Damona hadn’t lost her temper for thirty-two years. She surrendered herself to it now.

‘Who?’ She stood in front of the time machine. She shook both fists in the air. ‘Who can I punish? I will tear their throats out!’

The time machine slowed, hissed and crackled. Her people in the workshop stared. Uncertain, afraid. More edged through the far door, a crowd. Behind them, noise and shouting. Labour. Activity. Progress.

Hilda was in a chair. Two friends attended her. She had her head in her hands. Weeping. She raised it when Damona approached. ‘The phlogiston. It’s gone.’

‘I know.’ Damona’s rage subsided, dwindled. The young woman looked sick. An angry red mark bloomed on the side of her neck. ‘You were shot?’

‘With this.’

Damona took the dart. It was well made for Invader stuff. Well balanced. A reservoir for refilling. Someone was good. ‘How much phlogiston did the machine use?’

‘Much.’ Hilda gestured at the cabinet. ‘But they have taken the rest. Our stockpile.’

‘You moved our stockpile here?’

Hilda’s face crumpled. ‘It was the efficient place for it.’

It made sense, but it was a disaster. It would take months to refine that much phlogiston.

Damona hissed. She was impatient, now, after all these years. Revenge was close. She wanted it now. She studied the machine. ‘How far back did they go?’

‘I had the controls set.’ Hilda’s voice was choked. ‘Two hundred and fifty years.’

‘Do we have any more phlogiston?’

‘Some. In the main workshop.’

‘Enough for another test?’

Gustave bustled forward. ‘They were the two young Invaders you brought in earlier, Eldest.’

Damona grunted. Invaders. Trouble, always. The world would be better off without them.

She gave the dart back to Hilda. She put her hands on her hips. Head back. She studied the time machine. ‘Hilda?’

‘Can the machine operate again?’ The young engineer smiled, slowly. ‘Maybe. How far back, Eldest?’

‘The same.’ She searched the faces. ‘Rolf. Magnus. Assemble a raiding team. I have a special mission for you.’

Magnus flinched, Rolf looked thoughtful. They jogged off in opposite directions.

Days of labour. Brainwork. Effort. Years of planning. Years of toil. Alone.

Damona now saw her dream made real. A time machine. Made by the True People to right a wrong. When it was ready the past would be mended. No more dispossession. No more persecution. No more wandering, lost and hunted.

Signe, my great-granddaughter, this is for you. And for all those who were taken before their time.

A grim smile. About her, people muttered, wondering. Damona went to the time machine. Stood in front of it, proudly.

‘All is not lost,’ she announced. She lifted her arms. Made fists. ‘We now know the machine works.’ They brightened. Smiled. Cheered. ‘We will succeed!’

Rolf and Magnus pushed back through the door with others. Armed. Eager. Ready.

‘Rolf. Magnus. We will send you back through time. Take your team. Find the Invaders. Bring back the phlogiston we need.’

Rolf cheered. Magnus asked: ‘And the Invaders, Eldest?’

Damona thought of Dr Ward. ‘Bring them back, if easy. If not . . .’ She shrugged.

Hilda pushed through the crowd. She held a bundle of metal mesh. ‘Eldest! If they are coming back, we need to make preparations!’

‘Quickly,’ Damona said. She smiled at those assembled, together, as one. Her people. ‘Go. Hunt.’