“I’ve seen so many people die,” Gary said. “If we don’t take a harder line now, then I’m going to see more die.”

“A lot of us were there, face to face against Scion,” Byron said. “We saw deaths firsthand. We were there for outright warfare against the Fallen. Dozens died. I don’t want to one-up you, sir, but I think we’ve seen more die than you have, and it doesn’t hurt any less.”

Byron shifted back to Tristan. Gary looked wary about the blurs, as every small difference in detail between the two brothers was bridged by a brush-stroke smear of shadow, before consolidating in the new form.

“I think we want everything you want,” Rain said. “But we can’t be debating you or defending ourselves against allegations while we work toward that end result.”

“Vastly, painfully simplified allegations,” Tristan said.

“Well, if you wanted to derail my speech and the promotion of Mrs. Darleet’s book, I think you succeeded.”

“No,” I said, and my voice was harder. “Swansong just laid herself bare, showed you her disability. You’re holding the evidence in your hand as we speak.”

“You used me for ammunition,” Ashley said. “I get to say something back. Isn’t that how a trial goes? If I don’t get to, it’s something else entirely, and you might as well have the common decency and the feeble trace of courage to follow through and either hang me or burn me at the stake. Let me go out in a dramatic way, but don’t you dare misrepresent me.”

“I’m not going to lynch you. You’re being ridiculous. We’re asking questions.”

Ashley answered, “Without us here to answer them. When we do answer them, we’re accused of derailing. The difference between us, Gary, is that you have a kind of power here, and you haven’t even tried to be just, kind, or fair. But in my experience with Breakthrough, I’ve seen that no matter how rocky the road gets, and it’s rocky right now, it feels like we’re losing or we’ve lost… we still try.”

Gary still held Ashley’s hand, and he seemed lost in thought for a minute. No retort, no response.

Then he looked at the base of the hand, where what Rain had called the ‘pole’ stuck out, to be threaded into the hole in the stump and root in the forearm, he looked at Ashley’s arm, and he seemed to realize how weird it was that he was holding a girl’s dismembered hand. He extended his hand, holding the hand by the wrist.