They arrived in a huge chamber, a hundred feet across each direction with an arched ceiling. Sculpted panels depicting scenes from the Deserts of Desolation decorated the walls. Which meant someone had carved panels with dozens of different sand dune patterns with the occasional monster.

They were in the Maze Corridors. A passage realm hated by every single Archhuman that had ever set foot on it. No monsters, no treasures, no exotic minerals, plants, or weird ether formations. Only endless hallways of every architectural style imaginable, moving up and down, left and right, on the X, Y, and Z axis. If M. Escher, Descartes, and Jean-Robert Argand had a love child, this would be it.

The maze wasn't that big. Whenever someone managed to cross it, they seldom traveled more than thirty miles. The problem was that nobody could plot a path through it. Because the maze shifted every time someone slept inside of it, often separating groups. They said not all passages had been found and you could get anywhere in the interspace through this place. And each passage was in a big room, a hundred yards on each side with a vaulted ceiling, with inlaid carvings of scenes from the realm on the other side.

So, how to get through such a place? Why, I'm glad you ask, Timmy. By cheating, that was.

You needed to bring an Archhuman with the right talent. Someone who could always find the path to their desired destination. Someone who could plot routes to any place possible. Or someone who could fucking freeze time.

Before they left the desert, they waited for the full twenty-four hours which was the maximum Robert could wait before being pulled into the liminal void. When he was about to trigger the passive portion of his talent, he used it. Bringing along everyone.

Now, they had ninety-nine days to find the chamber that led to Faralethal. Which was Far and Lethal.

But then again, every single passage realm in the interspace was lethal. The Deserts of Desolation were Scalding and Lethal. The Puffbloom Islands were Deceptive and Lethal. The Caustic Ocean... Was Caustic. And lethal. Death came in many, many ways. And each passage realm in the interspace had its own trademarked brand of Lethality.

The Maze Corridors were Confusing and Lethal, if anyone was keeping track of which was which.

They started to walk, connected by a length of silk rope. As they moved, Robert used his spatial awareness tempering to sense space around him, find where the maze walls were, and build a replica of the thing inside his mental palace. Jogging at ten miles per hour because the only one-star in their party was a quadruped and was even faster than Noah who was a three-star. Robert sometimes caught wind of a tunnel on the far side of his perception. It was added to the map and they kept moving.

Dead end? Backtrack fast and take the other tunnel. A split in the paths? Pick any and keep moving. The realm was impotent against them. They were tireless. Only mental fatigue could make them stop to take a nap. The Maze Corridors usually would seize the opportunity to change but alas, time was frozen. They found many passage chambers but none was the one they needed. And most were not known by humanity. Robert would make quite some money selling the information he was collecting.

Sixty days after entering, they finally found a new passage chamber.

Noah checked the panels with the ones in a book he had. "There we go. We found the passage to Faralethal. Now all we need is to wait here for thirty-nine days."

"Home!" Amanda cheered.

It was what they were looking for. The alien landscapes of Faralethal were stamped in dozens of panels around the chamber.

They set their tent and exchanged the silk tether for the metallic balls. None of them found any fault in the arrangement.

*

*

Robert allowed his talent to drag everyone, tent and all, into reality. The very walls of the Maze Corridors groaned as the realm found it was cheated of a good sport. But it was too late. The portal to Faralethal was right before them and on the other side of the passage, a polished steel corridor and a closed bulkhead door greeted them.

The maze corridors were too much of a wildcard to allow open access. A passage that could reach anywhere in the interspace? Preposterous. Robert believed he could even find a way to the puffbloom islands. His map, floating in the air above his bastions, was far from complete. He counted seventy portal chambers and more than two hundred open tunnels they didn't take. But he had the most complete map of the Maze Corridors ever made. And accurate until someone slept inside of it.

Which might have already happened. Nobody knew how many travelers were inside the realm. And with some Archhumans reaching immortality and surpassing the need for sustenance, some undead Arch might have been forever trapped inside the Maze Corridors, sleeping out of sheer boredom and giving the realm free reign to change.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

But the portal chambers were somewhat immutable. And even an outdated map was better than no map. In most circumstances, this wouldn't be true because a wrong map would lull the unaware traveler into a false sense of security. This wasn't true here. People knew the tunnels had changed. But that was the matter. Only the tunnels changed. The relative position of the portal chambers remained the same.

With a tridimensional map, savvy explorers could quickly find the current path that led from portal A to portal B by excluding paths that were leading nowhere. The possibility of a long-winded, branchless corridor that went on a huge loop existed but these were rare. The map didn't eliminate the risk of getting lost but greatly reduced it.

"Allow me to contact them," Noah said as he walked to the portal, then crossed it.

"Who goes there!" A voice came out of a crystal speaker.

Noah showed a badge to the crystal intercom. "Tenured Professor Noah Actus, Three-star Imperial Academy teacher and two first-year students. Refugee situation. We request safe passage back to Earth, according to ninth imperial code article forty-seven paragraph two hundred and fifty-three."

"Damn. Hey Bob! We got some fancyp—"

The intercom cut at that moment with a buzz of static. They really went above and beyond to make Ethertech feel and sound exactly like the pre-cataclysm electronics. Three minutes later, the same intercom came back to life.

"This is Sergeant Sagit from Centaur Security. Professor Noah Actus, is it?"

"That's correct, Sergeant," Noah replied.

"Where are you coming from? What was your starting point?"

"Our starting point was Earth, the passage to the Gravity Slime Caves."

They heard the sounds of a pen or pencil scratching on paper. "Right. We don't have any registered passage to that realm. Do you know what path you took?"

"Yes, but I'm not required to disclose that to you. I am sure your boss is dying with curiosity but this is a matter of Imperial law," Noah said firmly. "Open up or face the consequences."

"We need to check your identification first. Please stand by on the other side while we verify."

"How long will it take?"

"I have no idea, sir. We need to get in touch with—"

"Do as you please. Just so you know, the imperial code states that refugees should be granted shelter immediately. It's your neck."

"Is any of you wounded?"

"That's irrelevant!" Noah shouted, his irritation reaching a new high. "Open up and let us in!"

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, sir. Please step out and exit through the passage while we verify."

Amanda growled. She took quick steps and crossed the portal.

"Miss, step back!" Sergeant Sagit warned. "We will treat you as a hostile—"

"Just shut up, grunt," Amanda said with her haughty voice. She produced a crystalline device from her ring and broke it. The two pieces hovered in the air as if they were frozen in time. "There, the distress beacon is active. You will have such a good time explaining it to your boss, Sergeant. I weep for your bureaucratic ass. Let's go, Professor."

Robert had read about that device in the Samson operational manuals. It was a beacon that VIP staff members had access to, that would broadcast a signal back to the arcology. The only issue was that it lacked power and needed transmission crystals nearby to repeat the signal. Which this passage station obviously had but was unwilling to use.

An alarm klaxon started to ring on the other side along with a red light on the ceiling. Noah and Amanda returned, the former inscrutable behind his mask and Amanda with a smug grin.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO, BITCH?" Sergeant Sagit shouted and cursed over the sirens. "What? Samson?"

Robert bit his lip. If the Imperials didn't get this guy, Titania surely would. At this point, it was a matter of who would get to him first. Freddy put a sound barrier around the portal, muting the alarm. They sat by their tent and waited.

*

*

Four hours later, someone came through. It was a man in a business suit. He was in his thirties and was athletic and well-groomed. And he was very, very flustered.

"Professor Actus, Miss Samson, I am terribly sorry for the wait."

Amanda stood. She approached the man and studied him the way a bear studied a river full of trout. "No, you are not. What is your name?"

"I'm David Hanlon, working for Basilisk Enterprises, ma'am," David bowed deeply, showing his submission, regret, and wish to apologize.

So this facility was under the control of Basilisk, the city lord. Robert remembered reading on the news that he was aggressively trying to gain control of Faralethal.

"And why the hell were we forced to wait here for four hours, Mr. Hanlon?"

"A clerical mistake, ma'am. I'm afraid our collab—"

"Cut the crap. Your staff was not well-trained, and it caused us a great deal of trouble. We should've been granted access to your facility immediately upon claiming refugee status. I won't let this slide, Mr. Hanlon."

Robert felt a wave of Space essence as a portal opened inside the facility on the Faralethal side. Portals were expensive as fuck and not something a two-star Space Arch could create. This was either someone's talent or a very powerful Space Arch, probably on the payroll of someone high up. It didn't need much to guess whom.

"SAMSON SECURITY! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" Came the order. Sounds of combat immediately started. And soon after, they stopped.

The shout was also in the operational manuals. They were not supposed to give the opposition any time to actually drop their weapons. It was only for plausible deniability. This was a hit squad of elite Archs, sent to clean up someone else's mess and secure the objective. Samson Security Strike teams were fast and brutal when they acted.

"Secure the facility," someone shouted.

Boots marched down the corridor. Six Samson Security elites in their full body armor crossed the passage portal.

"Miss Samson, are you hurt?" The lead officer asked.

Amanda was pissed. She took a step forward.

"No," Amanda replied, staring at Hanlon. "Code Foxtrot Tango India India. The creatures and those with the badge of the Imperial Academy with me are friendlies. Arrest all survivors."

Foxtrot Tango India India was the code for "Fuck These Idiots Immediately".

Two security officers pounced on Hanlon and handcuffed him, putting a black cloth bag over his head. To his credit, Hanlon didn't offer any resistance. The other three fanned out, two watching the tunnel leading deeper into the realm and the other watching the portal.

"Miss Samson is secure," the lead officer said, speaking to his left vambrace. Probably a communicator. "Repeat, Miss Samson is secure. Haul ass, gentlemen. Let's mop it up."