A large conference table had been moved into the center of the room, with cushions spread around it instead of chairs. James made her awkward way to one of the seats, staring around at mirror-perfect copies of herself. Well, except for Major Fischer, who looked a few years younger and had an olive-colored coat and bristle-short mane. Each of the others had their name and position sewn onto their uniform, and James took in each one, since it was the only way to differentiate anyone besides the commander. At least none of the others had ranks—that meant they weren't military either.