screen with a hard tap. He had been bested by Magse in what he had thought was his victory move. Magse, having wisely collected up the tiles in quiet, discreet movements, crosses the room to store away the game.

Flavitt, Cara thought, probably should have waited for Crathsun's mood to improve before he approached, but, having hovered nearby for so long, Flavitt seems to have made up his mind.

"I-I- thought this m-might be useful for C-Cara," he stammers, thrusting an unsteady hand clutching a strip of black cloth towards Crathsun.

"What is it?" Crathsun snaps gruffly, not interested in the object, nor even in acknowledging Flavitt. He taps the cube irritably on the table twice before putting it into his pocket.

"It-It's for breathing," Flavitt replies. He hops from one foot to another as if he is waiting for a signal to run away. Cara, taking pity on the slender man's plight, stands up and moves over to his side.

"She can already breathe," Crathsun says dismissively, his attention more on tucking his chair in under the table than caring to determine what Flavitt is trying to offer him.

"Why for my breathing Flavitt?" Cara asks, fearing this encounter will send Flavitt fleeing to his room never to reemerge again. He turns to her, his eyes remaining firmly on the object in his hand. Ironically, he is the one in need of breathing help. His breath appears to be caught in his chest as he struggles to get his words out.

"To- to h-help h-holding your br-breath," he eventually manages.

"Oh, for the shards?" she says, reaching for the object. As she takes it from Flavitt, Crathsun takes it from her.

"Who told you she needs help holding her breath?" Crathsun asks suspiciously. With his interest piqued he has finally turned to face Flavitt. The contrast between the two could not be greater, she thinks. Both are roughly the same height though Flavitt loses inches with his rounded shoulders and bent head. Crathsun's bulk could easily span three Flavitts. Stretching over his muscles his skin glows the healthy tan of long periods spent exercising outdoors.

Flavitt, on the other hand, is a milk white growing paler by the second.

"Speak," Crathsun barks. The agitation in Crathsun's voice arouses the attention of Wyndeer and Draig. From her new vantage point Cara is surprised to see they are sitting together in the corner of the room.

"I- I- I-," Flavitt stammers, unable to cope with Crathsun's impatience.

"How does it work?" Cara prompts in a soothing tone, ignoring the glare Crathsun shoots her way. She hopes by drawing him into a more technical question, Flavitt will be able to respond.

"It- It- I adapted a mask f-for you," he says, gradually finding a comfort in his words.

"It-it has a thermal decomposition chamber over the mouthpiece. When activated you will be able to draw in up to 43% more oxygen with each breath."

"Ok," she says quickly, not wanting Crathsun to undo Flavitt's progress.

"And how does that help my breathing?"

"Oxygen assistance is a well d-documented way to improve a person's ability to hold their breath." He says, slipping into a knowledgeable patter.

"Extensive studies of the maintenance crews on the sub-aquatic North Shinsao Base have proven intensive oxygen saturation techniques can improve breath holds by an average of 302%."

"Oh," Cara murmurs, not quite following his explanation.

"That sounds familiar," Crathsun says, his voice returning to a civil tone. He is turning the mask over in his hands, examining the circular receptacle covering the mouthpiece.

"I recall it being referenced during the assessments for outerworkers on the-," he stops himself, quickly glancing up as if to remind himself who his audience is.

"I recall it being mentioned."

"It could be useful," Wyndeer says, joining the group at Crathsun's side. Crathsun offers the mask to Wyndeer but he declines it with a flick of his hand.

"Crathsun, perhaps you can discuss this further with Flavitt in his workroom. Make sure the device is safe if you think it's worth trialling." In an instant Wyndeer has shut down the conversation faster than it had erupted. The trio find themselves dismissed. Cara finds herself smarting from yet another exclusion from a discussion about her.

"Thank you Flavitt," Wyndeer calls after him as Flavitt skitters towards the door ahead of Crathsun. Flavitt looks up briefly at Cara as he passes, a look of pride in his eyes. She forces a small smile in return, already beginning to feel regret at having stepped in to help him speak. Wyndeer paces slowly away with Magse, talking in dulled tones about something he clearly didn't want to share. Cara finds herself hovering alone at the edge of the table.

Draig sits silently in the corner, watching her, a finger rubbing at his bottom lip. She scowls at him, mutters a goodnight, and retreats to her room.