The city was very different now that Mark considered himself the hunted rather than the hunter. Every window could hide a sniper. Every doorway could hold a squad of goons. Birdstyle didn't feel like the protection it had once been, and he watched the scanner hoping that nothing moved instead of waiting for a target.

Shadows seemed longer. Lines of sight poorer. And it felt like a million miles back to the Phoenix.

Half way there and suddenly there was movement on the scanner. A whole squad just round the next corner. Mark flattened himself against the side of the building, grateful for the line of trees separating the pedestrian and vehicle areas on this particular street. If he moved slowly, he could stay out of sight even against a wall this smooth.

Hold on, though? A squad of four? Spectrans didn't operate in fours. They considered it horribly unlucky.

"G-1, come in," he said into the bracelet.

The four dots stopped moving.

"If you're the single dot to our southwest, come join us," crackled out of his bracelet. Horribly distorted, but that was Jason's voice. Had to be, of course. Four dots meant his whole team was there.

He took a deep, steadying breath and darted across the street. Nothing else on his scanner, and he stepped round the corner.

They were barely ten yards away, in an alcove, about as close to cover as they were likely to get round here. None of them appeared to be hurt. Jason had the cablegun out and was covering the street. Princess crouched over a handheld electronic device that he didn't recognise. Something she'd put together, from the looks of it.

He knew he should walk straight in and take control. Instead, Jason took one look at him and swore.

"You look like crap. Keyop, keep watch."

A hand in the small of his back propelled him to the back of the alcove, and Jason was peering into his eyes, squinting through the visor.

"They hit you with that ray?"

Well, that saved explanations, at least.

"Thought so. When did you manage to transmute again?"

That sounded a lot like first-hand knowledge, and if Jason had figured something out, he needed to know.

"Not sure how long it was. A couple of minutes after I came round?"

"And how did that go?"

"Bad," he admitted. "I had to force it, big time."

"Yeah. Based on my statistical sample of one, I suggest you detransmute and try again. I couldn't get past it for twenty minutes, but once I wasn't having to force it, it helped."

"They shot you? Both of you?" That was Tiny, and Jason nodded.

"Yes. Not discussing it now. Do it, Mark. It might help and you look like you're about to keel over."

Right now, he'd try anything - it wasn't just how ill he felt, it was the horrible sense of wrongness, don't-want-to-be-here, total uncertainty. Mark glanced out of the alcove just to confirm that there was nobody else in sight, reversed his transmutation, and brought his hand over again.

Jason was right. That felt so much better. All of a sudden he wasn't prey in a strange and unfamiliar place, he was the Eagle and he had a job to do.

"Good call," he said. "Now, we need to find that ray and we need to destroy it. It's already taken out half the Rigan Red Rangers."

"Mark," said Tiny carefully, "they don't transmute."

"No, they don't. Apparently it also has a nice set of Rigan brainwashing facilities. I don't know whether humans are affected and I have no intention of finding out."

"So we take off and reduce Lulo to a pile of steaming rubble?" Jason asked.

"And take out the other half of the Rigan Red Rangers?"

"What the hell are the Red Rangers doing here?"

"We'll discuss that later. For now, bombing the city is off the table. I'll take other options."

"Princess is tracking the source of the comms interference," Tiny said. "We were guessing it's in the same place as the weapon. Maybe even it's the weapon causing it."

Mark nodded. His comm-tech was crouched alongside him, studying the screen of her hand built device intently. "Do you know where it is yet?" he asked her.

"I'm doing a lot of guessing and approximating, but I think it's about two hundred yards that way." She pointed north.

"Anyone bring a map?" he asked.

Jason snorted. "I've seen a map, that good enough for you? There's a square in the right place. Not as big as the one you left the Phoenix in."

Mark suspected that Jason could name and describe every street which led to it. He didn't need that level of detail. A mixture of instinct and imagination was telling him that Zoltar was highly likely to have based himself there. Probably with that ray parked right in the middle, heavily guarded, and with no chance that anyone could creep up on it.

"Any ideas for destroying the weapon?" he asked. "You have seen it, right?"

"Wish I hadn't. I've never seen anything target so fast. We may have to get close enough to plant explosives."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"Me neither. Right now it's the best I've got."

Maybe not surprising that Jason's suggestions amounted to blowing the thing up. He'd still have liked a few more details.

"We're heading to that square," he said. "Jase, you're navigating. I want to get a good look at the layout, and then we'll discuss options. Be very clear here, we cannot afford to get hit by that thing. We're not going in without a strategy."

He looked pointedly at his second, and got a brusque nod in return. Keyop might have followed Jason's lead, but he was unlikely to freelance. The other two would follow orders.

"Move out," he said, and put himself at the back of the group. What he wanted was some sort of shoulder-mounted rocket launcher. They'd never carried heavy weapons, the argument being that if anything beyond hand-to-hand was needed, they should be using their vehicles. Maybe he should send Princess back for her bike. But in the silent city streets, the sound of an engine would be as good as a target marker.

No decisions yet, he told himself as he followed his team deeper into the residential area, with narrower streets and much shorter sightlines. Find the thing, observe, and then pick the least worst option.

Twenty yards ahead of him, Jason held his hand up and moved sideways into a doorway. By the time Mark reached him, the door was open and his second had vanished inside.

"Is it here?" he asked Princess, who had stopped just inside the door, her scanner out again.

"Twenty yards, as far as I can tell. Just past the junction."

"Watch this door."

She nodded, and he headed up the stairs after the others.

Jason stood by a giant picture window in what should have been someone's living room, looking out across an open area. Just outside the window, a ring of very new and rather sparse trees in oversize concrete tubs would one day provide a green edge to the square while blocking most of the view. For now, they were at least a visual distraction which would make it much less likely that anyone outside would notice movement behind the glass. He must remember to comment on it in the debrief. Jason was forever getting stick for his lack of strategic thinking. Credit was due for this one.

"Right square?" he asked.

"Right square." Jason pointed unnecessarily, and Mark joined him at the window.

The ray stood in the centre of the square, with no cover around it for thirty yards in any direction. Goons surrounded it, alert, facing out. Multiple squads patrolled the square further out. At the centre, next to the ray and with one hand resting on it proprietarily, a distinctive red and purple figure.

"You'd think they might have figured out that we'll try to get in close and destroy it," Jason said.

"Yeah." Mark continued to examine the layout of the square. It wasn't that far to the ray.

"I can throw that far," he said.

"I could probably throw that far when I was five. Throw what, though? Shuriken aren't going to touch it. You think your boomerang would get through the armour?"

Mark pulled out a handful of the explosive charges they all carried - small spiky spheres, body an inch across, spikes maybe double that.

"I guess they might do enough damage," Jason said. He didn't sound convinced.

"We only need to damage it enough to make it less effective."

"True. Speaking of which, it runs real hot. It was dripping smoking coolant before. Looks like they've repaired it now, though."

"From where?"

"Pipes on the right hand side."

Mark squinted at it, but he had to agree, there was no sign of a leak now. He didn't think he remembered one from earlier, either, though he hadn't exactly had time to examine it in detail. For a moment he'd hoped that the 'pipes' might be flexible hoses, vulnerable to a boomerang strike or even shuriken, but no, they were heavily armoured metal just like the rest of the thing. Still, they might be the weak point. A potential target for his explosives.

He tried not to think that Zoltar wouldn't be standing there, in the open, unless he had some sort of protection that they couldn't even see. He suspected Jason was thinking it too, given that his second hadn't even suggested just plain shooting him.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs outside, and Keyop and Tiny came in at a run.

"The penthouse has a balcony," Tiny said between gasps. "We could jump down and -"

"No." Mark's reaction was instinctive, and Jason's voice echoed his own.

"We'll consider it as a plan B," Mark continued as his pilot's face fell. "But this thing is different. I wasn't joking when I said we can't afford to get hit by it. If we jump down we'll be unconscious before we reach the ground. Now, Keyop, come here a minute. See those pipes on the right side of the nose of that thing?"

Keyop nodded, visor up almost against the glass.

"I don't want you to use your bolos unless we're out of other options, but if it comes to that, they're your target. Clear?"

"Clear."

"Then let's take a look at this balcony."

.

Normally he'd have agreed with Tiny: this would have been a great place to jump down into action from. The goons would have scattered like flies, he and Jason would have charged in on the central target, and they'd have had it in pieces inside a minute. Instead, he crouched behind the parapet, peering through the gaps in the panelling, deciding exactly what he should target with his explosives.

"Commander," Jason said after a couple of minutes, "I know we have to be careful, but don't you think we should get on with it?"

Mark opened his mouth to say yes, eyed up his target... and his instinct screamed at him to delay just a moment longer. He hesitated.

"What is your problem?"

"I'm not..."

Jason wasn't listening. He was staring over Mark's right shoulder.

"Oh, crap," he said.

Mark turned to see what had worried his second. At the far side of the square, a squad of goons was escorting a group of captives into the square. Human captives. Ordinary workers, men and women, maybe a dozen. In the centre of the square, the ray swung round towards them.

Brainwashed zombies who'll do anything they're told. Suicide bombing.

"Change of plan," he snapped, and leapt over the parapet.

.

Remember how quick that thing is. Wait. Wait... now!

Small explosive charges were suddenly the perfect weapon. Mark hurled one at the nearest group of goons to his right, another to the left, and landed in front of the nearest tree just as both exploded.

Wait just a breath, enough for the sound of the explosions to die away, and... "Hey, Zoltar! You're pointing the wrong way!"

"Get him!" That was a scream of fury from the Spectran leader.

As Mark had hoped, the ray swung round towards him without firing at the civilians. The green lightning lashed out, fast and accurate, directly at the point where he'd landed.

He wasn't there any more.

From the other side of the street, a familiar laugh rang out. "Were you aiming for me, Zoltar?"

"Shoot him!"

Another swing of the ray. Another sight-defying zigzag of green. Jason was safe behind the next tree along, and another voice rang out, this one from much higher up.

"Me, surely?"

Mark held his breath - Tiny didn't have the speed of the rest of them. Had he realised just how fast and deadly this weapon was?

"No, me!" Keyop must have been running round the rooftops at breakneck speed, as his voice rang out from half way to the far side of the square.

The Spectran captain at the controls of the ray hesitated, didn't fire at Tiny, fired wildly at Keyop.

"You're a terrible shot!" Princess appeared in the street to his right. "You need much more practice."

A scream of rage from the Spectran leader. And... some sort of remonstration? Whatever it was the captain was saying, it wasn't popular. Zoltar hurled him from the seat and climbed into it himself. Mark took advantage of the changeover time to cartwheel out of cover, across in front of Jason's tree, and behind the next one.

As he arrived, he caught sight of Tiny dropping from the balcony level, in full clown mode, arms circling wildly.

"Whoopeee!" the Owl cried, and ducked behind the tree Mark had just come from. Green fire splattered against the concrete base, but as far as Mark could tell, this weapon didn't do actual physical damage to anything.

Jason moved next, backflipping back across the street, past Tiny, and to the next tree. Princess went in the other direction, but Mark didn't pay her much attention. He was focused on the scene at the ray's controls. Zoltar's face was crimson with rage, and he was furiously adjusting controls. The captain was on his knees, apparently imploring his leader to stop. And... those pipes Jason had mentioned? They were steaming, a distinct cloud of blue haze gathering above them, and there were drips of fluid on the ground.

We don't need to destroy it. He'll do it for us.

Mark launched himself into a brief glide, somersaulting mid-flight with a cheery wave at their adversary, and landed neatly beside Jason as the ray hit the building behind them. The shots were getting wilder, but that didn't matter. The green flare was brighter now.

"It's overheating," he said. "If we can keep him firing..."

"I like this plan." Jason was gone, outdoing him with a double backflip to reach Princess.

"Keep him firing," Mark repeated into the bracelet, but the static was stronger than ever. The other two would have to figure it out from what the rest of the team were doing. From Tiny's antics - facepulling which wouldn't have shamed an entire class of kindergarten students - it seemed likely that they already had.

He left them to it and went back to the cartwheels. One-armed, this time.

An audible scream of rage from Zoltar when the next shot missed. Another furious twist of the controls. The Spectran captain fled, wailing.

Time to finish this. Mark flipped towards the centre of the square, once, twice, and the third time came down on one knee instead of his feet. Lapwing, they called this move, after the bird which faked injury to distract attention. He saw the ray swing towards him, heard Princess scream - that was in their strategies, too - and hurled himself to the left as a flare so bright it was colourless shot towards where he'd been. The universe paused, air heavy with static, and he knew what was coming.

"Down!" he howled, and flung himself face down on the ground, cape over his head. The explosion followed a heartbeat later; silent, ground-shuddering waves of force washing over him, past him.

It stopped. Still no sound. No buildings collapsing, no secondary explosions. Mark sat up warily, glancing around. The ray was gone as if it had never been there.

"Sound off," he said hopefully into the bracelet.

Not a hint of static in the four cheerful replies.

He stood up, shaking dirt from his wings and taking stock of the situation. No sign of Zoltar, or his captain. At the far side of the square, the goons guarding the civilians briefly stood their ground before dropping their weapons and fleeing rather than face an advancing Swallow. The remaining squads were already gone - before the explosion, he suspected, though he'd not paid them much attention at the time.

"Nice scream," Jason said as he and Princess approached.

She grinned. "I've been practicing. Didn't you -?"

A roar split the air, and Mark groaned inwardly - he'd have recognised the sound of a Spectran mecha in emergency takeoff anywhere, even without the giant craft appearing over the rooftops and accelerating towards the sky. Zoltar was getting away. Again.

What he hadn't expected was the second roar, the note different, higher-pitched but just as familiar, and two Riga fighters accelerating after it.

Two. What's left of my squadron, Cronus had said. There should have been seven.

"Back to the Phoenix," he said, and started to run.

.

It was several hundred yards away, and locked up tight, and the engines were cold, and by the time they'd lifted out of the sinkhole the skies were empty. Keyop shook his head sadly when asked about anything useful on the scanners, and Mark was forced to admit that the mecha was gone. Hopefully Cronus and his wingman had caught it. He suspected not.

For now, he considered a sunken city containing at least one squad of panicked, leaderless goons and weighed it against the information Cronus had given him, information that he hadn't dared tell anyone other than face to face, that Anderson still didn't have.

"Get me a radio link to ISO USA Actual," he said.

"I think that's you," Jason said a moment later, after just enough of a pause that he suspected panicking, pleading looks from his comm-tech.

Yes, it probably is. "I mean the main ISO control centre. Not black section."

The light on his comm flashed a couple of minutes later, and a uniformed ISO major appeared on the screen. "Commander, what can I do for you?"

"I need cleanup teams in Lulo City as soon as possible. Resistance should be minimal but there are still Spectran troops down there, and some civilians. It's no longer a Spectran objective."

"Yes, Commander. Who's in charge down there?"

"Whoever you put in charge down there."

Give him his due, the man didn't blink. "Understood," he said, and the screen went blank.

"Right then," Mark said. "Jason, where did you leave the G-2?"