Molgarin turned back. He glanced at the two emissaries, then smiled shakily at her. “We seem to be-” he began.

The floor trembled and a full third of the view-slits suddenly went dark. Feril was staring intently at the confused scenes portrayed in the ones that were left. Molgarin glanced at the dark screens. The emissary holding the laser pistol stared at them.

“We seem to be under attack, Lady Sharrow,” Molgarin told her. “Possibly from that irritating cousin of yours.” He seemed to have difficulty swallowing. “I promise you this will be his last piece of romantic melodrama, lady. He’ll suffer for this, and you’ll watch him suffer.” Molgarin looked at the two emissaries. “Mind her,” he told them, then put his head back against the throne and gripped its arms tightly.

The topmost step of the dais rushed upwards, taking the throne with it on a great gust of air and a thunderous rumble from beneath the chamber; the throne vanished into the ceiling ten metres overhead, leaving a single solid black column in the centre of the circular room.

Before the two emissaries could react, the whole chamber shuddered, the remaining view-slits went black and every light in the place blinked out, leaving utter darkness.

She hauled, twisted and ducked, bringing the yelping emissary holding her arms tumbling over her back. “No!” he screamed.

There was a sudden snapping noise and brief stuttering blink of light, then, as she threw herself to one side and the emissary rolled away from her, a scream that became a sizzling, gurgling noise. She lay, silent, on the steps. A smell of roasted flesh wafted over her.

“Twin?” said a tremulous, hesitant voice. It was answered by a bubbling noise. She started to move. “Twin?” the voice said again, an edge of panic in it now. Another bubbling, gurgling noise. She moved closer, correcting, anticipating. A tremor shook the bunker; there was a tremendous crack, and a crashing, tinkling noise off to one side. “Twin!” the voice screamed.

That last anguished shriek was enough. She stood silently, closing her eyes and lashing out with her foot.

“Tw-oof!” The voice cut off.

She stepped to one side; a blink of white laser light fired at where she had just been was enough to show her both of them, captured as though by a flash of lightning; the one who had held her, lying spread out on the floor at the foot of the steps leading to the black column, and the other one, crouched sideways on the floor in front of her, looking towards the steps, holding the laser in one hand and his lower chest with the other.

She swung her left foot at his head. The heavy, sensible shoe connected with a crack that jarred her whole leg. She fell to the floor.

The burbling sound came again from a few metres away, then a noise like a snore from nearby. The bunker shook once more and she heard what sounded like debris falling somewhere.

“Lady Sharrow?” said a distant voice. Feril.

She said nothing. “Lady Sharrow,” Feril said calmly. “I can see you. The laser pistol which the man you just kicked was holding flew from his hand and is lying approximately seven metres to your right.” Feril paused. “I do not believe either of the young men will trouble you for the moment,” it said.

She stood and walked quickly to her right, still silent.

“Just two steps further,” Feril said. “Stop. The pistol is now a metre to your left.”

“Got it,” she said, lifting the weapon.

“I believe one of the young men you disabled has the chip key to the explosive restrainer collar I am wearing,” Feril said as another tremor shook the floor beneath them. “If you intend to remove it from me, that is,” it said. It sounded apologetic.

She swivelled and started walking through the utter darkness. “Am I going the right way?”

“Stop,” Feril said. “Yes; you are a step away from the young man you kicked.”

She felt down. “So they weren’t androids,” she said.

“No, I believe they are clones, but otherwise perfectly normal human beings,” Feril said. There was a pause. “Well…”

The man was breathing shallowly; she kept the gun pointed at where the breathing was corning from, then felt in his uniform jacket. “This feels like a chip key.”

The android directed her to it. “The slot is at the back,” it told her.

The key snicked in, the collar buzzed alarmingly, then a small white light flashed and the collar clicked open. She removed it and put it on the floor, which trembled again as she set the collar down. More smashing, tinkling noises sounded in the distance.

“Which direction to the Lazy Gun?” she asked.

“Your hand?” Feril said. She shivered, gritting her teeth as she put her hand out into the darkness. Feril held her bandaged hand gently; they walked forward. “Here it is,” the android said.

She felt for the device and lifted it. “Great,” she said. “Now all we have to do is try and find a way out of this place.”

“If I may make a suggestion,” Feril said, its voice calm. “While I was standing near it earlier I had the opportunity of scanning the monowheeled vehicle taken from the tower. It appears to be in working order.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Or we could just wait here for my cousin to appear.”

“Ah,” Feril said carefully. “I am not sure about that.”

“You’re not?”

“I was able to observe the action taking place on the desert surface and in the nearby hills by way of the high-definition screens built into the walls of this place. Those in the first wave of comparatively lightly armed attackers were not identifiable. However, those in the second wave, who seemed to be fighting both the Keep’s defending forces as well as the first wave of attackers, were almost certainly Huhsz.”

“Huhsz?” she said into the darkness.

“I believe so. There were certain insignia on the wings of the aircraft forming-”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“I am sure of what I saw on the screens,” Feril said cautiously.

“Fate,” she said. Then, “But if Geis is mad enough to start crossing the Areas, they certainly are.” She hoisted the gun to her hip, holding it like a child. “Where’s the monowheel?”

“This way.”

The floor bucked beneath them, almost throwing her off her feet. Another devastating crash sounded from a distant part of the bunker.

The android helped her into the monowheeled vehicle’s open cockpit. She shoved the Lazy Gun into the long footwell past what felt like a pair of hanging pedals, then she sat. There was a small compartment just to the rear of the cockpit; Feril climbed up and stuck its legs into it, sitting on the rear of the vehicle just in front of the tilted monowheel. The vehicle moved fractionally, with the hint of a whine.

“Now what?” Sharrow said, raising her voice above a roaring noise coming from somewhere ahead in the darkness. A gust of hot air blew around them, flinging dust into her face. She closed her eyes.

“Try this,” it said. “Excuse me.” She felt it lean over her, bending her forward; she heard a click, then lights glowed. The android leant back again. She looked round at it; its face gleamed softly in the green light spilling from the vehicle’s screen and instruments.

“Perhaps you should drive,” she said.

“The position here is a little exposed,” it told her. “Allow me to navigate.”

“All right.” She turned back and studied the controls; a twinstalk hand-grip with various buttons arranged on the columns, two pedals for her feet; various dials, screens and touch-bolos, and a head-up display seemingly hovering in mid-air in front of her.

She pressed a pedal; the monowheel’s nose dipped. The other pedal brought it level again. She took the hand controls and squeezed both; her left hand was stiff and hurt a little, but it was bearable. There was a beeping noise from the instruments. Nothing else happened until she let go the left grip. The monowheel leapt forward, banging her head against the seat’s head-rest.