Belus protested. ‘He’s just carried a stretcher all the way down the beach. With a wounded hand.’

Salice gave him a cold stare. ‘Did you see the action?’

‘Yes!’ Belus said.

Salice said, ‘Good. Then come with me as well.’

Belus shook his head. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got a battle to fight!’

As Banting struggled to save Dido’s life, Minka led her squad up the steep cliffs before her. Sappers had hung ropes down the slopes from the top of the headland and Minka hauled herself up, legs and arms pumping as she angled against the slope. She could hear the shouts of battle above, voices of alarm, voices of fury, the screams of the dying, as she landed in one of the firing trenches.

The trenches had been excavated from the bedrock, the hard rock still grooved with the teeth of the excavator. The floor was strewn with dead Jackals. The shrapnel was vicious in a space as tight as this.

One by one Minka’s troops caught up with her. As they looked out to either side, they seemed suddenly to be above the battle. Creed Beach lay on their right, Tyrok Beach to their left. Both were lit with flames. Both were a mess. And before them the Lone Redoubt waited.

Minka had nearly twenty troopers with her, and while the sight of Cadians pinned down and being massacred appalled them all, ‘Our orders,’ Minka reminded them, ‘are to push onwards with all rigour.’

They understood what she meant.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘Let’s go!’

The supply trench followed the crest of the long ridge that climbed steadily up to the hexagonal fort of Tor Kharybdis. Minka gripped her war knife and pistol as she sprinted to the supply trench entrance. It ran away at a forty-five degree angle, then switchbacked again in a zig-zag. She paused as her squad caught up, then led them forward, running at a half-crouch. At each switchback she went more slowly, alert for the sounds of the enemy.

She risked a glance, then waved her squad forward. Traitor reinforcements hurried into view. They were running towards the battle, heads down, their rifles slung over their shoulders.

Minka let them come almost upon them before she leapt up from the shadows and charged, firing with her pistol. It was a brief battle. The traitors were too startled to put up much of a defence, and in less than a minute the Cadians had killed each one, dispatching the wounded with knives.

Minka pushed on. She could hear voices round the next corner and signalled to the others to get ready. As soon as she rounded the corner she knew something was wrong. As one of the troopers swung round Minka kicked the rifle from his hands and caught the young warrior in a neck lock, the pistol barrel pressing to his forehead.

‘Who the hell are you?’ she snapped.