Walton nodded grimly. “Let’s make sure of it. Discretion”—he held up a single finger and let the word hang there in the air a moment, then finished—“is the better part of valor.” And with that, he left Tom alone on his cot.

Tom grew very certain that Walton was trying to mess with his head—and doing a very good job of it, with that straight face and stoic bearing that gave away nothing. He sat there, perplexed and pondering gnome minions, until Elliot Ramirez appeared in the doorway to the training room and beckoned him over with a crook of his finger.

Tom sighed.

ELLIOT SIGHED.

Tom sat in the chair in Elliot’s bunk, ready for a dressing-down by the unofficial leader of Camelot Company—and the person Snowden had enlisted to explain to Tom the importance of respecting those of higher rank.

“Snowden’s a little insecure,” Elliot said, surprising Tom. He turned from where he’d been gazing out the window. “He’s not a natural fit for a position of authority, and I think he knows it.”

“Wait. You’re siding with me?” Tom was startled. And pleased.

“I am saying, I don’t blame you, and I’m trying to give you advice about avoiding a repeat of your dispute in the future.” Elliot folded his arms, leaning against the wall. “Can you acknowledge that what you did was unwise?”

“I almost won the scenario,” Tom protested, thinking of the message Vik had net-sent him a few minutes ago when Yosef finally won the sim. “Yosef only managed to rip open the life raft and kill Vik and Lyla because Snowden yanked me out.”

“You weren’t about to win, Tom. Do you know what it’s called when soldiers kill their leader? It’s called ‘mutiny.’”

“But Snowden was a burden on us. He was the most expendable.”

Elliot shrugged. “You’re in a hierarchical, top-down organization right now. Do you really think the people at the top will approve a victory you won by killing someone who outranks you?”

Tom remembered something Lyla had said, about how he should’ve thrown himself in instead. “So what if Snowden had beaten me to death to use as chum?”

“That’s a different matter.” He must’ve picked up on Tom’s irritation, because he went on, “That’s simply the way it works around here.”

“But we’re not training to run into the line of fire at someone’s command,” Tom argued. “We’re training for Intrasolar Combat. We don’t risk our lives, and we don’t get orders to direct us while we fight—we have to plan for ourselves. I thought initiative was a good thing.”

“Mutiny is never considered a good thing, Tom. It’s considered too much initiative. A threatening degree of initiative. You have to respect authority.”

“I respect authority,” Tom insisted, and he did.