Sure enough, through the cracked viewscreen I could see the dust kicked up from three hover-carriers about five kilometers down the road.
Will pressed the starting buttons on the instrument panel. The carrier's engine whined, but it failed to lift even a centimeter from the ground.
"We're doomed," said Dr. Tinker.
"What do we do?" I asked.
"You should have left me back there."
"Shut up!" said Will. He turned to me. "There's still a charge left in the desalinator."
I nodded and unbuckled my belt. I went to the back of the carrier while Will continued to try to start the engine. The desalinator's battery showed it had stored energy for perhaps two more bursts. It would not be enough to stop PELA, but if we could draw them outside, we might have a chance to steal another carrier.
After several more failed tries at the engine, Will joined me in the cargo hold. He took the hose from my hand, and we hunched near the doors.
"I wish we had bullets for the guns," I said.
"I don't want to kill anyone else."
"You had to kill those guards," I whispered.
Will carefully inspected the end of the hose, turning it over and over in his hands. "I'm sorry I yelled at you before."
"That's okay."
"I'm scared, Vera."
"So am I."
Will looked back up, and his eyes were red-rimmed and gray. I offered my brother my hand, and he grasped it like a last chance. "We're going to get home," I said. "Remember? You promised."
"I did," he said.
A concussive boom shook the carrier, knocking us both to the floor. It was followed by several smaller booms and then the sulfurous tang of torn metal.
"They're shooting at us!" I screamed. I was on the floor, my hands covering my head. Hot pieces of metal singed my hair and stung the backs of my arms.
"Stay down!" Will yelled.
Two more booms shattered the viewscreens inside the carrier. Glass rained onto the floor, and the cargo doors blew out. Small arms fire followed, the bullets ricocheting off the carrier's broken hulk. Smoke and dust swirled around the interior, making breathing nearly impossible. A single glass canister slipped from a shelf and smashed into a thousand pieces. I couldn't think, and I couldn't speak. All I could do was keep my head covered and pray it would end.
Then all fell silent. I raised my head. I was alive, and so was Will. I could not see Dr. Tinker.
A loudspeaker broke the silence.
"Come out with your hands raised!" said Nasri's amplified voice.
I looked over at Will and knew our situation was hopeless. Yet we lay there for several minutes until Nasri repeated himself and threatened to open fire again. Will raised his arms first, and I followed. We stepped over pieces of shredded metal and exited the carrier through a gaping hole where the driver's side door used to be. Dr. Tinker was already outside with his hands clasped above his head.
"If it isn't our little adventurers," said Nasri.
He smiled, but he was armed and angry. One side of his face looked burned and raw, and his neck was swathed in bandages. He hopped from one foot to the other. Even his men looked frightened. He waved his gun at the three of us and indicated we should move away from the carrier and stand out in the open.
"You're fools," he said. "No good will come of this."
"If you shoot us," I said, "you're throwing away good money."
Nasri raised his pistol. A shot rang out. When I opened my eyes, Dr. Tinker was dead on the ground.