It took a while to work up his courage to do that thing he’d been dreading. He’d avoided trying VR games in front of Vik, worrying about what might happen. He finally holed himself up in his bunk one day to play Samurai Eternity. He set it at Expert level, the way he always did with games.

And then his worst fears were confirmed: the cybernetic fingers moved differently enough to throw off every slash of his sword, every blast of his weapons. In frustration, Tom tore off his VR gloves and hurled them across the bunk. The insane urge to stomp on them, break them, swamped his brain, and only the knowledge that he’d spent a month’s stipend on them held him back.

But he felt a great ball of anxiety in his stomach. It felt like a much more tangible, aching loss than the sensory receptors he’d once had on those fingers.

He was doomed. He was completely and utterly doomed. Gaming was how he got by before the Spire. It was how he survived. Now he’d completely lost his chance at Combatant status, he’d made an enemy of Joseph Vengerov—and he didn’t have a backup plan anymore.

He wasn’t aware of Wyatt knocking on his door, and he was only dully aware of the moment she walked over to where he was standing above the gloves. Her large hands tugged clumsily at him, and Tom found himself sitting next to her on his bed.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m not upset or anything. I realized I suck at games now,” he told her. He held up his curled fingers. “These don’t work right.”

“Your brain’s primed to use the old ones,” she said. “It’s like the exosuits. No matter how good they are, your brain uses slightly different neurons to move them. You’ll learn. Just practice.”

He shook his head gloomily. “It’s never going to be the same.”

“Fine. Then you can be awful at video games. They’re stupid anyway and a waste of time.” She nodded crisply. “You should read more books, Tom.”

He stared at her. “Wyatt, this is not a good pep talk. You are not good at pep talks.”

“Well, it’s not the end of the world. You don’t need to video game for money now.”

“Yeah, but . . .”

And then her words registered in his brain.

His muscles felt rigidly locked in place as he tried to make sense of it.

“Um, wait. Wait,” Tom said. “Wait. How do you know about that?”

Wyatt’s eyes shot wide, and she dropped her gaze.

Tom scooted away from her. “Wyatt, how do you know I played games for money? I never told you that. The only person who knew was General Marsh. Or . . .”

Or Lieutenant Blackburn, the guy who’d seen enough of his memories to know.