Kade dropped low. Arrows in his mind pointed up, identified shooters from above. He rolled, got his hand in the pouch. Guns kept firing. The canopy was on him, tangling around him as he rolled.

The guns stopped.

Kade went still. Pistol in his hand.

His radio came alive. Sam’s voice.

“Kade? Kade? What’s your status.”

“On the ground,” he sent back. “Under the chute.”

“Get out,” she said. “Move. Soldiers inbound. Lots of soldiers.”

Fuck, Kade thought. He grabbed at the release on his harness, pulled himself out of it, pushed at the canopy, crawled out.

“To your left, into the alley!” Sam’s voice came.

He came up on his feet, running. His left knee nearly collapsed underneath him in pain. He pushed, ran, teetering, off-balance.

Guns opened up. Displays in his mind painted arrows behind him, to his right. There were bullets ripping through the space above the ripple he’d made in the canopy as he’d climbed out of it.

He heard screams, felt pain flash out from minds in the crowd, as bullets meant for him slammed into innocent people.

Jesus.

Then he was in the deeper shadows, limping, stumbling as he ran, and something grabbed him.

He thrashed out.

“It’s me,” Sam whispered across the radio. “Go flush against the wall. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”

Kade was panting. His heart was pounding.

He turned, put his back against the wall, pressed against it.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Watch the breath.

Oh Jesus.

Observe the mind.

Holy fucking hell.

Let the thoughts rise and pass away.

Shit shit shit.

Let the breath become all.

OK.

Let it slow.

Whew.

Let it deepen.

Let it absorb the attention.

Soldiers crossed his vision, running down the alley, shouting.

Breathe. Breathe.

The sounds of their shouts receded slowly into the distance.

Feng strained to make out the words on the radio. “w…reserve… land… stealth… now!”

Sam’s voice. And Kade’s. Not good.

“Override,” he told the wing. “Manual control.”

Warnings filled his vision as the wing protested.

“Override,” Feng said again. Then he seized the physical controls at his sides and pushed into a hard bank.

Alarms went off in his ears. More red warnings flared.

FLIGHT SPEED DROPPING.

ALTITUDE TOO LOW.

TRAJECTORY OFF COURSE.

DANGER: URBAN OBSTACLES.

Feng ignored them, banked hard, scanning.

“Radio,” he ordered. “Override,” he said, not even waiting for the Indian gear to complain.

“Kade!” he broadcast. “Sam!”

No response.

Skyscrapers swam back into view. He was dropping fast, his forward momentum bled off by his too-sharp turn. He scanned his eyes over the scene, quartering it.

Movement! Black canopy, dropping from the sky.

It disappeared between buildings, falling out of his view almost half a klick to the north.

Ay! Feng thought.

He banked again, starting another hundred and eighty degree turn, aiming to line up on the street where the canopy had gone down.

“Kade!” he broadcast again. “Sam!”