“Strap in, Red,” I snapped over my shoulder. “We’ve gotta drop out, now. Fire’s taking over.”

Once she was strapped in, I dropped the nose and cut our altitude, falling to a hover thirty meters above ground. The N.O.C.A. was already clearing a space for me to land. A minute later, the ship settled to the street and I killed the engines.

Red was already up and out, hopping down from the hatch before it could finish opening. I unplugged and stood, threw my helmet over my shoulder and followed her, pausing long enough to grab the camera.

Above, the Fire Department was firing a stream of flame-retardant foam snaking from the side of the craft and into the burning rooms.

The captain met me. She looked different than she had behind her desk. Younger, somehow. Her hair was a shock of short black curls, her jaw square and set, eyes hard. She might have been attractive, 20 years ago.

“You’re sure it was him, Johnson? The same man?”

I nodded. Behind her, nine armored figures did the final checks on their weapons.