Devoted: Merritt's Story - Chapter 10

Here's chapter 10!  You can read it inline or download the attached PDF.  This will be another 2-update month, but during my July hiatus from the comic, I'll post at least 3 chapters of Merritt's story.  Next update will be 6/22.

[Table of Contents]

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Chapter 10

“It’s no big deal.”

That was all Torrence had to say after Merritt called him on Saturday morning, first thing after getting off the phone with Archer, and offered a five-minute apology for missing his birthday. No elaboration from Torrence, just four words that had never before sounded so mysterious.

It wasn’t the words he’d chosen that confounded Merritt; it was the way he’d said them. He sounded cold and closed off, like a blue-tie on his guard. It was a tone Torrence had never taken with Merritt before, and Merritt was convinced that this was about something bigger than a missed birthday.

Despite his best intentions, Merritt had fallen out of touch with Torrence in the months before his birthday. While they used to see each other several times a week, they were now lucky to cross paths once every couple of months. Merritt still texted Torrence, but he often had to wait till the next day for a two-word reply. The last time they met up for lunch, Torrence wasn’t feeling well and had to leave early. He didn’t look well either—pallid, jittery, sunken cheeks. Merritt offered to take him home and make him some soup—a recipe he knew Torrence loved—but Torrence brusquely declined. 

Part of Merritt worried that their recent inability to find time to get together, and now the birthday they’d spent apart, was a signal of a shift in their friendship. Were they headed down two different paths that would take them further and further apart? Merritt was spending more time socializing with the elite, while Torrence was serving them coffee. It wasn’t right. If he was going somewhere new, he wanted to take Torrence with him. 

Despite the brush-off from Torrence, Merritt still found himself having more of a social life after the quarterly review party than he could remember since his first promotion. Throughout the month, Merritt received regular phone calls and texts from Higgins. As promised, Higgins followed up with General Rhodes and Captain Balbo after the party, and Merritt’s promotion to captain was made official.

“It’s a different job with different responsibilities,” Higgins warned him. “I hope you’re up to the challenge.” And then he reminded Merritt of his offer to talk or text at any time. As the man above General Rhodes, Higgins had plenty of insight into the military that he was willing to share with Merritt. He even dropped by the mess hall on Merritt’s twenty-second birthday, pulled him aside, and gave him a new cell phone with the same level of security as his own. The advanced technology, he explained, would allow them to discuss confidential matters over the phone. 

It was more than just a new phone, Merritt realized. Higgins was on his side. Mercury’s right hand was invested in his success and wellbeing. Mercury’s right hand was his ally.

Even more surreal than his newfound alliance was the phone call he got from Mercury four days later.

“I thought I’d see what you’ve been up to,” Mercury said. “I wanted to get you out here for lunch or coffee, but my schedule is booked solid for the next three weeks.”

Merritt fumbled for a response, stammering and tripping over his words. But Mercury quickly let him off the hook and took command of the conversation. “Higgins tells me he gave you a new phone. How is it working out for you?”

“It’s great,” Merritt said. “I can’t thank him enough.”

“If you’re going to be in regular contact with people on the level of Higgins and me, the heightened security is necessary. Higgins had to increase your security clearance just to get you that phone. I’m sure he instructed you on all the protocols.”

“He did. I’m taking the necessary precautions.”

There was a pause on the other line while Mercury issued an order to someone else in the room. Then he asked, “Are you settled into your new position?”

“Yes, Damen. It’s a challenge, but I’m grateful for the opportunity.”

That was all Mercury needed to know. Merritt wouldn’t burden his King with the fact that the other officers had been colder to him than ever. Merritt remained cleared to override Colonel Harding, giving him the option of contacting General Rhodes directly if he preferred. While he usually followed the same chain of command as his fellow captains for the sake of simplicity, the arrangement was still a glaring sign to the other captains that he was getting preferential treatment from the higher-ups. Colonel Harding no longer attempted to bully him—he wouldn’t dare do it when he knew Merritt was on good terms with his boss and his boss’s boss—but Merritt still had to steel himself every time he faced his colonel’s frigid treatment.

Even Balbo seemed to have reservations about Merritt’s latest promotion. Though she put her best effort into training him for his new responsibilities, he got the sense that there was something on her mind she was holding back. She treated him with all the professionalism she always had while on duty, but her casual, off-duty persona seemed to hold just a little less warmth for him than before. It was disappointing. Several months ago, she’d told him that, had he not been born poor, he would have been made a captain long ago. He wouldn’t have expected her to be put off by his latest promotion.

None of this was information he wanted to reveal to his King, and luckily, Mercury didn’t press the matter. Instead, he shifted the phone conversation to politics.

“There appears to be a significant rift between Cannon and his troops,” Mercury said, speaking of the East Sphere’s King. “Have you noticed?”

Merritt paused to consider his response. It felt like Mercury was trying to gauge how informed he was on current events. “During the waterways mission, Troy did a good job of pretending that all was well with his troops. But I know there’s been discord ever since Cannon absorbed the East’s private militias into the military. They don’t seem satisfied with the change, especially the Explosives Unit.”

“Yes,” Mercury said, sounding pleased by Merritt’s response. “It’s something we might be able to exploit. In due time, of course. We have to let the matter progress, wait until we see signs of instability. Agreed?”

“There’s one thing I worry about,” Merritt said.

There was a pause that Merritt couldn’t decipher. It seemed Mercury had been expecting a simple affirmative answer. “What’s that, Merritt?”

“Samsid, Cannon’s right hand. He’s a force to be reckoned with.”

“I know Samsid well. You’re right to be worried about him.” Again, Mercury’s tone suggested approval.

“Samsid acts as a buffer between Cannon and his troops. He has the respect of the entire sphere, and he’s the kind of leader soldiers love. Even if Cannon loses control of his men, chances are they’ll continue to rally around Samsid. So while the rift between Cannon and his military might grow, it isn’t a guarantee that the East Sphere is weakening.”

“You seem to know a lot about Samsid,” Mercury said.

“I’ve been studying him ever since I was a teenager. He’s only a couple years older than I am, but he’s the most talented fighter I’ve ever seen. He has a huge following among fighters online.”

“Does he?” Mercury said in a tone that could have been a question or a statement.

“One of the first things I ever hacked was a secret East Sphere fighters’ forum. When you see armbands getting drunk at Yackley’s, they only ever talk about how much better their leaders are than yours. But on this private forum, they were trashing Cannon left and right. After reading that, I started chatting up drunk East Sphere soldiers at bars, just to see if I could get them to give me any information on Cannon or Samsid. I could get them to grumble about Cannon if I pushed the right buttons, but I have yet to find a single armband willing to badmouth Samsid. He really does seem to have his people’s loyalty.”

“Hmm.” Mercury considered. “You make an interesting point. But regardless, the East Sphere is on shaky ground. It’s something to watch for.” He paused again, and Merritt thought he was going to say an abrupt goodbye and disconnect, but instead, he cleared his throat. “I have a board meeting scheduled for Monday morning. Higgins will be there, along with my board of advisors and a few of my directors. I’d like you to come and observe. It should be a good learning experience for you. And who knows? You might even come up with a few genius ideas in the process.”

“Will General Rhodes be there?”

“I usually don’t bring him into board meetings. I just send him the minutes afterward.”

This appeared to be an example of Mercury’s lack of faith in the mental capacity of his military personnel, but Merritt knew better than to question the matter.

“What, Merritt? Is that a problem?”

“No. But if you really do want me coming up with ideas, will General Rhodes take issue with it? I don’t want to go over his head.”

“You’re fine, Merritt. None of the issues on our agenda require the general’s presence.”

“All right.”

“The meeting starts at nine, North Sphere Headquarters top floor. I’ll have your thumbprint cleared for access. Don’t be late.”

Again, Merritt thought Mercury would abruptly hang up. Instead, he circled back to the discussion on the East Sphere, asking more questions about Merritt’s off-hours observations of East Sphere soldiers. Their call lasted forty minutes, and Mercury told him to keep the conversation between the two of them.

By the time Merritt hung up the phone, he was beaming. He contemplated what he’d said to Mercury about Samsid, Cannon’s right hand. Somehow, he’d managed to voice a contradictory opinion without offending his King. The dynamic between him and Mercury felt different these days. While Mercury had taken offense at his seemingly controversial opinions during their card game together, now he sought them out. Merritt wondered just how much Mercury’s advisors ever dared to disagree with him, or if they just pandered in hopes of keeping his approval.

What Mercury seemed to appreciate most, however, was the way Merritt honored his decisions. They could have a spirited discussion about the change in the East’s military, and Merritt could offer a dissenting opinion, but when Mercury gave his final word, Merritt accepted and supported it wholeheartedly. Merritt understood his position in relation to Mercury. He would offer his perspective when asked, and then he would trust his King to do what was best for his sphere. Mercury surely got enough pushback from his more headstrong advisors like Belmont already.

As much as Merritt had enjoyed discussing current events with Mercury, he hoped he wouldn’t be put on the spot during the board meeting. He would be in the company of a dozen people who outranked him by far, and unlike the last time he saw them, they would all presumably be sober.

The North’s executive headquarters was located in the tallest building in the sphere. The structure was built on high ground and extended all the way up to the underground’s ceiling. On Monday morning, Merritt followed Mercury’s directions to the boardroom on the top floor, and as he stepped out of the elevator, he wondered at the fact that there were probably people walking around above ground just a few meters above his head.

He followed the long corridor and turned a corner, spotting the boardroom. The wall adjacent to the hallway was glass, offering a clear view of the inside. Since it was the only visible room on a floor that required keycard clearance to access, Merritt assumed that privacy wasn’t a concern. At the center of the rectangular room was a long oval table that looked like it could seat at least twenty people. Mounted above a control panel on the short wall adjacent to the door was a wide video monitor, turned off. At the opposite end of the room was a wet bar stocked with coffee, tea, and packaged North Sphere specialty drinks in their signature test tubes.

It was fifteen minutes to nine, and he could see within the room that only two others had already arrived. He recognized Higgins, who sat idly with the stem of his glasses between his teeth. His stomach churned when he realized that the second man was Belmont.

With a deep breath, Merritt grabbed the door handle.

Higgins glanced at him through the glass pane as he entered. “Merritt,” he said with a smile. “Looking for someone?”

“I’m here for the meeting, sir,” Merritt said.

“Mercury invited you?”

Merritt nodded. He watched as Belmont’s eyes narrowed and his mouth curved into a bitter scowl.

“This must be your first time in the boardroom,” Higgins mused.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then by all means, help yourself to a drink.” Higgins gestured toward the wet bar. “It’s all high grade mixes, and a servant brewed fresh coffee about two minutes ago.”

“Thank you, sir,” Merritt said politely. Despite the invitation, he didn’t immediately approach the wet bar. He hadn’t expected there to be drinks in the boardroom, so he’d already started his day with packaged low grade Focus in the mess hall, and now didn’t seem like a good occasion to put his bladder to the test.

With a glance at the clock on the wall, Higgins set his glasses down on the table and rose to his feet. “It’s what, quarter to nine? Looks like I have time to hit the head before the meeting starts.” With a nod to Merritt, he headed out of the room.

Merritt could feel the weight of Belmont’s wrath even before Higgins left, but once only the two of them remained, the negative energy grew so stifling it was almost unbearable. He had to brace himself and count to ten in his head before even approaching the table.

When he’d spotted Belmont through the glass wall before entering the room, Belmont hadn’t appeared angry. There was no doubt that Merritt was the cause of Belmont’s shift in mood. He lingered awkwardly a few feet away from the table as Belmont sat slouched and surly with his arms crossed over his chest.

If only he hadn’t arrived so early. Perhaps the best idea was to duck out to the restroom or even wait in the hall until a few more people showed up. He was about to turn toward the door when Belmont huffed and said, “Ugh. Do you see this?”

Merritt looked. “It’s a pair of glasses,” he said flatly.

“It’s a fucking disgusting pair of glasses. And Higgins never fucking cleans them. He puts them on his disgusting, greasy face, and then he takes them off his greasy face and chews the shit out of them, and then he leaves them on the table that the rest of us touch.”

Merritt attempted a sympathetic smile, but it came out as a strained grimace.

Belmont retrieved an alcohol wipe from his inside jacket pocket and swiped the pair of glasses off the table. He scowled as he scrubbed them down. “I fuck people on this table. I don’t need my balls brushing across the pools of grease and spit that nasty old man leaves wherever he goes.”

Speechless, Merritt’s grimace deepened. He was now even more hesitant to sit at the table. He wished he had a few disinfecting wipes of his own.

Belmont held up the pair of glasses. “Look at this. I’ve seen children’s straws with fewer teeth marks on them. It’s disgusting.” He tossed the glasses back down on the table. “It’s fucking disgusting.” As he rose to his feet, he met eyes with Merritt and sneered. “You got a problem? What? Too delicate to deal with a bit of foul language from a North Sphere elite?”

Merritt didn’t reply at first, but Belmont continued to stare him down. In an even tone, Merritt finally said, “I’d venture to guess that those glasses aren’t what you’re really upset about.”

Belmont waved the alcohol wipe as if it were a white flag. “Wow, you’re just as perceptive as Mercury says. You really do figure out everything, don’t you?” His lip curled in a scathing look of condescension as he tossed the wipe in the trash and headed to the wet bar to wash his hands. Under the sound of running water, Merritt heard him say, “Mercury might as well invite a few dogs to our next board meeting.”

Merritt breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened behind him and Higgins entered, followed by two other board members. Higgins gave an odd, almost sympathetic chuckle as he headed across the room. “Glad to see both of you survived my bathroom break.” He took a seat one spot over from where he sat before, gesturing with his head to the chair he’d previously occupied. “Merritt, sit.”

Grateful to be pointed toward a seat, Merritt headed across the room. He noted that the chair on the other side of his was a bit fancier than the rest, suggesting that it was probably Mercury’s. Hesitating for a moment beside the chair, he contemplated asking Higgins if it was really all right to take the seat beside the King. But then he thought better of questioning the right hand’s order. As he took the seat, it occurred to him that he’d be only inches away from Mercury throughout the length of the meeting. His blood rushed at the thought.

Over the next few minutes, more advisors and directors trickled into the room while chatting with each other about mundane topics like the line at the coffee shop and the latest maintenance scheduled for their motorcycles. Every one of them took note of Merritt’s presence, offering some form of disdainful glance before returning to their conversations. Some poured chemical drinks for themselves at the wet bar—mostly Spark or Focus in coffee or tea—before convening at the long table with laptops and tablets at the ready.

As Merritt eyed the men seated around him, he couldn’t help but notice how homogenous the group was. On one side of the table sat a handful of industry directors, varied in age and appearance but all white and male. Merritt recognized Mannheim, representing the style of North Sphere tech with a spiked Mohawk, a few earrings, a lip piercing, and numerical codes tattooed on his scalp. In contrast, Wilson sat beside him with neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper hair and not a single visible piercing—perfectly in line with the North’s medical and pharmaceutical elite.

On the other side of the table sat the board of advisors. With the smoke and mood lighting at Mercury’s party, Merritt was only now getting his first clear view of them together. Any one of them would have looked handsome on his own, but when seated next to each other around the table, they looked like an uncanny lineup of plastic fashion dolls.

Merritt had heard the occasional rumors surrounding the ostensibly straight Mercury and his “board of eye candy,” but he’d always dismissed them as exaggeration. However, seeing the advisors together now, Merritt couldn’t deny that they all fit a particular aesthetic. There weren’t only handsome—they were handsome in a very similar way. Each was clean cut, dark-haired, tall, and lean, with the now familiar mix of sophistication and arrogance that often came with highly educated North Sphere elites. Merritt imagined that the King himself would have fit in well among them when he was younger.

As Merritt observed the men across the table, he idly wondered about his own place in the group. He wore his military status from the tip of his spiked hair to the soles of his weathered combat boots. But, absent the superficial styling of his hair and his uniform and the eight commemorative piercings in his ears and brow, he might not have looked so out of place at all. The realization was startling. 

Mercury stepped into the room at the very second the wall clock changed from 8:59 to nine. He gazed at each of the men in attendance, his expression unwavering in its confidence. As he breezed past Merritt and took a seat beside him, he brought with him a gust of mint, clean steam, and something underneath that was distinctly Mercury. The power of the scent hit Merritt like an inhaled club drug. 

North Sphere colognes often included chemical substances with mind-altering properties. The effects were usually so mild that people considered them to be false advertising or the placebo effect. But Mercury’s scent was instantly intoxicating, leaving Merritt breathless and exhilarated.

As Mercury settled into his seat, he flashed Merritt a half-smile. For a moment, Merritt thought he also saw a wink. He returned the smile, but Mercury had already shifted his attention to business, setting a large tablet on the table in front of him and turning it on. “What’s on the agenda, Pratt?”

The youngest of Mercury’s eight advisors looked down at his slim notebook computer. “Defense at the North-West border, King.”

Mercury turned to Belmont. “Belmont, would you please review the most recent turn of events so everyone is on the same page?”

Belmont removed his ivy cap and set it on the table, raising a haughty eyebrow at Merritt and the other advisors before speaking. “I got wind of a few rumors coming out of the West Sphere, which I passed along to Mannheim. The West is still bitter about the East’s attack via the waterways, but they don’t have the balls to retaliate against the East. So now it looks like they’ve fixated on the fact that we helped the East Sphere by escorting them through the waterways. They want revenge against someone, and it’s probably going to be us.”

“All of you were sent the brief two days ago and an update this morning,” Mercury added.

As the other attendees nodded in confirmation, Belmont gestured toward Merritt and said, “I knew that waterways mission was a sham. This one here got a promotion over it, but it looks like the whole thing is doing us more harm than good.”

Coulter, the top-ranking advisor after Belmont, gave a short, mocking laugh. “Belmont, didn’t you get a six-figure bonus for coordinating that mission? The soldier was only following your orders.” Belmont glared across the table at Coulter, who seemed impervious to the hostile energy.

Merritt knew better than to believe Coulter was sticking up for him; it was evident that his only aim was to shoot Belmont down.

“These intelligence reports suggest that the West is planning an attack,” Higgins cut in, “but do we have a timeline to work with?”

“At this point, we don’t have much more than the rumors Belmont dug up,” Mercury answered. He shot a glance across the room at the Director of Intelligence. “Mannheim, I expect your team to have new information for me by the end of the day.”

“Yes, King. We’re already on it.”

“In the meantime,” Mercury continued, “we need to take steps to strengthen our border before those rumors turn to action. The question is how to go about strengthening them. Our waterways only extend so far, and any stretches of land between them are susceptible to invasion.” He let his eyes sweep over the men who sat around the table. “I’m opening up the floor to discussion. Tell me the ideas you’ve prepared.”

Merritt sat in stunned silence. This was the discussion topic that Mercury told him didn’t require the general’s input? It was a military matter if ever he’d seen one.

Across the room, Pratt cleared his throat tentatively. “I suppose the most obvious solution would be to put out more border guards.”

Mercury’s cold expression didn’t shift. “I hope you’re bringing more to the table than ‘the most obvious.’”

Pratt stammered. “Well, uh… it’s obvious, but it doesn’t seem like a bad idea.”

“Our enlisted soldier count is at a record low. Placing more soldiers at the border would mean taking them away from somewhere else. You’re proposing that we redirect the guards at the elite neighborhood borders to the sphere’s borders, and that’s unacceptable. I’m looking to strengthen the vulnerable parts of our border without weakening any other part of our sphere.”

A few of the other advisors presented their suggestions, and Mercury cut them off at the knees as well. Merritt knew from the news and from the reports he now handled as a captain that Pratt and Evans were the board’s designated military advisors, answering to Higgins. In any other sphere, they would have been considered a part of the military along with Mannheim, Director of Intelligence. But in the North where the military was looked down upon, all three were ranked as government workers above the military. From their sheltered positions up high, they had the luxury of making decisions for the North’s soldiers without ever having to see the consequences of their decisions firsthand.

“Merritt,” Mercury said, startling him. “Based on your experience as a soldier, I want you to put yourself in the shoes of a West Sphere invader. If you were to attack the North Sphere, where would you penetrate? Where do you see a weakness?”

Merritt took a moment to collect his thoughts. “At most, I think there are three viable options. The Oakley Corridor is easy to penetrate but makes for a difficult retreat. The Hamlin Passage is the least heavily guarded and offers a straightforward retreat, but it’s also more secluded from the rest of the North Sphere, so even if the West can invade, they won’t be able to penetrate as deep before the likelihood of being stopped becomes too high.” He paused to inhale; Mercury’s scent still had him short of breath. “If I were making the call, I’d go for the Division Corridor. It’d be a risky maneuver since the entrance is so heavily guarded, but if I make it through, I’d be in the heart of the business district and perfectly positioned to do the most damage in the shortest amount of time. If I were Bardia, wanting to send the North Sphere a message, I’d aim for the throat.”

Mercury nodded slowly, processing Merritt’s words. He turned to Higgins. “Does that sound like an accurate assessment to you?”

Higgins nodded. “I would’ve said Hamlin right off the bat, but he has a point. Bardia would aim for the throat, even if it isn’t the weakest point of access.”

Mercury turned to Belmont. “Any disagreements?”

Belmont frowned. “None,” he said begrudgingly. “But that still doesn’t solve the problem. We can’t strengthen defense at the Division Corridor without weakening another access point. And who’s to say Bardia wouldn’t try hitting two access points at once? Or even three? He has the manpower to do it.”

The other advisors murmured their agreement, and the discussion continued. Over time, Mercury began to appear frustrated. It was a subtle shift. While everyone else in the room likely only saw a flawless poker face, Merritt’s position at Mercury’s side gave him a close-up view of the tightening muscles at his jaw.

Mercury wasn’t the only one getting frustrated. The discussion grew heated as the other advisors each tried to one-up the next with their suggestions, all the while viciously shooting each other down instead of collaborating to strengthen each others’ plans. After one particularly incomprehensible suggestion from Evans, Belmont responded by whipping out a metal file and insolently buffing away at his nails. It was no wonder his nails were so smooth, Merritt mused, if that was what he did every time he wanted to disrespect one of his rivals during a meeting.

When it was Belmont’s turn to speak, he fired up the screen on the far wall, presenting a well-researched strategy he’d worked on with Higgins for restricting West-side access to the Division Corridor. Merritt wondered if this would be the plan that stuck. But only minutes later, Lawrence—a haughty trade advisor with slicked black hair and a supercilious smile—poked a hole through the seemingly thorough plan, and Merritt felt relief at Belmont’s death glare finally focusing on someone other than him. 

A thought occurred to him. He had an idea, but he needed to double-check something he’d read in a recent military report. Unfortunately, he hadn’t known to bring his laptop to the meeting with him, but the new phone Higgins gave him had the ability to remotely access some of his files. He retrieved it from his pocket, quickly pulling up his document archive and filtering the results by sphere. He’d already flicked through several listings before he realized that Mercury, Belmont, and a few of the other advisors were staring at him.

Mercury raised an eyebrow. “Are we boring you, Merritt?”

Merritt’s eyes widened, and he immediately shook his head. “No. No. I was just….” He was aware of the breach of etiquette regarding phone use in the presence of an elite, but he’d assumed it would be okay to use his phone for research purposes in the same way the other attendees periodically referenced their computers. Apparently, he was wrong. Etiquette would now demand that he immediately stow his phone, but he was onto something—if only he could find the file he was looking for.

He turned urgently back to his phone, painfully aware that everyone’s eyes were on him as he scrolled past old documents. Doing his best to tune out the scoffs and muttered remarks from a few of the men around him, he located what he was looking for. Hurriedly, he clicked it and skimmed the first few paragraphs to confirm the necessary details.

Turning back to Mercury, he said, “One of the East’s former Explosives Unit soldiers defected to the South a few weeks ago due to differences with Cannon. Her opinion of her former King was so low that she was even willing to sell some East Sphere military secrets to the other spheres. We got a report a little while back on the information she shared with the North.”

Mercury gave him an odd smile, and Merritt suspected that he was remembering their phone conversation about the rift between Cannon and his troops.

“Do you remember the battle for Blue Island last winter, between the East and West Spheres? Pangolin, the Elite Squad Strategic Officer, is also head of the East’s Explosives Unit. She had the Explosives Unit execute a genius attack against the West Sphere. They allowed the West to gain on them, and then they faked a retreat and let the West proceed deeper into their sphere. The West thought they were invading the East, but they were actually being led into a special chamber that the Explosives Unit had prepared. Pangolin’s team trapped them, and then they set off a bomb and killed every last soldier in the rival unit. Because it happened in a secure location with no warning and no survivors, not even the West knows how their troops were killed. We only have this information thanks to the soldier who defected.”

Across the table, Mannheim narrowed his eyes. “I remember that report. It was a top secret report, meant for no one lower in rank than a colonel.”

Merritt’s cheeks reddened with guilt. “The Intelligence Database still might not be as secure as it should be, sir.”

Before Mannheim could respond, Evans cut him off. “So you want to bomb everyone into oblivion? We don’t have the same structural integrity in the North as they do in the East. If we set off a bomb in the wrong place, the whole ceiling could cave in on us. The East’s Explosives Unit has been perfecting their bombs for years to make sure they can kill people without destroying the underground itself. They know all the tricks that we don’t.” He leaned back in his seat. “This is why we have advisors here to make important military decisions instead of uneducated soldiers.”

“I’m not proposing that we meddle with explosives, sir,” Merritt said. “But we could take that same approach using our specialty. If the East Sphere can set an explosive trap, we should be able to set a poison trap. Oakley and Hamlin each have a choke point. We could rig the corridors—set up a dropping door or something—and then auto-release a poison. Those areas used to be farmlands, so we already have some unused irrigation lines running through them. It shouldn’t be difficult to reroute the pipework and stock it with a lethal substance and put in some surveillance equipment.”

Mercury turned to Merritt, his subtle smile showing a hint of approval. “Interesting proposal.”

“Thank you, King. I think we’d—”

“That’s basically the same idea I mentioned before,” Belmont interrupted. Across the room, Pratt nodded as if to endorse Belmont’s comment.

Merritt was about to concede the floor when Higgins asked, “How is Merritt’s suggestion the same as yours?”

“I said we needed to find better ways to automate our defense.”

“But you didn’t offer an actual plan for it,” Lawrence retorted.

“Still, the captain is just going off what I already—”

“Merritt,” Mercury cut in. “Continue.”

With a dutiful nod, Merritt said, “We’d have to get construction going right away, but if we could set up those two corridors and program them to remotely trigger the poison’s release, we could remove almost all the guards from those corridors and use them to reinforce Division instead. You’d only need to assign a couple of specialists for management and surveillance of the traps.”

“Sounds expensive,” Pratt said.

Merritt frowned. “That’s true. I don’t know your budget. But the poison traps would remain useful to us even after this threat has passed.”

“You bring up a good point.” Mercury said before turning to his right hand. “Higgins, help Merritt put together a written proposal. Send it to Evans by midnight and copy me on it. Evans, have our engineers draw up a plan and find out what kind of costs we’ll be looking at. Be ready with an update by Thursday’s meeting. All three of you will be responsible for making sure the designs are functional and affordable.”

“Yes, King,” Higgins and Evans replied, with Merritt echoing them shortly after.

Higgins gave Merritt an approving pat on the shoulder. Merritt was both startled and elated at the physical contact, which he could only interpret as a sign that he’d done exceptionally well. He hadn’t expected to have an opportunity to make a difference in the meeting, and he hoped his strategy would pan out.

The conversation moved onto other topics, most of which were further out of Merritt’s realm, but he no longer felt quite so out of place among the members of the board. The only thing still keeping him uncomfortable was the steady stream of negative energy radiating from Belmont to him.

Belmont’s attention finally shifted away from him when Mercury said, “Before we adjourn, I’d like to discuss the North-South beverage trade negotiations that fell through last weekend.” All eyes in the room turned to the black-haired advisor at the seat across from Merritt. “Lawrence. This should have been a routine negotiation. How did you manage to fail?”

Lawrence stammered for a moment before pulling himself together behind a precarious façade of confidence. “We ran into some errors in calculating our freight charges. It’s nothing that can’t be rectified with a second meeting.”

“Freya called me last night. She was insulted at what she perceived as you trying to shortchange the South Sphere. She said you talked down to her, and she didn’t buy your excuse about a calculation error any more than I do. She’s threatening to call off the entire deal.”

Lawrence’s poker face would have been more convincing if not for the sheen of sweat that emerged on his forehead. “King, this is Freya we’re talking about. She thinks her ancestors came to the underground to escape from demons on the surface. How am I supposed to take her seriously?”

“Anyone who can run circles around you in a negotiation is someone you should take seriously. She’s a Queen, and you didn’t give her due respect.”

“King, she’s crazy.”

“And there are ways to deal with that. Ways that you apparently don’t understand. Crazy or not, you were the one responsible for striking a deal with her, and you couldn’t do it.”

Lawrence waved his hands in the air as if trying to slow down the conversation. “I’ll give her right hand a call today. It’s really no big deal.”

“We might be able to save this negotiation if we send in someone with a more delicate touch, but Freya made it clear that she has no interest in speaking with you again.” Mercury leaned back in his chair, tilting his head. His body looked relaxed, but Merritt felt a chill at the sight of his narrowed eyes. “Tell me, Lawrence. Is there another job you would prefer, rather than trade advisor? Perhaps you’d be more comfortable working retail, or waiting tables?”

Merritt almost flinched. In the North Sphere, service work was a job for aces, on par with military privates. Mercury would have been hard-pressed to find a more demeaning suggestion.

“Please give me a chance to fix this, King,” Lawrence begged.

“It was a serious question, Lawrence. Do you want to step down from your position and take another job that might be more suited to your skills?”

Before Lawrence could reply, Belmont cut in. “Mercury, please, allow me to vouch for Lawrence’s skills. He’s spent almost his entire life in the field of economics, pursuing the position he holds now. Never before have I seen a person pursue a field of interest with the single-minded focus that he has exhibited. I’ve seen him poring over charts and files and product specs with a level of dedication I could only dream of. Even if his expertise came at the expense of a broader spectrum of knowledge, you have to give him credit for his focus.” Belmont cracked a half-smile. “Lawrence is a trade advisor, through and through. I can’t picture him doing anything else with his life.”

Apparently taking confidence in Belmont’s words, Lawrence turned back to Mercury. “This is the only job for me, King. It’s the work I’m meant to be doing.”

Mercury’s gaze was stone cold. “So you have no worth beyond the job you’ve already failed to do.”

Lawrence gritted his teeth. His poker face faltered; he had no answer for Mercury.

Across the room, Belmont turned his half-smile on Lawrence, and it took on a wicked tilt. Merritt sucked in a breath when he realized Belmont had set Lawrence up.

Mercury glanced at the clock. “That will be it for today. This meeting is adjourned.” He turned back to Lawrence. “Lawrence, I’d like a word in the back room.”

Lawrence’s face went pale. “Yes, King.”

As Merritt rose to his feet, Mercury glanced at him over his shoulder. “Merritt, wait here. I want to speak with you after I’m finished with Lawrence.”

Merritt gave an obedient nod and returned to his seat. Despite the tension in the room, he hated to see Mercury go. He was still drunk on Mercury’s scent.

While the other attendees packed their computers, Coulter shot a glance over his shoulder at Belmont, back at Lawrence, and then at Belmont again. Belmont leaned back and raised an eyebrow, as if challenging Coulter to question him. Coulter blew out a breath on his way toward the exit, shaking his head in what could have been either disgust or admiration.

Mercury and Lawrence ducked into an adjacent break room that shared a windowed wall with the boardroom. As they left, Mannheim stooped down to whisper something in Belmont’s ear. Belmont snickered, his eyes on Lawrence’s trail. After a pause, he turned and whispered something back to Mannheim while gesturing toward the break room’s window.

Mannheim gave a dry laugh. “Send me a picture if you can,” he said before following Wilson out the door.

Everyone else in the boardroom gradually cleared out except for Higgins and Belmont. Belmont looked to be reading on his phone, but Merritt could tell that he had one eye on the meeting taking place in the adjacent room, partially obscured behind vertical blinds.

Beside Merritt, Higgins finished gathering his files. Merritt wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of the proposal they were supposed to write together, but before he could figure it out, Higgins leaned forward, placing a hand on Merritt’s arm. “You were impressive in today’s meeting,” he said.

Merritt blushed. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot, coming from someone like you.”

“Have you ever thought about getting involved in politics?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean, sir.”

“I mean exactly what I said. I’m sure you’re an excellent soldier, but you have the brains to climb much higher than the military’s ceiling would allow. I know you’re still adjusting to your position as captain, but you’d wield a lot more power being above the military than you would being a part of it. That’s where politics could get you.”

“I…” Before Merritt could reply, a blur of motion out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Past the vertical blinds hanging from the nearest window, he could see Mercury standing behind Lawrence. Mercury held Lawrence’s tie tight around his neck, and Lawrence flailed. Merritt forced his attention back to Higgins. “I think… er….” In the periphery, Lawrence continued to struggle, but Mercury remained unmoving behind him, the only sign of exertion showing in his taut fists. “I mean….” Merritt’s voice fizzled in his throat as Lawrence stopped fighting and eventually went limp.

Higgins glanced at Merritt’s wide eyes and then at the window. He gave an offhanded laugh and rose to his feet, heading across the room and pulling the blinds closed. Then he returned to his seat. “Well?” he asked.

Merritt faltered. “I’m sorry, sir. I… I lost my train of thought.”

“I was asking about whether you were interested in pursuing a career in politics. You have the mind for it.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, toward the window. “With the right mentoring, I could see you being one of Mercury’s advisors someday.”

The gesture toward Lawrence was hardly a solid selling point, but the implications behind Higgins’s words were clear. A political job would catapult Merritt from offal to elite, giving him the ability to influence military policy from a permanent seat near Mercury’s side.

Merritt was intrigued. Apparently, so was Belmont, whose gaze shifted from the adjacent room to the conversation between Merritt and Higgins.

“I would be honored to serve my sphere and my King in whatever way I can, sir,” Merritt said. “But as I’m sure you know, I’m a military school graduate. I don’t have the experience or the level of education that’s required of the board.” He frowned. “And I know barely anything about elite customs.”

“All of that can be learned,” Higgins said. He gave Merritt’s arm a squeeze. “A lot of the advisors here—I taught them everything they know. And I can do the same for you.” Leaning in closer, he lowered his voice. “I’ll be honest; if you’d been born an elite, you’d probably be having private lunches with Mercury every day by now. Mercury likes working with young prodigies. I can tell he’s interested in you, but he needs to see something in you that’ll remove his doubts about your lineage and upbringing. I can get you there.” He gave Merritt a warm smile. “You have the aptitude, Merritt. You just need someone who’ll put in the time to mentor you.”

Merritt opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by the bang of a chair slamming against the table after Belmont abruptly rose to his feet. Belmont shot him one last toxic glare before stalking out of the room.

Higgins didn’t seem to notice Belmont. He continued to stare expectantly at Merritt.

Merritt’s next words spilled out before he realized what he was saying. “Mercury has doubts about my lineage? I thought he didn’t care where we came from as long as we made up for it in performance.”

Higgins gave an odd smile. “That line always works great in his speeches, doesn’t it?” Apparently noticing the confusion and disappointment Merritt had failed to conceal, he held up a reassuring hand. Smoothly, he said, “What I mean is that no matter what Mercury says, no matter how good his intentions, a lot of these prejudices are ingrained in us. If Mercury wasn’t willing to give you a chance, you wouldn’t be sitting in this room today. But yes, you’re going to have to work harder than everyone else here if you want to prove yourself to him.”

“I’m willing to work hard, sir.”

“That’s only the beginning, Merritt. Talent and hard work won’t be enough to get you through. You’ll need to show that you have respect for the chain of command, that your ideological beliefs are compatible with ours, that you have good instincts and can make rational decisions that aren’t colored by your upbringing.” Higgins raised an eyebrow, fixing Merritt with a critical stare. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Merritt?”

There was something in Higgins’s tone that suggested doubt, and Merritt felt the immediate urge to appease him. He recognized the value of Higgins’s offer, and he wouldn’t risk squandering the opportunity. “Yes, sir. I can do those things.”

“Good.” Higgins gave a nod of approval. “Like I said, I can guide you every step of the way.”

“I’m honored that you’d be willing to take the time to help me, sir.”

“I know a good egg when I see one,” Higgins said. He gestured toward Merritt’s pocket. “We’ll need to jump on that written proposal to Evans today, but call or text me any time tomorrow, and we’ll talk in more detail.”

Merritt gave Higgins a grateful smile. “Thank you, sir.”

Mercury emerged from the adjacent room, wiping his hands together. “Higgins, would you please call for cleanup before you leave?”

“Yes, Mercury. Right away.”

Higgins rose to his feet and headed across the room, pulling out his phone. When Merritt rose as well, Mercury turned to him and set a light hand on his arm. The last time Mercury had touched him, it had left him burning for more. This time, there was something subtly menacing about the way Mercury leaned toward him, touching him with a hand he’d used moments ago to kill a man. Eyes wide, Merritt fought the urge to back away.

“You and Belmont,” Mercury said.

Merritt waited silently, trapped by Mercury’s intense gaze.

“I told you to make peace with him. I assume you haven’t done it?”

Merritt faltered. “Um, no, Damen. Not yet.”

“I could feel the tension between you two throughout the entire meeting. All of us could. I don’t want your feud to become a distraction, especially if I decide to bring you into more of these meetings.” He gave Merritt’s arm a squeeze that looked friendly but felt threatening. “Take care of it.”

Merritt nodded. “Yes, Damen. I will.”

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