"Let them burst if they have to," Alvian replied, his voice flat. "Pipes can be replaced. A city turned to rubble cannot. Hold the output."
He cut the connection. He didn't have time for engineering debates. The enemy wasn't going to wait for maintenance checks.
Footsteps approached from behind. Heavy, rhythmic, metallic footsteps. Alvian didn't need to turn to know who it was. The aura of the Titan was unmistakable, a warm, golden pressure that pushed back against the cold void radiating from Alvian.
"You haven't slept," Valeria said. She stepped up beside him, leaning her elbows on the stone parapet. She wasn't wearing her helmet. Her face was pale, drawn with fatigue, but her eyes were clear. The stress of command sat heavy on her shoulders, but she bore it like she bore her armor—with grim determination.
