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Then I thought of my stratum, of how the boys had come to help, how the girls had forced the ship to wait for us. Were they now wishing we’d stayed on Taris too? Did they see me as the troublemaker?
    I tried to shut my mind to the words coming at me. Was this what Hera had picked up? We weren’t going to die after all?
    Gradually, the words faded as people fell asleep, and I must have nodded off too, because when Kalta let out a yell sometime in the early morning I woke with a start.
    ‘Look! Look at Taris!’
    It took a moment to focus my eyes and sit Hera up so that she could see as well. Others were quicker – I heard cries and gasps all around me. Then I saw what was happening. The crack in the dome had split open.
    ‘You can see the mountain,’ somebody shouted.
    We saw the peak, with the wind whipping the mist in great swirls before carrying it up and away. We watched, all ills forgotten, as the wind peeled back layer on layer of the dome that had sheltered us. In seconds it was no longer a dome but some fierce kind of bird with huge, flailing wings. Piece by piece, sections broke away to fly out over the ocean or to slam down into the exposed heart of our island.
    My father, who had been in charge of the gardens and orchards, cried out, ‘It’s gone. All gone. In seconds.’
    We stared at the flattened mango orchard, the vegetable gardens, the sheds where we kept our tools.
    In another few minutes there was nothing left of the dome. It had disappeared as if it had never existed.
    I heard Silvern’s mother cry out, then mine. The wind was howling down the slope, smashing at the houses. First our roof spiralled up, then Silvern’s family lost theirs. The screen was full of images of flying objects – roofs, clothing, furniture, dead animals, seating from the arena, computers. The violent gusts smashed into the school, then the Governance Offices, the techno centre and the hospital. Once a hole had been punched in the fabric of each building it succumbed quickly to the power of the wind. The last buildings left whole and standing were Grif and Danyat’s house, and the house Vima’s family had lived in. Those two held out perhaps five minutes longer than any of the others.
    We kept our eyes on the screen, straining to see when the clouds thickened, watching as everything we had known was stripped away, then carried off by the hurricane. Waves seethed into the Bay of Clowns where we used to swim in calm, clear water. They crashed down onto the beach and hurtled up the slope to snatch away chunks of the pathway above.
    All around the room, people wept as the winds smashed our home, tossing the pieces of it into the wild air. I couldn’t weep, could scarcely breathe. It was gone – just like that, in seconds. An image of our bodies twisting through the air flashed through my mind and I looked around to find my family, to reassure myself that no matter what happened now we were safer at this moment then we’d have been if we’d stayed. Tears streaked down Mother’s face as she watched. Dad reached out to clasp her hand. My grandparents looked as though it took all their strength to absorb what was happening. Suddenly I sensed that they thought of their murdered children whose ashes they had scattered on the mountain. Oran, daughter of Grif and Danyat. Elin, son of Leebar and Bazin. Both murdered at Majool’s orders.
    I had no idea how much time passed before Oban got out of his hammock to stand, clutching a stanchion, to address us. ‘My people, our home has gone and there is no turning back.’ He paused and glanced around at our distressed faces. ‘No matter what happens now, I think you’ll agree we owe a huge debt to Vima for sending the message to our rescuers, even though it nearly cost her her life.’
    Nobody spoke but I felt an easing in the atmosphere. I only hoped no one would mention my name, or remind people that Vima couldn’t have sent the message if Hera and I hadn’t found the path that