She offered him a shaky smile, and he headed onward toward the massive oil painting of General Patton. There he found what he was looking for. Even though it had only been two weeks, Tom felt a rush of joy at seeing Vikram Ashwan, his best friend. Vik launched himself up from the bench where he’d been waiting; strode over to Tom; and they dropped their bags on the floor between them with simultaneous, decisive thumps.

“Tom,” Vik announced, his dark eyes dancing crazily, “we are no longer plebes.”

“We are no longer plebes.”

Vik gave a solemn nod. “It is time.”

THE ELEVATOR DOOR parted to admit them to the plebe common room on the fifth floor. Tom and Vik stalked out. They saw all the suddenly nervous plebes, then he and Vik did what they’d been waiting to do since coming to the Spire.

“All of you,” Vik shouted, “GET OUT!”

Tom started running around at the plebes, waving his arms in a shooing gesture. “Move, move, move!”

The plebes jumped to their feet and scrambled out of their own common room, scurrying through the doors of their divisions.

Tom and Vik slumped down, satisfied, into the now-empty chairs. Tom reflected fondly upon the times he, as a plebe, had been booted from the plebe common room by older trainees. It gave him an incredible sense of accomplishment, realizing he was no longer at the bottom of the Spire’s food chain.

Vik rubbed his hands together wickedly. “So . . .”

“So?” Tom said eagerly, hoping Vik had some awesome idea about what to do now that they had the place to themselves.

They sat there a few seconds.

“I don’t have any ideas about what we should do now,” Vik finally confessed.

“Yeah, my thinking only went as far as booting the plebes out.”

“I want to go stick my bags upstairs. The plebes will come back as soon as we’re gone. Maybe we can kick them out again later once we’ve figured out something we want to do in here.”

They retrieved their bags, then headed up to the Middle Company floor and into the door with the sword, marked ALEXANDER DIVISION. As they started down the corridor, something astounding happened: they received their assignment to their new bunk. Or rather, bunks.

Tom and Vik realized it when they started off in opposite directions down the hallway. Tom stopped and whirled around. Vik stopped, too, and raised an eyebrow at him.

They had different bunks.

“This can’t be right,” Tom blurted.

“It happens.”

Tom stood there, rooted in place. Vik had been his roommate since his arrival at the Pentagonal Spire. He was the first trainee Tom met after his neural processor was installed. It had never occurred to him that they might get split up.

“I’m just down the corridor, Tom.”