Cormac stood up and moved to the door. At the door he hesitated, removed his unit from his pocket and turned it off. He then took out a little thin-gun he had been delighted to discover amongst the carrier’s armament.

‘You know, John, it’ll be nothing less than total mind-wipe for you. Do you want that?’

‘Are you making an offer?’

‘I am.’

‘I still have enough left in me not to want to die,’ Stanton said. ‘I just don’t want to remember.’ Cormac nodded, put the gun away, and opened the door. He turned his unit back on as he went out.

* * *

The night passed without event, and sunrise revealed heavy red blooms on the chequer trees. The air was filled with a perfume redolent of lavender, and the hum of adapted bees amongst the foliage. Underfoot, a light frost hoared the saplings and the lichens beyond the edge of the forest. Cormac sipped coffee and blew vapour into the clear air. He wished his mind was as clear. Three hours’ sleep had revived him a little, but he knew he could do with a straight eight hours without interruption. With the coffee he swilled down a couple of wake-ups. He wasn’t the only one doing this.

As he walked across to see how things were, soldier Tarm crawled from his tent, then paused, scratching his head and yawning. He saw Cormac and looked suddenly guilty. He reached back inside his tent for his pulse-rifle, dragged it out and hung it over his shoulder, and then stood up.

‘Lovely morning, sir,’ he said.

Cormac nodded and Tarm hurried off.

‘They’re much in awe of you.’

Cormac turned as Mika walked up behind him.

‘I would rather you stayed in the carrier,’ he said.

Mika looked around. ‘You know, I miss the dracomen,’ she said.

‘I don’t,’ said Cormac. He turned towards the foxholes and watched Tarm dropping into one. The hole’s previous occupant climbed out and trudged back towards the tents.

‘Cormac.’

‘Yes,’ Cormac said to the unit in his pocket.

‘We have an AGC coming in over the mountains,’ Aiden told him. ‘I’ve only just picked it up. It’s only two kilometres away.’

‘Sergeant, you have it.’

‘I do, sir. They’re taking a juice harvest to Motford. The return signature I’m getting is of a transporter. Looks OK, sir.’

‘Tell it to divert. If it flies over us, we hit it.’

Cormac began trotting back to the carrier. From his unit he heard a shout, then the sergeant telling someone to shut up. He opened the door of the carrier and stepped inside, with Mika close behind him. Stanton had his feet on the floor. He looked angry and he was pulling hard at his bonds.

‘You must divert or you will be fired upon. This is my last warning,’ the sergeant said.