Zwarg. Two years ago.
They'd make sure you never got to consider any other candidates.
The phrase pulsed at my temples like the beep of a pulse oximeter, the kind they'd clip to my finger at every medical checkup Martin would suddenly schedule whenever he got it into his head to take a renewed interest in my reproductive health. In his mind, a high compatibility score meant children were supposed to arrive immediately after the wedding. Multiple children. Not one, multiple. Every few years he'd be seized by fresh waves of panic that we'd been married so long and still nothing, and off I'd go for another round of tests. No matter how many times the doctors explained that low conception rates were simply a feature of our species, he refused to accept it.
I made it back to the penthouse on autopilot, parked the flyer on the roof across between two spaces, and couldn't summon the energy to fix it. I splashed ice-cold water on my face, breathed in, breathed out, and dialed the most well-known number on the planet: the Planetary Laboratory.
"Hello, how can I help you?"
"Good afternoon. This is Celesta Gyu-El," I said, switching off the video feed. The goal was to keep the rising panic out of my voice. I needed to verify everything before I decided anything.
"Oh, hello." The man on the other end dropped his voice several registers instantly. "What can I do for you?"
"You sent me a packet of candidate profiles, men with whom my compatibility scores were high. I accidentally…" I hesitated for half a second. What had I accidentally done? Threw the whole thing in the recycler without opening it was probably not the right answer. "…spilled juice on the paper. My robot vacuum rushed over to help and made everything considerably worse. Would it be possible to have the information resent? Any format works, even a direct message to my communicator is fine."
"One moment, let me check," he said pleasantly.
I sat on the edge of the bed and bit my lip. I'd never once imagined those wretched candidate profiles would ever matter to me in any meaningful way.
"Lady Gyu-El." He came back on, and his voice had dropped several degrees in temperature. "I've looked into it thoroughly. I'm so sorry, would you believe it, the server containing those particular profiles overheated this very morning and has been sent in for repairs. I'm afraid the data has been lost. If you'd like new compatibility lists, we'd need to initiate a fresh round of laboratory testing."
What a coincidence. Publicly humiliating Yudes had clearly been a mistake. His reach turned out to be considerably longer than I'd given him credit for.
"And how long would new testing take?" I asked, pleasantly, as though I believed every word.
"Normally around a month, but our staff is quite busy at the moment. There may be a small delay."
Another six months, landing perfectly on the anniversary of Martin's death. Flawless timing.
"And there's truly nothing left anywhere? All that work, I feel absolutely terrible that my carelessness is going to make your team start over from scratch." I poured as much remorse into my voice as I could reasonably manufacture.
"Oh, please don't worry about it, that's entirely on us. Unfortunately, yes, all the results were stored on a single server, and it burned out overnight."
"How terrible," I murmured, thinking fast about what else I could verify.
"Truly awful. But if you'd like, I can check with the doctor personally to find out who your highest compatibility match was and send you that individual's information first."
And something tells me that individual's last name is going to be Lacoste.
"No, thank you. Actually, I have a specific person in mind," I sighed with just the right amount of wistful interest, making it clear to the employee that I was genuinely invested in the results.
Either I'd oversold the sigh, or the entire medical center had me on file as an inconsolable widow, because the man sounded genuinely startled.
"Really? That is… forgive me, Lady Gyu-El, I have a note in your file that you specifically requested we not actively search for a match for you…"
I bit down on nothing in particular. So there was a note on my profile, but my compatible candidates had been stored on a separate server that just happened to burn. How convenient. Infinite cosmos. Did they think I was born yesterday?
"Yes, that's correct, I did ask not to be searched for," I continued, in my sweetest voice. "But last night at the event I happened to meet the most remarkable, extraordinary, wonderfully intelligent Zwargian; he had a genuine sense of humor, which I haven't encountered in a very long time. For the first time in years, he actually made me smile. He mentioned he'd already submitted a compatibility request… You know how it is: feelings have a way of arriving when you least expect them. I loved my late husband deeply and truly believed no one could ever compare, but this man managed to capture my heart in a single evening…"
"Yes, yes, and who is this?"
I could hear rapid keyboard clicks in the background. Had Yudes actually instructed them to report back if I contacted the Laboratory?
"His name is Kristof. I'm afraid I've forgotten his last name, and in the rush of the evening we didn't manage to exchange communicator numbers; but if needed I can write to the city hall or the event organizers and ask them to pass along his contact information."
Eight full seconds of silence. I counted every one of them. The manager clearly had instructions regarding me specifically, and every one of his carefully laid plans had just gone out the window. I found myself wondering whether the audio was being recorded. Whether Yudes would get a copy of that too.
"My apologies," the man said. "That won't be necessary; he is in our system, and yes, there is a compatibility request on file…"
"Sixty-three percent," I cut in, with a degree of sadistic pleasure, remembering the previous evening. "Can you imagine? I think that's a wonderful foundation."
"Yes… sixty-three," the man confirmed, without any enthusiasm whatsoever, and went quiet.
A bitter understanding bloomed inside me like a poisonous flower. Luke had been right. The sensible thing, the obvious thing, was to say goodbye and end the call. But something inside me needed to see this particular farce through to the end.
"So will you give it to me?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"His communicator number," I said, dropping the sweetness entirely. "Or should I be asking somewhere else? I was under the impression that the Planetary Laboratory's one and only mission was to help find suitable partners for the women of our species."
"Yes, yes, of course, just one moment…"
A heavy sigh. Then Kristof's contact was read out to me, and I pressed the end button.
Well. There it was.
I stared at the small strip of plastel where I'd jotted down the digits with a thermopen. What now? If Yudes had gone so far as to push through an entirely new widows' law and compromise the Planetary Laboratory, he wasn't going to stop there. I had the distinct feeling of being pulled toward something vast and dark; one moment I was above the event horizon, and the next I'd be at the center of a black hole that no one had ever come back from. What had I done to deserve this? I'd been living quietly, bothering no one, and now… Why is Lacoste fixated on me of all people? What was his problem? Did he think I'd be easy to break? Easy to mold into his perfect wife?
Well, you were Martin's perfect wife, my inner voice observed, with gleeful precision.
I wanted to throw something. One more minute of this and I'd actually start arguing with myself out loud. I went back to the bathroom and ran cold water over my face again. I hated myself for what I'd done at the Palace. Maybe if I hadn't humiliated Yudes so publicly, hadn't let my emotions loose the way I had, his revenge wouldn't have come down quite this hard. Then again, who knows? At least I'd tried to stand up for myself. My mother used to say it was always better to try something and regret it than to regret never having tried at all. She was wonderful, my mother.
I looked back at the small strip of plastic. My throat felt tight. I desperately didn't want to do what I was about to do, but I couldn't see another way out. Sweet, flustered Kristof was still preferable to Yudes, who hadn't even bothered to hide what he was doing. Of course, Kristof would grow up eventually, develop his horns and figure out that he could use abilities the Universe had, in its particular sense of humor, gifted exclusively to the male half of our species. But at least with him I'd have a few more years of something that at least resembled freedom.
I swallowed the bitterness sitting in my throat and dialed the number they'd given me. Kristof picked up almost immediately.
"Good afternoon, who am I speaking with?"
I bit my lip. I really, really didn't want to do this.
"Hello? You're breaking up, there's interference on the video feed."
I exhaled, smiled at myself in the mirror, and activated the secondary data channel.
"Hi. It's Celesta."
"Celesta?" A pale blue hologram materialized in front of me, one Zwargian who looked like he'd seen a ghost. "How do you have my number? Did something happen?"
I shook my head, trying very hard not to let that show.
"I thought about your offer. Come pick me up tonight."
"Why?" he said, not following.
"You told me yesterday that you liked me. I'm saying yes. Come at eight, my lawyer will have a prenuptial agreement ready by then. We'll sign. No celebration, I'm sorry. This is my second marriage, so…"
"Wait, wait, you're saying yes to me?"
Kristof was clearly not keeping up. Part of me wanted to reach through the hologram and knock some processing speed into him. Instead, I smiled again and explained patiently.
"Yes. I'm saying yes. A new law came out this morning; I'm required to find a second husband within a few months. I'm under a hundred and fifty and I have no children from my first marriage. Hadn't you heard?"
I'd pulled up the relevant article on my tablet as we spoke, scanning for loopholes. The hologram just stared.
"Yeah, I heard about it," he murmured. "I just didn't understand… I mean… why marriage right away? Not that I'm complaining, I'm absolutely in favor! It's just… usually couples go on dates first, get to know each other, and then eventually… you know."
I sighed, studying the legal diagram on my screen. It occurred to me, a beat too late, that I was probably a good twenty years older than him. In the context of a Zwargian lifespan that wasn't dramatic; but at this particular moment in time, it felt significant. Like comparing a one-year-old to a three-year-old: technically just two years apart, practically a completely different stage of development. One still isn't reliably using the bathroom on their own; the other is running around, holding conversations, and solving simple puzzles. Kristof and I weren't that far apart on paper. Right now, though, we absolutely were.
"Kristof, does it really matter whether we sign before or after the dates?" I said, gently. "The law is in place and it won't be repealed. When the Planetary Management Apparatus decides something, that's that. If you'd like, we can even keep living separately, whatever feels comfortable for you. I don't have other candidates. You're the only one I'm considering. Unless you have a high compatibility score with someone else, someone who's never been married, and you'd rather explore that? I'd understand completely. You can be honest with me."
The hologram's eyes went comically wide, and almost immediately he rushed to reassure me.
"No no no, Celesta, there's no one else, there never was anyone close to your score, and honestly I never even dared hope you'd agree to dinner with me, let alone… this… I'm completely overwhelmed; I don't even have words. Yes, yes, of course, I'll be there at eight."
"Sending you the coordinates now."
"Yes, thank you, thank you so much for choosing me! See you tonight, Celesta!"
The boy was still murmuring something incoherent, but I hit the end button. There it was, Lord Lacoste. Turns out I have cards up my sleeve too. And you are absolutely not one of them.
Feeling marginally better, I got to work. I needed to call Michel, my personal lawyer and the only friend I'd kept from childhood, and have him draw up a prenuptial agreement. Review the clauses on bank accounts and property. Ask him to look at the exact wording of the new law, just in case I'd missed something. Then I called the Intergalactic Bank and arranged a double bonus for everyone on staff at the estate to let them celebrate on my behalf. Nearly two hours went to the call with my mother-in-law. I hadn't spoken to Martin's family since his death, and I had a fairly clear picture of how they'd take the news. Lady Gyu-El senior had spent years vigorously championing my mourning of her only son and sincerely believed I owed him at least another century of it. For the first time in her life, she found herself cursing the laws of Zwarg. I informed her that I would be remarrying in the near future and might even take my new husband's name, if he wished. I didn't mention that the paperwork was scheduled for this very evening. Why upset an elderly Zwargian more than strictly necessary?
By the time I'd gotten through the bare minimum of it all, I felt completely wrung out. Ideally, I still needed to do something about my hair and find a dress; Kristof deserved a presentable bride, not a woman with a swollen nose and red eyes.