“Mullah!”

“Right. The whole lecture in one demonstration. We never forgot that one, I can tell you, and we spent hours trying it on each other to see if we’d learned anything yet. She said it all: it’s not your size or your looks or your strength or how loud you can yell—it’s something else, inside, and if you don’t have that, no amount of size, strength, beauty, or bellowing will do instead.” The lift opened onto a tiny space surrounded by differently colored pipes that gurgled and hissed. A Sign said “ENVIRONMENTAL LEVEL ONE.”

“Adept Discipline?” asked Lunzie, curious to know what Sass thought.

“Maybe. For some. You know we have basic classes in it in Fleet. But there has to be a certain potential or something has to happen later. Certainly the element of focus is the same ...” Sassinak’s voice trailed away; her brow furrowed.

“You have it,” said Lunzie. She had seen the crew’s response to Sassinak, and felt her own—an almost automatic respect and desire to please her.

“Oh . . . well, yes. Some, at least; I can put the fear of reality into wild young ensigns. But not like that.” She laughed, putting the memory aside. “For years I wanted to do that ... to be that ...”

“Was she your childhood idol, then? Were you dreaming about Fleet even before you were captured?” Was that what had kept her sane?

“Oh, no. I wanted to be Carin Coldae.” Lunzie must have looked as blank as she felt, for Sassinak said, “I’m sorry—I didn’t realize. Forty-three years—she must not have been a vid star when you were last—I mean ...”

“Don’t worry.” Another example of what she’d missed. She hadn’t been one to follow the popularity of vid stars at any time, but the way Sassinak had said the name, Coldae must have been a household word.

8