Insignia by S. J. Kincaid Read Free Book Online Page A

with your old man. You signed a confidentiality agreement on the plane, and we’ll hold you to keeping what you’ve seen here to yourself, but I don’t think that will be hard for you. What’s important is, you come into this with your eyes wide-open.”
    Tom couldn’t speak for a long while. His dad’s words returned to him, unbidden: You know how the military treats its people, Tom? They chew them up and spit them out, that’s how. You’re just another piece of equipment to them .
    Equipment. A computer was a piece of equipment. He would be equipment.
    “That’s the only way I can do this?” Tom blurted.
    “The only way. Without the neural processor, you’re useless to us.”
    And Marsh had waited until now, after Tom had turned on his father, pressured him into signing the consent form, flown across the country, and gotten his hopes up so high he’d been soaring in the stratosphere, to drop this bomb. It was manipulative. Tom didn’t need some computer in his head to see that. If there was one thing he hated, it was feeling like a chump.
    “Maybe this isn’t for me.” Tom watched Marsh’s face as he spoke, relishing the shock that washed over the old features. The general thought he’d hooked him. Thought he would feel he had no choice anymore. He felt a surge of vindictive satisfaction at proving him wrong.
    “Well, son. That’s unexpected. That’s, well …” Marsh seemed to be fumbling for something to say.
    “He’s made his decision,” Olivia said, triumph in her voice. “Take him home, Terry.”
    The words sent panic skittering through Tom, because he wanted this life at the Pentagonal Spire. He wanted it ferociously. But he couldn’t just be some chump tricked into it. He’d never forgive himself. He’d rather gouge out his own eyes than let Marsh get away with manipulating him.
    Marsh studied him for a long, tense moment. Then he said, “I’ll tell you what, Tom, how about I give you some time to think it over?”
    Tom could have laughed. He’d bluffed and won. He’d forced Marsh to give in a bit. The tension eased in his muscles. He hadn’t let the general totally snow him. “Fine. I’ll think.”
    Marsh seemed to relax, too. He held out a shiny black keycard, his watery eyes searching Tom’s face, trying to gauge how serious he was about resisting the idea of joining up. “Ms. Ossare, why don’t you escort Tom down to the mess hall? There are some meal points on this card. Have a bite to eat. On me. When you feel ready to make your decision, click on the pager.”
    Tom glanced at the keycard and turned it in his hand for effect. “And if I say no, I get to leave?”
    “Yes, Raines.” Marsh’s voice grew gruff.
    “He’s legally obligated to allow it,” Olivia added.
    Tom raised his eyes to hers and returned her smile with a quick one of his own. “Fine. I hope there are a lot of credits on this. I’m starved.”
    Marsh’s look of irritation made it all the better.
    T OM SETTLED AT a table in the mess hall directly beneath a row of screens in sleep mode and a large oil painting of a man with a plaque that proclaimed him General George S. Patton. He stared up at the gruff face of the general, an empty meal tray sitting on the tabletop before him. He didn’t actually feel like taking it over to the serving line and grabbing food. His head began to ache. He found himself wishing his dad was around.
    Then again, if Neil had been there when General Marsh pulled that Oh-I-forgot-to-mention-the-computer-in-your-head-earlier thing, he would’ve exploded. Maybe punched him. And that wouldn’t have helped anything.
    Tom scrubbed a hand through his hair. What was the matter with him? He couldn’t turn this down. And he shouldn’t take it personally. Marsh probably had some standard military recruitment playbook: get the kids away from their parents, get them to the Spire, get their hopes up, and then spring the big surprise-brain-surgery thing.
    He held up the keycard and