Ben was welcomed into the 2nd Mass after his… ah, original return, shall we say. I'm not going to say that I was completely at ease with his presence, though. I was still keeping a watchful eye on Maggie.

"Don't worry about me," she kept saying. "He was being controlled—but now, since he doesn't have the spikes anymore, how could he still be under their power?"

I had to admit, she had a point, but that wasn't going to stop me from being careful. I tried to not let what happened get between my relationship with my brother, but it was hard. More than hard. It was near impossible.

"So," I said. "You're back, with no spikes to speak of, and a foolproof way of defeating the skitters?" We were gathered around a map in the command tent with my dad, Dai, Captain Weaver, and Cleo. That girl would not unstick herself from Ben's side. It was like she was some sort of parasite, sucking the life out of him, only with the opposite effect. He was fuller of life than ever, which made me even more suspicious.

"I'm not going to say it's foolproof, Hal," he began matter-of-factly. It bothered me that he now seemed to hold more respect and power than I did. He was my little brother, for cryin' out loud. "The Overlord was delirious from pain and fever, but it worked with the mechs and it should work with the beamers, too."

Dai still looked skeptical. "But now we have another problem. The skitters are living beings—a simple code won't deactivate them. And what about when they start suspecting something's wrong? Can't they just change the code?" he asked, and Ben's face fell. He clearly hadn't thought this far.

"Yeah," I said, "And if they can be deactivated, they can be activated again. A skitter can just come along and"—

"Nope," Ben interrupted, grinning. "That's where you're wrong. As soon as I pressed enter on the keypad, a hidden capsule of acid burst and melted the keys together. It would be physically impossible to touch it and bring the mech back to life."

"Well then, that's one problem solved," said Dad, who had previously been keeping quiet. "But it still doesn't help with the others."

We were silent for a single moment, deep in thought. Weaver was staring at Dad with that wow-you-really-must-be-stupid look on his face, causing Dad to be roused from his thoughts. "Well, isn't it obvious?" demanded Weaver, educing blank looks from us.

"It doesn't take a rocket surgeon to figure it out, people!" he said, still with that patronizing expression. He pounded the table with his fist, causing everyone to jump.

"Rocket surgeon?" murmured Ben, eliciting a nervous giggle from Cleo, who was still clinging shyly to his overcoat. I glared at them, and they fell silent with chastised looks on their faces. Oh, suddenly, I'm the adult here.

"Just tell us, Dan," Dad said exasperatedly. "We're not mind readers."

"Well," huffed Weaver, "It's simple. We lure as many mechs as we can over here, cripple them with our best snipers, and punch in the code. The skitters clearly can't change it because they won't freaking know until it's too late. Besides, there's that thing with the acid. And we all know that the skitters are pretty much worthless without the mechs to hide behind."

You could have heard a pin drop in the deafening silence.

"Er, well, then…" muttered Dad. "I guess this meeting is over."

"Damn right it is," grumbled Weaver. "And about time, too." He shuffled to the entrance of the tent. "Now who's up for some tuna fish?"

There was a collective murmur of assent, and I left to go find Maggie. She deserved some tuna fish after such a long day.