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As the sand settled, the figure of Parson Miles stood back up. The man's bones were still visibly realigning as he glanced in Asad's direction with a haggard look on his face.

Morgunov crossed his legs as the machine he was sitting on descended slowly. "So how much longer until one of your bosses shows up to play with me?!"

Miles tried to brush the sand off his coat and did not entirely succeed. "Any minute now, I'm sure."

"Ooh! Think you can last that long?!"

The captain general made no response.

Morgunov gave another laugh and snapped his fingers.

More mechanical tendrils burst out of the sand beneath Miles' feet. He leapt away with a surge of wind, but two of the tendrils still caught him around the upper leg. His whole bottom half vanished into thin air, and Miles nearly slipped free again until another robot came down on him from above and wrapped itself around him.

The tendrils reaffirmed their grasp on him, too, and Miles got pulled beneath the sand, disappearing entirely from Asad's view. More shock waves arrived as the desert itself began to quake and tremble.

An eternity seemed to pass while Asad waited and watched. Miles would pop out of the sand, thrashing and wrestling with two or more machines, only to be dragged back down again. And this just kept happening. Over and over. Until at length, Morgunov apparently grew bored of it and had the machines let the man go. They dropped him off in a battered heap in front of Asad and the small crowd of robots surrounding him.

Morgunov scratched his brow as he floated closer. "Any minute now, you said?"

On all fours, Miles tried to say something but just spat up blood, instead. He was still struggling even to stand.

"Oh, what's the matter?" said Morgunov. "Problems with your regeneration?"