‘Yes. And we can’t allow that to stop us.’ Without warning Slvasta urged his horse forward, ’pathing relentless orders into its nervous brain. It galloped along the stones, the gap seemingly expanding as he drew closer. Then the horse was jumping, and the water was a giddy eight metres below. He landed on the far side, clearing the gap easily.

‘Come on,’ he bellowed.

Laughing wildly, Javier charged his own horse along the broken bridge.

*

Fergus and Marek accompanied Kysandra, trekking over the river at the side of the Blair Farm compound, then along a narrow trail that mod-dwarfs had laboriously cleared through the woods. They rode sturdy terrestrial horses, each leading another horse, laden with bags.

She’d never actually explored this part of the countryside before. It was wild land, undulating to create marshy vales and dense spinneys. Nobody had ever filed a claim on any of it, at the county land office; taming it would take decades and cost more than any revenue a farm would ever generate. Far ahead, the foothills of the Algory mountains rose above the jagged rock outcrops and the sparse, wind-bowed trees.

They made good time, their horses walking steadily through the tangled scrub and soft grassland. It was a gradual climb eastwards, with the slopes gradually increasing their gradient and height. A pair of ge-eagles glided languidly overhead, scanning the terrain ahead. Nothing much moved – a few nests of bussalores, some feline daravan slinking about. Birds wheeled through the air, startled by the intrusion.

The sun was low in the west when they topped a tall rise, where spartan raddah bushes formed a meandering spine along the ridge.

‘This should do,’ Fergus announced.

The three of them dismounted. They stood facing the sinking sun, looking across the land they’d just traversed. Kysandra’s eyes filtered out the glare as they zoomed in on Blair Farm, thirty kilometres distant. It wasn’t her farm any more, the sweet homestead where she’d been born. This was a giant artificial square of neat buildings sliced into the valley, surrounded by a geometric pattern of fields. Like something a machine built, she thought. Which wasn’t a bad way of describing it. It was strange to be looking at it, acknowledging what an accomplishment it was, how much work and effort had been expended, and knowing that it was about to vanish in a firestorm.

Rich gold sunlight shone on Skylady, its bold curving triangle shape sitting on top of the solid rocket booster stack. It towered over all the other buildings in the compound, a glorious monument to hope. Kysandra felt immeasurably proud, looking at the old starship as it was about to be given a stormy ride back up into space, where it truly belonged.

I helped make this happen.

But at such a terrible price.

She told her u-shadow to open a link to the starship. The connection was weak, with a very low bandwidth. ‘How’s it going?’ she asked.

‘Hello, ground control,’ Nigel replied. ‘Well, here am I, sitting on a load of pigshit, commencing countdown, may Giu’s love be with me.’

‘Er, are you okay?’

‘Yeah. Running the final test sequences on the boosters now.’

‘How long until you launch?’

‘Maybe five minutes. The systems are simple enough, but I have to be absolutely certain I can ignite all five first-stage boosters simultaneously. So far so good.’

‘Nigel—’

‘Don’t. We promised no goodbyes. Because I’m not leaving, not really. I’m out there, on the other side of the barrier, waiting to say hello. Remember?’

Kysandra closed her eyes, trying to keep the fear at bay. ‘Yes.’

‘And you know it’s true, because I’m—’

‘—always right. Yes, I think I know that now.’

‘That’s my girl.’

‘Where will we go? Out there in the Commonwealth?’

‘Ah, good question. Earth, of course, where it all began. Cressat, which is my own planet.’

‘Nigel! You do not own a whole planet!’

‘Do too!’

‘How?’

‘Told you I was rich.’

She was grinning at his silliness. ‘Yes, but—’

‘Uh, oh.’

‘What?’

‘The cavalry has arrived.’

6

Slvasta had been out in front on the whole ride from Erond. He was always the first to jump the gaps in the bridges, the first to force his horse into the raging waters when the destruction was too big to jump. Javier and Tovakar and Yannrith were with him all the time. Just behind them, Bethaneve struggled to keep up, suffering from her lack of experience with horses. Next was Andricea and the bodyguard troop forming a phalanx around Captain Philious and Brigadier Doyle, who insisted on riding with her Captain. Then came the bulk of the regiment, grim and resolute, carrying the heaviest weapons their horses could manage.

By the time they passed Adeone, Slvasta knew his horse was barely going to make it to Blair Farm. It was sweating heavily, foam flecking its head and neck. Still he rode it onwards relentlessly.

Finally, after hours of riding along the road lined by young follrux trees, he came to the unmarked turning. ‘This is it,’ he ’pathed everybody in the cavalcade. ‘Ready your weapons, and watch out for ambush.’ With that he raced forwards, ignoring the aching exhaustion which punished his horse’s mind.

‘Wait. What’s the plan?’ Bethaneve asked, her ’path laced with worry.

‘Full frontal assault,’ Slvasta replied. ‘We have no time for anything else.’ The ruined bridges had told him that. If Nigel was intent on delaying any pursuit, then time was critical. Besides, you never negotiated with Fallers, never offered concessions, leniency . . . You either killed them or they ate you. This wasn’t politics any more. This was his true arena.

The thick forest with its trees snared in vines was familiar, as were the rush of tatus fly swarms. His ex-sight scanned the carbine holstered on the side of the saddle. Magazine loaded. Safety on. His teekay carefully undid the strap, leaving it ready to draw at an instant’s notice, because he was nearing the turn in the track which came out on the slope above the farm compound.

The promise that the frantic ride would soon be over enticed the horse onwards. And he burst out of the treeline to see the familiar valley spread out below him, awash with the rose-gold glow of the setting sun.

It was his shock which made the horse rear up, whinnying in alarm. Slvasta had to cling on tight, attempting to soothe its simple panicky thoughts.

The fields on either side of the road were filled with mods. Hundreds and hundreds of them: dwarfs, horses, apes, stretching out along the edge of the forest; still and silent, and sitting down (even the horses), all of them facing directly away from the farm. At first he thought they were all dead, but a fast scan with ex-sight revealed that, even more unnervingly, they were merely drowsing. None of them turned to look at the horses dashing out of the forest.

‘What in Uracus is that?’ Bethaneve yelled.

Slvasta stared down towards the compound. Just beyond it, squatting on the side of the river, was a bizarre structure that hadn’t been there when he’d visited before. The bottom section was a clump of thick cylinders standing in a wide circular pond, caged by a bracelet of red-painted scaffolding, while the tip . . . ‘That’s . . . ’ he grunted in bewilderment. It was bizarre, impossible, but the bulbous triangle perched on top of the cylinders reminded him of the old Landing Plane statue on the junction of Walton Boulevard and Struzaburg Avenue. ‘A flying machine!’

Then he knew it was all true. That Nigel and his nest knew how to make the quantumbusters work again. Nigel, who had somehow managed to build a flying machine. Nigel, who was going to kill all the humans on Bienvenido to make way for his own kind. The Fallers.

‘Charge!’ he bellowed, and compelled his horse forwards. He galloped down the slope, heedless of the animal’s distress, ignoring the silent ranks of mods. All he saw was the flying machine, which was surely carrying the quantumbuster.