She typed something out on her podium keyboard, and immediately, an interactive illustration of the solar system popped up. Tom could see that it was split into the same zones Combatants sometimes referenced when they were discussing battles. The zones were partitioned according to their distance from the center of the solar system. The space between the sun and Mercury was labeled the Infernal Zone. The section from Mercury to the outer edge of the asteroid belt was marked the Prime. From Jupiter to Saturn was the Fallow, the closest orbit of Neptune through the Kuiper Belt was the Reaches, and a stray bit of text labeled the entire rest of the universe BEYOND SECTOR. The words acknowledged the unlikelihood that human beings would ever move beyond the confines of the solar system, and therefore, the rest of the universe’s utter irrelevance to the war.

Tom felt a twinge, thinking of the constraint everyone had simply accepted, but then the image faded, a list of names appearing over it, some new Middles, some veteran Middles.

“To begin the fly-along experience, you’ll work with the Combatants on some exercises in mental discipline,” Cromwell said. “The names up here will be today’s cohort to report to the Butler Room. The second group will stay for the lecture, and report downstairs on Thursday.”

Tom sat up straighter, seeing his name on there. Wyatt’s was, as well. Vik slumped a bit in his seat, realizing he was stuck hearing the lecture.

“Right now, those of you on this list will report to the Smedley D. Butler Conference Room on the twelfth floor. You’ll come back for the lecture on Thursday. Dismissed.”

TOM AND THE rest of his group met the CamCos in the large briefing room. There was a large oil painting of General Butler, who’d foiled a fascist coup against President Franklin D. Roosevelt in the 1930s, and a long table covered with decagonal devices. The Middles sat down, and Elliot Ramirez strolled in. He grinned broadly, and then Heather Akron trailed in behind him and cleared her throat.

The other CamCos striding inside sent her chilly looks, but Elliot dipped his head and gestured for her to take the lead.

The beautiful brunette perched at the head of the table. “Some of you are new to Middle Company, so I’ll explain the basics of what we’re doing here.” Heather’s amber eyes glittered. There was a certain brittle gaiety to her smile. “These decagons are group internet relay chat nodes. They let you hook in and communicate with each other using a thought interface. That’s what we’re going to practice today.”

Thought interface? Tom grew alarmed.

“Why is Heather in charge?” Wyatt murmured. “I’m surprised they’re letting her, after . . .” She trailed off.