A series of actions happen in quick succession:
1. Fodder attempts to make skin-to-flesh contact with a facet of IS currently affixed to their hand.
2. To prevent this, the rope of tendon and fat they have hold of abruptly tenses, then forces itself back into the terminal. Fodder’s hand, still connected, is dragged with it— slamming into the metal shell with enough force to bruise. They do not even have time to wince before
3. The floor beneath sags as if made of mud, and Fodder swiftly loses their footing. They try steadying themself with their free hand; but when they brace it on the terminal, it sinks into half an inch of surfaced mucosal tissue. Both hands are now partially engulfed and unbudging. Tissue and tendon rapidly harden to lock them in place.
4. Their heart rate spikes. Their breathing quickens. Like a rabbit in a hunter's snare, they begin to thrash. This continues for thirteen seconds, until
5. Fodder goes limp. Abrupt, adrenaline-fueled movement clashes with their head injury, and the consequence is unconsciousness. They flop bonelessly atop the terminal, half-propped up and bent at an odd angle. The thickness of their suit makes it difficult to tell if they are breathing. Their restraints slacken, and they slip onto the floor.
Twenty-three seconds pass. Fodder's eyes open.
They make a noise that is as pathetic as it is unclear.
Their jaw tightens.
They exhale. They mumble to themself at first, unintelligible, then say:
There is no response. Fodder shifts, presumably nervous. They touch their injured hand and wince.
There is no response. Fodder slams their injured hand on the ground, knuckle-first. It connects with a dull thud. They bite their lip until it splits.
Their face contorts in an array of subtle expressions. Their mouth moves in a wordless conversation. Their lip is still bleeding. One hand covers the wound, and they shudder.
Finally, they are overtaken by the same neutral detachment they have always worn. It is almost commendable how quickly they piece themself together. They stand on shaky legs.
There is no response.
Just outside, Utah exclaims,