Amanda held a tough front before her employees but Robert could tell she was on her last pint of gas. Now that they reconnected with civilization, all the stress she accumulated and the energy she spent beyond her normal came crashing down. He led her to the manager's bedroom and she crashed on the bed still wearing her uniform. He left her with an undetectable Taulusian and closed the door.
They slept at the passage containment facility, in the boss quarters. Robert stood watch in front of Amanda's door, a puffbloom on each shoulder. Downstairs, the strike team was working hard, mopping the floor to remove all traces of blood. To eliminate any condemning evidence, too. This shit was far from over. Since Noah called upon seldom-used Imperial statutes and the number of deaths involved, the government was going to have to make an official investigation and release a statement. Messy, messy business.
One of the Samson Security strike team operatives approached, clad from head to toe in that futuristic armor. He stopped ten feet away from Robert.
"How can you make sure nobody will sneak into the room through the window?" He said with a distorted voice.
"The same way I know you have six non-standard-issue knives hidden in your armor, Tyrone," Robert replied with a neutral tone.
He got an amused chuckle in response. "How're you doing?"
"I'm peppy, thank you for asking," Robert deadpanned.
"Did you watch over her door every day during your trip?" Tyrone asked to tease him.
"No. I laid down in bed with her and held her in my arms while she cried herself to sleep. This?" Robert nudged his head toward the door. "This is a first in months."
Tyrone paused to figure out whether Robert was joking or not. A sigh revealed he hadn't. "Cool, bro. Good job keeping her safe. You got my respect."
That broke Robert out of his British Palace Guard act. He raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "Thank you, Tyrone. That means a lot."
"I almost feel bad for turning your innards into mincemeat," Tyrone mocked a jab to the stomach, then chuckled. "Good, you didn't even flinch this time."
That was because his Time tempering didn't telegraph any attack on him. Robert only nodded and shifted back to his neutral stance.
"I'm gonna grab a beer with the lads. Do you want one?"
"Nah, I'm good."
*
*
The next day, a hover APC with the Samson logo stamped in every possible surface arrived. They entered, taking the spots at the front near the driver, which were safer. The strike team took the back. Robert felt weightless for a moment as the vehicle climbed and stopped mid-air, moving forward the next moment. At least the ride was steady. The rocky landscape blurred past.
Robert stared out the window. Faralethal was many times bigger than earth, a real planet with a real sun. The horizon was impossibly big as the planet's curvature only hid the terrain thirty to forty miles away.
Using a tablet, Robert read the news. When the one-step passage to Faralethal was discovered, the mining rights were auctioned by the government, with the Kraven clan grabbing the most shares. That all went Basilisk, the city lord of his and Amanda's hometown, who snatched the Kraven shares for a heinously cheap price after the Kraven patriarch decided to die in an unnamed realm deep in the interspace in search of an opportunity to advance from four to five stars.
One big reason Earth had no six-star Archs was time. Unless you were under Professor Actus' tutelage, facing waves upon waves of flaming monkeys like you were a turret in a tower defense game, advancing took time. Especially when you had a major organization to run and nobody stronger than you to challenge your rule.
That's why anyone at peak two-stars was considered elite. Three stars were the elders in sects, corporations, cult, or however people wanted to call their organization. Four stars were reserved for the top leaders. The patriarchs and matriarchs and great-grandmothers around the world. Finally, five-stars were so rare you could count those alive on Earth in a single hand.
But Robert didn't feel like an elite. Even though he could probably defeat every single one of the Samson Security's special agents. No. Against the horrors he saw in the interspace, he was but a fledgling. But these were only labels people slapped on others and themselves to feel good.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Amanda stirred and then nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder, grabbing his arm and holding it against her chest. She had her eyes closed and would be the image of serenity if not for her ragged breath and fast-beating heart.
He glanced out at the alien world humanity conquered. It used to be crawling with monsters, and now these were confined in the dark corners where the light of civilization couldn't reach. He saw a city with tall spires of gleaming silver.
That felt alien to him. To live in safety among other people, to go on unaware of what lurked beyond. That a single passage opening next to you could spell your doom.
It reminded him of the "employee of the month" Freddy. The human one. Apparently, he was the one who first found the passage to Faralethal. Then he vanished. Most likely dead. Killed by the hand of greed because the guy was owed a share of everything that came out of this place.
The ordeal had changed him. He got used to the adrenalin, the discomfort, the tension. Was this what people called veteran’s PTSD? No. Most probably not. He was John Rambo, coming back from war to find he had become a wolf with no place among the sheep.
He scritched Cotton, then Coal. He exchanged a glance with Noah. Or Noah's mask. It was hard to tell if the teacher was even awake.
The vehicle went on, hovering over the jagged rocks and vaulting over the deep crevices where monsters lurked. Where Robert's heart craved action.
Hours later, the APC entered another resplendent city, a marvel of modern construction techniques and Ether technology. It docked at the Samson enclave.
*
*
Robert's first grievance with civilization was that he had to leash Freddy and place Cotton and Coal in their puffbloom cages, strapping them to his belt.
"It's okay," Freddy woofed.
he got the feeling the floating hairballs weren't bothered by it at all.
"Sorry about that, anyway," Robert growled back.
Freddy chuffed and nodded.
Amanda took the lead, flanked by three special forces on either side, with Robert and Noah close behind. Samson employees and the local branch managers came in droves to congratulate the young mistress on her safe return.
It was something he forgot while they were in the interspace. The Amanda who fought side-by-side with him wasn't a heiress billionaire with an entire megacorporation at her beck and call. She was just Amanda. Simple Amanda. Vulnerable Amanda. This he was seeing in front of him? That was not Amanda. That was a personal Amanda wove around her to shield her from the sycophants. That's why she hid her affiliation back in the Mollusk passage.
But he knew she harbored a sadness while in the many passage realms. Amanda was a social creature. She needed more contact with people than Robert or Noah. Perhaps his previous observations were wrong. The real Amanda sat somewhere in-between these two opposites.
Finally, an executive that seemed to be the leader of this outpost placed himself right in front of Amanda's path. The security strike team didn't move to intercept him or make way. Instead, they stopped.
"Miss Samson, what a delight to see you alive and well once again," the man said with an over-the-top cadence and tone. Too dramatic to be real.
"Hello, uncle George," Amanda replied. "The interspace tried but it couldn't kill me."
"Oh, oh ho ho!" Uncle George laughed, bringing out a handkerchief to cover his mouth. "It also didn't break your spirit, I see. I see. Welcome to Samson's Faralethal headquarters, my dear niece."
"Thank you for preparing this reception," Amanda replied without any emotion behind her voice. "We are in a hurry to go back to Imperial. Have you arranged transportation?"
Uncle George's mask faltered for a moment, a scowl flashing across his features. "Why, you should rest and recover here before traveling back to Earth. I worry for your health."
"I have a healer bodyguard. My health is perfect, thank you. Now, transportation. I swear, Uncle George, if I miss the tournament qualifiers, I'm going to have you transferred to a depth seven passage outpost."
"You jest..." He paused to read her expression. "But so do I. The transport is ready and loaded, Ether batteries fully charged! it will be ready to depart tomorrow! I have so much to show you here!"
Or he had so many people he wanted to show Amanda to.
"Captain Tucker?" Amanda called, causing the strike team captain to snap to attention. "Yes, miss?"
"We are going back to the APC and then to the passage to Earth. This order is effective immediately."
"You heard the lady, men. About turn, march!"
The six elites moved in perfect synchrony. They turned and walked, keeping pace with Amanda. Robert and Noah waited until Amanda had passed them, then they turned around and followed.
"Amanda! My favorite niece! Please wait!" Uncle George's plans of earning social clout crumbled down like a house of cards.
*
*
The APC comms flared to life. Captain Tucker answered, then passed a communicator to Amanda.
"Miss, it's your father."
Amanda placed the communicator over her ear, then triggered a privacy ward that blocked sound. Robert could only watch as she had a heated discussion with her father. After fifteen minutes, she yanked the communicator and tossed it to Tucker.
"I'm indisposed. Do not disturb me," Amanda said and hid her face against Robert's arm. He felt his uniform sleeve get damp.
Fucking shit. Not a day after they got back to civilization, the world was dumping months of accumulated shit on them. Robert looked at Noah.
"Is everything okay? What happens now?"
"Everything is fine. We got out, we didn't suffer any permanent injury," Noah replied. "What happens next is of little consequence. You two should get to the tournament qualifiers, strive to finish first and second, while I will have a mountain of paperwork to deal with, reports to write, and at least two dozen scientific papers to draft. Do you want to be a co-author on most of them? They're worth a lot of credits."
Robert was about to decline but he remembered what Jeremiah told him before he came to Imperial. That he should enjoy the opportunity and learn, instead of just focusing on his job and squandering it.
"Sure. We can sign the papers, the three of us."
"Excellent," Noah sighed, relieved. "I was afraid I would have nobody to dump the grunt work on! Thanks for volunteering!"
Robert laughed. Noah laughed. Amanda seized the opportunity to hide a sob underneath the noise.