This threat did it. Tom watched Dalton sweat and fumble for a retort. He knew that the internet killed any hopes of burying a secret. As much as the internet had been regulated, as much as it had been censored and filtered over the years, there were too many programmers and too many mobile hubs for the Coalition to subdue it.

Dalton finally managed, “You’re remarkably ungrateful. I offered you the chance of a lifetime.”

“Offered? I’ve got a problem with that word, Dalton. It implies you gave me a choice.”

“I had to force you. You were too stupid to cooperate! You could have been the next Elliot Ramirez if you’d simply worked with me.”

Tom slid his eyes toward the screen, the view of the Rotunda where Elliot was busy pumping hands, exchanging pleasantries. Showing the same face to everyone, no hint of his real feelings, playing the game. Elliot could do it somehow, could manage to keep that smile on his face without losing his soul.

But Tom couldn’t.

He knew what it meant now, throwing away something of himself to win. He saw how meaningless it was. Maybe he’d saved himself, saved Yuri and Wyatt, by tearing out Medusa’s throat, but the taste of victory was bitter on his lips, and the thought of going out into the world now and smiling at people he loathed just made him feel ill. He couldn’t do it. He’d choke on it. It wasn’t worth being somebody if it meant hollowing himself out to win a place with people like Dalton.

“Elliot’s an okay guy.” That admission still surprised Tom. “But I would never want to be him.”

“If you really think that, you’re as much of a fool as your father is.”

“My dad is not a fool.”

“I know all about him, Tom. He can’t hold a job, so he deludes himself into thinking it’s rebellion against society. He can’t make it so, he pretends he doesn’t want to. But I know better. This is cold, hard reality: everyone wants to be an Elliot Ramirez.”

Tom just stared at him, amazed that Dalton couldn’t even imagine someone not caring about the same things he did. But why was it a surprise? A guy like Dalton could never understand a guy like his dad. Neil had faults. Many, many faults. But he saw some things perfectly. He never bought into the image stuff, the power stuff. He never accepted he was prisoner to a society stronger than he was. Even when he was kicked down time and again, he never “stuck his neck in the corporate yoke.” His dad was way too stubborn, too proud.

And for the first time, Tom realized there was something to admire about that. It took guts to be his dad; it took courage to charge down a path the rest of society dared not follow. Dalton Prestwick played the game exactly the way he was supposed to play it, and he didn’t even see that he was trapped by it. He had to live out the entirety of his life as Dalton Prestwick. It was really a worse fate than anything Tom could inflict on him.

Tom rose to his feet. He just wanted this man out of his life. Forever.

“Here’s the deal, Dalton. You stay away from me, got it? You and I never speak to each other again. Don’t mess with any more of our brains. Not even Karl’s, as much as he deserves it. He starts gelling his hair and wearing cologne, and I’ll tell the Pentagon to look for some Dominion Agra software in his processor. And as for my father, he doesn’t exist to you anymore. Never even say his name again.”

Dalton’s expression grew narrow and calculating. “Is that all?”

“You do all that, and I won’t send a copy of my memory to anyone. You don’t do it, and I’ll post it on the internet. I swear I will.”

“Fine. We have a deal.” He offered his hand. “Shake?”

Tom turned his back to him. “I’m not shaking your hand, Dalton. Just go away.”

TOM, LIKE ALL the other non-CamCos in the Spire, was a state secret. So he waited in the private room until the non–Indo-American affiliated crowds departed. Once the only people left in the Capitol were military and the representatives of Indo-American companies, he emerged.

Tom ventured out into the Rotunda and headed over to Elliot. “How’s it going?”

Elliot’s collar was stained with sweat. He yanked it open, like it was suffocating him. “Remember what I said about wanting to fight my own battles? Yeah, forget it. I am happy—no, overjoyed—to have a proxy.” He reached up and gripped Tom’s shoulder. “Good job, Tom.”

“Hey,” Tom said, “I couldn’t have won if you’d been destroyed earlier. You held out against Medusa, man. That’s something.”

Elliot beamed at him. “Thanks. And, hey, Marsh filled me in about Nigel. You saved the day, didn’t you?” He chuckled. “One of my plebes, saving us all.”

“I had some help. Wyatt’s virus took Nigel down. I was going to cheat. I didn’t get the chance.”

Elliot glanced around, then leaned closer to him, his dark eyes probing his. “Something odd happened. I can’t explain it. I swear, I lost control of my neural processor for a while there. I think Svetlana did, too.”

Tom tried to think quickly of an excuse so Elliot would forget all about that. “Maybe you just—”

“Raines.”

The voice from behind him made his heart jump into his throat. Tom’s every muscle tensed. He turned slowly, seething with hatred, to see Lieutenant Blackburn, just feet away.

I just won Capitol Summit, Tom reminded himself. He can’t do anything to me.

And then it hit him: Blackburn really couldn’t do anything to him. And Tom found himself grinning, a sense of power washing through him.

“Great to see you,” Tom said. “I was hoping for a chance to talk to you, sir.”

Blackburn blinked, disconcerted, like he didn’t know how to react to this. It gave Tom fierce pleasure.

“Is there a problem?” Elliot spoke up, looking between them, his brow furrowed.

“None at all. See you later, Elliot.” Tom drove his hands into his pockets and walked from the Rotunda into the dim, statue-strewn corridor beyond, knowing by instinct that Blackburn was right behind him.

As soon as they were out of earshot of anyone else, Blackburn demanded, “Did I just interrupt you in the process of telling Elliot Ramirez about your ability?”

Tom turned around, anger frothing in his veins. He’d never hated someone so much.

“No, sir. That didn’t work out so well for me the last time, did it?”

Blackburn’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t even realize how lucky you are that I’m the one who found that first.”

“Yeah,” Tom agreed sarcastically. “I’m so lucky you tried to rip my brain apart. I can’t imagine what a company like, say, Obsidian would do instead. Gosh, they might actually do something evil.”

“If you’d just given up that memory—”

“We’re not having this discussion anymore!” Tom roared at him. “I am not tied down under the census device!” He dropped his voice to a poisonous whisper. “Besides, I know what you want.”

“Do you?”

“This is all about Obsidian and Vengerov. He messed up one group of adults in Russia, and then he came over here and messed up you guys, too. That must burn you that he got away scot-free with what he did to you, and all you got was Roanoke.”