The wiring had been coming loose on the secondary battery pack. Allun had soldered it; Minka flipped the spray covers to make sure the solders had held. She flicked the switch and it lit up with a low but solid green light. She shut it down again, pushed herself up into the cupola and sat on the lip, turned fully round so she could see behind them.

This was the worst part of battle. The waiting to go in. She had all the worries of a sergeant about to go into combat – concern that she would let the Cadians down, let herself, her planet, the legacy of the whole Cadian Shock Troop down.

Minka puffed out her cheeks and let the tension out. Whenever she was assailed by worries she went back to basics. She was Cadian. She had been prepared for battle since the moment she was born. Whatever she faced, it could be killed with las-bolt or blade. Whatever happened, she would be ready. And if her time was up, she would go to meet the Emperor with her head held high.

Minka looked about. She loved the sight of the regiment on the move. For a moment the view reminded her of being a girl, when the Whiteshields returned from the Myrak Hills after their winter training. They had processed in long columns of Chi­meras, each squad sitting on the turrets, eager to be home. It was a view as symbolic as the turning of the year.

She sat there for nearly half an hour. It was good to feel the breeze on her face. At last she slid back inside but left the hatch open for air.

Her squad had checked and double-checked their kit.

‘Any news?’ Jaromir said.

Minka shook her head. ‘None.’

He nodded, and yawned. At last he put his head forward and rested it on his knees.

She slid into place next to him. They rattled about in the back of the Chimera. Dreno had already stretched out his feet and closed his eyes. Maenard was checking through his detonator pack. Wires. Explosives. Detonators. Melta pack.

They kept heading south. Cool damp air drifted in through the vision slits and the open hatch above. There was the distinct ozone smell of the sea and rotting seaweed. The rhythm and drone lulled the others to sleep.

Only Karni and Minka were still awake. Neither of them spoke. Karni had a far-away look in her eye.

At last, they reached a wide pebbly bay. Flat-bottomed war-arcs were beached all along the shore. The file was being quickly loaded. Their metallic shapes were dark against the dull beaten glimmer of the sea. Squat gun rigs stood out further to sea, silhouetted against the pale sky, guarding the entrance to the harbour.