It would have been nice had that been an instant fix. No such luck. And, that evening, analysing the films at half speed on the four inch screen in his cubicle, he finally found out what the problem was. Young North had a huge helping of natural talent, but, Mark was forced to recognise, his technique wasn't all it should have been, and he'd been getting away with murder. There was only one thing to do. Mark took him right back to basics, to landing properly, to holding every position rather than lurching from start to end of a move. And Dylan hated it. The next two days were spent with frustration written all across his face, and Mark suspected that only rigid self-control, and residual respect for the Eagle, kept him civil. Quite what would have happened if Grant had been in charge didn't bear thinking about. Half speed was not Dylan North's style - and it showed up deficiencies which simply should not have been there.
He was prepared to work, though. However much he obviously loathed it, however many envious glances he cast across the hold to where Dimitri and Paula were working on pushing their speed up as far as they could, he stuck at it. And, on the morning of the third day, Mark watched him running smoothly through a basic move at half speed, every movement precise and perfect, nothing on his face but concentration, and took pity on him.
"That's much better. Go back to full speed for a while - and no shortcuts!"
Dylan's broad grin was answer enough, and Mark turned to Jenny. The kid was still thoroughly uncomfortable with freefall, still being drugged on a daily basis, but she was learning to work with it, and now she needed to be pushed. Mark kept half an eye on Dylan in case the bad habits should return, and encouraged Jenny to add some twists to her spinning dives across the hold.
The jolt was so minor he'd have thought he'd imagined it, except that everyone else did the same double take he did.
"What was that?" Dylan asked.
"Don't know." But his premonition was going wild. This was wrong. And not in the accident sense, either.
"Crane, can you hack into station comms? Without them knowing?"
"I guess so." She sounded surprised, but she didn't argue, going straight to the comm system on the wall and removing the front cover in short order.
"Shall I go out and look around?" Dylan asked softly.
He wanted, badly, to say no and do it himself. He knew that was a stupid idea. If there had been an accident, he'd only be in the way, and if his premonition was right...well, in his current condition he'd be utterly useless.
Dylan wasn't the right person to send, though. Mark instead waved Dimitri over. Not as much raw potential, maybe, but a whole lot more experience, and a cool head in a crisis.
"Osprey. Go out there, see if you can figure out what's going on. Stay out of sight."
Dimitri raised his eyebrows but said nothing. It was Jenny who squeaked, "Do you think it's Spectra?"
"I don't know. Crane?"
"There's nothing on comms. At all."
That was more than odd, after a jolt like that. "Codenames only from now on. Osprey, be careful."
"Understood."
"I'll get the lights."
Jenny frowned in confusion, and Mark mentally kicked himself. They're not a combat team yet. They don't know the conventions, or understand the things I'm used to leaving unsaid. "He needs to go out without being backlit. Hang on."
"Should we disable the door alarm?" Dylan asked, as Mark pushed across the hold to the switches next to the door, Dimitri following him.
"No time, and it won't be the only door opening and shutting. Ready?"
Three yesses, a pause before Paula's while she tucked comm wires safely away, and then he threw all the switches.
The door was opened before his eyes had accommodated fully to the dark, and Dimitri slipped out into the stark white corridor. All looked exactly as it always had, and for a moment Mark wondered whether he was over-reacting horribly to a perfectly normal orbital realignment.
No, his instinct said, and every time he'd ever ignored it, he'd been wrong.
The door shut, and from the pitch dark behind him, Paula asked, "Should we leave the lights off while we wait? Just in case someone's checking. We can use infra-red."
Well, you can. "We'll do that," he said, continuing to hang onto the handle next to the door.
"Commander," Dylan said hesitantly," why can't you transmute? You've got the bracelet."
Oh, good grief, he still doesn't get it? Mark didn't bother to hide the impatience in his voice. "No power from the implant means no resonant field. Transmutation won't work without it."
"Yes, well, I was thinking...does it have to be your resonant field? If everything else still works? Because, you've probably never been the one struggling, but it's a darn sight easier to transmute if other people are doing it at the same time. Once the Osprey gets back, with three of us, we can put up a pretty strong field around you."
"Four," Jenny said.
"You're not good enough at it yet."
"I'm good enough to be net positive to the field. Aren't I, Paula?"
"I said codenames!" Mark snapped. "Raven, it's an interesting technical question. I don't know. For the sake of an infra-red visor, I have no intention of trying it."
He stopped, freezing as an old, familiar sensation vibrated against his wrist, and coloured lights sparkled in the pitch black. Bird Scramble. He'd been right. This was not good at all.
"He's in trouble," Dylan said, his voice barely steady. "I'll go -"
"You'll go nowhere, Lieutenant." Instinct rather than knowledge again, but Mark was sure that this wasn't a cry for help, more a warning. His suspicions were right, or, at the very least, Dimitri had discovered something troubling. He couldn't see Dylan's expression, but he could practically taste his impatience and frustration. The kid wanted to be out there, not waiting in the dark. Mark empathised with every bone in his body.
The door opened without warning, and Mark threw the lightswitches even before he'd thought about it. His eyes shut despite himself, and when he managed to see again it was to find Dylan lowering the cablegun he'd held in the Osprey's face.
"Mark?" the Russian asked, and at the tone in his voice Mark didn't have the heart to pull him up on a lack of codename. "Please tell me this is not a drill."
"'Mitri, what happened?" Paula was alongside the ash-white Osprey, hands on his shoulders, peering into his face. "Tell us."
"I...there are Spectrans out there. Armed. I took one of them out, and then I thought, what if this is just a drill? And I checked. He wasn't Spectran at all, he was human. Did I just kill some poor bastard on a training exercise?"
"It's not a drill," Mark told him. "It's not, Osprey. Now, you took one out permanently. Well done. How many more are there?"
Dimitri made a very visible effort to pull himself together. "I saw three separate teams of four, all escorting station staff towards the hub."
"And the one you took out?"
"He was on level four, guarding the intersection of spoke seven with the inner ring. That would be a logical way to get to the dock from this side of the station. He...the body is in an emergency refuge."
"Good work." Mark looked around, evaluating their current location and finding it wanting. The lights had gone on and off more than once since the first signs that anything was wrong - unavoidable, but rendering it unsafe as a base of operations. They needed to get out of here.
"We should move. Our quarters. Raven, you lead."
Dylan opened the door cautiously, peered out in all directions, and slipped into the corridor. Paula followed, with Jenny close behind her. Reluctantly, Mark put himself fourth. Dimitri was a far more competent rearguard than he himself was right now, and man, did he feel vulnerable out of birdstyle and unarmed. If they did meet a Spectran patrol, the best he could do would be to get as far out of the way as he could. He'd told people to do just that, on more than one occasion, without any consideration of what it must be like for them. They were guarded, right? Nothing to worry about, since they could leave the fighting to someone else? Not at all. It was an awful, helpless feeling.
Three identical, deserted corridors. Three junctions, where the Raven stopped, checked, and then signed for them to continue. And then there was the door to their quarters, and Paula was swinging it open while Dylan and Dimitri covered her, and he and Jenny kept out of the way.
All the security cameras were still and silent, their red blinking lights dead. There had been no alarms of any kind, and on a space station, you warned first and said "oops, false alarm" later. It had happened on a semi-regular basis for the past week, mostly resulting in someone being ritually humiliated for leaving a door open at one of the communal mealtimes. So, that suggested strongly that no warnings would have gone out beyond the station either. No cries for help. Spectra was here, and ISO didn't know about it. If the regular station crew was going to get a message out, they'd have done it already and the alarms would be shrieking. That left him. And he had no chance of doing it like this.
"Don't touch the lights," he murmured as the door opened. Paula gave him a sharp nod, eyes indistinguishable behind her grey visor, and slipped inside. The rest of them followed, Mark encouraging Jenny with a hand in the small of her back, and Dimitri pulled the door shut behind them.
It wasn't exactly light in there, but it wasn't dark either; the circular window on the end wall facing onto a brightly lit surface a few feet beyond it. Just light enough for him to see movement and silhouettes, but not to read body language or expressions. He didn't need reminding of just how pale all four had been under the corridor lights. They weren't ready for this, even though they were all he had.
They weren't ready for this alone. With advice, they might make it. But he had to go out there with them, or risk discovery because of transmissions being picked up, or simply through one of them being heard talking into a bracelet. He couldn't go out in civvies without being a total liability. That left one option that he was aware of, and he had no idea whether it would work. Then again, he'd commanded G-Force. He was entirely familiar with having no good options, and making the best of what he had.
"Team, I'd like you to detransmute. We're trying the Raven's idea."
"Commander," Dylan said, and Mark could see the attempt to appear taller than he was, "send me. No offence, but I don't think you're ready to take on that many Spectrans yet."
"I'm sure I'm not. This will take all of us. Four of us," he amended, glancing at the newly named Kestrel.
"I'm coming too," Jenny said quietly, but with determination. "I'm either one of this team or I'm not."
Keyop had said the same, furiously and frequently, when he and Mark had first joined G-Force. Mark had been his defender then, arguing that it was downright dangerous for everyone if they weren't used to working as a full team.
"How are you feeling?" he asked her.
There was a sound half way between a laugh and a sob. "Better. I'm too scared to feel sick."
"What do the rest of you think?"
Mark had the distinct impression that glances were exchanged, before Dimitri spoke up.
"She is one of us. She should come. And - if they realise we are here? If they find her, alone, she has no chance at all."
He could see nods in the gloom, and the preliminary movements for detransmutation. Mark shut his eyes against the blinding flash, and only opened them again when Dimitri asked, "What is the Raven's plan?"
"We make the biggest resonant transmutation field we can with Mark right in the middle, and hope it's enough."
"That will work? External energy like that?" Mark couldn't see Dimitri's face, but the frown was audible.
"I have no idea." And Dylan was backing away from his own suggestion, now it looked like it would be tried. Mark clenched his fists and tried to feel optimistic.
"In the middle?" Paula asked, more practically. "Or on the circle?"
"You're right. On the circle." Mark swallowed, his heart beating so loud he was sure the others must notice. They, though, were already moving to form the circle. Dylan to his right and Dimitri to his left, with the two girls completing the ring. It was time to get on with it, and to stamp his authority, however briefly, on this team which was temporarily his.
"Ready?"
There were what he assumed to be nods from all around him - at least nobody said no - and Mark took a deep, slow breath and let it out again. This was marginal at best. He had to be completely focused, utterly coordinated, accept the resonant field as his own. Took another breath, bringing his left forearm up in a long, slow, exaggerated sweep. He could see movement all around him, but not how good their timing was. He could only hope.
Top of the sweep, hand turned over, and the point of no return.
"Transmute!"
Five voices raised in unison, and a long-missed rainbow light flared all around him. Mark had never been much into religion, but at that point he came as close to praying as he ever had. Please, let this work. Just this once...
For a moment he was sure it wouldn't. For another, much longer moment, he wondered whether it was possible for it to go wrong much worse than simply not working. But then he felt everything shift, the old, familiar sensation of birdstyle adjusting itself to a perfect fit. The light died, and he opened his eyes to the visor adjusting itself to give him enhanced vision in the low ambient light.
Blue-tinted vision, with a single line of distortion right down the middle. He still dreamt in it occasionally, and woke up sweating and shaking. He'd never expected to see it again for real. Now, he had one last command in birdstyle. A bunch of trainees as his team, and a couple of squads of goons the enemy. Hardly a glorious finale - but one which could easily go horribly wrong unless he kept it tightly under his control.
"I don't know what your chain of command is in a military situation, and I don't care. I'm putting myself at the head of it."
"Of course," Dimitri said calmly.
"We need to get a message out to ISO. I imagine the Spectrans are using the station as a Trojan horse, to attack a target we'll pass over later in the orbit. We may not have much time."
"So we need to retake the control room?"
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Mark smiled. "No, Raven. You're not G-Force yet. You and I will run distraction. Now, the bracelets can't have enough range or we'd already have a response to the Osprey's scramble. Crane, where do you need to be to get a Mayday out to ISO?"
Paula wore a distinctly 'rabbit in headlights' look, and Mark took pity on her. "Base of the main antenna?" he suggested. "Some sort of emergency set somewhere?"
Her face cleared. "Backup control room. But it's right over the other side of the station, down on level one on the outer ring. They'll see us on the cameras."
"The cameras are off." Mark read shock on every face. "You didn't notice? My guess is that all the security was disabled, so they could get on board without anyone noticing. Inside job of some sort."
"Inside job?" Dylan's jaw dropped visibly. Obviously the trainees hadn't been party to the knowledge that there were humans fighting for Spectra too. No time for discussion now, though.
"Yes. Live with it. Osprey, I'm presuming that sort of disable would be pretty darn subtle, and take a while to undo. Especially without anything showing up on the telemetry. Am I right?"
Dimitri nodded. "I believe so."
"We'll assume so. We don't have a lot of choice. But be aware of the camera lights - if they come back on, assume the Spectrans know exactly where you are and what you're doing. Anything else?"
"Can we build our own transmitter?" Jenny asked. "From the emergency equipment we have in here? Save going out at all?"
Mark shrugged, leaving that one to Paula.
"Not a long range one. Maybe if we got to main stores?"
"That's right in the centre, even more inaccessible," Dylan said.
"Then we go for the backup control centre. Raven, that station plan?"
Dylan nodded sharply and dived into his cubicle, shortly reappearing with the map.
Five helmeted heads bent over it, Mark tracing a roundabout route from their current location with a blue-gloved finger.
"Right round the outside, Osprey. Your job is to get the Crane to where she can do her job. This is the backup control room, here. Level one's the busiest, normally - so stay up on four or five and then drop down when you get close. Kestrel, you're with them, but stay out of the way if anything happens. Understood?"
"Understood," the girl replied, her voice wavering.
"Go, now. We'll wait three minutes for you to get clear, and then start making ourselves obvious in the other direction, even without cameras. Raven, are you up for this? Because the goons are going to think you're the weak link, and I'm not going to do anything to put them straight."
Dylan nodded. "I understand. I'm ready."
Man, I hope so. Mark just nodded back to him. "Osprey, move out."