"According to her own testimony, Princess Helena was indeed mentally compromised," General Soto said. "Although fortunately it seems the effect has worn off."

"I see," Stephano replied.

"The high exemplars have advised that Princess Helena and all other survivors from the attack be quarantined until the exemplars have had a chance to clear them. The princess has agreed to this as well. It seems she was aware at some level that she was being controlled. Her public appearance will wait until then."

"And about the person controlling her?"

"We believe they died with the tower collapse. It coincides with their apparent loss of control over their hostages."

"But surely this matter isn't closed," Stephano said.

"It certainly isn't. However, the exemplars have taken over the case."

"They have no further explanation as to what happened?"

"Not that they're sharing with me, and seeing as how they're handling this as an imperial secret, I don't expect to learn anything else. They'll be here in a few hours to supervise the cleanup and rescue operation, and to debrief everyone involved. They want to speak with you and anyone else you've talked to about this. You're to land at Fort Leguan immediately. The flight crew will arrange landing clearance. In the meantime, you're not to discuss the matter with anyone. Their orders."

"The exemplars are giving orders now, sir?"

"On this matter, I'll let them. Just get back here, Captain."

"Understood, General."

The called ended. Stephano stared at the call window on the display table. His XO, Rivera, sat across from him. They were together in Stephano's miniature ready room aboard the Venezia.

"Well, how about that," Rivera said. "Looks like it all worked itself out just perfectly."

"With a nice little bow..." Stephano added.

Both knew the conundrum they faced. Compromised. That was the word Victoria had used. They can compromise your mind at a touch, and then you're the enemy. For such a remarkable problem, compounded by such a national tragedy, this resolution seemed remarkably convenient. It neatly answered every single concern Stephano raised in the message he'd sent to all Leguan officers.

"Do we return?" Stephano asked.

Rivera sighed. "If we don't, that's certainly a definitive action. It would be treason."

"Treason? No." Stephano shook his head. "Insubordination? Maybe."

"To what end? You're not suggesting we live up here forever."

"We could." Orbiter class ships were famous for that capability. Between their Stiller power plant, their onboard Food-Ready assemblers, and enough redundancy with internal systems to allow inflight maintenance, Orbiters could theoretically cruise the stratosphere indefinitely. In practice, six months orbital patrol was a maximum. And any damage to the outside of the craft would require landing.

"We could," Rivera confirmed. "We could live here together for the rest of our lives. I can't think of a more dreary fate."

"But why Leguan?" said Stephano. "The High Exemplars could have us land anywhere. Why have us land somewhere that might be... well, compromised?"

"Are you suggesting that Soto himself has been affected? Do you actually think there may be a conspiracy?"

"I don't know. It seems ludicrous, doesn't it? The government is being body-snatched."

"What do you think we should do?"

Stephano stared at the call log. "I suppose we either report, or..."

"Or we condemn ourselves to seeing only each other for the rest of our lives."

"Well... when you put it like that." He sighed. "We'll go."

They left the ready room and returned to the ship's bridge. Leguan had already sent up clearance. The flight was on display. "Take us there," Stephano told the navigator.

"Aye, sir."

The ship would be turning now. All movement involved using repulse fields to push against the thin atmosphere up here—not much to work with. That meant changes were not perceptible to human senses.

But there was an orbital display. A long line specified the ship's cruising course over a world map. It disappeared, replaced by a shorter line arcing toward South America. Flight time was two hours, twenty-three minutes.

"Sir?" said Communications Officer Ruiz. "A message just came in for you. It's flagged as priority."

Nodding, Stephano checked his tablet. One new message had come in on the military airspace network through the ship's systems. It originated from the private exemplar network. Encrypted, it prompted him for his credentials when he tried to open it.

He read the message, then did so again. Afterward, he passed his tablet to his XO. Rivera had just long enough to read that the sender was High Exemplar Bishop when Stephano addressed his navigation officer.

"Course change, Lieutenant."

The orbiter spent nearly thirty minutes braking against the thin atmosphere before it lost enough speed to safely drop into the lower stratosphere.

It reached subsonic speeds just as it came over Spain. As soon as it had flight clearance, it came to a complete halt over a designated landing pad at Madrid Barajas Airport. It's landing legs came out, and it touched down as gently as though sinking in water.

High Exemplar Bishop watched through the airport terminal, as did many others stranded by the international grounding. A military craft at a civilian airport was a rare sight. The hatch opened. Two soldiers came out to set up the landing stairs. Then came Stephano, followed by his XO and other officers. Bishop only knew Stephano by the rank on his sleeve. So far he'd been only a voice.

Bishop exited the terminal gate door and scurried toward Stephano, moving so hastily that several of the soldiers' auras tensed. He didn't care. Even though he was just a few yards from the airport, he felt exposed under the open sky, as though whatever asylum the airport granted him had just expired, and death was now on its way.

"High Exemplar?" Stephano said. "Here I am. You said you'd have—"

Bishop thrust his plaque into Stephano's hands. Stephano nearly remarked, but then eye contact was made.

For eight long seconds, he looked into Bishop's eyes.

Then Stephano spoke. "Everyone get back on the ship."

"Captain?" Rivera asked.

"Now," Stephano replied. "We're leaving right now."

He handed the plaque back to Bishop, who yanked the battery clip out. A loud pop came from within as Bishop tossed it aside. He followed the soldiers aboard.