Devoted: Merritt's Story - Chapter 13

Chapter 13 is here!  You can read it inline or download the attached PDF. I'm planning the website launch next week, immediately followed by the DOTU chapter 4 script, so Merritt's story chapter 14 will come the week after, on 7/27.

[Table of Contents]

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Chapter 13

True to his word, Merritt delivered an untouched pizza to Torrence’s door in the sub-Norwood Park slums, ringing the doorbell once and then returning to his motorcycle. Before taking off, he sent Torrence a quick text.

Pizza’s at your door. Please eat it. Call or text me anytime.

He’d parked his motorcycle around the block and out of sight of Torrence’s flat, as much to give his friend space as to force the space on himself. If he’d parked any closer, he might not have been able to resist the urge to linger outside and watch for Torrence to retrieve the pizza, or for any signs through the windows that he might have been in need of help. But the self-imposed distance made it easier for him to respect Torrence’s desire for privacy.

Leaving Torrence’s flat, he cruised slowly through the neighborhood, examining the shabby huts carved out of rock walls and the stalactites hanging so low he had to swerve to avoid them. Thanks to his hectic schedule, it had been months since he’d visited the slums that resided below the surface’s Norwood Park.

Upon transferring from the Norwood Park Orphanage to the Military Academy, he’d said goodbye to his hometown near the west end of the North Sphere and had settled in at military headquarters just south of the sub-Rogers Park region, all the way at the sphere’s northeast corner. But no matter the distance, and no matter the neglect and decay, sub-Norwood would always be home to him.

When he had the cash to spare, he returned to the old markets, buying cheap snacks and toiletries from comfortingly familiar faces he’d known all his life, even if he never knew the name that went with the face. The packs of mushroom biscuits and stone-scented soap, by objective standards, were of inferior quality even to the food and soap offered to the military. But they gave Merritt something to cling to whenever he was packed into a crowd of hundreds of other soldiers, exchanging sweat in training and sharing shower water in the locker rooms.

He came to an abrupt stop shortly after driving past the old orphanage. Along the cracked curb a block ahead, a familiar silhouette sat atop a parked motorcycle. Wearing a white lab coat, white wide-leg pants cropped at the calf, and tall gray-brown boots, Archer was clearly visible even in the dim evening light. Slowly, Merritt rode up alongside her.

“I never thought I’d see you in sub-Norwood,” Merritt called above the rumbling of his engine.

Archer turned her head, a pleasantly vague smile on her face. “Merritt, hi. I wasn’t expecting to see you here either.”

“I thought maybe you followed me here.”

With her familiar practiced laugh, Archer said, “No, I came here on business. But that’s finished now. You?”

“I was dropping something off for a friend a few blocks away. The two of us grew up here.” He gestured over his shoulder. “Literally right here, at the orphanage.”

“Right,” Archer said. “I’d forgotten that you grew up there. Rather, I didn’t think you would have a reason to come back to visit.”

“I don’t have much reason to visit the orphanage,” Merritt said. “It just happened to be on the way to the Norwood Market. I didn’t think I could wait till I got back to headquarters to eat, so I planned to stop at the bakery.” After a moment’s consideration, he added, “You can come with me if you want. It’s cheap food, though, so I don’t know if you’d like it.”

“I already ate,” Archer said. “But I’ll come along anyway, if you want the company.”

“They have tea too,” Merritt said. He gestured with his head toward a fork in the road. “Follow me.”

A few minutes later, they arrived at the Norwood Market’s tiny bakery, which was carved into the side of a rock wall and protected by a cloth awning from the occasional falling debris. Merritt sat beside Archer on a rickety metal seat outside, forcing himself to slow down so as not to choke on a mushroom lentil pie while Archer sipped delicately from a cup of dandelion tea.

To the average citizen of the North Sphere, the Sub-Norwood region appeared to be in shambles. Without the sterile polish of the elite residential districts, it was almost reminiscent of an East Sphere village. While there were no public hand-sanitizing stations or thumbprint-protected gates, North Sphere drugs were still abundant in all the local shops. The bakery’s “herbed” bread rolls were a late night favorite among the locals. Single-serve test tubes of chemical drinks and smoking pipe refills lined the counter in front of the cash register.

Three of the four other tables set out on the cramped cobblestone terrace were taken, their occupants slumped languidly in their seats as they smoked from glass pipes and sipped drug-tinted drinks. After years of frequenting the bakery, Merritt knew which of the food and drink items wouldn’t compromise his sobriety. It was a scant selection among the bakery’s more colorful choices, unchanged in over a decade, but the nostalgia made up for the lack of variety. He and Torrence had shared countless mushroom lentil pies in their youth, Torrence teasing Merritt for his poor precision every time he “accidentally” cut the pies unevenly and pushed the bigger half on Torrence.

“You seem preoccupied today,” Archer said after a few minutes of idle silence.

Merritt lowered his gaze. He’d hoped he hadn’t been so transparent, but it was hard to hide much of anything from Archer. “I just found out my best friend is sick.” A hard swallow. “As in, terminal.”

“The friend you came here to visit?” Archer asked. “From the orphanage?”

Merritt nodded.

“Torrence?”

Again, Merritt nodded. He’d never told Archer about the complexities of his relationship with Torrence, but he’d praised Torrence’s talent and creativity during multiple conversations with her, to the point that she even knew the names of some of the songs Torrence had written.

“I’m sorry,” Archer said with a sympathetic frown. “What does he have?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. All he said was it’s too late for a cure.” Merritt felt his throat tightening, and he stared fixedly at a lit stalagmite at the center of the dining area, outlined with a circle of polished rocks. He didn’t want to tell Archer about his regret for having wasted his favor on elite etiquette lessons instead of getting Torrence into a hospital. It was too late for the information to have any use, and he worried that Archer would think he didn’t value the lessons. Instead, he said, “We used to be really close. But it’s been hard to keep in touch these days.”

“That’s understandable. You’re working overtime as a soldier, and you’re getting involved with the elite. I can’t imagine you’d have much time left for a social life.”

“This was the schedule I chose. I decided that elite parties were more important than Torrence. But up until today, I didn’t realize I’d made a decision at all.”

“You couldn’t have just declined those elite party offers, though. What other choice did you have?”

“I could have taken two minutes to step aside and send Torrence a text. I could have left a few minutes earlier and stopped by his house. But I apparently didn’t think it was important enough.”

“We all have our priorities, Merritt. I wouldn’t fault you for yours.”

“I thought I cared more about my friends than that. He and I went through our worst times together, back at the orphanage. I treated his welts after his beatings. I shared my food after his would get stolen. Kids would starve or die of illness or be stolen from their beds in the middle of the night, but we survived through it all. After what we went through, I didn’t think it would be so easy to lose touch with him.”

“It’s natural for people to drift apart when they grow older,” Archer said. “No matter how close you used to be.”

“I never wanted to drift apart. I thought he and I would always be aces together, but then I started getting these promotions and new responsibilities and elite party invitations, and I….” He glanced self-consciously across the table. Archer wasn’t one to enjoy comforting others, yet she was still giving him all her attention, listening patiently and without judgment. Merritt blew out a chest full of air. “I just wish I could bring him with me.”

“You mean to the parties?”

“To everything. Too much has changed. When I offered to buy him dinner, he looked at me like I was some rich snob flaunting my wealth. He’s hiding things from me. He never used to be so secretive.”

“You’ve spent the past several months getting promotions and one-on-one attention from a handful of different elites. Maybe it was easier for him to talk to you back when you were equals.”

“We’re still equals,” Merritt said indignantly. “We’ll always be equals.”

Archer gave him a pitying smile. “You’ve been reading too much above-ground literature.”

With a barely concealed frown, Merritt fell silent. Archer was a great friend and ally, but he suspected she was too far removed from the lower class to understand his perspective. Regardless, he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He was already embarrassed at how much raw emotion he’d let slip to Archer.

“You’re probably right,” he said, hoping to put an end to the conversation.

Archer seemed to pick up on his signal. Dropping the subject, she shifted her attention to her tea. But after only a few sips, she turned back to him. “I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s the status with you and Belmont?”

Damn. If there was one good thing he could have said about his dinner with Torrence, it was that the shock and anguish had thoroughly distracted him from his previous thoughts about Belmont. “Status, as in…?”

Pushing her glasses up along the bridge of her nose, Archer replied, “The last I heard, you’d pulled his arm out of his socket. You mentioned that you were going to try to make nice with him after a few weeks. Have you done it yet?”

Archer had donned her “professor” voice, and it never failed to make Merritt sweat. “Everything with Belmont should be fine now. I made nice with him already.”

“Really?” Archer asked, sounding shocked. “When? What did you do?”

“I went to his office earlier today. It was no big deal. I got him a bottle of his favorite wine and told him I was always available to serve his sphere.”

“And that was enough?”

“I guess so,” Merritt said. He could feel Archer’s skeptical gaze on him, and he knew she wasn’t buying it.

After another moment, Archer gasped. “Oh god,” she whispered, raising a hand to her mouth. “You slept with him.”

“What?” Merritt choked, red-faced. “I didn’t sleep with him!”

“Then what’s with the look on your face?”

“There’s no look on my face.”

“Come on, Merritt. The rumors have been going around. I don’t think there’s anyone in the North Sphere who doesn’t know what Belmont wants from you. He knows how to get his way, and he’s used to getting his way. I doubt that anything short of giving him exactly what he wants would smooth things over.”

“Well, I didn’t. And I wouldn’t.” Merritt frowned. “I can’t believe you’d think that I would.”

Archer’s scrutinizing eyes remained on him. He could have at least confessed to humbling himself by taking an order to scrub Belmont’s floor, but his lingering shame was a barricade, preventing the passage of words from his mouth. Rather than attempt to conjure an explanation, he sat in resolute silence, burnishing the edges of his cracked poker face. 

After a long pause, Archer sighed. “Sorry. It’s not you, you know. It’s him. I’ve seen him pull this sort of thing with people before—manipulating them, backing them into a corner so they feel like they have no choice but to surrender. And once they’ve surrendered, he doesn’t let them go easily. The deeper he sinks his hooks into someone, the more opportunities he finds to usurp their power.”

“You think I’m that much stupider than him?”

“I think your intentions are that much better than his. That’s what’ll get you in trouble. Not stupidity.”

Lowering his gaze, Merritt set the remaining brittle crust of his pie on the edge of his plate. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

“Merritt. I’m glad you didn’t. It’s good that you didn’t. Knowing what I know about Belmont, I wouldn’t advise anyone to get that close to him. But if you didn’t, then that probably means things aren’t as reconciled as he’s leading you to believe. You realize that, don’t you? The subject is going to come up again. Belmont doesn’t let go of a grudge unless he really feels like he’s gotten even.”

“I’m sure he feels he’s gotten even. He shouldn’t still be mad at me.”

“Come on, Merritt. Do you really believe he’d forget you that easily?”

No. He didn’t. But he’d do anything to make Archer believe it, if it would put an end to this painful interrogation.

“Maybe he’s not mad at you for snapping his arm and humiliating him at the party, but what happens the next time you disobey him? What happens the next time you show him up in front of his peers?”

“I won’t disobey him, and I won’t show him up. I’ll keep my head down and do my job. I’m just a military captain. He has no reason to see me as a threat.”

“I had a meeting with Higgins yesterday, and he told me he’d offered to mentor you.” Archer leaned forward, fixing her critical eyes on Merritt’s. “How do you think Belmont feels about that?”

Merritt and Higgins had texted back and forth all day yesterday regarding Higgins’s offer, culminating in an hour-long phone call at ten in the evening. Merritt wondered if Archer had been witness to any of the conversation. “Higgins said he thinks I could be a political advisor someday. It’s a great opportunity, but at this stage, I doubt I’d be more intimidating to Belmont than the advisors he’s already competing with. I’m sure he has more reasons to target them than me.”

“Mercury thinks very highly of you.”

Merritt’s spine straightened like a cracked whip. “He does? How do you know?”

Archer declined to point out Merritt’s reaction despite having clearly noticed it. With only a subtle smirk as acknowledgment, she said, “Your name has come up in conversation. People have questioned why Mercury is associating with you, and Mercury was quick to tell everyone that you’re worth all the attention you’re getting. If not for that, the Intelligence Department would still be plotting your murder.” She tucked a pesky strand of hair behind her ear and leaned forward. “Belmont’s entry into politics went a lot like yours. He was also a prodigy—a genius who forged his path by earning Mercury’s respect early on. For a while, they were inseparable. Now that the focus is on you, Belmont is going to see you as a rival for his King’s approval. It’s inevitable.”

“I understand that. But I’m just doing my job. I can’t be responsible for Belmont’s insecurity.”

Archer took a sip of her tea, clearly planning her next statement. “I’m sorry, Merritt. I can tell you’re sick of talking, and I’d like nothing more than to just leave you alone. But I’m getting to something important.” She slid her teacup aside and leaned forward. “If you plan to stay in Belmont’s sights, you’re going to need some safeguards. And I think I can help you.”

“How?” Merritt asked. Despite all his prior objections, he knew better than to turn down an offer of protection against Belmont without consideration.

Archer took a glance at the straggling aces wandering throughout the clearing. “We can’t talk about it here. And it’s a hefty project that I’m going to have to prepare in advance. Are you free Sunday night, after ten?”

“As far as I’m aware.”

“Good. Swing by the chem lab then. Bring your laptop. And don’t tell anyone about it.”

*  *  *

At ten minutes past ten on Sunday evening, Merritt parked in a guest spot outside the chem lab at the border of the military district. Aside from one motorcycle in the parking lot, the area was deserted. Archer sat sidesaddle on the lone bike as she read something on her phone. The cold white light from the screen set her pale skin in startlingly stark contrast against the evening shadows.

Seeing Merritt approach, she offered a welcoming smile and rose to her feet. “I was reading that book you sent me from the surface’s archives,” she said. “It’s… quite interesting.”

The day before, Merritt had decided to send Archer a book from the 1960s called The Outsiders, which he’d first read as a kid at the orphanage. Since their conversation on Friday, he’d wanted Archer to better understand what it was like for him and Torrence to grow up at the wrong end of a strict social hierarchy, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of actually trying to explain it to her. He hoped that a work of fiction might trigger her empathy in ways that his clumsy rambling couldn’t.

With an unconvincingly casual chuckle, Merritt said, “What happens in the book reminds me a lot of how I grew up. Maybe not any specific events, but definitely the way it felt. For Torrence and me, together.”

Archer’s poker face fell; what remained was a combination of shock and disbelief. “Oh.” She looked down at her phone and then back at Merritt. “I didn’t realize you two had that kind of relationship.”

“Yeah, well, I….” He didn’t have it in him to explain how protective he felt of Torrence, how he could see the two of them in Ponyboy and Johnny, and how Torrence was the only other person he knew in the North Sphere who’d surely risk his life to save children from a burning building. Instead, he said, “It wasn’t just about that. I also thought the differences in social class were interesting.”

A puzzled look crossed Archer’s face. “You mean because he was a billionaire?”

“Who was a billionaire?” Before Archer could reply, Merritt felt something like a kick to his solar plexus. Dread filling him, he asked, “Can I see your phone?” Archer handed it over, and Merritt swiped back to the title page. “Helicopter Man Pounds—oh, goddamnit.”

He gave the phone back to Archer, his mind spiraling down toward a crash landing. Archer took the phone and stowed it in her pocket without a word, but her eyes remained on Merritt.

If any more of Merritt’s blood left his body in favor of his face, he’d need a transfusion. “I… sent you the wrong book.”

“I thought you said you were sending me something from your download history.”

Well, that didn’t make the situation any better. “I-I thought it was a book about aviation.”

Archer seemed in no hurry to bail Merritt out. She sat back down on her motorcycle seat, an elbow propped between the handlebars and a barely controlled smile on her lips.

“I’ll send you the right book tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Archer said casually, the smile lingering. “I’ll read it after I’m done with this one.” She gestured with her head toward the chem lab’s entrance. “Ready to go in?”

Merritt’s cheeks and ears tingled from embarrassment as he followed Archer to the front door, eager for a change of scenery. After she unlocked the door with her thumbprint, they entered the main corridor.

The lights in the entryway illuminated automatically when they stepped inside, casting a harsh white glow on the reflective white tile beneath their feet. Archer led him down a now familiar path to the elevators and then down to the basement level office where they’d worked countless hours on Archer’s poisons project. She grabbed a file folder and then led Merritt through a side corridor into a private lab.

Before Merritt could ask any questions, Archer headed across the room, opening one of many brushed steel cabinets and rifling through its contents. A few empty cardboard boxes fell from the cabinet to the steel counter below. She pulled out a tray of poison vials and a handful of syringes, carrying them to the counter at the center of the room where Merritt stood.

Merritt peered across the counter, curiously examining the row of poisons.

“It’s been a few months since we finished work on our poisons project, hasn’t it?” Archer asked.

“I guess it has. We wrapped up the project in June, and now it’s almost October. I lost track of time.”

“Anyway, I apologize for going silent on the matter as soon as we finished up our work, but I was bound by rules of confidentiality. A lot has happened since then that I haven’t been able to tell you.”

“When I didn’t hear anything, I assumed Mercury went with someone else for the project.”

“Why would you assume that?” Archer asked, head cocked.

Blushing, Merritt fell silent.

“Our formulas were so far above anyone else’s, there was no way Mercury could turn them down. In fact, he was so impressed with them that he asked me to show him some of the other projects I’d been working on privately. I’d been trying to get him to look at these projects for years, and he never showed any interest until now.” Holding up one of the poison vials on the table, she said, “One of my projects was poison immunizations.”

Merritt leaned forward, intrigued.

“As you know, soldiers have to administer poison blockers whenever a threat emerges, or when they plan to deploy a poison of their own. But prolonged usage of blockers leads to health problems down the road. I’ll admit the higher-ups don’t really care if all their soldiers start to get cancer in their forties, but all of that changes when those same higher-ups have to take on the risk themselves. No one in the underground can trust their so-called allies, and that’s especially true in the North Sphere. Mercury’s been taking routine poison blockers for quite a few years now, and he’s at an age where he’s starting to have concerns for the future.

“In my research, I found a way to alter the compositions of most of our lethal and debilitating poisons so that they can be taken in small doses over the course of several months, in order to build up a permanent tolerance. Over the past few months, I’ve been working with Mercury in secret to get him immunized, and he plans to have Higgins and a handful of his closest allies join in soon. I’ve already gone through the entire course myself too.”

Wide-eyed, Merritt asked, “You’ve been working one-on-one with Mercury?”

“Yes,” Archer said with an odd frown, “but that’s not really the point I’m trying to make.”

“I’m just surprised. When we had lunch together that first time and you told me about the poisons project, you didn’t seem to be on very good terms with Mercury.”

“Things change when you’re holding a person’s life in your hands. This immunization work has given me the ability to safeguard Mercury’s life in a way that no one else has ever been able to. That’s not something he can easily ignore. True, he didn’t invite me to his quarterly review party. It would have looked too suspicious, and he wants to keep our relationship low-key. But he did invite me to have dinner with him in his suite the following night.”

“‘Relationship’?”

“Business relationship, Merritt,” Archer replied sternly.

Merritt wished he had a reply ready, but his thoughts were fuzzy, as if his head was stuffed full of cotton balls. Archer’s clarification eased his mind a bit, but how had she grown so close to Mercury so fast? As thrilled as he was to hear of Archer’s success, the change still caught him off guard. He thought his own relationship with Mercury had progressed quickly, but next to the sudden leap Archer had made, he might as well have been at a standstill.

He had a million questions. What was Mercury’s suite like? What happened during their immunization appointments? Just how close had the two of them become?

Had she kissed his ring? It was known throughout the sphere that Mercury held a ceremony for his closest allies in which they pledged their allegiance to him and kissed his ring, and he presented them with a special double-banded blue-tie. This was the level that all his most loyal followers strived to attain but few managed to achieve. For years, Merritt had imagined what that ceremony might be like, and what his unique pledge to Mercury would be.

“Anyway….” Archer said, cutting into his thoughts. She picked up one of the single-use syringes, peeling away its plastic packaging. “I’m not technically supposed to be doing this, but I can immunize you too. I’ve seen what’s happened to Belmont’s other targets. If he’s going to come after you, you need to be prepared to defend against his most common form of attack.”

Archer’s offer stunned him. Even telling him about the immunizations was a serious breach, let alone making the treatment available to him. He wouldn’t have expected her to take such a risk. As with most people in the underground, she’d always seemed like the type who’d only help a friend if it came at no potential cost to herself. She had nothing to gain by helping Merritt, and everything to lose. Merritt had seen Mercury kill a subordinate for less.

This was the type of offer a rebellious ace like Torrence would have made without question. Archer, a reserved and calculating elite, could not have been more different from Torrence on the surface. But even in the face of Merritt’s denials about Belmont and his fixation on Mercury, she’d pushed past his stubbornness and made the offer nonetheless.

“Will you get in trouble for this?” he asked.

“Obviously, this is going to be our secret. Mercury doesn’t have to know. No one should know. To the rest of the underground, these antitoxins do not exist. You got it?”

“I got it. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” The idea of keeping a secret from his King nearly made him queasy, but Archer was risking her status for him, and he would protect her position in turn, whatever the cost.

“You’ll pretend to take your blockers before battle like always. If you ever can’t fake it and have to take the blockers for real so that people don’t catch on, then do it. It’s a waste, but nothing bad will happen.” Archer wiped down a needle with an alcohol swab. “My antitoxins will give you a tolerance to every poison compound with an existing blocker, including our three primary lethal poisons and four primary knockout drugs.”

“Only four primary knock-out drugs? I thought we had five.”

“The CJ-486 antitoxin causes some harmful side effects for people with your blood type. I’m still trying to find an alternative.”

“You know my blood type?”

“I wish I could immunize you against everything. But the risks for CJ-486 are much lower than any other knockout-drug since it’s only administered via injection and is the least commonly used. For now, let’s concentrate on the immunizations we do have.”

Merritt nodded. “Of course.”

Archer pulled open a shallow drawer and opened the notebook computer inside. “This is how it’ll work,” she said as it booted up. “You’ll come here every Sunday night, and I’ll give you the injections. There’s a risk of temporary debilitating side effects—mostly nausea or fatigue—which is why it’s best to do this on your days off. If you ever can’t make it home, you’re welcome to sleep on a cot here. Your body should be able to handle two injections per week—one lethal poison and one knockout drug. In a year’s time, we’ll get through all twelve.”

“A year?” Merritt asked with concern. “That’s a pretty long time.”

“Yes, but most people have one or two preferred poisons that they’re most comfortable handling. If we can find out which lethal poison and which knockout drug Belmont purchases the most frequently, we’ll start you on those formulas, and you should be immune to both of them within a few months at most.”

“But how are we going to find out which drugs Belmont buys?”

Archer tapped on the computer and raised an eyebrow. “It shouldn’t be so hard, now that we have a computer-hacking prodigy in the room. All orders of drugs and poisons have to go through this lab, so the records are accessible through our database. I don’t have access because I don’t work in distribution, but I’m sure you and your magic fingers can get the job done.”

“Sounds like fun,” Merritt said.

“This is why I told you to bring your laptop. I assume you have all the tools you need on it?”

“Probably.” Merritt fished his computer out of his pack and set it on the counter in front of him. “It might take some trial and error, but from my experience, North Sphere government databases all tend to operate on the same principles.”

“How many government databases have you hacked?” Archer asked, delivering the loaded question in a perfectly neutral tone.

“Just the Intelligence Database,” Merritt replied with a toothy grin. His blatant lie earned a snort from Archer.

Archer stared at the back of his laptop screen while he connected to the network and began keying in commands. As the minutes passed, he analyzed the incoming responses and sent out new queries.

A hint of tension began to spread across his shoulders. Archer’s pursed lips gave him a stronger sense of urgency than a ticking clock.

“Ah,” Merritt said as a familiar interface finally popped up. “This shouldn’t take long. I’ve cracked a dozen systems like this already.”

He continued to work in silence, with Archer watching casually as he typed. This was the first time he was attempting to hack something with an audience. He hoped he wouldn’t screw it up and embarrass himself in front of her.

After a few minutes of back-and-forth work on both computers, he succeeded in connecting to the database from his laptop without the need for a username or password. “We’re in,” he said to Archer with a cheeky smile.

“I’m not sure if I should be impressed or concerned,” Archer said. “Is there any private data in the North Sphere that you can’t reach?”

“If it’s not on a network, I can’t get to it remotely,” Merritt said. “But there aren’t many things that fall into that category these days.” He shrugged. “I’m not trying to cause any trouble. Hacking helps me unwind at night, but unless it’s relevant to North Sphere security, I usually just hop in and out without looking at anything.”

With disappointment in her eyes, Archer said, “You have the skills to be at the top of this sphere. It’s your personality that’s standing in the way. You’re just not ambitious enough.”

“Yeah, I’m not.” Merritt shrugged. “The top is only good if you like looking down on everyone below you. I don’t need that.”

“Weirdo,” Archer replied with a resigned chuckle. She gave him a nudge on the leg with the tip of her shoe, which was more physical contact than most sober people in the North Sphere normally used to show affection. “Anyway, pull up Belmont’s purchase history, will you?”

Merritt found Belmont’s records. He glanced at Archer, who’d begun chuckling into the palm of her hand. “What?”

“Looks like it’s going to take a while to find the poisons if we have to sift through ten years of his STD treatments.” She pointed to a checkbox at the side of the screen. “Is there any way to clean up the search?”

“Yes. Just tell me which drugs you want me to exclude.”

Archer pointed to the screen. “Any product ID starting with PL is a lethal poison. If it starts with PD, it’s a debilitating poison. Filter out everything except for those two prefixes.”

Merritt typed in another string of commands. When the refined search was complete, Archer made a low whistle. “Well, that answers that question.”

“What?”

Archer pointed to the column of product ID numbers. “Looks like Belmont’s purchased enough IPJ-8 to knock out a small village.”

“Is that unusual?”

“Outside of the military, yes. He even had it shipped to a private warehouse instead of his home. But I guess I’m more disgusted than I am surprised. I don’t want to know how he’s using that drug.” She scrolled down on the lab’s computer and pointed to the screen. “Anyway, there are several other obscure specialty poisons here, but it looks like IPJ-8 is his knockout-drug of choice, and GUS-42 is at the top of his list of lethal poisons, so we’ll start you with immunizations for those two.” She nodded to the screen. “Go ahead and shut that down. I have all the information I need.”

Merritt went to work at restoring the database’s security while Archer began reconstituting a powdered mixture. After he finished and stowed the computer a few minutes later, he turned to Archer. “I’m all set. What do you need me to do?”

Archer held up a newly filled syringe. “I’ll need a bare shoulder.”

Merritt shed his fighting jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. With only his sleeveless tank underneath, his arm muscles were easily accessible. As Archer unwrapped an alcohol wipe, her gaze fixed on Merritt’s inner elbow. “That’s a lot of spots,” she mused.

Merritt glanced down self-consciously. “I take a lot of blockers.”

“Well, when we’re through with our immunizations, you won’t have to worry about that anymore.” She wiped down a spot on his deltoid with the alcohol and then positioned the needle. “Here goes nothing.”

With a flippant smile, she shot the GUS-42 antitoxin into his muscle.

“How long until we can do the IPJ-8?” Merritt asked as Archer discarded the used syringe.

“I just need fifteen minutes to prepare the second formula,” Archer said, kneeling to open a compact refrigerator beneath the counter. She retrieved a few small boxes and canisters and set them out on the counter, tearing back cardboard flaps and breaking vacuum seals.

Merritt stood up, strolling casually around the room. He needed to stretch his legs. After pacing back and forth a few times, he asked, “You normally work early hours, don’t you? Will this be a problem—me keeping you up late?”

“I can afford to cut down a few hours of sleep and take a sleep enhancer once a week,” Archer said. “Any more than that, and the sleep enhancer would give me issues. But once a week is no big deal.”

“I’ve been taking them three times a week lately,” Merritt admitted. “Being a captain is more work than I was prepared for, especially since I’m still not able to let go of some of my old sergeant duties.”

Archer peered at him skeptically over the top of her glasses. “Do you really have too much work to get a full night’s sleep, or are you just trying to stay up extra so you can cram in a few hours of hacking?”

Merritt chuckled. “You know me too well.”

“Found anything interesting lately?”

“I’ve been spying on the East Sphere’s security feeds. Their King is more unstable than Freya after a night at Yackley’s. But their right hand is another story.”

“Samsid?”

“Yeah. He’s kind of inspiring. If I were in the East Sphere’s military, I’d jump at the chance to serve him.”

“Really?” Archer asked with a disbelieving squint. “Why’s that?”

“He’s not like any elite I’ve ever seen. Just about everyone in the East Sphere is crazy about him because he vouches for them. He meets with aces and twos in their hometowns, and he reports back to his King and fights for their needs. And that’s not even mentioning how skilled he is as a soldier. I’ve watched him shoot bullets between people’s eyes while standing on the seat of a moving motorcycle.” Merritt gave a wistful sigh. “Sometimes I wish he was a part of our sphere, just so I could learn from him.”

“Don’t let Mercury hear you say that. We already have enough soldiers fantasizing about how much better off they’d be in the East.”

“I’m not saying I want to defect to the East. I’m just saying that the East has an advantage over us, and patriotism shouldn’t prevent us from recognizing that.”

“I’m surprised you feel that way,” Archer said. “You’re the most indiscriminately patriotic person I know.”

Merritt couldn’t tell if Archer had meant that as a criticism. It wouldn’t have been surprising—Archer was far from the only elite with preconceived notions about the “indiscriminate” servitude of perpetual duty soldiers—but he wanted her to understand him. “I’m just trying to do the best work I can for my King,” he explained. “I can’t do that if I ignore my opponents’ strengths.”

“Got it,” Archer said, holding up a hand in concession.

Merritt wondered if Archer had been cross-examining him in the interest of assessing his loyalty. Would she report his words back to Mercury the way Belmont had after they first met?

The prospect wasn’t as terrifying as it had been with Belmont. He trusted Archer to portray him fairly. But that didn’t stop the gnawing sensation in his stomach whenever he thought about the fact that Archer now had Mercury’s ear in a way that he didn’t.

After a short pause, he asked, “So you’ve been spending a lot of time talking to Mercury lately?”

“I suppose I have. I’m with him in private for at least an hour a week. We have to do something to fill the silence. And he likes to talk, once you get him going.” She rolled her eyes ever so slightly. “Mercury is smart, but I wouldn’t call him enlightened. You wouldn’t believe the hoops I had to jump through just to prove that these antitoxins were my own invention and not some male coworker’s.”

“But you do have his respect now. He can’t be all that unenlightened if he’s put you in such a high position.”

Archer side-eyed Merritt in a way that made him cringe. “Don’t ever hold up the exception as proof that the rule is fair, Merritt. You of all people should know better than that. How many other blue-tie soldiers are getting the perks you’re getting?”

Merritt shifted uncomfortably. Despite his awareness of all the strings pulled in his favor, he’d never before thought of himself as an exception to the rule. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“But regardless, it sounds like he confides in you a lot these days.”

“He does.”

With a swallow, Merritt asked, “Have you kissed his ring?”

“Actually, yes.” Archer flipped over the edge of her blue tie, revealing the silvery double band on its underside. “I have.”

“What was it like?” Merritt asked, wide-eyed.

Archer examined Merritt for a moment before letting out a critical laugh. “My god, Merritt, take a cold shower.”

Merritt’s face flushed. “Huh?”

“Listen. Whatever you feel for him, you need to be more subtle about it. People will notice, and they’ll take advantage. If they haven’t already.”

Merritt lowered his gaze. “It’s not like that. It’s nothing, really. He’s my King. I put so much of myself into serving my King, it just gets… confusing sometimes.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I’m just telling you to be more discreet.”

After an awkward stretch of silence, Archer mercifully changed the subject back to poison work, and they chatted idly while Archer finished preparing the IPJ-8 antitoxin. When it was clear that Merritt’s body was not going to reject the GUS-42 antitoxin, Archer held up the newly mixed vial. “This one has to be taken orally,” she said, handing the vial to Merritt.

Merritt took the vial, swirling the clear liquid around a bit before tossing it back. He grimaced and then gagged. “Wow.”

“Want some water?”

“Yes, please.” As Archer filled a small cup for him from the nearby sink, he said, “I thought IPJ-8 was flavorless. Otherwise, how do you effectively drug someone with it?”

“IPJ-8 is flavorless, but I couldn’t retain that attribute in the antitoxin without sacrificing its effectiveness. Since the antitoxin isn’t going to be administered surreptitiously, there really isn’t any need to hide its flavor.”

“I beg to differ,” Merritt joked. He guzzled the water that Archer handed to him and then refilled the cup and downed it again.

“You’ll survive,” Archer said. “Why don’t you sit down?”

“I’m good,” Merritt said as he began pacing back and forth across the room again.

Archer narrowed her eyes after watching him pace for a few minutes. “You feeling all right? You look a little flushed.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Maybe a little dizzy, but….”

The words were barely out of his mouth when his vision suddenly blurred, accompanied by stomach cramps so sharp that he doubled over and nearly fell to his knees. He groaned. Another cramp shot through his abdomen, and he grabbed the counter before he could collapse.

Archer rose to her feet and hurried to his side. “What are you feeling? Do you have pain?”

Merritt tried to answer Archer’s question, but the pain was so intense that he could barely breathe. He gasped and wheezed, his body overcome with tremors. The next stomach cramp drove him to his knees.

“Easy, easy,” Archer said. “Lean forward. Put your head down.”

Merritt followed her directions with effort. Archer grabbed a nearby bucket and slid it in front of him. “I suspect you’re going to vomit, and I don’t think you’ll make it to the bathroom in time.”

No sooner had Archer warned him than he lurched forward, heaving into the bucket. As he hacked up the contents of his stomach, his consciousness grew clearer, and he became acutely aware that Archer stood patiently at his side, no doubt concealing her disgust out of politeness.

After he finished, he sat upright and let his shoulders slump. “Ugh. Sorry about that. I’m sure there are other things you’d rather be doing on a Sunday evening.”

“Do you really think I’m that squeamish? I’m a surgeon, Merritt.” She returned to the counter, flipping through the file folder she’d brought from her office. “I’ve tested these formulas on countless volunteers. A couple of them did exhibit the same reaction you just had. It seems your body is rejecting the altered formula.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that this formula won’t work for you. I’ve been trying to develop an alternate formula for those people who couldn’t tolerate this one, but because Mercury only wants the antitoxins available to his closest allies, additional clinical tests haven’t been a priority. I’m still working on it, but only during my free time. I doubt I’d be able to wrap it up within the next twelve months.”

Merritt rose to his feet, still pale and shaky, and headed toward the sink. After gargling, he turned reluctantly back to Archer. “Do you think it’s safe to wait twelve months?”

“You mean, do I think Belmont will go twelve months without trying to poison you? I have no idea. But this unintended side effect could work to your advantage. Both of the test subjects who reacted the same as you ended up with a hypersensitivity to the original formula of IPJ-8. Even ingesting as little as .05 milliliters was enough for them to break out into a cold sweat and get stomach cramps and vomit. If you vomit before your body can process the drug, then you’re safe. What this means is that even while we’re waiting to get you fully immunized, your body will still be able to defend against the poison. In some ways, this is even better than if you didn’t have a reaction. If Belmont tries to poison you with IPJ-8, you’ll know immediately, and you’ll have the chance to protect yourself.”

“So in the meantime, are we going to move onto the other drugs?”

“Yes. No point in waiting. I’d say that at this point, due to your hypersensitivity, the IPJ-8 antitoxin is the least urgent of the lot.”

Merritt nodded. He attempted to disguise his dizziness, but when he took a few steps with the intention of disposing of the contents of the bucket, he wobbled and nearly lost his balance. Archer watched with an unreadable expression as he caught himself on the edge of one of the counters.

“Judging by the condition of my test subjects after their reaction, I don’t think you’ll be able to ride home tonight. We can set up camp in the private lounge down the hall and head out in the early morning.” She gestured with her head toward the bucket. “And don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh, please, no, you shouldn’t have to do that.”

“If I thought you could make it to the waste facility and back, I’d let you do it yourself. But the walk to the lounge alone will probably leave you exhausted. So I’ll take care if it. It’s no problem.”

“Well, I’m sorry.”

Archer shrugged. “This is nowhere near the worst I’ve dealt with.”

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