Gwen and Ari followed the flashing lights along the wall to an elevator on the dizzying top floor of a skyscraper. The Administrator’s office was a circular room made entirely of windows, the décor solidly Mercer white with bold black accents.
Ari had heard stories about the Mercer Company’s CEO over the years—and of course seen his face in his innumerable ads—but none of that prepared her for this meeting. He lounged across a couch, middle-aged with long limbs, his skin as white as if he had been grown in a tank of bleach. He was nondescript in the face, the body, the clothes. His hair was a white-blond thatch, oddly sparse. If Ari had tried to draw him, she would have managed a stick figure and given up.
He held up a bowl that had been resting in his lap. “Pretzels, not popcorn. What do we win for stumping you? Your planet? How about that awesome crown?”
When Gwen did little more than tighten her grip on Ari’s hand, the Administrator shot up and crossed the room. “We kid, we kid.” He hugged Gwen as if they were old friends, and Ari ached to dismantle the embrace with her bare hands.
Gwen allowed him to touch her and then breathed through her nose. “How lovely of you to drag me up here once again.”
“Oh, my sweet and spicy Gweneviere. Tell us you missed us.”
“No, thank you.”
His eyes twinkled as he turned to Ari. “Ara Azar, how delighted we are to find you still living. And married to my favorite monarch! Should we discuss celebrity power couple names or let something emerge organically?”
Ari felt slapped.
Azar.
Her bones knew that name. Her heart did, as well.
Only her head was behind.
“How do you…” Ari started, trying to find the words.
Gwen bristled whole-bodily, tugging them to the couches to sit while Ari’s mind stroked every single letter of Azar as if it were the greatest gift she’d ever been given… but that meant she was in debt to Mercer, which did not feel right. Her eyes dropped to the wooden coffee table, an elaborate chessboard embedded in its polished finish.
The Administrator lounged across the opposite couch. “Ara, please continue. You were going to say, ‘How do you know my family name?’ And we were going to say,” he sat up, cold, dark eyes suddenly piercing, “from your mother’s ship. Not your incarcerated adoptive mothers’ ship. The first mother. Such a determined heart, that one.” He leaned back again, seemingly bored. “But we won’t say any more, so don’t bother asking.”
Ari’s heart hammered so loudly she couldn’t think straight. He was talking about her mother like he knew her. Like maybe she was still alive. Was she in one of Mercer’s compounds, too? Was she a political prisoner here on Troy?
“We are only here for two reasons,” Gwen said, making a grab for control of the conversation, looking keenly aware that it had slipped away. “One, you promised hydration shipments, and you haven’t delivered. You have been late this past year, but this month’s cycle you’ve been flat-out hovering in the atmosphere, refusing to land.”
“Us? Personally, we never hover. Bad for the lower back.”
“You know what I mean. What do I have to do to get Mercer to keep its word?”
“Sign over the planet,” he said. Gwen snarled, and Ari gripped her wife’s elbow. “We’ll let you remain figurehead. You can even pretend to pass laws and whatnot.”
“You know my answer,” she said.
“As you wish. A few more weeks of dehydration and your people will hand over the planet willingly. For their troubles, we’ll give each of them enough water for their own swimming pool. Two-day shipping on all aboveground pools.” He held up a finger. “For a limited time, of course.”
Ari leaned in, wanting to help Gwen. “What does Mercer have against Lionel?”
“Mercer?” the Administrator said as if he’d never heard the word before. “Mercer is a corporation, my dear rogue Ketchan. We sell things and solve problems; we do not have enemies.” His eyes turned from Ari to Gwen, hardening. “But we do have customers who become loyal friends. Troy is such a friend. The same friendship Lionel has rejected repeatedly, and as you know, Troy is angry that it can’t vent its overpopulated cities to Lionel, a largely underused planet.”
“My people,” Gwen interrupted, “require space to breathe, live, have families, and—”
“Ride robotic horses like medieval jesters? Wear cheap tin and call it armor?” He licked his lips, savoring his attack. “Or how about bow to a queen because they’re too ignorant to figure out democracy?”
Gwen steamed. Ari didn’t know that a person could actually do that, but she was certain that if she placed a hand on Gwen’s arm, it would burn. “I’m fairly certain it’s not a democracy if every electable politician is already living in Mercer’s pocket.”
The Administrator waved his hand. “Trivial points. Troy would like Lionel to be punished until you comply. Mercer is not your real problem. The overcrowded galaxy is.”
Ari scowled and swiped the black king piece from the board. “Chess? That’s not even bad-guy original. Don’t you know that evil empires are overdone?”
The Administrator leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Finally, someone who gets us. It’s boring to make people suffer. Good thing we don’t have to do that all the time. We’re the white team. The good guys.” He moved a white pawn. “We connect galaxies’ worth of goods to people in need. There are even planets where we are God.” Ari tried to drop the black king, but the Administrator stole it out of her hand.
“Of course, we’re also the bad guys when we need to be. You see, Ara, we’re black and white. Right and wrong. And that never gets boring. What games you can play when you’re both sides! Showing people what they need, and convincing them you’re the only one who can possibly provide it. I’m sure you remember when we had to play bad guy and shut off Ketch beneath that barrier. Then again, they really had that coming. So much loquacious resistance. ‘Mercer is evil. Band together, trade openly, provide for each other, blah blah.’ It’s much better this way, with them keeping to their own planet. You’re the only one out here, causing trouble.”
Gwen pulled Ari back by the shoulder, away from the Administrator’s slathered-on smile. “She’s my wife. You can’t touch her.”
“Sadly, Troy is under the impression that this marriage is a sham. They’re in the process of rejecting it. But not all is lost! Gweneviere, you are free to return to Lionel. The water will arrive soonish. And Ara, you’re going to stay right here on Troy for a spell. Be our guest. Let us figure out what you… remember… about your dear old home planet.”
Remember?
“Enough,” Gwen said, her voice strong and yet scratchy. “First, you’re going to make sure Troy signs off on our marriage. Then you’re going to have the water delivered, or I’ll sue. And interplanetary lawsuits kill the economy.”
This was Gwen’s strongest threat, but Ari could tell he wasn’t fazed. In fact, the Administrator looked newly pleased. He nearly giggled. “You may have one of those things. Not both. The water or the marriage. How’s that for good and bad?”
Gwen’s body tensed, her breath shallow and quick. People would die if she picked Ari. Ari might die if she picked Lionel, leaving her in the hands of Mercer. Gwen looked at Ari, her desperation damn near heartbreaking. “Ari, I…”
She was going to pick the planet. She had to. Ari understood, but her mind felt tight and swift. She looked down at the coffee table. Made of wood. Actual wood. And from her time spent on Heritage’s observation deck in that stupid rubber knight suit, she knew there was only one planet where you could get wood. “Old Earth,” Ari whispered.
A dead pause, and then the Administrator asked, “What about it?”
Gwen snapped to look at Ari, concerned. Intrigued.
“Nice table,” Ari said, her tone cutting. “Imported?”