“But there’s no time,” Tattletale said. “It’s in the smoke. And the stuff she’s been doing, slime, maggots, everything except rolling clouds of death aimed at us, she’s trying to tell us to go away. It’s… not words, it’s her body language. Filtered like our communication was filtered, because she’s far away from having a body right now.”

“Why? She thinks she can win?” Sveta asked.

“She had chances, before Skadi. Right now, though, she just wants to retreat. She’ll go to Dauntless. Titan Kronos. All we have to do is keep those two Titans occupied while another group goes after Titan Auger. They’ll defend their network. Then Titan Eve ceases to be a threat. It’s a draw. Now that we know Eve wants to retreat—”

“Think she wants to retreat,” Imp butted in.

“—we have a way out. And it’s temporary and it’s shitty, and we’ll have people running off to fight other Titans, but it’s the best we can do for now,” Tattletale said.

“Sometimes you talk, and you keep talking…” Rachel said.

“Sometimes she keeps talking?” Imp cut in.

Rachel elbowed Imp harder than necessary. “…You could stop talking halfway through and it’d be just as effective.”

“You’re going to get on my case about speaking style and nuance?” Tattletale asked.

“If you’re being dumb about it, yeah,” Rachel retorted.

“Ooh,” Imp said. “Come on, Heartbroken, gotta back Aunt Rachel up. Give me a good ‘oooh’.”

There was a very unenthusiastic set of ‘oohs’ from three very tired, slimy, and banged up Heartbroken.

Text appeared at the corner of my vision: C&D: Oooh.

I looked over at the crowd while the Undersiders were being dumb.

“Already told the Wardens. They’re recruiting people for the big push,” Tattletale said, as I looked in that direction.

“How big a push?” I asked.

“Five to ten minutes of hard fighting, and we have to hit them hard enough we’re in Skadi’s sights from start to finish.”

I looked at my team, and they nodded.

Precipice wasn’t at his best, since our stunt with the dream room had left him with minimal power. No range, no accuracy, no good way to use his power to perform weird maneuvers, no tinkering, no emotion power.

Sveta was tired but she’d been helping, doing good work. Tristan was heartsick, if nothing else, his face sweaty behind the cover of his mask.

Foil was still staring in that direction. Parian was over there. Even the Undersiders looked tired.

Everyone, really. Foil hadn’t been wrong. Lots were coughing, because they’d inhaled trace gas. Some were rising out their eyes with squeeze bottles that had tapered nozzles. Others were grieving. Teams that had gaps in their ranks, maybe people who looked like they were trying to take charge when they had no idea how.