Tom returned to the spot where Blackburn had left him. He was still sitting there when Blackburn set up a few lines, giving the trainees a chance to rappel down the side of the Spire if they preferred to try that rather than exosuiting. Blackburn belayed Makis, Kelcy, and Vik down, but the rest preferred to climb down the same way they’d climbed up—clamp by clamp. Blackburn gathered up the climbing equipment, shoved it in a bag, then dumped it into Tom’s arms and popped open the door. “Walk down the stairs, and wait for me on the second-story flight of the stairwell. I’ll come as soon as the others are done.”

“I can’t climb down?”

Blackburn tore off the hood of his optical camouflage, giving Tom a glimpse of his face. “Get this through your head, Raines: this activity was a privilege, not a right. Actions have consequences. You messed around, you abused that privilege, so that means you’re out.”

“Fine. Whatever. It’s not like I care.”

Blackburn gave him a knowing look. “Oh yes, you do.”

Tom stepped into the stairwell, and knocked the door closed with his boot. Dimness enveloped him as the door clanged shut. Fine. So he wouldn’t climb down. It didn’t matter; he still had the exosuit, and that was the awesome part. He tore off the last of the optical camouflage, leaned over to peer down the railing, and didn’t see anyone, so with a little thrill of excitement, Tom flipped forward down one flight of stairs, landing at the bottom with a clang. He did the same thing with the next flight, taking a ferocious pleasure at getting away with this.

He would’ve flipped down the next flight of stairs if he hadn’t heard a door swing open below him and footsteps move rapidly up toward him. Tom checked himself and stepped lightly, careful not to let the metal clank against the steps.

That’s how Yuri ran into him on the stairwell. A light sheen of sweat coated the larger boy’s face. The plebes were already at lunch while the Middles finished up Calisthenics, but obviously Yuri was taking advantage of the hour for an extra jog up the stairs.

“Thomas,” Yuri said, surprise in his voice.

For a moment, Tom halted, wondering if Yuri, as a plebe, could even see his exosuit. But Yuri didn’t react at all, so Tom figured it had to be censored from his neural processor.

“Are you not supposed to be in Calisthenics?” Yuri asked him.

Middles weren’t supposed to share particulars about exosuits with plebes. They hadn’t “earned the privilege.” Tom tried to think of a lie.

Yuri guessed what the answer was. “Ah, I understand.” His face seemed to shutter closed. “It is not for my ears. Would you like assistance with the bag?”