Anderson leaned on the table and sifted through the stacks of reports, photographs and telegrams that constituted the "summary" of the war effort. His eyes flicked across corroborations, movements, historical movements. There was also a pile of folders that was the sum total of knowledge of prior incidents - anything relating to the invaders from before the actual landing of the cylinders - it was sparse but it was there.

He looked up as Bradford entered, another stack of documents in his hands. The man looked a little less haggard now and Anderson offered him a nod, "More good news, Captain?"

"Just strange, sir. Martians haven't so much as peeped since you sent them back with their nose in a sling. They've dug in. Only got minor guerilla movement in the outlying parts of the city… and collaborators of course."

Anderson twitched and shook his head, "Bloody traitors."

Bradford winced, "Eh, only a hundred years ago, you'd be saying that about us."

Anderson rolled his shoulders and sighed, "Geography and time mellow the memory somewhat, Bradford. The revolutionaries in Ireland are a closer fear. That said we haven't been the best landlords… but this is beyond the burning of the establishment - this is the selling out of ones fellow man. Have the prisoners said much?"

"Well, the wounded one gave us a little - his boss, not so much. Got some safe houses they're using, some old warehouses that the Martians have secured. Did a cursory sweep, subtle-like, with Shen's boys and girls. Nothing in any of them… except…"

Here he placed a photograph from his pile onto the table. It showed a construction site - a dig, more than an actual building to Anderson's eyes.

"Looks like one of the sites for the Underground extension."

"That it is. And we saw a fair number of Tall-men heading in and out with some revolutionaries. And there's something else…"

He pulled out a sketch and handed it across. Anderson frowned, "They have a crest?"

Bradford nodded, "Look familiar?"

Anderson studied the decal, a five sided shield with an "X" across it and shook his head, "Should it?"

"Reminds me of one of the military cap badges I saw. Damned if I can remember where. But seems our anarchists are a little more unified."

Anderson nodded, "Well, this does present us with an opportunity to gain some actionable intelligence and perhaps more samples. Ready a platoon. We need firesupport, some engineers and heavy weapons, in case there's any more of those 'Muton' beasts you've mentioned."

Bradford cocked his head to one side and frowned, "Engineers, sir?"

"It's an underground tunnel, Captain. Having some chaps who know how to hold it up or bring it down in short order will likely be rather useful. Keep most of the platoon surface side to round up stragglers; enlist local police to ensure we've identified all exits - in case they can pop out of a cellar or something. Don't want the chaps getting stacked up in there and always a good idea to keep a reserve."

"Understood sir. Will you be briefing them?"

Anderson nodded, "Two hours. I need to revisit Shen. Said he had something for me."

Shen's workshops were a strange sight. In a little over a week, the Chinese crime boss had transformed the empty under arches to a warren of stores and forges. Smoke billowed up between gaps in the makeshift sheds and heat rolled out of side rooms where makeshift troughs of molten metal were being forged into barrels and body-armour.

Anderson made his way carefully through it all, into a large warehouse at the centre of the maze. He froze as he entered and stared. One of the Tripod heat-rays had been setup in a sort of gantry system, hooked up to a glowing column. There was the crackle of static in the air and then a flash, followed by the smell of ozone. Steam rose off of the ray-gun and men dash forwards, throwing buckets of sand over it.

Anderson saw Shen shaking his head, next to a large chalkboard. Ogilvy was stood next to him, having been dragooned into service by Moira. Apparently the man had arrived in London a while before Anderson and been picked up damn near immediately - the Spokesman's people were efficient to say the least.

His old friend noticed him and beckoned him over, "Ah, Bill! As you can see, we haven't quite cracked it. Barely get any output… well, we get it, but the heat just goes everywhere except where we aim."

"Twenty five lenses, lost!" grumbled Shen, "The glassblowers can barely keep up. Shame all of the original focusing devices were shattered. Would help to know the material they use as glass seems to just shatter."

Anderson gestured at the columns, "And those?"

Shen shuddered, "Some of the devices you brought along, crated up. Best we can tell, some sort of self contained power unit. No coal, no steam components, no magnetic elements. Not even static. Our own steam generator, well, it can't power the devices even to a slight amount. It is… an enigma."

Anderson shook his head, "So, even if we do crack these things, we likely can't use them consistently?"

"For now. Give Moira time. That woman seems to relish the challenge," Shen grinned and clicked his tongue, "BUT! We have made some progress on other matters."

He led Anderson over to another part of the warehouse where two men were running some checks on a strange set of contraptions. One was a huge backpack - it looked like a frame of iron bars around a large canister. A glowing energy unit sat at the base of it all. The backpack was connected to a huge device that looked like a hose crossed with a maxim gun. Anderson glanced nervously at Shen, "And that is…?"

"Well, you said you wanted to maximise output per soldier. This is… well it is currently a crude prototype. I was partly inspired by some old Arabic designs for flamethrowers - pressuring things via bellows and so on. Except we far exceed that now with our valves and funnels."

"A… flame thrower?"

Shen grinned again, "No! Something more effective!" He gestured to the two men. One of them hefted the nozzle-gun and aimed at a distant target, maybe thirty yards away, made up of stacked metal and wood pallets. The second technician turned a few valves and the backpack shook. Then the main gunner pulled the trigger.

There was the sound of air being shredded and a large metal rod slammed into the distant target, exploding metal and wood into splinters. The backpack hissed as steam hissed out, then subsided. Anderson blinked, "What the devil?"

"The enemy use a form of pressurised gas in their weaponry, which they superheat via some form of focusing array. However, we can't replicate the gas nor the focusing methods just yet. But I have been able to use their method for pressuring the gas and using that as a propellant for a projectile. The weapon can pierce five inches of metal, using nothing but a sharpened rod of steel. I may be able to scale it up."

"An anti-armour weapon?"

"And at this level, an anti-Muton weapon. There are… issues. The weapon required three minutes to re-pressurise and we need to use the enemy small power packs to generate the requisite heat. As well as their gas pressure components. These are expensive to make, material wise. I have two so far. Two to three man crew to use the damn thing, until I can find out how we can improve our men in some way, or find a similar solution to the martians."

"Mounted… weaponry?" Anderson mused and nodded, "I can see it. Well this is excellent progress. I would like to have one on our next excursion. A field test."

Shen nodded, "Good idea."

Ogilvy leaned in, "I've something else to add. Have you noticed the meteorological phenomena?"

Anderson arched an eyebrow, "It's a bit cloudy you mean?"

"In high summer? With thunderheads against the usual wind direction? We've not seen the sky for two days."

"Something they're doing to the air perhaps?"

"Not sure, but worth considering old boy. Also, wanted to have a chat about that array Wells found."

Shen waved them away and Anderson followed the astronomer into a smaller building between the various yards and railway sidings. A few more technicians bustled around in here, running copper cables between a set of wind-up generators and the strange pylon that Wells had captured.

"So, what the devil is it?"

"We think it's a communication system."

"Oh? Wireless?"

"Something like that. Apparently it houses a ghost," The Colonel stared at him and Ogilvy chuckled, "That or some sort of… cinemagraphic projection. Did you read the reports you brought back?"

"The debrief was fairly extensive, a good twenty captives and their statements… not made my way through all of it. All I got was that they used something to talk to their masters…" mused the Colonel.

"Well, seem this is it. Unfortunately it was badly damaged during the, ah, fracas between our mutual acquaintance and Tripod."

"Still finding that a wonder, to be honest."

"I too, old boy. But you see that crystal atop it? Cracked rather badly. Also, some components within are melted. There's what look like stone plates, as well as polymers, inlaid with metal strips… we think to carry current."

"I thought you were an astronomer, Ogilvy."

"That is a calling. Spent eight years working developing better electrolysis methods in Slough. I know my way around a wiring diagram and a laboratory, Bill."

Anderson chuckled, "The fruits of a life well spent. I can just fire a rifle rather well."

"Well, a fine pair then! So, we were going to run a current through it, see what it does."

"Is that… wise? We know the tripods tend to explode violently and they seem to have similar… components." a few of the nearby technicians paused in their work and exchanged worried glances. Ogilvy gave Anderson a deadpan look.

"My dear fellow, we've checked it. None of the components are in any way explosive under any circumstances. At worst the thing will be a very pretty light show."

The pair moved back and, despite Ogilvy's confidence, Anderson found they were standing behind what looked like a rather large shield of metal. He smirked at his friend as the scientist gestured for his team to continue.

There was the whine of electricity building as the generators kicked into gear and batteries were clipped into the circuit. The air tingled and Anderson felt his teeth go cold. Lightning jumped from the crystal atop the pylon and blasted around the room, lancing towards anything metal. There was a shower of sparks and a figure appeared in the middle of the room. It flickered and staggered, then raised a weapon and fired.

There was a scream as a technician went down, clutching his arm. Others shouted and ran for cover as the strange, glowing, golden being took shot after shot, firing wildly.

Anderson cursed and pulled his pistol, then ducked out from behind cover. He pulled back as the creature twisted and fired. It's range of movement was unnatural, torso snapping around like it was on an axis. The gun fired in bursts of six, splashing green energy all over. Anderson took a chance and leaned out again, firing a couple of shots in quick succession.

The creature reeled backwards, then stumbled over a wire. Anderson took the opportunity and stepped out from behind the metal shield and planted three more shots into the creature. They sparked off of the strange, bone-like armour, seeming to only aggravate the thing.

He saw it recover and raise its weapon. The movement drew his attention to the blue glow at its centre. Without thinking, Anderson fired his last round, plugging the glow with a straight shot.

The being froze then shattered, the weapon in its hand fracturing as if it too were made of glass.

"Turn it off, turn it off!" came Ogilvy's shout and a tech sprinted across the room, yanking down on a lever. The circuit broke and the arcing electricity sputtered out, the sparks fading from the erupting machine. The air stank of burned flesh and burnt polymer. Anderson turned and regard his friend.

"I can safely say that did not go as expected."

Moira Vahlen stood peering at the burnt out machine, then turned and glared at Ogilvy, "Wunderbar. A functional device reduced to an oversized paperweight. Warum?"

Anderson sat on crate nearby, juggling a crystal in his hand. It was all that remained of the strange creature, cracked by his pistol shot. Strangely, the machine retained its own crystal, but that was now covered in even more spider-webbed cracks. He glanced up and watched as Ogilvy weather the assault from the Head scientist.

"My apologies, madame… Doctor. We had the safeties in place, various compounds attached to measure for chemical analysis, observers."

"And half of it is burned out and we have two dead technicians."

Ogilvy bridled slightly, "You think I don't know that? I cannot account for every possible action! We now know the enemy has the ability to MANIFEST entities at will! Proven. It was not the aim of the experiment, but it is a discovery. I am sorry, Doctor, I feel the shame off loss. But at least we know something."

Vahlen glared at him, "And we lost a valuable asset."

Anderson stood and huffed, "I authorised the experiment Doctor, which was done under the auspice that we test all the assets recovered. One thing we now know, " he looked between the pair, "Armed guards for any laboratory dealing with non inert samples. We know they can bring the dead back to a point. And now we know they can, via some queer scientific or ephemeral means, magic combatants from their devices. Doctor Vahlen, I will concur with Professor Ogilvy - I'm not sure how he could feasibly have carried this out any other way. Unless you wished for him to dismantle the device?"

The Doctor exhaled and gave Anderson a look, "I feel this is a waste of assets… but I… suppose I understand the point. It feels like a waste."

Ogilvy clasped his hands, "And I am sorry, Doctor. I had gone over your checklist and thought we had everything in the clear."

Moira waved a hand. She suddenly looked distracted, noticing the crystal in Anderson's hand, "Another...crystal?"

"Quite wrecked I'm afraid."

"Well… I would be grateful if you can seize another of these devices. And maybe a live example of the creature."

Anderson nodded curtly and handed the crystal across, "Maybe then you'll join us all for dinner, Doctor?"

She looked him up and down, then huffed, "Perhaps. That may take a live Tripod, of course," and she walked out of the ruined lab. Ogilvy glanced, perplexed, at his friend.

"Are you… courting?"

Anderson blinked and shook his head, "Don't be absurd. Professional back and forth, helps morale. And all that."

"Ah. Of course. And giving her a lovely example of carbonised mineral means nothing…"

Ogilvy grinned and held up his hands, walking to join his technicians. Anderson grunted, shook his head, then left.

The platoon stood at ease, thirty men in carried the usual Martini-Henry rifles - this was the perimeter detail. Five had the Winchester lever rifles, as they were the "first in" team. There was a single marksman with the team, the butt of his long Afghan rifle resting on the parade cobbles. Two more carried large bore rifles, "recovered" from a nearby collection. They were designed for taking down Elephants - and now, hopefully, Mutons.

The three engineers carried shotguns and pistols, lighter to counter the explosives they carried in their packs.

The last four men were a bit more varied - Zhaojie stood with Maxim gun resting on his shoulder. Anderson decided not to ask "Mr Zhang" where or how he'd procured one. Nor how he seemed happy to carry the damn thing by himself. He had a…. Colleague; a wiry young woman who carried one of Shen's crossbows.

The other two men carried the prototype "Pneumatic" gun, one hefting the back-pack and pair of pistols for self defence. The gunner had the main nozzle primed. The loading seemed akin to that of a bolt action weapon - allowing the gunner to insert a new steel rod from the bandoleer or satchel he carried.

It was certainly the most unique assortment of troops he'd ever had to brief.

"Gentlemen… and lady. It has come to our attention that we have unwelcome guests in our city. As such, we will be deploying to counter rebel and invader elements. Within Baker Street, at a construction site. Sergeant Hackett has already briefed you on the initial details of your tasks - the Perimeter team will establish a cordon, focused inward. Local constabulary and militia, as well as attached British Army forces will secure the external perimeter. The secondary team will enter the site and clear it of hostile elements."

He paced in front of the gathered troops. Bradford stepped forwards, "The primary objective is to clear the area of hostile forces. Secondary is the capture of live specimens. Third, the seizure of intelligence - documentation, equipment and supplies."

Anderson nodded, "Extraction will be once the site is secured, or if resistance is deemed too fierce. If hostile elements are numerous and resistant, the objective will be to seal the location, disrupting the enemy plans and movement. This will be a field test of our capability to assault an enemy held position, rather than just reacting to their attacks. This will set a new mark against which the country, indeed the world can measure success. Godspeed, all."

The troops came to attention, even the irregulars, then turned to the right and marched off, to be briefed in-detail by their corporals. This was the "overarching" speech, the setting of the scene. But it was important, a primer as it were. Bradford crossed over and watched the troops load up into wagons, "Reckon it'll be ok?"

Anderson sighed, "Sending them into the belly of the beast. But there'll be worse by the time this war is through, you can be damn sure."

Droplets of rain began to spatter and the Colonel glared up. Bradford shuddered, "Damn fine weather for it too."

Anderson continued glaring up at the clouds, his expression growing thoughtful "Isn't it just….?"