The Drowning Furnace
You stagger into the boiler room and a wall of frigid mist slaps your face. Liquid hydrogen sheets through a jagged breach, hissing against copper that screams in protest. Thaddeus is pinned beneath a fallen pressure valve, his lips already blue. "Sir—" he gasps. Above him, the gauges shudder toward red.
Two choices. One life, or all of them.