Tom felt a flicker of surprise for a moment, but then it was gone. Actually, no, he wasn’t so surprised.

“Needless to say, I wasn’t happy. I’ve never been ashamed of who I am, and I resented the order to pretend to be someone I’m not. If the Coalition was going to dictate my feelings to me, then I decided I would quit.” Tension lined his voice. “And then I was told that wasn’t my decision either.”

“What? They told you no? They can’t do that.”

“The way they phrased it, it was more of a warning.” Elliot leaned toward him, elbows on his knees. “You see, Tom, they don’t own us, but the fact is, there is no one outside Obsidian Corp. and the military who can work these computers.” He pointed to his own head. “It became very clear to me that if I dared to leave, not only would I find no help for any future malfunctions, but my likelihood of a serious malfunction in the near future would greatly increase.”

Outrage exploded in Tom. “So it’s basically a death threat! Elliot, you should blow them off. Do what you want. Leave. Do it publicly enough, then the Coalition won’t mess with you. Everyone would know it was them. If they didn’t, I swear, man, I’ll go on the internet and tell everyone.”

“The world’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“I actually do have—well, I had a plan. My actions had to be regulated because I was the most prominent CamCo. So as soon as the others were public, I planned to help someone else assume the center seat, so to speak. I’d become less valuable, and as long as I never enlisted, I’d get to go on my way. There was someone I had in mind, but as it turned out, she was a bit too aggressive about claiming the spotlight.”

“Heather?” Tom guessed.

Elliot’s mouth quirked. “I knew she could take my place easily. She’s lovely, and people are fascinated by her, and she always knows exactly what she should say. She’s a born politician, Tom. I suppose the problem is that she ultimately is a born politician. You can’t trust her, and at the end of the day, she’ll advance herself at any cost. Even if it comes back to haunt her.”

AS THE ELEVATOR rose, taking Tom and Elliot up to the receiving chamber for Prince Abhalleman, the CEO of Nobridis, Elliot gave Tom some quick advice. “He’s very traditional. Remember, he’s royalty back in his own country.”

Tom was confused. “He doesn’t have a country. It got neutron bombed. All the people got killed.”

“The landmass is still there, so technically, yes, it’s his country. The entire royal family’s still intact.”

“Nice of them to leave their subjects to die.”

“They weren’t their subjects at the time of the neutron bombing. They’d been overthrown.”

“So they’re not really a royal family anymore.”

“After the neutron bombings, they became royalty again. Dominion Agra and Harbinger Incorporated agreed to reinstate them.”

How convenient for them, Tom thought. They’d gotten overthrown, then their former subjects all died, so they got their throne back.

Prince Hanreid Abhalleman had them escorted into his presence chamber. Tom was planning to go last, but Elliot volunteered him to go earlier—he said it was a “ripping off the Band-Aid” approach. Tom was marched in before the prince in his traditional robes. The prince waited expectantly.

“He wants you to bow,” Elliot whispered out of the side of his mouth.

Tom stayed rigid. Elliot hadn’t warned him about this part.

“Bow,” Elliot urged softly, and all the eyes in the room were on them now.

But Tom couldn’t. He didn’t bow to people, and he shouldn’t have to—this guy wasn’t his overlord. Bowing would make this guy feel he was better than him, he was superior, and Tom wasn’t going to do that. All Prince Abhalleman had was more money and power and a sense he was owed something. That was it.

Two menacing guards flanked the prince, holding scimitars, so Tom couldn’t march up and offer the prince a handshake like he preferred. Since bowing was out of the question, Tom settled with giving the prince a thumbs-up. “Nice to meet you, man.”

“I HAD NO idea that was like a middle finger in his country,” Tom confessed to his friends later as they crowded into the elevator from the Interstice into Epicenter Manufacturing’s facility. He was still a bit shaken from the way the prince’s guards had all descended on him, waving scimitars and screaming for his blood for offending their monarch. It seemed kind of like an overreaction to him. If Elliot hadn’t stepped in, he wasn’t sure what would’ve happened. Elliot was still back at Nobridis, smoothing things over.

Tom was intent on staying out of trouble when they reached India and ascended into the vast complex owned by Epicenter Manufacturing.

Two more companies. Tom swallowed hard. He only had two more chances here. He dared not screw up again.

WYATT GAVE TOM some solemn advice on the ride up. “I’ve found there’s one surefire way to avoid offending people. Just don’t talk. At all. Don’t say a word. Make sure people don’t even notice you’re there. Then you’ll never offend anyone.” She gave a crisp nod. “I haven’t said a single word anywhere we’ve been. Have you noticed that? It’s worked out great.”

They found themselves on the top floor of an octagonal tower, with windowed walls that gazed on to the roofs of massive factories and toward the distant mountains of Kashmir. The nighttime landscape was lit by the glow of a single skyboard, stark against the dark sky: EPICENTER: The heart of the world economy! Glasses were stacked in a massive champagne pyramid by the widow, and violinists played discreetly in the corner.

The CEO of Epicenter, Pandita Rumpfa, moved through the trainees alongside Epicenter’s sponsored Combatants. She examined their faces, sometimes having an assistant snap a photo of them.

When it was their turn, Pandita consulted a pocket-sized computer. “Ah. You’d be Ms. Enslow. Lift your chin a bit so I can see your face.”

Wide-eyed, Wyatt raised her chin.

Pandita consulted her computer. “So Ms. Enslow, tell me why Epicenter should take an interest in you. What strengths do you bring to the table?”

Wyatt didn’t say anything. Her eyes grew very wide, and she was doing that strange fishlike face again. A pained noise like a whine began to emit from her sealed lips. Tom felt mounting alarm on her behalf. Her no-talking strategy was going to backfire this time.

Pandita’s assistant murmured in her ear, and Pandita shook her head. “No photo of this one.”

Tom had to say something. “Wyatt’s great with machines. And math. She’s too modest to say it.”

Pandita’s eyes found Tom. “And you.” She beamed at him. “I know you. I enjoyed that tour of the Pentagonal Spire you gave my colleagues and me several months back. I recall you being a very charming and well-spoken young man.”

Tom remembered that tour. It was back when Dalton Prestwick reprogrammed him and he’d morphed into a pathetic little suck-up for a whole month. He’d been so very eager then to make connections that he’d even volunteered to lead a tour of business leaders through the Pentagonal Spire.

“Uh, thanks. That wasn’t really . . . Yeah.” Tom wasn’t sure what else to say.