“The sacrifice,” Rove pronounced deliberately, “is not worth it. Not to share it all with beasts. Find another way.”

“We have tried,” Kay said, as one would to a child. “That is the point. What I’m saying is—”

“I know what you’re saying,” Rove snapped. “Small wonder you’d prefer the sort of mongrel chaos you’re proposing. Lucas, your gun.”

“I am done working with you,” Lucas said flatly.

Rove seemed to take that in his stride. In the next instant he had a gun of his own, a gold-plated thing that was obviously a surprise even to Lucas. “Then perhaps you’d put your own weapon on the floor,” he suggested, “and kick it over to me.”

“What’s the plan here, Rove?” Julian asked. Lee could see various people around the room preparing to act. She tried to pluck at Mal’s sleeve to dissuade her, but her friend was out of arm’s reach, inching closer to Rove.

Rove’s gun was aimed directly at Lucas, who slowly drew his own pistol out and placed it on the floor.

“The plan,” Rove said, “is to preserve our world, Mr. Sabreur. Our world—as it should be preserved. To save our institutions, customs and way of life. Not to live in a world where the unspeakable is around every corner. And I’d have thought you’d agree. Do you really want to live in the world they’re proposing?”

“Not really,” Julian admitted. “Sounds like the lesser of two evils, though, compared to annihilation.”

“But they can make it work!” Rove spat. “I’ve seen the maths. Until this latest nonsense from Khan, they were perfectly happy to keep trying, too. Mr. Sabreur, look at who you’re standing with here. Not your sort of people, not at all. You can’t just let them waltz in.” He indicated the Cousins, Ertil, Cam…but his gesture might have taken in Khan, Lee and Mal too. And to Lee’s amazement, Rove’s voice trembled a little, a genuine mote of sentiment making itself known. “They’re stronger than us, Sabreur. They’d make us their slaves, destroy us, colonize us.”

“But you said they’re not like us,” Mal said, still inching nearer. “You seem to think they’re just like us.”

“Lucas, kick over your gun,” Rove snapped, his pistol whipping to aim at Lucas’s face.

Mal went to grab it just as Lucas flicked the weapon with his boot, and it span off across the room. Rove grabbed Mal’s collar and pressed the gun to her temple.

“Now,” he said, “we are going to go back to the original plan. Or I will start with this filthy sapphist here, and keep going.”