Fift’s lungs were burning, zir feet were sore, zir shoulders still ached from the climb through the ventilation shaft. At least they couldn’t sprint anymore; the press of bodies was too thick. They pushed and staggered their way through it.

Most people let them pass. Some in the crowd were shoving, and in a couple of places people looked on the verge of fighting. If a riot broke out, or if the crowd seriously decided to stop them, they would be stuck.

“Where are we going?” Fift asked Morinti, who pointed.

A robot bat was just alighting at the upper spires.

{Passenger transport}, the context advisory agent sent, {privately reserved by Stiffwaddle Somatic Fashions.}

“I’m glad you’re done childing, Fift!” a raspy, vailish voice shouted from the crowd. “I wish I’d had the courage! Maybe you and I and Shria could form a triad! I know it sounds shocking—”

More Staids and Vails were joining them, clustering around Fift, pushing zir through the crowd—seven, now, tagged with [Embracing Fift and Shria], and another two tagged [Prologue to the Honest Foundations of Fift’s Joy]. Farther off, Fift could see tags flicker and shift across lookup, the bodies in the crowd marked by their competing alliances.

Audience: half a billion.

Doublebodied at home, Fift sank to the anteroom floor, sank to the anteroom floor, sitting shoulder against shoulder. Ze buried zir faces in zir shift. Zir parents left zir alone.

Ellix was sorting out the departures: Pip would go to Spin-Nupolo cohort with Nupolo and Arevio; Frill and Smistria had a friend from the mats.

“Fift,” someone in the crowd shouted, “have you thought about the New Launch movement? You yourself had a parent employed in the asteroids! If you could endorse—”

The Peaceables who’d crossed from Temereen fanned out in a half-circle, bopperstaves out, blocking the way to the upper spires and slowly advancing. The crowd was parting for them, people scurrying away. The group around Fift was growing larger.

Fift’s parents were in their rooms gathering their things, except for Father Squell, who clung to Auntie Ellix.

Not Auntie Ellix anymore. “I guess . . . I guess you think I broke everything,” Fift said.

Ellix shrugged. Zir expression was grim, but it wasn’t harsh. “Not my place to say.”

The other group of Peaceables, the ones who’d docked at the lower spars, came up from behind [Embracing Fift and Shria].

The rest of the crowd, caught between the two lines of Peaceables, was scattering, pushing one way and another like surface birds frightened by a raptor.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Fift told Ellix. “I don’t . . .” Ze looked away.