Everybody was calm, but there was an unmistakeable undercurrent of fear beneath it all. The crowd jostled, moving forward slowly. I kept tight hold of our luggage, half an eye on Nan and was having a quick glance around when I noticed a code that had etched itself into my memory, carried nonchalantly by one of the Marines close by.

SMITH 0182747

I rushed forward. He raised a hand, unrecognisable behind armour and mirrored visor.

“Sir, please stay back and remain calm.”

“Son?”

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

“It’s all been crazy. Nan’s not coping with it very well. Can you get us out of here any quicker?”

He checked the old wristwatch I’d given him long ago, the nickel plating shining in the fluorescent glare.

“It’s as crazy up there as it is down here, Dad. Just… stay calm, try to get on the first transport that arrives. I’ll find you, Dad. I promise.”

A distant klaxon sounded and he visibly flinched. He pulled down his visor hurriedly.

“I’ve got to go. Goodbye, Dad.”

“Goodbye, Son!”