"You have to be kidding me." Mark dropped the folder back onto his desk and gave Jason his full attention. Work would have to wait, no matter how much he had. "Not funny, Jason."

"Not supposed to be." Jason reached a long arm across the desk and flicked the 'do not disturb' switch, before pushing a pile of paperwork out of the way and sitting down on the edge of the desk. "Do you want to come see how a mended implant works or don't you?"

"You're serious? He's a Spectran collaborator! How much functionality have they given him?"

"All of it, as far as I know. Whether he can access any of it, that's the question. Chris says he can access enough to know it's there, at least."

Mark sighed, leaning back in his chair. If he'd been asked, he'd have made a huge fuss about this. Don Wade with a brand new, fully functional implant? He'd never have agreed to it. Of course, that was why he hadn't been asked.

"And you want me to do what?"

"You tell me." Jason shrugged. "Don's implant's been fixed pretty much the same way yours will be. If there's something you're worried about, come see if it's a problem for him. Or tell me now and I'll push the right buttons to test it."

All the things I'm worried about? Mark briefly contemplated Jason's reaction if he wrote a list and handed it over. Speed, strength, endurance, the ability to withstand jump, the link with the jump-drive, power for transmutation... he needed to get them all back.

And the best proof that he could get them back would be that Don Wade already had. Fabulous.

He stood up and took the two shaky, unsupported steps - this week's wonderful achievement - over to his wheelchair. "I'll come watch."

.

Jason hurried ahead as Mark went over to sign into black section. "Gym two," he said over his shoulder. "I'll get Don."

Gym two had an observation area alongside; an entire wall of one-way glass looking down on the floor area. Mark briefly considered going in there, and decided against it. He'd see better close up; hear better, too. And Wade wasn't going to try to take out the Condor. If he did try anything, it would surely be 'take the cripple hostage'. He'd have a shock if he did. And they'd know exactly where his loyalties lay.

It didn't take long until the door opened again. Don glanced both ways, hesitating when he saw Mark, before stepping through. Jason followed him. Both were wearing loose workout clothes. Mark almost smiled at the body language. Jason was sharp and alert and very much in control, Don nervous as hell. He'd been concerned, Mark realised, that what he'd see would be two very old friends, with Jason oblivious to reality and trying to make up for his mistake of years earlier. If it had been a mistake at all. But Jason had been in command when Don had been captured, and he'd felt guilty about it ever since.

That wasn't happening. Jason's eyes met Mark in shared reassurance and understanding, before he turned to drop his towel on the bench at the side of the gym.

"Warm up," he said shortly to Don.

Don nodded, turned his back on both of them, and started on a set of very standard ISO-approved warmup exercises which looked as if he only half remembered them. He probably did. It was the best part of six years since he'd been on G-Force. Jason, meanwhile, did a couple of desultory stretches. He'd always been ridiculously flexible and found warmups unnecessary. It had saved the team on more than one occasion. Goons didn't expect that level of physical performance from someone who'd been tied up for hours.

Don only turned back after considerably longer than any active member of G-Force would have spent warming up. Considerably less time than Mark needed, these days. It doesn't matter yet, he told himself, concentrating on watching the interaction between the other two. Don had fancied himself as a leader once, he'd been told. There wasn't any of that in his body language now. Nervous tension and absolute deference.

Mark had to remind himself that he was here strictly as observer, and watch as Jason reminded Don of basic martial arts moves and combinations which should surely have been ingrained beyond forgetting. Don had been a karate black belt even before coming to ISO. Watching him now, Mark realised for the first time that when the people who had known him before said he was 'damaged' they didn't just mean he'd had a rough time. He'd have said that nothing could wipe the degree of muscle memory you had to have to earn a black belt. Something had wiped it from Don Wade. The talent was there, a fair degree of fitness...but his moves weren't those of a high class, but rusty, martial artist. It was like watching an athlete from another sport trying martial arts for the first time.

Don knew it, too. There was frustration written all across his face as Jason called a halt, and he slammed his pads down on the bench with a degree of venom.

"That was crap. I'm sorry."

"We'll try something else." Jason left him to have a drink and a rest, and came over. "Any suggestions?" he asked more quietly.

"He didn't go near the implant there," Mark said.

"No. He'd probably have killed himself. No core stability."

Mark nodded slowly. Jason was right. The fitness he'd seen - it was in the big muscles. Superficial. Jason had been taking him through moves slowly, and that used the smaller, postural ones. Mark almost smiled as he caught himself tensing the muscles in question, up and down his spine. Don might have let them go while in captivity. Mark had been obsessive about doing the exercises he'd been set. His core stability was fine.

He didn't realise that Don had turned back until he spoke. "Core stability, huh? You're probably right. So let's do it at a speed where the big muscles will compensate."

Jason shook his head. "You're not ready."

"What, to spar full speed? Afraid I'll show you up, Condor?"

Jason rolled his eyes and turned slowly to face him. "No, Don. Afraid you'll get hurt."

"I'll only get hurt if you're not capable of sparring with someone who isn't at your level. Shame. You used to be a darn good teacher. Princess -"

"You keep her out of this."

"Why? She'd probably spar with me. Why don't we ask her?"

"Like hell."

Don shrugged. "Your commander there needs to know if my implant works. If you won't test it out, they'll find someone who will. Tiny, maybe? I don't remember him being much of a martial artist, but maybe he's practiced."

"Fine. Fine." Jason put his hand in his pocket and tossed something at Don. "You want to do this? Let's do it properly. You can start by transmuting."

"I..."

"You never learn, do you? Push and I'll push back. I can push a whole lot better than you can."

Mark almost felt sorry for him. Don had wanted to spar. He was pretty sure birdstyle hadn't come into the equation. Now he stood there, frozen and desperate, and Mark waited for another collapse. It didn't come. Don fastened the bracelet round his left wrist with shaking fingers, brought his arm over, and said, "Transmute!"

Nothing happened. Unsurprising, really, after so many years out of practice, especially given the uncertainty in both action and voice - but the look of devastation on his face was more than Mark could stand by and watch. That was what he told himself, anyway. Nothing at all to do with Mark's own need to know whether a mended implant would work.

"He'll need a resonant field, Jason. Nothing's been tuned to him yet, surely."

"I guess you're right."

Jason strolled across the gym, stopping maybe four feet from the other. "You remember how this works?"

"I thought I remembered how to do it without help."

"Apart from the self-belief part, apparently. Follow me."

He didn't wait, didn't ask if Don was ready, just went into the slow armsweep required. This time Don's version was far smoother, almost a match, and for a moment Mark saw them learning this side by side, perfect mirroring. It hurt again, briefly. He'd learnt somewhere else, from a different teacher, and had never had quite the same form on the movement as his second.

"Transmute!" Two voices rang out as one, and Mark closed his eyes just in time to avoid getting blinded by the flare.

He opened them again to see two birdstyled figures, the second in a black and silver uniform he'd seen only in pictures. No G on the buckle, which was a nice touch by whichever technician had set it up. No weapons either, though the Hawk, second-in-command of an exploration team in training, had never carried any to start with.

Thank goodness for that jaunt on the space station. Without it, he was pretty sure he'd have been losing it right about now. As it was, he had the burning envy under control, just about. Don's body language now said everything he'd felt up there, when he'd got birdstyle back temporarily after thinking it was gone forever. It was wonderful, a feeling of power and strength and control which he'd never appreciated fully until he'd lost it.

"So." Don's voice wavered. "What did you have in mind?"

Jason didn't answer, just stepped back and gave the formal bow for the start of a martial arts bout; back straight, hands by his sides. Even through the collar of his birdstyle Mark saw Don swallow, but he followed suit.

Jason started out with their standard speed drill. A basic series of punches, kicks and blocks, done in pairs, repeated faster and faster. Every ISO martial artist at black belt level would know it at deep muscle memory level. Getting it wrong had been one of the final straws which had made Mark admit to his problem.

And Don didn't get it wrong. At slow speed there was the same wobbly inaccuracy, but the moves were there. He didn't even try to correct the wobbles, just wound the speed up. If it had been anyone else on the other side, Mark would have called a halt there and then. But Jason could handle himself, and on the offchance that Don was about to get too big for his boots, having the Condor demonstrate casual superiority wasn't a bad thing at all.

The speed continued to increase. Somewhere in there Don had to have activated the implant. Had to. Nobody was that fast without it. And Mark's mind was made up. He'd planned to check a variety of things - whether Don had access to the jump-drive functionality was the biggest one. Now, watching him spar at a speed he couldn't possibly have managed unimplanted, his expression a mixture of delight and concentration, it didn't matter. Even if nothing but this one thing worked with a mended implant, he still wanted it.

"Enough!" Don gasped after a surprisingly long time. Mark hadn't expected him to last more than a couple of minutes. Pulling stamina from the implant too, maybe? Whatever it was, he was done now, doubled over and gasping the moment Jason retreated, scarcely breathing hard.

"It works physically," Jason said.

Mark nodded silently.

"Need to see anything else, or are you decided?"

"Decided?"

"Don't play coy with me. You've been wearing your 'tough decision' face ever since I came to fetch you. So, do you need more evidence, or do you want that implant fixed?"

"Jason!"

"Oh, I figured it out a while back," Don said in between deep breaths, hands on his knees. "Don't mind me."

Mark stared in horrified disbelief. Jason just rolled his eyes, utterly relaxed about it, and Mark considered it more detachedly. Don already knew who more than half of G-Force was anyway. He hadn't turned them in to Spectra yet. Of course, Don liked Jason. He'd been entirely clear how he felt about the Eagle.

He'd been clear about it. Wouldn't a traitor have played best buddies?

Mark shook his head. Second-guessing himself was pointless. Don knew who he was. Not what he'd have chosen, but it was done.

"I'm decided," he said. "You'd best get Don's bracelet back. I'm going to ask Chris when he can operate."