Their escorts took them inside the prismatic quartz building to a large public hall packed with people. They were brought forward past a railing to sit in the less crowded section at the front. Everyone ignored Cassandane's presence in an obvious fashion, their eyes darting away any time they glanced in her direction.

"People are really nervous about you being here," Sam whispered.

"There have been rumors for years that I was solely responsible for handling the Chekowan children during the taking of the Angelship."

"That's horrible! It's not true . . . ." She trailed off, looking expectantly towards her mentor.

"We all dirtied our hands to a similar extent. Though not so much Erral Quincy. He was supposed to hold the hub region while the rest of us went down to the habitation levels. I don't believe he encountered any children up there. Apparently he let some of the Chekowan past so they could evacuate. A foolish decision. They dragged him through the airlock where the vacuum exposure killed them all."

Sam winced. "I guess even the talents can't let you breathe in space."

"You would think so," Cassandane muttered. Her entire body turned as an uncharacteristically white-skinned Angmari man walked over to sit close to her, just one seat between them as buffer.

"Hello, Cassandane," he said.

"I had heard you bleached your skin to camouflage your heritage." Cassandane inspected him dispassionately before shaking her head. "I'm disappointed to find the rumors true."

The man lifted his nose higher. "Has pride in your heritage been such a benefit to your life? Savior Centurion . . . but at least you retain the distinctive markings of our breed."

"What do you want, Mengko Virkell? Is it your desire to antagonize me with your distasteful change of appearance?"

"Believe it or not, I come to give good advice. You should not be here, Stateira Cassandane. Torrent Hafnym has you beaten already and your presence will only compound your defeat. Leave now and they may overlook your momentary lapse of judgment."

Cassandane's serene composure cracked for a moment, a twitch of her lips towards an enraged snarl, before restoring itself. "What do you know of his plans?"

"Little. But enough to know your gambit failed. Good day, Stateira Cassandane." Mengko Virkell left them abruptly, moving to sit closer to the front.

Sam turned to ask a question, but Cassandane made a sharp sideways chop with her hand to forestall any words from her. The two of them sat in brooding silence until an official directed everyone in attendance to stand and a line of people marched in to take their seats in a panel facing the audience. They were directed to retake their seats and the man sitting centermost began to speak. "This session of the executive committee is now open, Chief Executive Torrent Hafnym presiding. Our first order of business for this public session is revealing the success of a previously classified project that has the potential to change everything for the fleet. Head Researcher Mengko Virkell will be addressing us. Head Researcher?"

The white man stood and walked to a podium facing the panel of executives. He dipped his head low enough that the gesture could almost be considered a bow. "Thank you, Chief Executive, Executives. I am very pleased to be before you today. As many of you know, but the public does not, early in the fleet's journey a project began with the purpose of replicating the Angelship. An impossibility to fully realize such a thing in our lifetimes, we realized, but surely a worthwhile effort.

"Our understanding of the Angelship led us to the conclusion that what made everything else about it possible was the central intelligence capable of using the talents on a massive level. The teleotic talent that hardens steel into an indestructible barrier. The kinetic talent that enables us to rapidly accelerate this vessel to relativistic speeds without straining our kinetics. The noetic talent that hosts the Navigator interface. The ability to create a system capable of utilizing the talents became our top priority. Within the last year, we finally achieved that goal."

A sudden surge of excitement and hope filled Sam. All around her, people surged to their feet to clap and cheer. She mind-vasted to clear out what she recognized as foreign influence on her mind. Cassandane glared at the Chief Executive throughout.

Mengko Virkell continued his address to the Executives once the cheering died down. "I am not sure how familiar the average person is to the existence of Synths, or more properly, Synthetic Minds. Prior to the arrival of the Chekowan, Angmari researchers had managed to grow human neural tissue and integrate it with electronics using magnetic imaging and stimulation as an interface. Those early systems proved that human-like consciousness could be created in a brain without a body. The use cases were limited at the time, making it a case of pure rather than applied research. Any tasks the Synths could do were done faster and cheaper using conventional computers or conventional people. Once we lost our planet, however, we became dependant on human minds as kinetic resources. The Synth technology became the perfect vehicle for what we called the Talent Project. Ten months ago, one of our Synths attuned to animas."

Another barrage of emotional manipulation, followed by another session of raucous cheering. Sam grit her teeth. Now she knew how Cassandane had lost her political game. The fleet didn't need to recruit kinetics from the planet below. They could just grow some brains in a vat.

"Thank you for the applause, everyone, I truly appreciate it, but with my next statement you will see that it may have been premature," Mengko Virkell said. "Last week, one of the several Synth kinetics we have managed to generate its own precursor. It has already been installed in a shuttle and we plan on using it to relieve the strain on our human resources starting today."

More clapping. Beside Sam, Cassandane sat with icy composure, hands clenched in white-knuckled grips on her knees. When the audience calmed, after what felt like five minutes of over-the-top celebration, the Executives all took turns heaping praise on the Head Researcher. The Chief Executive called for a quick break before they took up a second matter of great importance. All the Executives filed from their seats to shake hands and chat with Mengko Virkell in what was obviously a staged photo opportunity. Only one of their number forsook that opportunity. The Chief Executive strode straight for them, smug satisfaction radiating from his every feature.

"Well, Cassandane, I would say I'm surprised to see you hear, but I knew you would make the wrong move. Very sloppily done," he said. "I think you are going to find your circumstances much worsened by your recent actions."

Cassandane took a slow breath. "Erral Quincy is dead. Tyler Marius has defected. Zellar Wilson is planetside. That leaves only you. And you were never my equal. Not even before you took up politics and I devoted myself to the training of my talents."

The Chief Executive's radiant mood dimmed. "Don't be ridiculous, Cassandane. Attacking me would turn the entire fleet against you."

"It's a great irony that nothing in my lifetime of achievements has ever increased my esteem as much as the time I emptied out an Angelship for a desperate population."

"I can't believe even you are capable of doing that. Not to your own people."

"Which of these are my people? The former Aoleyen? Or the mass of people who despise me?"

"How about the family you sponsored, Aunt Cassandane?"

"An Aoleyen sponsoring a family of Lentarans. It sounds like the start of a joke. At one point I actually thought we might bond over our common mistreatment. It turns out, Lentarans are immune to resentment. So tell me, Hafnym, what do I have to lose?"

The Chief Executive's jaw had gone slack. "You . . . are you serious?"

Sam turned to look at her mentor and found unshed tears in Cassandane's eyes. "Let's find out together, Hafnym."

"You would murder everyone on this ship because you didn't get your way?"

"I am Nallit's oldest apprentice, after all."

He deflated into a defeated slouch. "What if we let you keep the girl as your apprentice? No consequences to your career?"

"I . . . I would accept that."

"The English can't be attuned. We'll have to do something. Naturalize Samantha."

"Sam," she reflexively corrected.

The Chief Executive squinted at her. "You. When you get to the podium, you love the fleet, you love this ship, and you want nothing more than to be an Angmari in truth. Understand?" As he stalked away from them, Sam watched a tear streak down Cassandane's face. She reached down to squeeze one of the clenched fists.