“We know what it is,” Larkin said. “The Lady is using a potion called Nish'ta. When released into a person's blood stream, it makes him pliable: open to suggestion. The young people in the dissident’s camp are under its effects.”
“Is there a cure?” Simon asked.
“There is. A blast from a Zat'nik'tel. One blast from it stuns a person and it disrupts the organism,” said Fairbairn. She motioned to Helena to unholster her Zat. The Carmelite did so and placed it on the Wardroom table. The serpent-shaped device gleamed in the morning light from a window, alien and menacing. Simon recoiled as though he was struck.
“This,” Simon whispered, “is the same light Canon used. The weapon from his ring that called down thunder and lightning from the heavens.”
Helena met Simon’s gaze, her voice gentle but firm. “This is not the same, Simon. What he used to punish, we will use to heal.”