Guang Ming listed Austin’s crimes as if reading charges in court.
The Second Sun. The clamped warships. The ticket lines. The dirt and exhaustion of the lower halls.
Austin let him finish.
“The ships made noise over my home and skipped their docking fees,” he said. “In my town, that gets wheel boots.” “Their crews are paid workers now. The sun supplies clean power. Your people jumped my rails and cleaned my machines because you called maintenance a holy trial.”
Ling Yue looked at her own soot-stained sleeves. “He is not wrong.”
Guang Ming turned on her. “You defend him?”
“I defend facts. This place could help half the continent. Destroying it would be waste.”
“It is a false sun.”
