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river would bear bubbles, bouncing them off the walls and each other before finally popping them through the still-sparking circle in the roof.
    The last man out looked down as he left, wondering absently why he was not gibbering in panic. Surely flying was grounds for hysteria?
    That will probably come later, he decided. If there is a later for me.
    In the steam of the sauna, it seemed to him that there was a small humanoid shape lying on the floor. A diminutive figure with wings, which leaped to its feet, then sped toward the flying men.
    It’s all true, thought the man. Just like Lord of the Rings. Fantasy creatures. All true.
    Then the island exploded, and the man stopped worrying about fantasy creatures and began worrying about his trousers, which had just caught fire.
    * * *
    With all four men in the air, Holly decided that it was time to get herself as far from the supposed island as possible. She jumped from a squatting position, engaged her wings in the air, and shot into the morning sky.
    “Very nice,” said Foaly. “You know they’re calling that move the Hollycopter, don’t you?”
    Holly drew her weapon, urging the weightless men farther away from the island with short bursts.
    “Busy staying alive, Foaly. Talk later.”
    Foaly said. “Sorry, friend. I’m worried. I talk when I’m worried. Caballine thinks it’s a defense mechanism. Anyway, the Hollycopter. You did the same takeoff during that rooftop shoot-out in Darmstadt. Major . . . I mean . . . Commander Kelp caught it on video. They’re using the footage in the academy now. You wouldn’t believe how many cadets have broken their ankles trying the same trick.”
    Holly was about to insist that he please shut up when Shelly ignited his methane cells, decimating his old shell and sending tons of debris hurtling skyward. The shock wave took Holly from below like a giant’s punch, sending her pinwheeling. She felt her suit flex to avoid the impact, the tiny scales closing ranks like the shields of a demon battalion. There was a slight hiss as her helmet plumped the safety bags protecting her brain and spinal cord. The screens in her visor flickered, jumped, then settled.
    The world spun by her visor in a series of blues and grays. The Artificial Horizon in her helmet did several revolutions, end over end, though Holly realized that in actuality she was the one revolving, and not the display.
    Alive. Still alive. My odds must be getting short.
    Foaly broke in on her thoughts. “. . . heart rate is up, though I don’t know why. One would think you’d be used to these situations by now. The four humans made it, you will be delighted to know, since you risked your life and my technology to save them. What if one of my floaters had fallen into human hands?”
    Holly used a combination of gestures and blinks to fire short bursts from several of her wings’ twelve engines, wrestling back control of her rig.
    She opened her visor to cough and spit, then answered his accusation.
    “I’m fine, thanks for asking. And all LEP equipment is fitted with remote-destruct. Even me! So the only way your precious floaters were ever going to fall into human hands was if your technology failed.”
    “Which reminds me,” said Foaly, “I need to get rid of those darts.”
    Below was pandemonium. It seemed as though half of Helsinki’s inhabitants had already managed to launch themselves in various crafts, and a veritable flotilla was heading toward the explosion site, led by a coast guard vessel, two powerful outboards churning at its stern, nose up for speed. The kraken itself was obscured by smoke and dust, but charred fragments of its shell rained down like volcanic ash, coating the decks of the boats below and draping a dark blanket over the Baltic Sea.
    Twenty yards to Holly’s left, the floating men bobbed happily in the air, riding the last ripples of explosive shock, pants hanging in tattered ruins from their waists.
    “I am surprised,” said Holly,