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buzzed inside their helmets. Someone was trying to contact them but reception was bad. Becca switched frequencies and tested them.
    ‘Flight zero three three. Are you receiving me, over?’
    On her third attempt, Richard’s voice was cracked but audible. They were clearly far enough away from base to be pushing the boundaries for communication and static was wiping out chunks of the speech they could hear.
    ‘.return to base.’
    ‘Please repeat,’ Becca said. ‘Message broken.’
    ‘.in seismic activity …’
    Good grief, had the volcano erupted? No. Becca looked up from the radio controls to stare into the darkness ahead. They were easily close enough by now to see the glow from such an event in the night sky. A sky that was lightening perceptibly with a faint line defining the horizon. Dawn was not that far off and that was good. It would make landing on the island a lot safer.
    ‘.wind shear in the event of eruption,’ came the end of Richard’s latest broadcast.
    So it hadn’t erupted, then. Even better.
    ‘.ash.’ The single word was another warning.
    ‘Message broken,’ Becca said again.
    ‘.pager.’ The word was a command now. ‘.mobile.’
    ‘Roger. Over and out.’
    They flew in silence again for a minute. And then another. Becca was reluctant to follow the instruction. Even as broken as the communication had been, it was clear the mission was in danger of being aborted. And they were almost there, dammit. With no obvious cause for alarm.
    ‘You going to check your pager, then?’ Jet queried. ‘And your phone?’
    ‘Yep.’
    Another minute passed. The sky was definitely getting lighter. Becca peered ahead. Was it too soon to expect to make visual contact with Tokolamu?
    ‘Any time soon?’ Jet murmured.
    With a sigh, Becca unclipped the pager from her belt and handed it to her passenger. He activated the device and started scrolling through messages.
    ‘These seem to be old messages. When did you go to Cathedral Cove?’
    ‘Yesterday. About eleven hundred hours. Idiot teenagers diving off the cliff into some big waves. One of them mistimed it and got banged up on the rocks. Winch job.’
    ‘And south of the Bombay Hills?’
    ‘That was the job before Cathedral Cove. Motorway pile-up.’
    ‘Nothing new on here, then.’
    ‘I’m not surprised. Range for the radio should be better than the pager.’
    ‘Give me your phone.’
    The reluctance to let Jet read any text message she might have was surprisingly strong but Becca shrugged it off. It wasn’t as if there would be anything too personalin there. Like a message from a boyfriend. She almost wished there was. She could be sure that Jet’s love life wasn’t a desert and her single status would probably be enough to count as another putdown. Or was some of this feeling of inadequacy coming from something she’d considered long since buried? She wasn’t old enough. Or special enough. She was just Matt’s kid sister and Jet was.
    ‘Here it is. It says “Cancel, cancel. Seismic activity increasing. Eruption considered imminent. Risk unacceptable. Return to base.”’
    ‘No.’
    ‘What?
‘ But there was something more than astonishment in Jet’s tone. It sounded like admiration. Respect, even.
    ‘Look.’ Becca pointed, and Jet peered into the grey sky of early dawn. ‘Two o’clock,’ she added.
    Lumpy shapes that weren’t waves. Getting larger by the second. The chain of islands of which Tokolamu was the largest. Becca could see it clearly now. Could see the tip of the volcano and it was as dark as the rest of the rocky land mass.
    ‘We haven’t got the fuel to get back,’ she said calmly. ‘Personally, I’d rather take my chances after a safe landing on an island than ditching in the ocean somewhere.’
    There was a moment’s silence as Jet absorbed the implications. Becca finally turned to look at him and, to her amazement, he grinned at her.
    ‘Your bird,’ he said. ‘Your rules.’
    His face was really alive