CORPORATE RETREAT - PART II

The glaring sun high over head.

Coarse sand hot under foot.

Sweat already beading at my forehead.

Shirt sticking almost everywhere.

I’ve never been good at dealing with the heat, but this is ridiculous.

Meganie, maybe as part of being designed rather than born, has surprising stamina and temperature resiliance. Must have been seen as a necessity to ensure research could be completed without much delay or impairment if the required devices kicked up a lot of heat, or if environmental regulation systems failed in the labs.

And here I was hoping to see her hot and bothered...

Things have been strained again since the ice planet – I think seeing her in soaked underwear was a step too far – but here we are on this Corporate Retreat, so hopefully a sunny beach will thaw her out.

If I don’t melt first, that is. And, if nothing else, she looks stunning in her classy black two-piece. At monochromatic contrast with her everything else.

She’s definitely breaking rule 3 now!

“H-how do I...” Meganie trails off.

Gorgeous, beautiful, sublime... if I do say so myself.

Unsurprisingly, her clothing options consisted of the same repeating utilitarian items, no beachwear in sight.

I only had the office clothes I arrived in, so I’ve spent some time with the various automated manufacturing machines we have at the Returns Agency for making disguises, to fill out my own wardrobe.

So – while sorting out some shorts, shirts, and slip-ons for myself – I sorted a selection of swimsuits, sarongs, shawls, and sandals for my colleague as well. Not like she’d know what to wear to the beach anyway.

Plus, I got pretty good at guessing what looks best on different body types from working in a beachwear store my first summer out of high-school. I was still wet behind the ears, so it was pretty uncomfortable. The only male member of staff in a place almost exclusively shopped at by women.

Everyone thought I was a pervert.

Though we did get the odd client who came in and demanded I serve them exclusively, because how they looked to a guy was all that mattered. Forcing me to give my opinion on every bikini they tried on.

I could barely look customers in the eye, let alone anywhere else.

I can still remember the exact number of ceiling panels and floor tiles.

Every boyfriend that came through the doors silently saluting my efforts to stay sane in such surroundings, so long as I didn’t look at their girlfriend, then I’d be a dead man.

Every actual pervert, I’d shame out of the store with a glare, their intent obvious at a glance.

Never again... until now.

I already had Meganie’s measurements from the sailor uniform, so everything fits... amazingly, I must add.

She stammers a little longer, so I prepare a work appropriate compliment, “You look perfect-”

“How do I ‘beach’?” I can feel my back give out and I crumple to the ground.

How do I bury myself alive?

With embarrassment taking hold of both of us, I contemplate her question.

I assume she means, 'what do you do at the beach?'

Although I haven’t been in years – only a brief trip with friends around part-time jobs during summer vacations – I’m sure a planet used as an interdimensional hot spot for gods, heroes, and the multiverse’s insanely wealthy, should be perfect for hitting up all the clichés.

I clear my throat and put on a confident facade, even if I am melting inside and out.

“Ahem... this place looks perfect for all sorts of beach activities!”

Good save old sport!

I proceed to list the main offenders: swimming, splashing each other, sunbathing, letting someone put sun lotion all over you, animal watching, rock pooling, fishing, finding a secluded spot to spend some private time together, having a bonfire, barbecuing various foods, watching the sunset, playing with sparklers, setting off fireworks, showering back in our hotel room before applying some after-sun cream... y’know, the usual.

Meganie doesn’t even blink at the more couply items I throw in there. I know she doesn’t know any better either, and I don’t mean to take advantage, but if someone doesn’t step up?

I clutch my fist tight to steel myself for what I must do.

Fortune favours the bold!

We stake out a prime spot with our beach towels and ease into the holiday.

As I'm putting up the parasol, Meganie stares out at the ocean. “Pretty...” she muses to no one, a contented smile carrying itself across her lips.

You’re damn right you are.

I’m still not confident enough to say cheesy lines aloud, but it doesn’t stop me from thinking them.

I’ve been having them increasingly, honestly. I didn’t want us to get co-dependent or anything, but knowing she’s as much a fish out of water as myself, with how well we work together as a team, and how cute she is… I just can’t help what I’m feeling.

She notices my gaze, and with her customary cool expression, pulls the sheer over-shirt about her.

Dang it! Real subtle.

We sit and watch the waves.

I mostly steal glances at Meganie while she takes in the scenery.

Her usually bobbed hair pulled back in a short ponytail and bangs, accentuating her nape. Even if her pale skin is acting almost like a mirror in the glare.

It was a shock to see her without her glasses too.

Turns out they're as 'fake' as her name; more like eye-protection for the labs and a screen for micro-projectors to reflect a HUD onto as an extension of her data slate.

It's that weird sort of nice seeing more of her.

Lashes and eyebrows as white as the rest... or so I would assume.

As my body finally adjusts a little to the heat, I can feel some of my muscles relax. My joints popping like bubble wrap while I lie back and stretch out beyond the scale of my towel.

Our eyes meet for a moment as the novice beach-goer follows my lead; the arch of her back and extension of her limbs absolutely slays me.

I look away and focus on the horizon so as not to have a heart attack.

If only she knew how cute she is.

“This...” Meganie’s voice soft with relaxation. The warm and the calm working their magic, “...is nice.”

Our itinerary is to do as little as possible. Although I’d offered a laundry list of options, my intent extends about as far as the shoreline.

The planet itself is a weird one, nothing but small islands, no major land masses, and on a fixed axis, so very predictable weather. Hence, beach world.

I’d read that a lot of the destinations are themed to offer more variety, but the Returns Agency opted for classic ‘beach’ flavour. All hammocks and cabanas and frozen drinks. The perfect choice for a first time.

I blush at my thought’s poor choice of words, then, “It’s quiet...” at my colleague’s words, I look around.

It’s not like they have an off-season, and a good chunk of the Returners should be turning up for this retreat, so...

RRRUUUMMMBBBLLLEEE!!!

The ground vibrates.

KKKKKKRRRRRREEEEEE!!!

A great cry goes up.

What the hell is going on?!.

We scurry to the brow of a dune and strain our eyes against the sun towards our hotel in the distance. The place looks intact, but a haze of dust has been kicked up in all directions, surrounding the complex and obscuring it partly from view.

We follow the curve of the coast. It takes a few minutes, but with each step closer, the ground shakes more intensely. Debris explodes into the sky as the raised voices of panicked staff and heroes barking orders finally reaches us.

At least for a moment if felt like a break...

“Evacuate the civilians! Warriors to the front! Support behind!” A tall, broad, muscular woman in one of those athletics style swimsuits – like a crop top and not quite shorts not quite briefs – has partially taken control of the situation.

Meganie absorbs her impressive stature with almost envy. “Otrera, the monster, it has taken another!” At the sound of what must her name, the giantess grits her teeth and steps out into the fray.

“Form up! On me!” The array of heroes, from all times and places, used to independent combat and solitary lives, still manage to follow orders and work together in a crisis. Some minor grumbles of disagreement from various herculean jar-heads are quickly quelled by the raven haired Otrera’s quick and authoritative orders, “As first of the Amazons, follow me!”

That explains it… can’t argue with a warrior queen, no wonder she’s so strong!

They muster a charge, but without weapons and armour, only what improvised equipment they can scavenge from the wreckage around the hotel, the Returners are tossed back like rag dolls in skirtinis and posing pouches. Their beach umbrella spears and picnic table shields scatter to the wind.

“Ooooooooooooo~”

An enrapt noise emanates from my shoulder. Meganie is wide-eyed and bent forward with barely contained excitement.

Is she a hero fangirl?

To be fair, although our colleagues are being pushed back at the moment, their bravery and valour is a sight to behold. Let alone so many bronzed and chiselled bodies gleaming in the sun.

“Look out!”

I dive atop the distracted scientist, throwing both of us behind a pillar.

Something thick and liquid had whipped out of the dust cloud, near enough to lash us some 100 meters from the front line. “What on earth was that?!.”

Poor choice of words. We’re not on Earth so it could be anything.

A slight squirm brings me back round, replacing one panic with another as my heart begins pounding ever harder in my chest. The warmth of Meganie against me, a greater shock to the system than whatever we narrowly avoided.

If only they'd delayed the training part of the getaway a little longer-

I feel a great winding pressure on my leg.

Meganie is snatched away from me, or...

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH~

...more specifically, I am snatched away from her.