“That’s lucky?” Tom repeated bitterly. “Lucky now means ‘worst case scenario ever,’ then. That’s great. Good to know.”

“Sir,” Blackburn corrected.

“You outrank me. You shouldn’t call me ‘sir.’”

“Raines, you’ll address me as ‘sir’ or I will stick you back down in that cell next to the census device until ‘sir’ is the only word you remember.”

Tom bristled. He’d never hated someone so much. “Sir, yes, sir. I’ll use ‘sir,’ sir. Is that all, sir?”

“Oh, I’d say that’s all. Get into the simulation with the others.” Blackburn jabbed at his forearm keyboard. “It irritates me just looking at you.”

Back at you, Tom thought, but then a tingling sensation shot up his neck, and the Calisthenics simulation cranked to life in his vision center. The Japanese army charged toward Tom in the simulated, World War II–era China, and Tom threw himself into the workout. But however fast he ran, he couldn’t escape his lingering fury at the man who’d nearly ripped his mind apart.

He imagined every single fake enemy wearing Blackburn’s face.

Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

TOM CHEERED UP a bit when he arrived in the mess hall, because there was meat loaf for lunch and his friend Yuri Sysevich was waiting at a table. He was still a plebe, since he hadn’t been promoted with the three of them. They mostly avoided talk about Middle Company so they wouldn’t rub it in too much. As it turned out, Yuri had had a far more interesting vacation than they had, anyway. He’d signed up for a relaxing wilderness survival excursion, led by a former Green Beret, where he’d eaten bugs and climbed mountains and fended off wild animals.

“It is remarkable, truly remarkable, how many edible bugs there are to sustain you in the wilderness!”

“How many did you eat?” Tom wondered.

“Five different insects,” Yuri answered proudly.

“Ew,” Wyatt said, rubbing the spot on her head where he’d kissed her in greeting.

“Yeah, don’t elaborate,” Vik urged him, shoveling rice into his mouth.

“Were the bugs you ate like beetles or more like those ricelike mealworm things?” Tom said, watching Vik. Vik had the weakest stomach Tom knew, and it amused him endlessly.

Wyatt caught on to what Tom was doing. “Ooh, you mean the maggoty bugs from festering wounds that start like rice and sprout into full-blown intestinal parasites?”

Vik shook his head. “This won’t work, guys. I know you’re just making stuff up.”

“No, the insects I consumed bore no resemblance to rice,” Yuri answered seriously. “You are thinking of those parasites that grow in rice. They have very gooey, putrid innards, and they are slightly off-white, like the contents of Vikram’s plate right now.”