‘They’re your shame,’ I spit as the General convulses. ‘You want the world to forget they ever existed—’

Commander Aline’s face creases as she raises the revolver again, levelling it at me. ‘Restrain her.’

For all their training, the soldiers hesitate, their eyes fixed on the dying General, before coming forwards to drag me away even as I fight to keep my hands on the wound. Aline takes something from a pack. The sight of it sends terror and anger through me; it’s a high security prison collar, with locking needles and embedded blades that will spring out and cut the throat during any attempt to remove it.

No, I tell them. No, not this.

They don’t answer me; nothing stops Aline from coming close and lining up the needles with my scarred flesh. How could I have been wrong?

‘Do not feel bad, Low,’ she murmurs as she works. ‘We’ll take care of you. You’re a hero, in a way. If you hadn’t stolen our formula, the FL would never have targeted Tamane and lost their support, and the war would have dragged on and on. After all,’ she says, as she pushes the needles in. ‘That’s why we let you take it.’

I meet her eyes. She’s telling the truth, I realise in horror. Thousands sacrificed to bring a quick end to a long and bloody war. Children who should not have lived killed to ensure peace. I shudder as if something – someone – is straining to get out of my skin. As the prison collar is about to click closed around my neck, I feel the scalpel in my hand.

I slash out and Aline lets go of the collar, gripping at her wrist. I try to break the soldiers’ hold on me and run, but Aline is already pulling out her revolver with bloodied hands, levelling it at my face.

A shot rings out, clean through the chaos. Commander Aline stares as blood appears on her forehead, burrowing out like a dark, shining grub. With a choke, she falls.

On the sand, the General bares her teeth in a single savage smile, before she too collapses, the pistol falling from her grip.

The soldiers draw their weapons, one of them running to the Commander. But the beating of my heart is in the air, and a roar is gathering, like an endless bellow of thunder.

I look up as – with a shriek – the first Seeker craft races across the sky, weapons blazing, sending the Accord target beams swivelling and twisting wildly. Rat and Bui throw themselves from the line of fire, scrambling for weapons, shooting at anything they can see, while Peg drags Falco towards the mare.

And they are there with me. At last, I feel them; they crowd up against every split-second decision, and every lucky shot, and every hesitation. They tear through the battlefield, revelling in the chaos, in the teeming potential of a fight.