Then another blast flattened me. I knew not the source, only that the ground quivered and my face was sprayed with what I hoped was dirt. Strong hands grasped my shoulders, as my captors hauled me to my feet. I was surprised, assuming they’d fled for cover. But they did their duty, dragging me through the storm of fire and bullets.

Ahead lay the bunkers, still embedded like ticks into the governor’s grounds. So far, they had weathered the barrage. The lead soldier kicked the door open, and I was forced down the steps and through the medical bay, the chirurgeon barely acknowledging our presence. Not that I could blame him; he clearly had his hands full. The injured lay strewn about, the ward well beyond full occupancy and reeking of blood and death. As I was hauled through, I caught sight of Wing Commander Prospherous. He was laid out in one of the cots, grey-faced, his eyes closed.

I was escorted past him, past all of them, even those in the rearmost ward where the critical lay dead or dying. Before me, there was the glint of iron bars.

They threw me inside, barely pausing to slam the door. The plascrete floor felt cool to the touch. I lay there a moment, wondering why I was still alive. It seemed an awful lot of trouble to move a man from one cell to another. Presumably they wanted me alive, though whether that was a good thing was less clear.

I felt buzzing over my shoulder. Kikazar. The guards had not noticed the seer-skull, or did not care enough to do anything about it. Unless Kikazar was incarcerated too, awaiting interrogation of its data-files.

I forced myself onto my hands and knees, rolling awkwardly onto my side and stretching out my legs. The left ached terribly, but I did not think it re-broken. That was something, but my head was ringing, perhaps from the shockwaves. The cell was dark. I could make out bars, though now I looked closer these seemed a late modification to the structure. Otherwise it resembled one of the medi-bays, lacking the diagnostic equipment but incorporating the fold-out cots.

It took me a moment to spot the figure reclining in one of the bunks, hands tucked behind her head. I could not make out her features, but I still recognised her.

‘Shard?’

She raised her head and glanced across, as though seeing me for the first time, despite my memorable arrival moments earlier. I could barely see her in the half-light, but the swelling around her eye and cuts to her cheek were clear enough.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘What did you do?’

‘I asked the wrong questions.’

‘That was foolish. Still, if you are alive someone probably has a use for you.’

‘Should I find that encouraging?’

‘I suppose. Given the alternative.’

‘Is that why you are alive?’ I asked. ‘You’re still useful?’