“Really.” He hoisted one of the fallen couch cushions and tossed it back into place, then slung the fallen pillow after it. “You can officially threaten your own enemies. Man, you kind of scare me right now.”

“I do?” she said happily. “Oh, can you tell Vik that? Tell him I was menacing. And that I said I was coming for him next, just so he gets scared.”

“I’ll even say you shook your fist as you said it,” Tom promised, which thrilled Wyatt no end.

Then Vik and Yuri emerged from Alexander Division, both out of breath, Yuri’s wavy hair all askew like a big nest around his head, and Vik soaking wet like he’d been dunked in a pool.

“Don’t ask,” Vik grumbled to Tom, slouching onto the couch, leaving giant, wet splotches on the old green fabric.

Yuri gave a dazed smile as Wyatt walked over of her own initiative and awkwardly put her arms around him, like she wasn’t quite sure how the hugging thing worked. “Thank you for avenging my honor.”

“It was my pleasure.” He kissed the top of her head, then explained, “I chased Vikram for many floors, and he used a computer virus on me, but then I used one on him, so we both agreed to remove the viruses, and I pursued him into the Calisthenics Arena. He activated an exercise simulation. I was forced to battle my way through a hundred Vietcong soldiers, but I imagined coming to you and telling you of my victory, and that inspired me to persevere. At last, I caught up to him hiding near a swamp. The result is before you.”

Vik grumbled something. He’d been dunked in one of the shallow pools in the arena.

“He has promised to never again make a Connecticut joke,” Yuri told her.

Vik gave a weary nod. “I don’t have a relentless Russian android on my side, I’ve just got Tom.”

“No, you don’t have Tom. I’m not taking on Yuri,” Tom protested.

Yuri chuckled, slinging an arm around Wyatt. Vik shook his head, disgruntled.

Tom found himself watching them, his friends, and for some reason the glow of the moment took on a dark tinge. There was no rational reason for it, and maybe it came from his deep suspicion that nothing good could really last—but he had this unsettling sense like this was his last glimpse of something priceless, cupped in his hand, just before it slipped from his grasp.

Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

WHEN BLACKBURN DEEMED them all competent with exosuits, he finished their training with the same celebratory climb he always led Middles on—straight up the Pentagonal Spire to the roof over the fifteenth floor.