Surit stood outside his head, watching himself give the briefing like watching someone do a circus trick, pulling inputs from two minds at once. The trained order of Surit’s thoughts put Tennal’s lightning leaps in a structure and gave them context. It wasn’t overwhelming, this time. The tension between them was like they were both leaning on opposite sides of the same door.

Once Surit shut his mouth, the picture was stark and clear. This was absolutely a coup. Long planned and enabled by the remnants the Fractal Note had unwittingly delivered to Oma. And there was no reason it wouldn’t work.

Some of the soldiers had guessed it was a coup already. Istara’s eyes were wide. The medic winced a couple of times at the brainwashing parts.

It was only Basavi, of the people at the desk, who noticed that when Surit spoke, his consonants had been sharper, his intonation slightly off. Surit saw her look, disturbed, between him and Tennal.

Tennal lurched to his feet and caught himself on the desk. He brought one hand up to his neck, took hold of Oma’s wheat-stalk emblem, and—after two fumbled attempts to unpin it—ripped it off his collar with a jerk. The mark tumbled from his hand with a metallic clatter. “We need to get to Orshan Central.”

Surit could feel the force of Tennal’s intentions like a tractor beam, dragging him in the same direction. He resisted. Oma and the rest of the divisions clashing were like titans above them. Them following the fight to Orshan Central was like a child running in with a toy capper. “We’re not a military force. We’re half a unit with one ship.”

“This is too far,” the medic said suddenly, apparently after wrestling with himself. “We can’t have a legislator—brainwashing people. Not an entire political class. There should be an outcry. This is a scandal.”

This made everyone look at him in incredulity. “But everything else is just fine and dandy?” Tennal said. “We’re okay with a coup every now and then?”

“Well,” the medic said, “not when you put it like that.”

Surit cut them both off. “We have to get the message out about the brainwashing.”

“I can put it on emergency bursts,” Basavi said. “Flood our outgoing channels. It is like an SOS.”

Istara muttered, “It won’t change anything. When have the people at the top not done shady shit?”

Surit had nothing to say to contradict that. He gave Basavi a nod. “Put out the emergency messages. I’ll write out what we know.”

“Sir,” Basavi said hesitantly. “We had an incoming message as well, ten minutes ago. A public circular with Halkana’s key on it.” She opened a light-screen on the table.