Old cities and settlements were easy to see, gray wounds in the verdant blanket of vegetation. Two or three times he saw columns of smoke winding up from bush fires. His view began to shift as the flyer banked slightly.

“Why are we changing course?” Yirella asked.

“Are we?”

“Yes!” She was looking around, as if seeking confirmation. “Pilot, what is happening?”

The boys in nearby seats glanced curiously at her.

“Stand by for systems confirmation,” the genten said.

“What?”

Dellian pressed his face to the window. The land below was becoming rumpled as they started to pass over some low foothills. The green was diminishing, draining away to more rugged browns and ochres, beset with tiny dark specks.

“Systems undergoing irregularities,” the genten said. “Please remain seated. Safety restraints will activate in ten seconds. Do not be alarmed, this is a precautionary measure only.”

“Oh, precious Saints,” Dellian moaned. The flyer’s nose-down angle was getting steeper. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought their speed was increasing. They certainly seemed to be losing altitude.

He held still as the cushions started to swell, extending a series of rib-like restraints around his torso and limbs.

“What is the nature of the problem?” Yirella demanded.

“Propulsion irregularities. Enabling compensation.”

“Del, my databud can’t reach the net.”

“What?” he grunted.

“I’m cut off. Are you online?”

“Connection check,” he ordered his databud.

“Global communication net offline,” its voice whispered into his ear.

“Saints! No, it’s down,” he told her.

“Pilot, why are we offline?” she asked, her voice rising.

“Attempting to reestablish connection with global communication net.”

“What do you mean ‘attempting’?”

“Temporary connection loss.”

“How can that happen? The network is orbital. Everywhere is in range.”

“Attempting to reconnect. Operating on reserve power.”

“Oh, great Saints!”

“What’s our altitude?” Dellian asked.

“Fourteen kilometers. Descending.”

“Saints! Are we going to crash?”

“Negative. Reserve power sufficient to enact zero velocity touchdown.”

He was proud of himself for not panicking. In fact he was proud of all his clanmates for remaining equally cool, even though it was obvious they were all scared shitless.

The flyer’s descent angle slowly became more pronounced as it dropped into a terrifying dive. The foothills expanded fast. Dellian tried to memorize what he was seeing. Understand your terrain—one of the golden commandments of tactical training.

The genten leveled them out. Then deceleration kicked in. G-force shoved Dellian down hard into his seat. His vision began to tunnel out, swirls of red closing like a misty iris. He managed to catch sight of ground that was becoming very rocky and steep.

“Touchdown in four, three, two—”

The impact immediately reversed the flyer’s acceleration impetus, flinging Dellian and the others about wildly, shaking them. Deafening tearing sounds filled the cabin as the fuselage skidded along. He saw a wingtip spinning chaotically through the air, overtaking them. Then the whole cabin buckled. A split opened up in the front of the fuselage. Dust blasted in. Everyone screamed. There was a final crunch, and all movement ended abruptly.