Rhodes sat up, put his feet on the floor, and stared at them for a long time while he processed everything that happened yesterday.

He really didn’t give a rip about the results of his psych evaluation. It meant nothing to him or anyone else beyond the obvious humor the battalion got from making fun of Dr. Watson.

The evaluation did give Rhodes one crucial piece of information in all of this. The Legion brass did not give Fuentes a psych evaluation before they sent him back to the battalion.

His capsule stood open across the room. He sat at the terminal working on something the way he did last night.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, compressed his lips into a bloodless line, and clenched his teeth every few seconds.

The rest of the battalion went through their normal morning routine of getting up, running their fingers through their hair, walking around, and doing whatever they usually did to occupy their time.

Rhodes didn’t go to the washroom to look at his own reflection. Whatever today held didn’t have anything to do with him or what he had become. Today was all about Fuentes.

The tension in the barracks ratcheted right back up to the breaking point. A few people talked, but they kept their voices low. Rhinehart, Oakes, and Lauer joked about Dr. Watson.

The SAMs remained silent through it all and didn’t say a damn word. Fisher was already there at his usual size in the corner of Rhodes’s vision when he opened his eyes this morning.

Fisher didn’t greet Rhodes or ask how his conversion cycle went or say anything else. He just hovered there and watched.

These SAMs really knew their business. They didn’t get involved in this mess. They knew when to stay out of it—whatever this was.

Rhodes took a deep breath, stood up, ran his fingers through his hair, and squared his shoulders before he walked over to the terminal desk.

Fuentes didn’t look up, not even when Rhodes halted right there next to Fuentes’s chair.

“Stand up, Corporal,” Rhodes ordered. “I want to talk to you.”

Fuentes clenched his jaw once and tightened his lips in one momentary show of annoyance before he stood up and faced Rhodes.

“Is something wrong, Sir?” Fuentes asked in a tense undertone.

“We have a training session today and we’ll need you to interface with the rest of the battalion. I’d like you to interface with all of us now—for the rest of the day while we aren’t in a training session. We all need to know what’s going on with you and Van before we go into The Grid. You’ve been away for a long time. We need to get to know each other again so we know what to expect when we enter The Grid in the session.”

Fuentes glared at him for a second. “Is that all, Sir?”

“That’s enough, isn’t it?” Rhodes asked. “We all interface with each other all the time. You were interfacing with us before you left. It doesn’t inspire much confidence if you don’t interface with us now.”

“Yes, Sir. No problem.” Fuentes turned away, switched on the interface, and sat back down at the desk. He went straight back to work on the terminal without giving Rhodes a second glance.

The interface connected and Van reappeared back on The Grid with Fisher, Dash, Rocky, and the other SAMs.

Van looked the same—and her facial expression looked the same. She didn’t glare at anyone in murderous fury.

“Good morning, Captain Rhodes,” she began in her low, husky voice. “It’s so good to be back with the battalion again.”

“Welcome back, Van,” Rhodes replied. “It’s good to see you, too.”

He never meant any words more. Inexpressible relief crushed his heart when he saw her. He could trust her in ways he didn’t trust Fuentes anymore.

At least Fuentes’s SAM was still as reasonable as ever. She was the one who tried the hardest to stop him from killing himself. She must realize by now how volatile Fuentes had become.

Rhodes would have liked to interrogate her about Fuentes’s mental state, but Rhodes couldn’t do that in front of Fuentes. Rhodes could only talk to Van through the interface. Fuentes would have heard every word.

“I’m sure you just heard me tell Rudy that we have a training session later,” Rhodes told her instead. “This session is to test you and Rudy in combat with the rest of the battalion. If everything works out, they’ll send us back to the Emal wars.”

“Yes, Captain, I understand all that. I’m confident Rudy and I will be able to perform to your satisfaction.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I’m not worried about my satisfaction,” Rhodes told her. “I’m only worried about you and Rudy getting out of The Grid in one piece—and the rest of the battalion doing the same thing.”

“Yes, of course, Captain. I understand perfectly. I can only give you my assurance that we’ll do everything in our power to accomplish the objective in a way that ensures the safety of the whole battalion. I can’t offer you anything more than that.”

Rhodes glanced back and forth between her and Fuentes. Fuentes didn’t look up from the terminal. He didn’t get involved in the conversation between Rhodes and Van.

Fuentes also didn’t offer any assurance that he would perform to Rhodes’s satisfaction or that he would do everything in his power to ensure the safety of the whole battalion.

Fuentes’s silence spoke volumes. Rhodes didn’t need to get inside Fuentes’s head to know exactly what the kid was thinking and feeling. The fury radiating off him broadcast his mental state to the world.

“Stand up, Corporal,” Rhodes ordered again, and this time, he didn’t soften his tone. “I’m talking to you.”

Fuentes stood up and all that rage blasted Rhodes in the face. Fuentes turned it on Rhodes alone.

Rhodes took another deep breath, but it did nothing to steady his nerves.

He found himself at another crossroads moment. He could take Fuentes back into the battalion, but Rhodes didn’t have to do that. He realized that now. He wasn’t saddled with Fuentes against his will or against the battalion’s will.

He could march right down there to Colonel Kraft’s office and demand to take Fuentes off the battalion. Rhodes could flatly refuse to go anywhere with Fuentes, including into a training session.

Rhodes did have that option, but he didn’t take it. He didn’t hear any of his subordinates or their SAMs demanding it, either.

“I know you’re angry, Corporal,” Rhodes began. “I’m angry, too. We all are and we have good reason to be. No one faults you for being angry over all of this.”

Fuentes gritted his teeth and snarled in a vicious undertone. “You stopped me. I could have ended it and you stopped me.”

“Actually, it was Rio who stopped you. Van asked the Strikers to intervene and Rio got to you first.”

“Do you think I give a shit about that?!” Fuentes snapped. “I could have ended it. I don’t have to be here. I could have been gone.”

“Then go, Corporal. Use your scourge gun on yourself right now if it means that much to you. You won’t get any argument from me and I won’t try to stop you. You don’t have to be here now.”

Fuentes locked his mouth shut and looked away.

“The SAMs were doing their jobs by saving you,” Rhodes went on. “I would have let you jump off that Ravager, but you’re still here and now you have to work with the rest of us. You can go anytime you want to. As long as you’re here, you better make sure you help this battalion instead of making it harder and more dangerous for the rest of us than it already is. Is that understood?”

Fuentes refused to look at him. “Yes, Sir,” he spat through gritted teeth.

“Direct this rage toward the enemy,” Rhodes told him. “You can kill as many of them as you want to. You can be as cruel and brutal and nasty to them as you want to be. You can take it all out on them.”

“The brass is my enemy,” Fuentes hissed. “The doctors are my enemies. They’re the ones who did this to me.” His furious eyes darted around the barracks. “They did this to me.”

“They didn’t do shit to you, Corporal,” Rhodes snapped, and in that moment, his patience snapped, too. He seized Fuentes by the jaw and forced Fuentes to turn around and face him. “If you look at anyone in this battalion like that, you look at me like that. If you treat anyone in this battalion as an enemy, you better start with me and I will defend myself. Understand, Corporal?”

Fuentes tried to yank his head out of Rhodes’s grip, but Rhodes was all finished playing games. He tightened his fingers and forced Fuentes to face him.

Fuentes finally snarled, “Yes, Sir. I understand.”

Rhodes let him go, but Rhodes didn’t slacken his stance. He found himself narrowing his eyes and glaring right back at Fuentes.

“You stay interfaced with us at all times, Corporal. That is a direct order,” Rhodes snapped. “If you cut the interface, I’ll assume you’re planning the worst. We all will and we will take steps to make sure you don’t put any of us in danger. You have one chance with this battalion. The very first time you break the interface will be your last.”

Rhodes turned on his heel and walked away. He didn’t know where he would go, but he didn’t trust himself in front of Fuentes a second longer.

Rhodes became suddenly, painfully aware of everyone else in the battalion watching and listening to his confrontation with Fuentes. Even the SAMs listened, including Van.

Rhodes had to get out of the room, but he couldn’t break the interface, either. He didn’t want to.

He went into the washroom, but the sight of his own reflection made him sick to his stomach. He paced up and down the room trying to settle down before he faced the group.

He already was facing them. He faced them through the interface. He couldn’t get away from them.

“I’m sorry about this, Captain,” Van husked as soon as he left the barracks. “I only found out Rudy was like this last night when he woke up from stasis.”

“Did something happen?” Rhodes asked. “How could he just wake up from stasis like this?”

“I’m not sure, Captain. He won’t talk to me.”

Rhodes spun around, but he didn’t need to turn around to face her. She stayed right there in front of his eyes with the other SAMs. “He won’t talk to you?! Not at all?”

“I’m afraid not, Captain. He hasn’t said a word to me since he woke up. He ignores me.”

Rhodes passed his hand across his eyes and groaned. “Great. Really spectacular.”

“I can’t guarantee that he’ll listen to me during the training session, either—or any other time. In fact, I’m going into the training session assuming he won’t listen to me. I’m sure he’ll ignore me then, too.”

“You’ll need to stay interfaced with us, too, then,” Rhodes told her. “If he won’t talk to you, he probably won’t talk to any of us, either. We’ll rely on you to communicate with us on his behalf, give us any information we need that he isn’t telling us—all of that.”

“Of course, Captain. You can rely on my full cooperation.”

Rhodes should have felt less comfortable talking about Fuentes right in front of him. Rhodes never would have spoken about any of his subordinates like this—not where the person could hear every word.

Rhodes didn’t feel even marginally uncomfortable about it, though. He wanted Fuentes to hear and understand just how seriously Rhodes and the rest of the battalion were taking this.

Rhodes paused there and studied Van’s feline face. He never liked her. Now he found himself trusting her with the whole battalion’s safety.

His former conclusion about the SAMs came back to haunt him now. Van’s survival depended on Fuentes somehow conducting himself in a way that didn’t get both him and Van killed.

Her survival depended on Fuentes coming through every battle unharmed. What a nightmare this must be for her—riding around with such a damaged host out to destroy himself and take everyone else down with him.

End of Chapter 20.