But Atlas and Houston must have taken that into consideration, she realised.

It took them much less time to get down the hill.

Getting down the hill wasn’t the hard part.

The sparse bush was their enemy now—the lack of cover.

Atlas’s breath was laboured as he kept up a fast clip beside her. Sweat streamed from every part of him, drenching the tight black T-shirt he wore. He stared resolutely at the ground in front of him.

“How far?” Elara gasped, holding her side.

“Nearly there,” Houston called.

The doctor looked over this shoulder, back at the hill. And his face drained of blood. “Take cover!” he shouted, diving for Romy.

He threw himself in front of her, shoving her back as a gunshot ricocheted, embedding into a tree right where Houston’s head had been.

Romy stared at Houston, who was frantically searching her for . . . a wound? The others had scattered, but were torn between watching the doctor and trying to guess where the next gunshot would be.

“What are you all staring at?” Atlas bellowed. “Move!”

Elara screamed as she ran, dragged along by a merciless Phobos.

Houston darted into a thicker patch of bush and dropped to his knees, fumbling in his pocket.

“What are you doing?” Thrym puffed.

“Stand back!” Houston shouted. He clicked on the contraption he’d pulled from his pocket. Romy and the others watched as, with a loud groan, the forest floor opened beneath them.

Atlas signalled to Thrym. “Take him.” He deposited Deimos unceremoniously into Thrym’s arms. And then turned, sprinting onward through the bush.

Romy took a running step after him. A hand gripped her arm.

“No, Romy,” Houston said. “He’s leading them astray.”

The ground was still receding beneath them like a series of sliding doors gliding open, except the sliding doors were two-metre-deep slabs of rock. Layer after layer opened until Romy could no longer see into the depths. There were no stairs, no ladder, and the tunnel was completely vertical. How were they supposed to get down?

Atlas returned, wet, and relief coursed through her.

A whirring sound came from the vertical tunnel. A grating. Something within the tunnel was rising. How long did they have before the soldiers got down the hill? Could they see them from here? The bush had thickened once more, but they’d know Knot 27 disappeared somewhere in the area.

She squinted as a caged platform rose into view from the tunnel’s depths. Houston waved them all on board.

“Quickly.” Atlas gripped her elbow and she was forced to leap onto the platform, or be dragged.

She helped Thrym with Deimos, laying him down on the platform as the others jumped after her. There was another click, and they began their descent. The rocky layers closed above them as they dropped deep into the earth.

* * *

“My point is,” pressed Thrym, “that the Mandate knows exactly where we are.”