Chương 74: Territorial Disputes

Another flight from Los Angeles to Washington went exactly as expected: no delays, no turbulence, nothing worth remembering. When you take the same route three times in a matter of weeks, air travel starts feeling about as exciting as a ride on a commuter bus. Still weaving through the crowded arrivals terminal with my duffel bag over my shoulder, I pulled out my phone and called my mother. According to every medical metric, her upgraded body was functioning perfectly. There was no reason to worry.

Still, years of professional habit made it difficult to sign off on any audit without a final personal verification.

"Hi, Tom!" Her voice came through so bright and carefree that it threw me for a second. That was how college girls sounded on the first day of summer break, not women in their sixties.

"You made it already? How's the weather there?"

"Yeah, just landed. How are you feeling? Everything okay?"

"You know, I feel better than I have in forty years," she said, practically vibrating with energy.

"I'd forgotten what it's like to wake up without feeling like my joints rusted shut overnight. No leg cramps, no getting dizzy when I stand up too fast. I just get up and go wherever I want."

"I'm glad to hear the recovery went smoothly," I said. Then a mix of background noises caught my attention: children's laughter, distant music, the murmur of a crowd, and the metallic clatter of machinery.

"Based on what I'm hearing, you're definitely not sitting at home with a book. Where are you?"

"Tom, are you serious?" There was a rebellious spark in her voice that sounded more teenage than anything I had ever heard from her.

"I've spent the last five years trapped between my kitchen and the nearest pharmacy. I've had enough of that. I'm at an amusement park."

"What's the objective?" I asked automatically, already evaluating potential risks.

"Because I finally can!" she shot back.

"I looked in the mirror this morning and realized I don't have to calculate whether a roller coaster might trigger a stroke or blow a blood vessel anymore. My body can handle it. And right now, I'm standing in line for the biggest cotton candy they sell. Diabetes has officially been canceled."

"It's your decision," I said, hearing the rustle of cash as she paid the vendor.

"Just remember to keep some distance from the neighbors. We really don't need the local gossip mill obsessing over your sudden transformation."

"Relax, Tom. I figured that out before I even left the apartment," she said with an amused snort.

"If one of the long-time residents runs into me in the hallway, here's the story: Tom and Maggie went traveling, and I'm a distant relative they hired to watch the place, collect the mail, and water the plants. Any resemblance gets explained away by family genetics."

"Simple and effective," I said after running the scenario through a quick mental review.

"Hard to find any holes in that."

"Mmm... wow, that's good..." she murmured, apparently taking a bite of the cotton candy.

"It tastes like pure chemicals and crunches against my teeth, but it's amazing. I think I'm going after a couple of hot dogs next. My stomach doesn't stage a revolt every time I eat greasy food anymore."

"Looks like you're getting everything you can out of this," I said, realizing a genuine smile had found its way onto my face for the first time all day.

"I won't keep you from enjoying yourself." After we said goodbye, I slipped my phone back into my pocket and headed for the terminal exit, making my way toward the pickup location Selina had sent me. True to her reputation for punctuality, Professor Langstrom was already waiting in the parking lot. The breeze played through her blonde hair.

Her usual prescription glasses had been replaced by expensive aviator sunglasses, and a thin silk scarf was tied around her neck in a way that looked effortless despite obviously being carefully arranged. Selina had always possessed flawless style. She was one of those women who looked like they belonged on the cover of a glossy magazine even after spending twelve hours in a laboratory. She was sitting behind the wheel of a bright red convertible with the top down. I smirked to myself.

It was exactly the kind of car a woman would choose if she refused to wear shoes that did not come with four-inch heels. The amusement vanished the moment I noticed who was sitting beside her. It was Megan. Dressed in a knee-length summer dress and wearing a classic pearl necklace, she looked like the ideal suburban housewife from an upscale neighborhood, the kind of woman who devoted half her life to maintaining a flawless image. Next to Selina's resort-ready look, she seemed completely out of place.

Her presence in the car shattered several assumptions I had already made, and that immediately put me on guard.

"Hi, Tom!" Megan greeted me with a warm smile and a small wave.

"You're looking great. How's Mrs. Ross doing?"

"She's doing fine," I replied evenly. Her familiar tone made me slightly uncomfortable, but I decided to go along with it.

"How about you? How's Mary?"

"Oh, you know my girl." Megan sighed, though pride flashed across her face.

"She practically lives at the gym. Works herself into the ground every day. I keep telling her, 'Mary, it's summer. Take a break.' But she's stubborn as a mule. Says she has to be in peak condition when the portal opens. I know the training program technically isn't over yet, and this first trip is mostly an evaluation..."

"An evaluation?" I immediately seized on the new information.

"The curator never mentioned anything about that. What exactly is being evaluated?"

"Well..."

"Are you two planning to bankrupt me?" Selina cut in irritably, tapping her long nails against the leather-wrapped steering wheel.

"This parking lot charges by the minute."

"Oops. Sorry, we got distracted." Megan covered her mouth with one hand and shot the professor an apologetic glance.

"Tom, want help with your bag?"

"I've got it." I walked around the convertible while pulling up a forgotten piece of information from long-term memory. Years ago, I had watched a detailed review of this exact model. My brain supplied the technical specifications almost immediately. The trunk release was hidden beneath the lower edge of the lid, just left of the center emblem. I pressed the concealed switch. The lock clicked, and the trunk rose smoothly upward.

I placed my duffel bag inside, packed with a carefully planned week's worth of essentials. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. After closing the trunk, I stepped over the side and settled into the leather rear seat. Selina eased onto the accelerator, and the powerful engine answered with a low growl. The convertible surged forward and merged into the faster-moving traffic. Warm air rushed against my face.

For a brief moment, looking at the two attractive women in the front seats, I found myself thinking that from the outside this probably looked like the life of some spoiled playboy getting chauffeured around by beautiful women. It was an amusing contrast to my former career as an accountant.

"How'd you end up here, Megan?" I asked, raising my voice over the wind.

"Honestly, I wasn't expecting to see you in this car."

"I didn't expect our paths to cross again so soon either." She turned halfway toward me and gave me a knowing wink.

"Tom, do you believe in destiny? Washington's a huge city, but somehow fate just keeps throwing us together."

"Don't listen to her, Tom," Selina cut in sharply, her hands steady on the wheel.

"There's nothing mystical about it. This woman just happened to be nearby when you called me before your flight. She overheard the conversation and shamelessly invited herself along. She's taking advantage of my boundless generosity."

"I happened to be close enough to hear your phone call at the exact moment Tom called," Megan replied without missing a beat, adjusting her pearl necklace.

"If anything, that proves the universe is on my side."

"Horoscopes, tarot cards, lucky charms... I'll never understand why otherwise intelligent adults are so eager to fill their heads with that pseudoscientific nonsense." The familiar note of condescension crept into Selina's voice.

"I've personally interviewed a sentient humanoid from a world hundreds of light-years away from Earth. From his part of the galaxy, our constellations aren't even visible, and nobody there has ever heard of zodiac signs. Somehow they still managed to build a highly advanced civilization."

"You always reduce everything to equations and data," Megan said, rolling her eyes as she settled back into her seat.

"Not a romantic bone in your body. You're basically a robot."

"The important thing is that Tom likes me exactly the way I am," Selina replied sweetly, with just enough edge to make it a jab. Megan blinked. For a moment, genuine surprise crossed her face. I could practically see the calculations running behind her eyes. She studied Selina's profile, then turned the same assessing look on me. My instincts warned me that the temperature inside the convertible was climbing fast.

Rather than get dragged into whatever territorial dispute was unfolding, I decided to redirect the conversation.

"I didn't realize you two spent that much time together. Are you friends?""'Friends' is a little too emotionally loaded," Selina corrected.

"In this case, 'colleagues' would be more accurate. We interact strictly through work." Megan did not object. She merely hummed in agreement, which only reinforced Selina's point.

"I know the type of relationship," I said, steering the discussion onto safer ground.

"Classic corporate dynamics. You see each other every day at the office coffee machine, trade the same jokes, maybe split a pizza after a late-night project. Then one of you leaves for another company, and the phone number quietly disappears from your contacts because there's no reason to keep it."

"Tom, why don't you make this drive a little more interesting?" Megan asked, visibly relaxing as her cheerful expression returned.

"Tell us a story from your accounting days. There had to be at least one ridiculous audit or tax nightmare." I quickly sifted through years of office memories. Gray routines. Spreadsheets. Endless reconciliations. The only genuinely dramatic event from that entire chapter of my life had been the day I got fired, and using that story to entertain my companions would have been spectacularly unwise.

"Nothing happens in accounting that anyone outside the profession would find entertaining," I said.

"Let's get back to something useful. You mentioned an evaluation after clearing the first portal. I need details."

"Oh, that." Megan glanced out at the highway signs slipping past.

"That assessment exists specifically for people being considered for assault teams. Honestly, despite being an official test, the score won't have a major impact on your future."

"Go on."

"The Corps primarily needs assault specialists capable of securing and clearing hostile territory." Her voice lost some of its usual lightness and took on a faintly apologetic tone.

"If your abilities are purely combat-oriented, then even if you decide to sabotage the mission out of spite... I don't know, start using grenades to crack walnuts or something... the Corps still won't send you back to civilian life. They'll just keep recycling you through training programs until you get it right. That's non-negotiable."

"So the Corps doesn't really have room for dead weight?"

"Exactly." She spread her hands.

"If your abilities are versatile, poor combat performance could get you reassigned to support or administrative work and permanently removed from frontline operations. But if your profile is strictly combat-focused, then the front line is where you're staying." That was useful information and deserved serious thought. Unfortunately, serious thought was difficult with two women circling each other like rival cats in the front seats.

"Tom won't be joining an assault team," Selina said firmly, pressing harder on the accelerator.

"We've already discussed this. As soon as he completes the mandatory first-portal operation, he'll officially become my lead laboratory assistant. After that, he won't have to enter another portal."

"Wow. Sounds like you've got some pretty serious plans for our Tom." Megan narrowed her eyes playfully while studying both of us.

"Can I ask a question? Is this strictly professional, or is there something else going on here?"

"We are connected solely by a mutual interest in science," I said immediately, cutting off that dangerous line of inquiry before it could gain momentum.

"Really? Just science?" Megan sounded thoroughly unconvinced and far too entertained.

"Mary mentioned that during training camp, you used to visit the faculty building pretty regularly in the evenings, Tom. You weren't stopping by Professor Langstrom's room, were you?"

"Oh, those visits were unforgettable," Selina purred unexpectedly, shooting Megan a brief but venomous look through the rearview mirror.

"Tom made me feel so good that afterward I could barely walk for half an hour." Megan froze. Her lips parted slightly in shock at the sheer bluntness of the statement. The situation was rapidly approaching the point where her imagination would start inventing details of its own. It seemed wise to intervene before that happened.

"I was giving her deep-tissue massages," I explained in a calm, professional tone.

"Working out chronic muscle tension."

"Oh. That's what you meant." Megan relaxed instantly, and her familiar flirtatious smile returned.

"I didn't know you had skills like that, Tom. Maybe you could stop by my place one evening. My back could use some help too." The convertible's brakes squealed. The car lurched forward and came to an abrupt stop along the curb of a broad city boulevard.

"What's wrong, Selina?" Megan asked, looking around in confusion.

"There's no traffic, no backup, and the light's green. Why'd we stop?"

"You asked for a ride to the central shopping district, didn't you?" Selina's voice had acquired the sharpness of polished steel.

"We're here. Now get out of my car. Immediately."

"I'm not exactly in a hurry." Megan deliberately settled deeper into the leather seat without making the slightest move toward the door handle.

"Where are you taking Tom anyway? The lab? I could come with you. My schedule's completely open today."

"Not happening," Selina said flatly, her grip tightening on the steering wheel.

"It's a classified Corps research project. You don't have the necessary clearance."

"Is that right?" Megan turned toward me, looking for confirmation. I gave a small nod, making it clear that Selina was telling the truth and that extra company would not be welcome.

"Well, classified is classified," Megan said with a resigned sigh, recognizing that there was no arguing with that. She reluctantly opened the door and stepped gracefully onto the sidewalk.

"See you later, Tom." The instant the heavy door slammed shut, Selina buried the accelerator. The engine roared, and the convertible launched forward with such aggression that it looked as though a swarm of xenomorphs was chasing us. Professor Langstrom clearly did not appreciate outsiders taking an interest in what she considered her territory.