“I can’t get to anywhere safer until the flyer gets here,” I said quietly. “Neither of us can.” I shifted on the muddy slope, trying to find a better footing. A series of booms shook the air. I crouched over Quilan, protecting his exposed head. I heard debris thudding onto the slope across from us, and something splashed into the water. I glanced at the level of the pool in the bottom of the crater as the waves slapped against the chisel shape of the land destroyer’s fore armour and fell back again. At least the water didn’t seem to be rising any more.

“Worosei,” he said. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere. Not with this thing on top of me. Please. I’m not trying to be heroic and neither should you. Just get out now. Go.”

“There’s still time,” I told him. “We’ll get you out of there. You were always so impatient.” Light pulsed above us again, picking out each lancing drop of rain in the darkness.

“And you were—”

Whatever he was going to say was drowned out by another fusillade of sharp concussions; the noise rolled over us as though the very air was being torn apart.

“Loud night,” I said as I crouched over him again. My ears were ringing. More light flickered to one side and, close up, I could see the pain in his eyes. “Even the weather’s against us, Quilan. Dreadful thunder.”

“That was not thunder.”

“Oh, it was! There! And that is lightning,” I said as I crouched further over him.

“Go. Now, Worosei,” he whispered. “You’re being stupid.”

“I—” I began. Then my rifle slipped from my shoulder and the stock hit him on the forehead. “Ouch,” he said.

“Sorry.” I shouldered the weapon again.

“My fault for losing my helmet.”

“Still,” I slapped one of the sections of track above us, “you gained a land destroyer.”