Elara's exhale had four parts.
Soma found them after removing rain, engines, the loose road sign, and a traffic officer chewing too close to his microphone.
Long breath.
Short catch.
Two pulses through closed lips.
Silence.
Kim's filter printed numbers beneath the waveform.
```
FOUR.
ONE.
TWO.
ZERO.
```
Aren heard the count through the black call box.
"Play it again."
Soma did.
"That is a recovery count," Aren said. "Old one. Before civic bands."
Paper scraped through the observatory courier slot.
The first photograph showed a soldier sitting in mud with both legs inside a steel walking brace. One hand gripped a direction bar at the hip. A medic held the other arm around the soldier's chest.
The soldier chose a point with the bar.
The brace completed one step.
Below the ribs, a red pull ring released the breathing plate.
Mara Ostrohov had written beside it.
```
FIRST RULE:
THE WEARER PICKS THE GROUND.
SECOND RULE:
ANY HAND MAY RELEASE THE CHEST.
```
