My eyes flicked over to Isaak’s. His face was unreadable. He held his hand against his earpiece, as if that would help him listen—or at least understand—better. Before I could say anything, a new transmission began. I recognized Geros Antos’ voice. He and Melusin were supposed to be meeting with the gerotus, the united governing body of all of Iamos’ citidomes, this morning. I gripped the metal footboard so hard my knuckles ached. The Liberator had access to my evaluation, to private sessions of the gerotus—was there any part of the System he didn’t control?

“Medic Heros oversaw the genetic testing conducted on the subject his first evening in Hope Renewed,” Antos said. “Neurological behavior, blood type, genetic composition and other factors were analyzed thoroughly by the System. Medic, if you would please report your findings to the gerotus?”

“Yes, Geros,” the man said. I recognized his voice as the man who had been taking care of Isaak yesterday morning, when Melusin sent me back to the hospital. “Preliminary findings indicate that though this boy demonstrates differences in physical traits—particularly in regard to skin tone, hair color, facial features and so on—anatomically and genetically, there is no significant difference between him and the Iamoi. The primary differentiation is neurological. His brainwave patterns are unfamiliar, and they show little responsiveness to the System. But while the subject was unconscious, I did some testing with an electroencephalogram. I would need to conduct further studies to be sure, but his brain seems to be attuned to the electromagnetic wavelength that the System calculates as approximate Simoi levels.”

An unfamiliar woman’s voice said, “So the boy is from Simos.”

“It appears so, Gerouin,” replied Heros.

I shot a confused glance at Isaak. From Simos? But I thought…

A new voice broke in, interrupting my thoughts. I recognized this one as belonging to Tibros, Ceilos’ father. “But apart from the neurological patterns, you’re saying there is no genetic difference between the Iamoi and the Simoi?”

“No, Geros.”

The transmission wavered slightly at the sound of various murmuring voices blending together. Then Antos said, “What does this mean, then? That the Simoi are actually Iamoi?”

“That seems the most logical conclusion, Geros. The Simoi are descended from an ancient colonization effort, and their brains have evolved to tolerate Simos’ electromagnetic field.”

“Or the Iamoi are actually Simoi who lost their tolerance to the field,” Isaak said under his breath.

“What?” I whispered, but before he could elaborate, Melusin spoke.