“Center Earth. Thanks for flyin’ Air Hank, you lucky bastards.”

Whistler daintily motioned with his hand and one edge of the drop vessel folded upon itself and descended to the polished metal floor as a ramp.

“Care to join us, Hank? Mere might enjoy your company after all these years.”

Hank took a contemplative draw on his smoke, flicked it away, where it spun out into the shadows of the bottom of the Vegas pipe. “Sure, what the hell.”

For a moment, Fleur just stood by the railing, looking at everything and nothing, her small hands latched firmly to the metal. Whistler and Hank sauntered down the ramp out onto the uncertain black of the tunnel floor. Nine placed his hand over Fleur’s, gently lifted her fingers from around the railing.

“It’ll be all right. I’m here.”

“You don’t know her. You don’t know what she has planned.”

Nine’s eyes dug into Fleur’s mind.

I’m here. Nothing will happen.

“Come on, you two! We have an meeting with Mum!” Whistler was entirely too cheerful as he beckoned to Nine and Fleur, who walked slowly down the ramp from the drop vessel. Whistler turned back to Hank, looped his arm through the old cowboy’s as they walked. Hank shot Whistler a deadly glare, but shook his head and said nothing.

They walked down the canted passageway to Center Earth. Mother was near.

It is near.

“What is it?”

I do not know.

Zero frowned in the drowned bowl, shook his head in disbelief. There wasn’t supposed to be anything out here. There couldn’t be anything out here in the Outer. Mother’s little jihad should have seen to that. If the vessels approaching them were some cut-off wing of one of Mother’s Extinction fleets, there would be no hope of survival.