Sterling's office filled Andie with nostalgia, love, and an overwhelming sense of dread that curled like icy fingers around her stomach.

The office was a distillation of Sterling's essence—warmth, loyalty, humor, and intelligence.

Yellow-gold satinwood walls, spangled with knots, burls, and cracks, each imperfection a mark of beauty. A story. A history.

Rows of photographs atop glass shelves—ten-year-old Sterling and Andie playing dress-up in the attic. Rachel, Sterling, and Andie in Rice Krispies' Snap, Crackle, and Pop costumes for Halloween. Sterling and Andie at her college graduation. Professional black and white photos of Sterling as an infant being held by her mother, who looked so beautiful yet melancholy.

Sofas, as puffy and pink as clouds at sunrise, ringed one of those floating coffee tables Andie had seen in Oliver's penthouse office. Two potted ficus plants stood like sentries on either side of a large glass desk. The desktop was free from clutter, but there was a globe of the alien moon—colored lights shifting and blinking across the surface. Through the window, a glimmer of sunlight splintered off the red-sequined heel of the giant shoe.

The sweet-cinnamon smell of snickerdoodles emanated from a silver platter on the coffee table.

This was not at all what Andie had pictured for Sterling. She was supposed to be a prisoner. Deceived. Tricked into performing in a reality show for the universe. Living a false life. But this?

Sterling opened her arms wide. "Andie, are you going to stand there and talk to your scary inner voice, or are you going to give me a hug?"

Andie's eyes widened. Did Sterling know about Bad Andie? And the one time she wasn't talking to her alter ego, she gets accused of doing so.

"I'm too busy to talk to you," Bad Andie scoffed.

"I know. Vampires."

"Naw. Their feet are so cold it's like sleeping with a pair of ice cube trays at the bottom of the bed. And honestly, how much blood can a person lose before anemia sets in? No, now I'm into aliens. I know from personal experience aliens are toe-curlingly delicious. And so many great novels to choose from: Probed by the Alien Prince, Stolen by the Billionaire Alien Pirate, My Crazy Hot Interstellar Affair, though the female protagonist in that last one is driving me nuts. Only the hot alien and plucky sidekick make it worthwhile."

"How do you know what a vampire's feet feel like in bed?"

"It's called imagination. Get one. It's an excellent companion. Especially when your alter-ego is a dreary accountant."

"Dreary? In the past few days, I've discovered I have alien zappy powers, I've traveled to an actual mother-ship, disrupted an alien Joining, had my hair burnt off at least twice, been pooped on by hot pink doves, fought my boyfriend's hostile motherclone, resurrected said boyfriend, battled legions of jellyfish drones, bested Marilyn Monroe, been dumped into a dumpster (by said boyfriend), trapped in a stupid chase-scene with Tom Cruise, had my mother kidnapped by an evil secretary, been in a car wreck at a shoe mall, and discovered my best friend might be in charge of an alien TVshow. So, sorry if I don't accept your assertion that I'm dreary!"

"Sensitive much? Gotta go. My alien is phoning home."

Bad Andie went to ... well ... wherever alter-egos hang out when they're not driving you insane.

And speaking of aliens. Where was Oliver? Could Sterling help locate him? As impossible as it sounded, Sterling was the Director. The boss of the whole reality show. Now that Andie had accomplished step one of her rescue plan—locate Sterling, she had to find her misplaced boyfriend, procure an interstellar spaceship, and destroy the Star Enquirer. It appeared her goals were fairly doable if Sterling was the head of the operation. Friends in high places!

But would Sterling help?

Part of Andie was ashamed to even think about this. Of course she would. But the auditor side of her nature, the part that was always examining. Questioning. Daring to glimpse what lay beneath. That part smelled the sharp, shadowy whiff of ambiguity.

The "auditor" and "friend" inside her continued to battle when Sterling flicked Andie's nose.

"Ouch!"

"Are you on something?"

"What? No! Except for this stupid moon. But ... Oh, I'm sorry, Ster. I'm just ... well ... I mean ... overwhelmed. You're here. I am so glad you're okay. I thought ... Well ... I thought ..."

Sterling was more than okay. Her skin gleamed, her hair gleamed, her teeth gleamed. She wore a perfectly fitted white blazer and matching pants, a low cut white silk top, and a mass of her beautiful hair was tucked demurely behind one ear, beneath which dangled a diamond encrusted earring nearly the size of a Hula Hoop. She was as perfect and lovely as ever. "Andromeda Elizabeth Bank. Just shut up, and give me a hug."

They embraced, tears streaming down Andie's face. Sterling's hair still smelled like Herbal Essence shampoo. Leave it to Sterling to have her favorite products, even on an alien moon halfway across the galaxy.

Rachel enveloped both her girls in her caftaned arms, Sterling's earring digging into Andie's cheek, the brass beads of Rachel's necklaces tinkling like wind chimes. "You are more beautiful than Gaia herself," Rachel said, running her fingers through Sterling's long metallic waves.

"Oh, Mama, I knew you'd be able to see again," said Sterling, eyes filling with tears. "Come, sit down," Sterling gestured toward the sofas. "You must have so many questions. Have a cookie." Sterling lifted the platter toward Rachel. "There's no processed sugar, and everything is organic."

Rachel smiled and took a cookie.

Andie's brows drew together. "Did you bake them?"

"I did," Sterling said. "I can bake here whenever I want."

"Mama, be careful. Don't ..."

Rachel took a bite. "It's delicious."

"Stop worrying, Andie. They're perfectly safe."

"It's cookies that got us here in the first place. If not for those cookies, I would never have applied for that job. I blame the Snickerdoodles."

Sterling set down the tray and smoothed her pants after taking a seat on the sofa across from Rachel and Andie. "Believe that if you want. You had questions?"

"Yes," Andie said, clearing her throat. She wanted to ask about Oliver, but first she had to establish how much power her friend had. "You're the Director of As the Earth Turns?"

"I am! Isn't it fantastic?"

Andie narrowed her eyes. How much of this enthusiasm was "moon" and how much was real? "Yeah, sure. And, um, you control the drones?"

"Sure do. And speaking of the drones, I almost died seeing both of you in that crash." The sorrow in Sterling's eyes looked real. "They were supposed to bring you to me unharmed. They really screwed up your retrieval. Thanks a lot, by the way, for taking out my security bubble. That took hours to repair."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know it was yours at the time."

"I forgive you. Oh, Andie. There were so many times I thought I'd lost you. When you fell into the trope. When horrible Talia showed up with Mama! And kidnapped you! I nearly died watching the crash. If I could strangle Talia, I would. But what I can do is make sure that she doesn't hurt you or Mama ever again. Hmmmm. I just have to figure out where." Sterling drummed her fingers on the sofa cushion. "Something will come to me. But for now, I will focus on the drone army, which needs an immediate upgrade." Sterling touched her ear. "Gigi?"

Gigi trudged into the office wearing ugly boots and a scowl, a stylus in one hand and an iPad of the future in the other. "What is it now?"

Sterling cleared her throat and glared daggers. Gigi rolled her eyes and curtsied. "What may I do for you, Supreme Leader?"

Sterling chuckled darkly; clearly she found Gigi's insolence anything but amusing. "While that has a nice ring, we are to address me as 'Director,' remember?" On earth, they often referred to Sterling as a movie queen, still she'd never referred to herself using the royal "we."

"Yes, Director."

"Please put in a request for a drone army upgrade."

"Yes, ma'am."

"In quadruplicate."

"Yes, ma'am," Gigi said through clenched teeth.

"And get Lionel. I'm sure my family is starved. And don't forget, mani-pedi in an hour."

"Yes, Director," Gigi spat. Sterling raised an eyebrow. Gigi rolled her eyes again, curtsied, spun on her heel, and marched out of the office, grumbling under her breath.

"Pilot never liked her," Rachel offered.

"So, Gigi Gaines is your assistant?" Andie said.

"I know. Isn't it awesome? Gigi doesn't want to be my assistant, but the fact that she's here proves there is a goddess. They said I could have anyone I wanted."

"Why would you want someone you hate as your assistant?"

"Because I'm gonna make her life a living hell," Sterling said in the faraway ethereal voice of a giddy angel.

"Sterling, remember Karma," Rachel said.

"Not only do I remember her." Sterling winked. "Right now, I think I am her."

"But Sterling, isn't this an alien moon? I mean run by advanced beings to exploit earthlings for the depraved pleasure of all aliendom, yada yada yada, where the inhabitants get to live as if they all have genies with unlimited wishes? Dream lives complete with immortality, unlimited sex, perfect hair, and no diets?"

"Yes, but we each have our roles to play. She gets all that, but while working for me. No one reads the fine print."

Someone knocked on the door. "Come in, Lionel," Sterling said. "You're both going to love the food here."

"It's not Lionel," Gigi said.

"What is it?" Sterling snapped.

"Security is calling. They want to know if you've decided on what to do with the prisoner."

"Prisoner?" Andie rasped, her throat dry. Oh, god. Please no. Sterling had every right to hate the Lieders. They had ruined her life. But would Sterling punish him? "You have Oliver?"

Sterling cocked her head. "Oliver? What's wrong, sweetie?" Sterling took Andie's hand.

"Is he your prisoner?" Andie choked out.

Sterling laughed. "Of course not. Prince Oliver! You knew he was royal, didn't you? I would never hold him prisoner. And not just because he's royal and hot."

"Thank goodness," Andie said. "But where is he?"

"How should I know?"

"Because your drone army flew off with him."

"They did? Ugh! They are so incredibly broken. I had no report about this. Gigi, please locate the prince and bring him to us." Sterling gave Andie's hand a squeeze. "Don't worry, hon. We'll find your lover prince straightaway. Now, Gigi, as far as our prisoner, I believe we have a vacancy in the Chase Scene Trope. Please send her there for now. Deliver a half dozen lions and a few honey badgers to amp up the action. And remember to have the entrance locked. Also, check on what's holding up Lionel."

"Sure thing ... Director."

"Andie, you still look upset. I know punishing Talia in the chase scene trope for the next 20 years is better than she deserves, but trust me, it's the best option I've got right now. I added the lions. They can't actually eat her, but they can make her pretty miserable."

"It's not that, Ster. I mean, yeah, it is too good for Talia. The problem is, I thought I knew you. Better than anyone. But here you are," Andie gestured around the room, "running an evil alien enterprise. Punishing people and enjoying it. Making people curtsy. This isn't you. This is the moon's influence. Why can't you see this? Please, Ster. I want my friend back."

Sterling smiled and squeezed Andie's hand. "I'm right here. And so are you. And Mama. We are all together. Everything will be fine."

A lump of anguish had been steadily growing in Andie's throat—a sharp-edged, almond-shaped thing. She swallowed hard and felt the pain as if it was a real nut, traveling down her esophagus and lodging in the pit of her stomach. "Sterling, what the hell are you doing here? How is it you're running the place?"

Sterling's eyes flashed with momentary anger.

"Andromeda, honey, I'm sure Sterling has her reasons," Rachel said, ever the peacemaker.

"I'm sorry. You're right, Mama. Sterling, I just want to understand."

"Once you know the story, you will. I promise." Sterling crossed her legs and looked at the ceiling as if for guidance. Cleared her throat. "Well, you know the beginning. The tabloids hounded me. I got too old, dammit. Did I mention no one ages at The Colony?" She smiled. "Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. I turned twenty-six, which is like seventy-five in Hollywood years, discovered my first hint of a wrinkle, had that silly little 'procedure' in Brazil, and got laughed out of town. I'm telling you, Andie, I wanted to die after that."

A knock at the door. No, they couldn't be interrupted now.

"Enter," Sterling said, brushing a tear from her eye.

"Miss Sterling, I am here," said a soft voice.

In came a seven-foot tall, very pale, bald gentleman in a black tuxedo, a Gripple folded over his left forearm. There were Zuts on the Colony! The very sight of him made Andie's heart ache for her staff. She had to find Oliver quickly, talk Sterling out of staying here before she went full lunar nuts, and get this brood back to earth, because every minute she spent here on the Colony meant that Rosalie, Ernest, Cash, Frank, and Bill were at the whim of the evil Amu.