Mike cleaned up in the bathroom, peeling his ruined uniform from his body and scrubbing the caked blood and dirt from his wounds. He didn't trust himself to seal the injuries with an unenhanced mind, so Mike contented himself with disinfecting the wounds and stopping the bleeding. He managed to mostly clean himself up, wrecking the bathroom in the process. Then he pulled on a new uniform and stumbled to his cot.

And slept.

Hours passed in blessed oblivion, the first time since his ignition that he had truly lost consciousness. None of the obsessive, detached mental processing that characterized every other night. Just a vague awareness that time passed. A sprinkling of blurry half-formed dreams that faded into nothing upon even a momentary return to awareness. He woke for bathroom breaks and when the other occupants of the men's sleeping room made too much of a ruckus, then promptly returned to his rest.

Mike woke for good at four in the morning, his brain rejuvenated. His body, on the other hand, felt worse than when he had gone to bed. The exhaustion had morphed into bone-deep aches. None of his injuries were serious, but there were a lot of them and they might take a whole week to heal if he didn't speed things up with the teleotic talent.

Out in the hallway, he found Smith and McGreary waiting out the rest of their shift of guard duty.

Smith animatedly pointed at him as soon as he appeared. "Ski, what did I say when I came back from the private room at the club?"

"I don't recall," Mike lied.

"I said the girls will do a lot more than management will admit," Smith said.

McGreary shook his head. "You can tell whatever story you want. I don't believe a dancer gave you a blowjob."

"You don't have to believe me. I know what happened and the rest of you are just jealous."

Mike pulled up a chair to join them. "Any idea what the plans are for the day? I've been out of the loop for the past few days."

McGreary grunted. "It's moving day for some of us. We're going to be freezing our balls off in EDA Valley by nightfall. All four trainers, the Imperator, and Diego. You're going to be staying here with the rest until Pittsburgh pays the penalty for breaking the contract. Jimmy thinks they are going to pay out before another week goes by. Until then, the operations team does its thing here and you ferry students to and from the North Pole."

Hearing strategic plans as gossip from his subordinates stirred up a touch of resentment in Mike. He couldn't help but wonder if separating the teams was intended to delay any conversations around forcing the Angelship to leave orbit until after Nallit's deadline had passed. Mike tamped down the emotions and forced a smile. "Y'know, Smith, I would be quite impressed if you convinced a polar bear to blow you."

"That's a good way for a man to lose six inches." Smith leaned forward with a smirk. "If I lost half my length I'd be like the rest of you boys."

"I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to you leaving, Smith," McGreary said.

"Yeah, fuck you too, buddy," Smith said.

McGreary nodded at Mike. "How are you recovering from the battle royale?"

"Did that dumb name stick?" Mike shook his head in disappointment that the news would grant Nallit naming rights.

"The Pittsburgh Battle Royale. You might be getting a nickname too. Some reporter called you 'Mad Microphone Mike' and it has been trending."

"It sounds stupid," Mike grunted.

"They can't tell if you're acting or serious whenever you speak in public. First it was that bit about catching a building being harder than it looks. Then you come out with a big ole 'eff you buddy, is it time to fight yet' and the internet lost its mind. You know there are thousands of memes about you, right?"

Mike pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lucky me, I guess."

"I guess," McGreary said. "So are you recovered?"

"I'm working on it. It was a rough fight. The mind games afterwards didn't help, either."

"Yeah, you really do not want to hear what the news is saying about the situation with the kids," Smith muttered. "As if they have the slightest clue what it's like going up against a real life supervillain."

Mike shrugged. "I actively avoid watching anything about myself. The only fame I ever dreamed of was getting a UFC fight. Certainly not this. Hey, McGreary, would you mind mending up some of these wounds?"

The soldier squinted at Mike. "You want me to work on your injuries?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

McGreary scratched his head. "Because you are stronger and more skilled than me with the teleotic talent."

"You had a career in medicine," Mike said. "A juggler might have better hand-eye coordination than a surgeon, but that doesn't mean I prefer him performing a procedure on me."

After a moment, McGreary scooted his chair forward and began to tend to Mike's injuries. The man muttered under his breath while he worked, but Mike felt the wails of his battered body begin to quiet. By the time shift change arrived, Mike felt like he had enjoyed another several days of recovery. Lacerations were closed, bruises were faded, and internal bleeds had stopped.

The final two soldiers on watch duty before the day began were Sam and Tracy. Tracy immediately went to the Keurig to make a cup of coffee while Sam slouched in front of the laptop. "Mike, can you check this packing list to see if we're missing anything?"

He shrugged. "I'll take a look. Be aware that I only went to the arctic for a day trip."

"And I've never even gone camping. Yet here we are," Sam muttered.

As Mike perused the list, he saw a mix of the obvious and the unexpected. Clothing, cots, sleeping bags, hygeine supplies, mess kits, metal canteens, and flash lights were in the obvious column. Folding chairs, sunglasses, skin lotion, and emergency rations were things Mike wouldn't have thought of himself. "What are you calling emergency rations?"

"High calorie snacks for between meals. They got to pack their own rations, so most people have something like trail mix, where others decided to go all in on Snickers. We're worried three meals a day might not be enough with the extreme cold."

Mike nodded. "Sounds smart. The only thing I would add is entertainment. You're not going to have cell phone reception out there, so don't plan on streaming videos from the internet or texting people. Anything people do on their downtime needs to be brought with them. Everyone should have a laptop loaded up with music, movies, and games. You might keep the troops busy with work for a few days, but eventually they are going to have downtime and you will discover real fast that bored soldiers are trouble. What food is the unit bringing for mealtimes? The Imperator seemed to think rice and beans were a cost-effective option, but that would be a disaster for morale."

"That's why Erica put together the meal plan. We're mostly vegan out of respect for Cassandane, but there will be an animal product available for one of the meals every day. I guess there are powdered eggs for breakfast tomorrow, like a just-add-water type thing. Also, peanut butter and jelly sandwich bar for the vegan lady. Red lentil curry for lunch. Falafel and hummus wraps for dinner. There should be enough variation to keep us sane. Plus there will be coffee, tea, and hot chocolate available all day in the training tent, along with a tray of Oreos."

"So the diet is eighty percent health food and twenty percent junk food. Can't say if that's appropriate to the situation or not. I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Sam folded her arms. "I have Erica to help me figure out the answers like she always does for you."

Mike squinted at Sam before deliberately letting her comment go. "Anyway, is there anything on the agenda for the operations team that I should know about?"

"You are picking up the bus today. Having it towed would take too long. Then you just do some training flights to annoy city leadership until they pay the penalty to break our lease. Monday morning you have to fly students to EDA Valley. Otherwise . . . training, I guess."

"Sounds about right," Mike said as he got to his feet. He walked to the window and stood beside Tracy. "Hey."

"It was a one time thing," she said in a low tone.

Mike sighed. "Wasn't trying to make a move."

"Maybe not at the moment. Sooner or later you would. Ain't happening again."

"Message received," Mike said. "Any particular reason for your stance? I was under the impression it was a good time for all."

"Do I need a reason?"

"I won't pry, then. We'll just continue on like it never happened."

Tracy shrugged. "Kinda didn't happen. At least with Marius I could pretend he cared. I want something real, Ski. Not midnight hookups with some white boy crushin' on his boss."

Mike nodded once, then walked back to where Sam still stared at packing lists on the laptop.