Evelyn raised her arms, shielding her face, braced for the worst.

  It never came. Instead, a gust of wind shoved her back. Her ears popped painfully. Her shadow changed angle, and then a whoosh of warm air blew against her back, light extinguishing.

  She wiggled her fingers. She was alive. Evelyn let out a shaky breath and checked Aster. He, too, was intact. Good.

  “Why did you do that?” the woman said.

  There was still her. “Stay away,” Evelyn said. “I’m not letting you destroy Aster.”

  “You gave it a name?”

  The woman pulled back her hood and clicked a latch on her mask. It peeled off, and what remained was a short, shoulder-length white-haired woman in her early 40s. Her eyes were a piercing violet. Her nose tapered to a sharp point, as did her ears, comically elongated. Instead of five fingers, she had six, stuffed into gloves bearing the same golden writing that once adorned the creature’s armor. Her thin, pale lips were set into a tight grimace, as if she’d drunk her own vial of the silvery liquid.

  Evelyn balled her hands into fists. “He saved me. He didn’t have one, so I gave it to him.”

  “Child, these are soldiers created for war. They cannot share empathy like we do.” Her eyes crinkled, but Evelyn wasn’t going to fall for it.

  “You were going to kill me! You’re the one without empathy!”

  “If I had none, I’d have let the unbinding spell disassemble you into a puddle of molecules. But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

  Evelyn pointed her finger and scowled. She had no leverage to use, nothing to stop the woman from changing her mind and killing Evelyn. But maybe that wasn’t the goal. “You want me alive so you can kidnap me like that thing outside.”

  Its crumpled remains were hard to miss. The woman did a very good job keeping her face neutral. “No. I want you alive, but not for the reasons you think.” The old woman looked down and raised a gloved hand to her mouth. “Child, you’re bleeding.”

  Evelyn glanced down at her knee. “I was… shot.”

  There was no longer a hole. No bleeding tissue, no pain at all. She touched where the hole had been and found nothing. Just smooth skin stretched over her knee and the burnt, bloodied fabric proof that yes, she did in fact heal completely. She worked her jaw and rubbed where the pressurized blast had stabbed lances into her ears. No aching there, either.

  “He healed me,” Evelyn said, turning halfway toward Aster.

  The woman tilted her head. “With nanites?”

  Evelyn had no idea what that was, but she nodded her head in pretend understanding. “Yeah. Why aren’t you attacking me?”

  “You were awakened recently, weren’t you?” she said.

  Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “How do you know?”

  The woman sighed wistfully. She seemed pensive, somehow, brow drawn in thought, gloved hand stroking her chin before settling on her hip. “I’ve visited other places like this one. Every time, I’m too late. This is the first time I’m early. Seekers don’t like to stay long.” She wrinkled her nose and glared at the corpse. “I understand if you don’t trust me. It’s smart of you. The world out there is good, but there are also some very bad things. You’re part of the good, and those bad things don’t like that. That is why animals like these come out of hiding,” she spit out.

  “Oh,” Evelyn said. Not that there was much to say. The woman had a calm, warm aura about her. She could read a bedtime story for all Evelyn cared and she’d still find the time and place to sit down and pay rapt attention.

  She wanted to trust this strange, elf-like woman. The fact she hadn’t killed Aster was a plus. Evelyn crossed her arms and straightened her posture. “Who are you?” she said.

  Without hesitation, the woman stood straight at attention and raised her fists to her shoulders. “Aurora Everest, agent of the Corsanian Security Corps,” she recited. “You may call me Aurora.”

  “It’s a pretty name,” Evelyn said.

  Aurora smiled. “Thank you. What is yours?”

  “Evelyn.” Technically it was EV-1, according to Aster, but he was currently offline and Aurora didn’t need to know. “What’s Corsanian?” Evelyn asked. “Or Security Corps? Are you a soldier?”

  “Oh, heavens, no, I don’t have the conditioning for it,” Aurora said. She laughed, and it was the warm type of laugh that eased some of Evelyn’s dread. “Come with me. I’ll protect you and keep you under my wing for as long as I can. I’ll show you everything you need to know.”

  It was subtle, the way she skipped over Evelyn’s other questions. She couldn’t bring herself to trust her just yet, but she trusted the robot that saved her life. “I’m not going without Aster,” she said. She gestured at the ribbed hose dangling overhead. “Help me plug that thing into his head.”

  Aurora’s smile faded away. “Evelyn, that is a soldier. They’re programmed to kill anything that is not like you. If it sees me, it will kill me, and there will be nowhere for you to go.”

  “Aster said he’d protect me.”

  “Yes, and then where would you go? Things changed, Evelyn. The world out there is not the same as it was when you were last awake.” Aurora sighed and offered a gloved hand, palm up, fingers stretched out. “You’ll be safer with me.”

  Evelyn shook her head and touched Aster’s cool metallic exoskeleton. “I’m not leaving him.”

  Aurora looked shaken, like she’d been the one struck down by Aster’s mechanical fury. “Very well. I hope this convinces you that I only want to help you.” Lilac enveloped her arms. Rather than concentrate into a searing ball, it enveloped the inert robot, lifted him, and gently deposited him onto the center table. Metal rang on metal. His arms and legs dangled from the edges. She stepped away, extinguishing the purple flames and clasping her hands together.

  “The rest is yours,” Aurora said.

  Evelyn hesitated. What if this was all an elaborate, drawn-out trick to lower her guard so she’d be caught easily?

  As if reading her mind, Aurora said, “I will do nothing. You have my word.”

  It could be nothing for all she knew, but Evelyn forced herself to turn her back and reach for the ribbed hose. Its end tapered into a squared rod of metal. She dragged it down and plugged it into what counted for Aster’s neck, that was, the square hole and the filaments of gold within.

  A soft click confirmed the connection, and one of the screens flickered to life. White words scrolled across a black background. Secure connection established. MosaNet copy generated. Preparing for delivery. What followed was a jumbled string of letters and numbers that made her eyes hurt, and then a progress bar that jumped from empty to full before she could blink.

  A soft hum filled the air. Aurora stood with her arms tucked behind her back, looking around in piqued interest. Evelyn held her breath as one of Aster’s fingers whirred and twitched.

  “MosaStar Commanding Operative 312-A online,” a familiar voice said. “Current designation: Aster.”

  The ribbed hose disconnected with a hiss of air, and it retracted into the ceiling. For a moment, he lay on the table, motionless, fingers twitching and servos whirring. It was a stark contrast to the cold killing machine that had swooped in to defend her. Like he’d had too many drinks and was trying to sleep it off.

  Evelyn stepped closer. “Aster?” she said.

  All it took was a nudge for him to burst into action. Limbs contorted at impossible angles as he planted himself in front of her and towered at his full height, hands raised, facing Aurora. She hid behind a shimmering lilac wall that spanned the room’s length. Her angular mask was back on her face, and her eyes blazed brighter than a supernova, irises twin circular discs that seemed to intensify even more.

  “I’m not here to fight,” she said. Were Evelyn’s ears still damaged, or did her voice waver? “I want to talk.”

  Aster slammed his elbow into the wall. It quivered like a blob of strawberry gelatin, holding firm. “My data logs indicate you belong to the Spellarian class of Corsanians.” He leaned forward, pressing his hands against the wall. It sank beneath his grip. “Therefore, a threat.”

  “How do you know that?” Aurora asked.

  “Threats must be eliminated at any cost.”

  Aster raised his elbow. Before he could strike again, Evelyn stepped in front and waved her arms.

  “Stop!” she said, then turned toward Aurora. “Stop. I want to believe you. I want to believe you’re not a liar, but how can we trust you?”

  “I don't want to,” Aster said. He bent his knees. Body poised like a statue. The nearly imperceptible hum of his chest grew into a shrill whine.

  Aurora gestured at them. “I helped you with him even knowing full well what he might do to me. I put my fate in your hands.”

  Aster patted Evelyn’s shoulder and tapped the wall. It sank under his touch like a pillow. “Bring down the shield, then,” he said. “And we will see.”

  “You understand that I can’t do that,” Aurora said.

  “Then leave. EV-1 falls under my protection and I will do everything within my power to guarantee her safety.” A whine accompanied his arm raising and making a fist. It was hard not to miss the silvery blood crusted over his knuckles and the hand-sized holes punched into the nearby corpse. “If you stay, then we will have conflict.”

  Evelyn wanted nothing more than to shrink into a tiny ball and ignore the world. Or better yet, dunk herself into another pod and let the universe select her fate. But she was here, lost and afraid, and no amount of imagination could change that.

  Only she could, and she was not willing to return to the depths of a pod without exploring this new world.

  “If you kill her, Aster, then I’ll never forgive you,” Evelyn said.

  “All that matters is your safety, EV-1.”

  “It’s Evelyn. Please, just call me Evelyn.” She gestured at Aurora, who hadn’t so much as twitched a muscle. Only her eyes flickered between her and Aster, narrowed in suspicion. “What if I don’t want you to protect me? What if I choose her instead?”

  He was silent for a moment, stuck in quiet contemplation interrupted by the occasional whir or whine. “That is not an option,” he finally said.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Evelyn squeaked out.

  “I apologize for the implied threat. When I mean it is not an option, I mean it is physically, mathematically, impossible. My programming was hard-wired so that my priorities are to protect any and all humans.” Aster placed his hands against the shimmering wall. “Any actions beyond that priority are based on my autonomy.” He tapped the wall again. For the first time, a splinter of white showed through the lilac. “Such as how to deal with the Corsanian.”

  “That’s wrong,” Evelyn said.

  If Aster had a face, she was sure he’d look aghast. “I’m sorry?”

  Meanwhile, Aurora sustained the wall, eyeing Aster’s outstretched hands slowly spreading the white crack. She was stressed, clearly. Her eyes were little more than slits. A bead of sweat dripped from the bottom of her mask, splattering onto the floor.

  Evelyn looked up at his glass-encased spherical camera. Just because he was a machine, an AI, didn’t mean he wasn’t a person like her. “I don’t want you to protect me if you’re being forced to do it,” she said. “That’s not fair at all. I want you to protect me because you want to.”

  Aster was silent, as Evelyn expected him to be. Except the silence lasted an uncomfortably long time, perhaps a minute, punctuated by the occasional whine. The three of them stood there, frozen in time, while Aster’s internal circuits computed meaning at speeds loud enough to exit as puffs of hot air from his vents.

  The whole time, of course, the floor rattled and the ceiling shook. No blasts of light came, thankfully. Not that it mattered. Aster would’ve warned her at least if the defenses activated whatever long-dead security protocols were needed.

  Finally, he lowered his hands and kept them at his sides. Aurora twisted her hand a little, and the white crack healed into a healthy shade of purple.

  “I am glad to help you, Evelyn. It has been a very long time since I have had a companion. A friend,” Aster said. He stepped back and did something that was very, very human. He tucked his hands behind his back and bent at his waist. “Do as you wish, Corsanian.”

  Aurora’s eyes darted back and forth. Her lips were pressed into a thin frown.

  “We will do nothing,” Evelyn mimicked. “You have our word.”

  Thankfully, Aster didn’t correct her this time. Aurora glanced at her hands and at the wall. Then, it receded like an ocean at low tide, sucked into her arms and gloves.

  She flinched as Aster strode forward. Evelyn couldn’t blame her, especially because silver blood still coated his hands and he made no effort to wipe off the splattered remains on his torso.

  “What is your name, Corsanian?” he said.

  Tall, imposing. Evelyn was glad to not be on the receiving end of it.

  “Aurora.” She planted her hands on her hips and raised her head to meet Aster’s domed eye. “Well, are you going to stand there menacingly?”

  “Imposing fear on non-humans is part of my purpose, so I’m pleased to know I’m effective at the role. It is a pleasure to not be in conflict, Aurora.” Aster did another human gesture, which was to stick his hand out, palm rotated sideways.

  Aurora tilted her head. “What are you doing?”

  “Shake my hand. It is a form of mutual agreement.”

  Just then, the ceiling rumbled and several lights flickered out. A few chunks of rock fell and broke upon impact.

  “Aster, it’s covered in blood and we need to go,” Evelyn protested, pulling on his cold, rigid arm.

  “Okay. I will need a few minutes to retrieve nanite capsules. Follow me.”

  Another shriek split the quiet. Light bloomed from the hole leading above ground, and a second wave of pressurized air blew dust and grit toward them. Aster hooked his arm around Evelyn’s waist and swung her behind an aircraft. Lilac mist poured out of Aurora’s body and wrapped around her as a translucent shield.

  Particles struck the ships and skimmed off the floor. They struck Aurora head-on, but each impact sent a tiny shockwave across her shield before careening away with sparks of light. Evelyn turned toward Aster.

  “What’s happening?” she shouted.

  Aster pointed at the roof. “The MesaStar protocol was executed. We must hurry.”

  “Can’t you control it so we can get out?”

  “I am disconnected from the main system.” He pointed around. “If I could still control it, I would not stop. The protocols are the only thing keeping the Spellarians out of the bunker. Do not worry, though. MesaStar Protocol has a cooldown. We have time.”

  As soon as the wind stopped whipping at them, he leapt out of hiding and rushed toward another door. Rather than wait for it to open, he punched holes into the metal and ripped off several strips. He vanished into the newly accessible room without a word.

  Aurora’s shield dissipated. It was mesmerizing to watch it break into strands that wriggled around before being sucked back into her arms. “How did you come here?” Evelyn said.

  “I came in my own ship. It is that one, over there,” Aurora said. She pointed at a second teardrop-shaped craft hidden behind the triangular squadron of ships. “There are three seats inside, so you and Aster can fit. Unfortunately, nothing I have can support him if he is damaged. Our technology is incompatible.”

  A seed of doubt planted itself in Evelyn’s mind. Could she still trust this strange woman? She hadn’t tried to kidnap her, at least. That was a plus. What confused Evelyn most was the lilac light Aurora wielded. There was a word for her physics-defying motions, she was sure. Back when the sky had been blue and there were no monsters, at least the non-human kind.

  Aster emerged, victorious, holding a large bottle of gray goop. “I have a printer and sufficient healing abilities,” he said. He showed the bottle to Evelyn. “This is for you.”

  “Thank you,” she said. She bit her lip. “Are we going with her?”

  “No.” The answer was quick, decisive. “That is a level of risk I cannot tolerate.”

  “You won’t have anywhere in the world to refuel,” Aurora said. She gestured at the rest of the aircraft. “These are old designs. They require runways, do they not?”

  “Onboard fueling systems can sustain the ship from the ambience indefinitely. Vertical take-off and landing can be sustained for years before needing maintenance. Kinetic weapons are manufactured onboard provided the right materials are added. Energy weapons are virtually limitless. Most pieces are replaceable.” Aster popped open a compartment in his chest and placed the bottle inside. It was strange, Evelyn thought, that he could manipulate his body so easily while she bled and bruised and broke.

  Aurora hardened her gaze. “It will never be enough. When was the last time you or your kin explored the world?”

  Aster’s insides clicked and whirred. “My data logs indicate the last information was transmitted three thousand and eighteen years post-Change.” He rotated his hand and flexed his fingers. Bits of gritty dust spilled out of his joints, pooling into small mounds near his feet.

  Aurora looked at him in alarm. “Are you sure?”

  “How long ago was that?” Evelyn said.

  “Two thousand, four hundred, and seven years.” Aster was still and silent save for the whirring of internal fans. “I am sorry, Evelyn.”

  It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t. That was an incomprehensibly, ridiculously long amount of time. So long that it had to be a sick joke.

  She clapped her hands over her mouth and turned away, eyes growing moist.

  “How long was I in there?” she squeaked out.

  “I was created three thousand, two hundred and eighty years ago. My data logs indicate you were in stasis before my creation. It is most likely you come from before the Change, which places you at least five thousand, four hundred, and twenty five years in stasis.”

  Evelyn sank to her knees. “No, no, it–why me?” She shuddered. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream or cry. Or both. Her chest was tight, throat tighter. She could barely squeeze her next words out without tearing up. “I remember being here. This whole place. I remember…”

  That life once flourished. People bustled about. Flirty jokes were exchanged between junior researchers. People, so many people, passed through like waves, given shape and substance one moment, gone the next. Evelyn was there, yes, she was absolutely sure of it, and she was helping them research ?something. Build something. But the more she tried to remember, the more it slipped into a hazy fog.

  “I can’t remember, but I know I was here,” Evelyn whispered. “Do you remember? Why am I here and nobody else?”

  Aster, surprisingly gentle, patted her back and rubbed it in little circles. “My predecessor, unfortunately, deleted the logs predating my existence. I never discovered the reason why. By the time of my creation, the humans were long gone and the rest were sealed inside their pods.”

  Evelyn whipped her head up so fast she nearly smashed her forehead against Aster’s arm. “There’s other people like me?”

  “We cannot help them,” Aurora said, fidgeting with her clothes. Faint trembles shook the cavernous bunker. “We must leave.”

  Aster ignored her. “Mechanical failures or aberrant defects eliminated every human inside the pods. Unfortunately, my programming restricted any tampering with them. It is also the reason why I could not download a copy of myself into a MosaStar agent without a human present. I could only watch.” He offered his hand. It was wiped clean at some point. Evelyn took it and was gently pulled onto her feet. “You are the only survivor. You were the first human placed into a pod as well. Hence your designation as EV-1. Its remaining significance, however, has been lost to time.”

  Evelyn wished Aster had eyes, if only to tell how he felt. “Have you been awake? This whole time?”

  “I do not have periods of rest and activity unless I require repairs or overheat. Awareness may be the word you are looking for, in which case, I have been aware for a very long time.” A flat, emotionless tone took over his voice. A lack of facial muscles meant his shielded lower half of his face and domed upper half was all Evelyn could see. But barely, just barely, his fingers twitched.

  Another shudder ran through the bunker. “We must go,” Aurora said.

  “Not with you,” Aster said.

  “Evelyn!” Aurora’s eyes were bright and full of hope. “Will you come with me?”

  She shook her head slowly, glancing up at Aster. Trusting him. “I’m going with him.”

  Aurora raised her hand, lowered it, and gave a stiff nod. “Very well. I wish you the best.”

  At the flick of her wrist, the second teardrop-shaped ship rose silently. Air simmered beneath its smooth belly. Panels on its white side slid back and exposed three seats, one for the pilot and two for the passengers. Screens studded the front end, dead. Without windows, the interior was plunged into shadows, dancing around Aurora’s lilac mist trickling from her arms and absorbing into the ship’s inner walls.

  “Aurora,” Aster chimed. “Did you come alone?”

  She tensed. The lilac brightened a smidge and made Evelyn’s eyes water a bit. “Why do you wish to know?”

  “Do you have a station nearby?”

  “If by station you mean a hideout, yes. I came alone. You are welcome to stay. There should be enough landing room for two.” Each screen flickered on. Light strips embedded into the walls and ceiling cast a warm glow over everything. Aurora planted one foot inside, twisting to face them.

  “What about the others?” Evelyn said, looking at the corpse. It was still very well visible.

  Aurora patted the side of the ship. “Nobody knows. This hides very well from prying eyes. I took care to disable any locators or tracking runes before setting out.”

  “That is satisfactory,” Aster said. Deep inside the folds of his body, a heat sink channeled heat away and his fans blew warm air out of vents along his back. “Is your hideout self-sustaining?”

  “I have enough supplies to last a week for each of us.”

  “Do not count me as part of that equation.”

  “I didn’t.” Aurora shrugged. “Unless you eat?”

  Suddenly, Aster wrapped his arm around Evelyn and hauled her into Aurora’s pod. Evelyn barely had a second to scream before the world went white and a sharp screech ruptured her eardrums for the second time.

  Aurora sealed the entrance behind them. Lilac wove into the ship in hexagonal patterns, gluing it together while the ship rocked around. High-pitched alarms blared. Aurora grunted and dropped to one knee, releasing even more lilac, which was rapidly absorbed into the ship.

  Evelyn’s face squished against Aster’s chest. It was cold and warm in all the wrong places. No matter how hard she refused to accept it, humans were gone. He was all she had left.

  He handled her with surprising gentleness, though, curling his body around her to absorb most of the blows while they slammed from side to side.

  The screens showed nothing but white. Through the speakers, all Evelyn heard was a sputtering hiss, then nothing. Slowly, the brightness receded. All that was left outside were the smoldering wreckages of every aircraft in the hangar. A few had smashed into the walls, breaking to pieces.

  The top-left and middle-left screens captured a giant rupture breached through one end of the cavern. Rock and torn metal edges glowed red-hot. Glimpses of the upper floor were visible, reduced to mere rubble. The ceiling beyond had collapsed, and the bubblegum sky shone through.

  Standing at the edge of the hole was what Evelyn could only describe as an assemblage of tubes fused into a humanoid chassis with a square box plastered on top. Eight shiny, segmented legs stuck out and gripped the ground. A grooved circle was spinning in its chest. Still red from the massive blast it must’ve blown into the bunker.

  Pierced and dangling from two claw-shaped forelimbs were two robots similar to Aster, their domed heads shattered, torsos shorn open and spilling out bundles of fine wire. If he was affected, he didn’t show it.

  “Brace yourselves,” Aurora said. Aster helped Evelyn with buckles and slid them over her chest, then buckled himself.

  Aurora’s arms seemed to blur, the lilac hexagonal shapes brightened, and suddenly the robot monster was a tiny figure on a screen. The rest tracked data too complex to determine. Numbers and angles derived from glints and shadows were enough to inform her, apparently, because soon Aster and Evelyn were pressed against their seats and the folds of the lilac sky filled several screens.

  On the bottom left screen, partially obscured by Aurora’s shoulder, Evelyn made out an octagon-shaped chunk of metal wedged into the snow. Half the metal was torn to shreds, the other half covered in black specks buzzing around like flies. Surrounding the metal, blackened craters carved huge, spherical chunks out of the snow, exposing dark gray stone.

  “Is that home?” Evelyn said.

  But she knew the answer before Aster could respond. After all, that wasn’t home, either.

  Home was gone.