“Naturally, you need time to consider this. I don’t wish to hear an answer from you until you’ve thoroughly considered the wisest course of action. We’ll be meeting again quite soon.”

Tom’s stomach churned. Right. They had meet and greets again in January. He rose out of the depths of the car, and stood on the sidewalk as Vengerov’s limo slid off down the street, that zipped computer virus waiting there in his processor like a coiled viper.

BEING A “KNOWN terrorist” had kind of cramped Tom’s movement around Washington, DC. So he spent the rest of the winter break in the Spire, playing video games, trying not to think of his father, trying to think of what to do about Medusa and the virus.

He knew what he should do, what was right to do—to dismiss it out of hand and hold firm to his refusal, let the consequences Vengerov had threatened rain down where they would.

But there was this other part of Tom, the same part that had been willing to strike viciously to win Capitol Summit, the part that thirsted for the chance to succeed, to make something of himself, a voice that whispered, This is the only shot I still have of becoming a Combatant.

He tried to disregard the thought.

He wasn’t alone in the Pentagonal Spire. There were a scattering of trainees, mostly from other countries where the holidays weren’t a big deal, or where the flights home would be too burdensome. There was also a skeleton crew of CamCos. Some were the new faces, the newly promoted, anonymous CamCos the public didn’t know about like Leslie Whiell of Napoleon Division, Sandy Feinberg of Hannibal Division, Warren Simmons of Alexander Division, and Griffen Perenchio of Genghis Division. Many of the older Combatants like Heather, Karl, Alec, and Emefa were there, too. It was the luck of the draw, whether they were on duty over vacation or not. Sure, both sides had agreed to a truce around the winter holidays, and another truce around Chinese New Year, but the military always had some CamCos around.

Heather surprised everyone with a program she’d written for the people stuck in the Spire on New Year’s Eve, and from the way she was ringed by other CamCos whenever Tom saw her, she’d obviously won back their allegiance at last. Tom figured Elliot would be pleased to see it. It was one step closer to Heather’s taking his place in the center of CamCo, one step closer to Elliot’s freedom.