Wind buffeted the small spacecraft. All three shuttles had landed within two hundred feet of the bunker. Eva and Sten would emerge from shuttles one and two and perform reconnaissance.

Inside shuttle one, Rooks and her military were grim but ready. Amid the tumbled vegetables, Camellia sat and clutched her handkerchief. Meladee curled in a tight ball, and Adalhard knelt, his hand resting near Camellia.

Eva spared them a glance and then, ignored them all as she packed for a short trip outside.

Rooks drew close. “Go inside. Disable this storm generator. We don’t want to operate under these conditions.”

Eva nodded. “Sten and I will have the generator down as soon as possible.”

“There may be tendrils outside,” Camellia warned. “Large ones. And, Ul’thetos may be angry enough to move them.”

Eva nodded again. “I’m armed. I’ll adapt.”

On her hips, Eva holstered two guns, both the large and small. She hoisted her crystal staff and stood before the doorway. With a twist of the lock, she opened the door and slipped out.

Rooks’ men slammed the door behind her.

There was little rain, but Eva emerged into strong wind. She stood in a space clear of flesh, but ahead, a large tentacle loomed in the air. It looked like a spire of shadow against the bleak sky.

With her eyes, Eva measured the tendril. It would not reach her or the close side of the bunker, but Eva realized the creature’s limb could scrape the far side.

Eva caught movement in her peripheral vision. Beside shuttle one, Sten joined her.

“If that tentacle can summon some more length, we’ll be in trouble.” Sten nodded to the limb.

Eva hummed her agreement.

Sten nudged Eva. “Let’s go inside. I suppose we can expect them to be hostile?”

“For once, I don’t know what to expect from them,” Eva admitted.

The wind howled. They strolled to the bunker’s front door. Eva watched Ul’thetos’ looming limb, but it barely swayed in the wind. They arrived at the metal portal, and Sten tried to trigger the release.

“Locked. I suppose that would be the logical thing to do, given that everyone they care about is inside.” Sten straightened. “What’s your plan?”

“If we have to, we’ll destroy it. It’s designed to withstand creeping flesh, not me.” Eva raised her Lurrien com. “First, I’m going to call some friends. Tiny Tin? Ferrou? It’s Eva. Open the door.”

Static sizzled across the channel, blending with the sound of the wind. Eva waited.

“Eva,” Tiny Tin’s voice whispered back. “Wait while I create a distraction. The androids don’t want to let you in.”

“Wonderful.” Eva stepped back from the door. “We’ll wait for Tiny Tin or Ferrou to open it.”

Sten stared at Eva. “Are they toys or repair bots?”

Before they ever approached Lurren, Eva had given Sten a quick idea of current Lurrien society. She told him her only friends were robots and that the androids were all hostile. Eva never told him the names of her friends or their functions, and she wasn’t surprised to find him curious.

“Tiny Tin and Ferrou are repair bots. You’ll know them by their shapes. Tin is a box with eye stalks and arms. Ferrou is a silver puddle. Spring Peeper and Wheelian are toys.”

“I see. I look forward to meeting them,” Sten said. “I wonder what kind of distraction they’ll create.”

They waited. They had nothing to do but listen to the wind and look at the wreck that was Lurren.

Eva tried to ignore it, but already imprinted in her memory, she saw Lurren at its worst. The black sky contrasted with a grey horizon, mottled by red lights. Veins of black and red flesh rose into the air and created ropey hills.

“Eva, Lurren is… I’m so sorry you’ve had to live here most of your life. It’s beyond what I imagined.”

Eva grumbled, “Uglier than usual.”

The bunker door opened, and she pushed Sten back.

In the doorway, Ferrou stretched himself. He rose from sneaking puddle to welcoming silver ghost. Eva grabbed Sten and pulled him inside, and Ferrou slammed the door.

“We need to deactivate the generator. We’ve brought help.” Eva gestured to Sten.

Ferrou turned and formed the peak of his puddle into a beak. With that beak, he pointed in the direction of the generator controls.

As Eva expected, the generator controls still resided in the far room. From that far room, symbols crashed, animals squeaked, and comical boing-boing noises emanated.

“I see,” Eva said. “They couldn’t have picked a better room for the distraction?”

Ferrou shook his beak and then bubbled along the hallway. Sten and Eva followed.

“Perhaps, they should move their little parade into the hall,” Sten whispered under the din.

“No need.” Eva strode into the room where she would find both controls and chaos.

At first, no one saw her. The robots and toys continued their panic, and the androids tried to calm them.

Eva raised her voice. “Should I explain the success of my probe or, perhaps, show you pictures of my freed Lurrien ship?”

The synthetics froze.

Tiny Tin shouted. “Eva!” He looked at a tall bronze android. “It would seem the visitors are not intruders at all. Just our beloved Eva.” Again, he turned to Eva and shouted with gusto, “Eva!”

The toys echoed his cry.

“You endangered Iruedim,” Leonidus said. “And, at a time that the flesh has grown so close to the bunker.”

“Yes, literally,” Eva agreed. “There’s a limb hovering outside, and it can touch the side of the bunker if it chooses.”

“You are no longer welcome here.”

“And, you can no longer hide here.” Eva crossed to the controls.

Two androids seized her, and Sten pulled his weapon.

“Let her disengage your storm generator. You have no choice,” he ordered.

“Who is this?” Leonidus gestured at Sten.

“Sten. He’s a synthetic from outside the wormhole, and I have a bunch of organics outside. Do you like organics?” Eva knew that the robots nearly worshipped them. “If you still value them, you might find them easier to keep alive without the storm generator.”

“It’s our mandate to keep the generator active. Disengaging it can endanger all of Iruedim, and it is Lurren’s deepest shame to do so.”

Eva rolled her eyes. “Lurren’s deepest shame is being a dead society. One that failed to contain the creature.” Eva struggled, still trapped in the androids’ arms.

The androids exchanged looks, and the toys pulled into a huddle to cower. The repair bots reacted not at all.

Sten held his gun steady. “We believe the creature is extending itself into the water.” His words grabbed the attention of all the synthetics.

The room fell quiet.

Sten continued, “Actually, we know it has. If it reaches warm enough water, it may seek a warmer climate altogether and uproot itself.” He kept his gun trained on the two androids that held Eva.

“The flesh cannot do so. It can only grow, not move.” Leonidus said, sans body language.

“There’s a lot we don’t know about the flesh.” Eva pulled free. “You can see proof that it’s moved.” Eva gestured to the wall closest to the creature. “The thing can practically knock on the door, and many of these robots must have witnessed the creature’s first movements over a month ago. Didn’t you ask them what happened?”

“This is not due to growth?” one synthetic said to another.

“No. When I woke, the creature was not so close.” Eva took a tentative step to the controls. “Let me turn off the generator, so the organics can kill that thing. Otherwise, the thing might leave Lurren and travel to somewhere else in Iruedim, and I suppose that will be, without question, your deepest shame.”

Tiny Tin rolled to the middle of the room. “I concur that the flesh has moved. Not grown. We witnessed its movement as it chased us back to the bunker.”

Other repair bots beeped their agreement.

“We did tell you,” Tiny Tin stressed to Leonidus. The small repair bot stretched his eye stalks to peer at Leonidus.

Eva initiated a shutdown of the storm generator, and no one moved to stop her.

Sten stepped forward and finally lowered his weapon. “You didn’t question why suddenly the flesh seemed so close? When you woke, didn’t you run an analysis of its growth pattern? You would have found that it could not possibly grow so fast during your hibernation.”

The androids never answered Sten. Each bowed its head in complacent introspection, even Leonidus.

“See what I mean?” Eva asked Sten. She felt confident that he would soon see just how soulless her companions were. She pulled the final lever, and far away, the generator received the signal to cease the storm. Eva turned to the room. “You’re even more devoid of purpose than I remember.”

Inside the shuttle, Meladee wished for Benham.

He’s there in that other shuttle all lonely and stuff. Probably scared and thinking that I’m some man-using slut. God, I wish I could talk to Camellia.

Meladee glanced over and bumped Camellia’s elbow.

Camellia looked up.

“Sorry,” Meladee said, but her intense stare and a single tap to her head sent a different message.

Camellia narrowed her eyes. She held the handkerchief aloft.

Shit. The thing works on Camellia too. She can’t talk to me. Meladee tried to convey the ‘Oh shit’ feeling in her eyes. She let them go wide and wild.

On Camellia’s other side, Adalhard rested. He watched Camellia’s raised hanky and asked, “Are you alright? Not thinking of putting that aside are you?”

“No, I was going to use it. I’m a bit sniffly,” Camellia lied.

Meladee appreciated Camellia’s efforts to protect her privacy. For a moment, Meladee thought she would never sacrifice Camellia to Ul’thetos. She couldn’t believe Ul’thetos bought it.

Camellia stared at her lap and the useful little cloth. Unbeknownst to Camellia, Adalhard gave her a soft-hearted look.

Meladee nearly laughed as she watched the man put a concerned arm around Camellia.

“I’m sorry. Returning to this place must be hard for you,” he said.

Every eye in the room turned to Adalhard and Camellia, even Rooks turned curious eyes to them.

Camellia looked at Adalhard, wide-eyed. “Oh, I’m not crying. It’s just...allergies.”

"To what?”

“Vegetables,” Camellia quickly supplied, glancing behind her. “Or at least one of them. I’m not sure which.”

“Whatever it is, you shouldn’t eat it,” one man warned, the same who had lost his music player.

Camellia nodded, and while Adalhard’s attention was turned to the spilled vegetables, Camellia put her head on his shoulder. She smiled, but her smile was sad.

Meladee didn’t know why.

It’s gonna work out, Meladee privately assured an oblivious Camellia.

Meanwhile, Meladee had thoughts of her own situation. Meladee thought Alastronia’s death would free her. At first, it did. Meladee never felt so free. But, when she remembered Ul’thetos and Ah’nee’thit, her psuedo freedom flew away. And, for some reason, she couldn’t stop worrying about Benham.

Damn, I hope he’s okay.

“The storm seems to have stopped,” Rooks announced. “We thought it might be a break before the cycle resumed, but I think the generator may, in fact, be off.”

Outside, a bang sounded on shuttle one, and Eva’s voice came over communications. “Generator’s off, and the tendrils appear to be stable for now.”

“Alright, everybody out.”