The Merlin had bellied in under the skirts of a hundred-meter-tall cinder cone. Boulders ranging from dishwasher-size to bigger than houses dotted the sloping ground. The shifting light that was Project Sunfire was down there —maybe half a klick away, down a steep scree slope, in the blackened and charred bottom of a secondary crater. The great fan of light—the nimbus of glowing air—towered up above me, reflecting off the underside of the rolling clouds. At its base amongst the lifeless points of arc light, I could see figures moving.