They want to see what bizarre experiment has earned the great Marina Furey’s time and expertise. Aura sends a message rippling with reassurance – victory is near! be calm and confident! ‘I wish our new uniforms weren’t one-size-fits-nobody,’ Zoya complains as we stand by the hangar at dawn, watching Planet Umbra slowly sink below the horizon. ‘At least everyone in our squadron has to wear them, so we all look awful together. I can’t believe I got issued boots for two left feet! The only reason they don’t pinch is because they’re two sizes too big.’ ‘You sound like Ang Two-Times!’ I tease. ‘Did you stuff them with spare socks, like Petra suggested? You’re lucky you haven’t had to roll your trousers up a million times just to see your own feet, like me.’ The test plane is wheeled from the hangar out to the runway. Its wood glows a warm, dawn orange, while the metal parts sparkle. Some of the crowd sneer with contempt. I don’t blame them.
