Chapter 5 — Climbing Through the Storm

The crane carrying the spare steel column was parked in the middle of the material yard when Thắng's convoy returned, and the sound of its engine and the sounds of people calling each other created a chaotic scene completely different from the eerie silence outside the scene of column 42.

Lượng stood in the middle of the yard, holding a walkie-talkie, directing a group of workers to load cable reels onto trucks. He looked like he hadn't slept all night, his eyes were dark, and his protective jacket was wrinkled from wearing it continuously since yesterday afternoon.

"Mr. Thắng." He walked over as soon as Thắng got off the bike, not allowing him time to take off his helmet. "I just received preliminary reports from other teams. The entire district has fourteen collapsed columns, twenty-two leaning columns that need reinforcement, and three flooded intermediate transformer stations that must be dried before re-energizing."

"Column 42 is broken in half and needs to be completely rebuilt," Thắng replied, going straight into the temporary meeting room set up right in the yard with a large tarpaulin, where the district's power grid map was spread out on a folding table. "Column 43 is tilted and needs to be temporarily anchored before it can be safely energized. The wire section from 41 to 50 is seriously damaged, needing to replace nearly five hundred meters of cable."

"We only have four hundred," Lượng said, his voice heavy.

"I know. I planned to only do the priority section for the transformer station first, and do the rest later," Thắng replied, without looking up, his hand still circling the map with a red pencil. "But the bigger problem is the spare column. We only have one suitable steel column in stock, and I just heard that fourteen columns collapsed across the district. If other teams also need that column, who gets priority?"

The question made Lượng pause, because this was exactly the situation he had been afraid of since last night but had not had time to resolve it.

"I contacted the neighboring branch to request support for three more columns, but the transport road is flooded. It is expected to arrive tomorrow afternoon at the earliest," he said. "In the meantime, the only columns we have must be allocated according to urgency."

"Column 42 is the most urgent," Thắng said immediately, without any hesitation. "It's blocking the power supply line to the hospital."

"Pillar number 7 on the route to the industrial park also collapsed, blocking the power supply to the anti-flood pump station of the entire southern area of the district, which is still flooded nearly a meter deep," Lượng replied, his voice was not at all gentler than Thắng's, because he was also holding in his hand a list of lives that depended on his decision. "If the pumping station cannot operate today, floodwater will flood more residential areas, potentially affecting nearly three thousand households."

Both people stood looking at each other over the map, neither one willing to give in first, because both were right in their own way.

"So let me ask directly," Thắng said, his voice lowered but no less firm. "Who makes the final decision? You, or the corporation, or a risk scoring software like yesterday?"

The words hit an old wound, and Lượng was silent for a moment, his hand gripping the walkie-talkie so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"I," he replied, his voice low but clear. "This time it's me who decides, not the software."

"So you decide," Thắng said, took a step back, crossed his arms and waited.

Lượng looked down at the map, looking at two red markers, one at column 42 near the hospital, the other at column 7 near the pumping station, both of which were blockages that could not be bypassed. He was silent for nearly a minute, an unusually long time in an urgent meeting, but no one in the room urged him, because everyone understood that this was not an easy decision.

"Hospital first," He finally said. "Thirty hours is a hard, inelastic number. If the pumping station is flooded for a few more hours, the damage will be to property, which can be overcome. The ventilator stops running, the damage will be human lives, which cannot be repaired."

He turned to a staff member standing nearby and gave a decisive order.

"Send the crane truck carrying the backup column straight to the scene of column 42 right now. Tell the industrial park team that they have to wait for reinforcements from the neighboring branch. I will personally call and explain to the team leader there." Thắng nodded, not saying any thanks or compliments, because they both understood that this was not the time for those things. But there was a slight change in the way he looked at Lượng, a silent recognition that this man, despite having signed off on his proposals, was not someone who shied away from responsibility when things got really serious.

"What about other supplies?" Thắng asked, moving on to the next problem. "Porcelain insulators, anchor cables, portable grounding, is that enough?"

"The insulation is adequate. The rope is about sixty percent of its rating," Lượng replied, quickly flipping through a materials document. "Mobile grounding is only two sets, while safety procedures require a minimum of four sets for a construction section with many points."

"Two sets are not enough," Thắng said immediately, his voice much more serious. "Insufficient grounding means not ensuring absolute safety for construction workers on the pole, especially if there is induced current from nearby parallel lines."

"I know," Lượng replied, and this time his voice had a real helplessness, no longer the defensive bureaucratic tone like at the briefing. "That is also the item that was cut in this year's budget, Mr. Thắng. I have proposed adding it since the beginning of the year, but it has not been approved yet."

Silence covered the canvas for a few seconds. Even Xúyên, standing on the edge of the conversation, stepped in, his voice trying to make the matter realistic.

"So use it alternately. Once construction is complete, remove the grounding ground and carry it to the next section. It's slower but still safe," he suggested. "There is no other way at this time."

"Okay." Thắng nodded, accepting the plan even though it meant things would be slower, while time was the thing they were lacking the most. "Then finalize the plan. Me, Cả Xuyên, and Vọng go to the scene of column 42 as soon as the backup column arrives. Khánh Thi stays behind to help transport supplies, I don't need you to climb the column today."

"I want to go to the scene," Khánh Thi spoke up, surprised with herself, causing all three men to turn to look at her.

"You don't have enough experience for such a complicated scene," Thắng said, not to belittle her, but as a realistic assessment.

"I know," she replied. "But I can support the ground, pass tools, take notes. I didn't ask to climb pole 42 today. I just asked to be there, to see how you guys do it, so that next time I need you, I won't be a bystander."

Thắng looked at her for a moment, then glanced at Lượng as if looking for wordless agreement, and Lượng just shrugged, indicating that it was the captain's decision, not his.

"Okay." Thắng finally nodded. "But you do exactly what I tell you, nothing more, nothing less. This is not the place to prove yourself."

"I understand," Khánh Thi replied, her hand tightening the strap of the helmet she was holding, a gesture that had become her habit whenever she felt something important had just been decided.

Before everyone dispersed, the walkie-talkie on the table made a crackling sound, then the dispatched shift leader's voice rang out, relaying a call from Hải Lộng Medical Center.

"The field team heard the answer clearly, this is an update from doctor Thục." The leader's voice read back the text of the message he just received. "The remaining amount of oil is enough to run for about another nineteen hours if current capacity is maintained. We have reduced the load of some non-essential equipment to prolong the time, but cannot reduce it further because of the impact on ventilators and dialysis machines."

Thắng looked at the clock, then looked at Lượng, both of them did not need to speak to understand that the number they had just heard was nearly two hours shorter than originally expected, perhaps because the generator had to bear the additional load from the newly evacuated patients last night.

"Answer them, we are implementing, absolute priority," Thắng spoke into the walkie-talkie. "If possible, ask them to turn off the lights in areas where there are no patients, and only keep the lights on in the treatment area and main hallway, to prolong the treatment time."

"Noted, will transfer immediately." The shift leader replied, then turned off the radio.

Cả Xuyên patted Khánh Thi on the shoulder, signaling that they should check their equipment before leaving, to avoid letting her stand forever in the tense atmosphere of the meeting.

"The first time you go to a big scene, don't be afraid if you see Mr. Thắng and I arguing fiercely with someone," he said, smiling softly as he checked each item in the toolbox. "In this profession, arguing about safety and progress is a normal thing. After arguing, we still work together normally."

"I'm not afraid of that," Khánh Thi replied, folding several rolls of electrical tape into her tool bag. "I'm just afraid that I made a mistake without knowing it."

"Then just ask, don't guess," Cả Xuyên spoke, his voice much more serious than when he was joking. "In this profession, people die not because they don't know, but because they guess randomly when they're not sure. Remember that sentence, it's more important than anything I taught you today." She nodded, remembering that sentence the way people remember things said when no one has time to say unnecessary things.

Outside the tarpaulin, the sound of a crane starting up, preparing to roll the spare steel poles to the scene, and the long sound of the car's horn sounded like a wordless urging to all those standing in the makeshift tarpaulin space in the middle of a yard with materials scattered after the storm.