Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction based on the television series, Captain Power and the Soldiers of the Future. It is not intended to infringe on the copyrights of Landmark Entertainment Corporation or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters and settings. I don't own the characters. However, I am putting them into an adventure since the show was cancelled and the writers/producers/directors/actors can't put them into any new adventures.

CHAPTER ONE – Gathering Intel

Three Months After Dread's Defeat

Major Jason Rogers stood on the ridge, watching the spectacle below through binoculars.

Carefully selected Resistance fighters herded the overunits, youth leaders and Dread Youth soldiers that they had been chasing through the forest into the box canyon, firing their weapons continually. From time to time, some of the soldiers would return fire, only to be shot down by Rogers' troops.

"A two-day hunt, sir," Corporal Peterson commented. "I do believe that's a record for this group."

"Parker needs more practice tracking. Bridgers' group would have hunted down these soldiers in the first day. Simon's platoon probably would have had them in a few hours."

"Dread Youth do have some survival skills, sir," Peterson said. "They know how to maneuver in the wilderness, obtain a variety of weapons and ambush any pursuer. Parker's people don't have much experience hunting Dread Youth. The fact they were able to round up this many in two days is impressive for them."

"For them, yes, I'll agree. It's just not an impressive record overall." Rogers adjusted the binoculars to focus more clearly on the faces of the trapped soldiers. "I don't think we'll be setting groups of soldiers loose again. If there's only one or two we're hunting, they run. When they get in a group like this, they fight back. We can't afford any extra losses of our own people. It would be too hard to keep that information from the public eye."

"Yes, sir. Your orders, sir?" Peterson asked.

Rogers watched as the Dread soldiers reached the end of the box canyon and found themselves trapped by three walls and an advancing adversary.

He waited…

He saw them drop their weapons and raise their hands in surrender.

He saw his people take position across the mouth of the canyon.

"It's the hunt. Tell Parker to shoot them dead, every one of them," he ordered.

Peterson spoke the order into the radio. Within moments, Rogers was witness to another bloodbath as his soldiers wiped out their enemy.

"First rule of combat," he told his subordinate, "never leave an enemy behind. Make sure they bury the bodies in unmarked graves. Don't want everyone to know what we're doing or they'll all want in on it." As an afterthought, "Oh, make sure we have their real names. I think it's time to alter the reports again."

~*~

Rogers reported back to his superior, his attitude that of smug competence. He carefully schooled his features so he looked like 'the dutiful soldier' reporting to his commanding officer.

"Sir," Rogers saluted the colonel and handed him the data disk with the clean-up action.

Colonel Travis took the disk. In a tired voice, he asked, "What was the total count?"

"Three overunits, four youth leaders and fourteen foot soldiers."

The colonel considered the numbers. "Identities established?"

"Yes, sir. I had my second-in-command crosscheck the personnel. Page three has a list of their names and duty stations at the end of the war."

The colonel placed the data disk into his computer and opened the file. He scanned the pages quickly and read the names. "Interesting. Some were in tactically important positions. How did they do in the hunt?"

"Better than I've seen, but they were running from Parker's group. They may not have fared quite as well against someone else. My guess is that the overunits and youth leaders received further survival training than the cadets did," Rogers grudgingly praised his enemy. "It was a two day hunt for Parker's team. The Dreadheads used some tactics none of us have seen before. They were able to outdistance Parker for most of the night, but they were caught around mid-morning."

"Dealt with?"

"As per usual," Rogers explained. "Parker just needs more experience. Next time out, he'll do better. Sir, although we do have the prisoners we captured at the end of the war, there is still an unknown number of Dread soldiers in hiding. Those particular groups might be better prey for our people."

The colonel knew what Rogers was going to say. "Since Dread's defeat, they've got nowhere to go except in hiding. There are times when I wish Captain Power hadn't waited until most of Dread's soldiers were out of Volcania before attacking it. It would have been less of a headache for us."

"That was never Power's style except for a while after he lost his base."

"Losing one's base could cause even someone like Power to lose his temper and attack Dread personally. I'm sure there was something there that he hated losing, and I don't just mean the base itself."

"With your permission, Colonel, I'd like to volunteer my squads to do wilderness recon. Even though the Council ruled that all Dread Youth who surrender will be given trials, they don't believe it and won't do it. We might stand a better chance of finding them on our own rather than waiting for them to make a move."

Colonel Travis seemed to consider the idea, but there was something wrong. "Rogers, I know you hate everything to do with Dread. Many of us feel the same way. I can appreciate that. I find it … disconcerting that our newly established government is being so selective with whom they execute."

"They're traitors to the human race, sir," Rogers spoke with conviction.

Travis nodded his head. "To some extent, yes. I agree that the overunits and youth leaders definitely do not merit a trial. However, some of the younger ones had never left Volcania and had no idea what the real world was like."

"All were Dread soldiers, sir. Meaning no disrespect, but every single person who ever wore a Dread uniform should be executed. That's why they're turned over to us."

"I don't disagree with you. It's given our troops ample opportunity to learn new tracking methods," the colonel explained. "However, there are some new laws about to be put into place that are the result of a Council and Command combination Committee. It's going to be somewhat confusing until jurisdictional issues are ironed out, but I'm certain we can weather that inconvenience."

"New laws, sir?"

"Yes, but that's not the problem. I've just received word from a contact at Command that someone was investigating certain disappearances and perhaps the manner in which some of these executions take place. Questions are being asked, and I don't know from what quarter. The records that were being looked at have been adjusted so the questions have stopped. For now." Travis stood up and walked over to his window. "You and I are not politicians. We're soldiers. We see life in a very direct manner. The enemy is before us, we deal with the situation or we do the mopping up. Others are not so inclined."

Rogers sighed. Politics were coming into play. He hated politics. "And the politicians want what, exactly, sir?"

"We are to capture Dread soldiers from now on. Deadly force is only to be ordered as a last resort."

Rogers knew that the politicians would step in and ruin everything one day. "What do we do with them after we capture them?"

"The re-establishing local governments wish to institute a rule of law, and the issue of the Dread soldiers seems to be the most convenient first step for them since it's a current topic with the population. One of the new laws pertains to assessing culpability of the soldiers. The overunits and youth leaders will automatically be sent to prisons to await trial to determine their degree of involvement. The younger ones, and I don't know up to what age, will be housed at schools and orphanages for individual assessment. The older children, well, I'm not certain what will happen to them."

Incarceration, re-education and induction?

"Sir," Rogers tried to think of a respectful way of saying this, "they're Dread Youth. They were born and bred to serve the Machine. The goal to destroy mankind is in their blood. Even one of them left alive is a threat to all we're trying to build. They need to be removed immediately and permanently."

The colonel raised a silencing hand. "There is a new way of thinking that what they stood for and what they were brainwashed to think was a threat, not the soldiers themselves regardless of their degree of guilt. Major, I know you don't like this idea, I don't either, but these instructions come straight from our superiors. We will carry them out to the best of our ability."

"Yes, sir," Rogers said unenthusiastically. "What are my orders?"

"You are being promoted to warden of New Chicago Prison, and your squads will be stationed there as the guards. The existing personnel will be remaining. There are several small communities in the area, each with its own government so you'll have to be somewhat diplomatic and negotiate for what you need. I would strongly suggest that you make friends with the mayors of those towns to make things somewhat easier for you. Your orders will be to incarcerate and guard the incoming overunits and youth leaders sent there, but each town may have restrictions or rules that you'll have to adhere to. I understand that the new Committee has ruled that using the captured soldiers as a labor force for the rebuilding or for whatever purpose the prison wardens deem adequate is not out of the question. Also, our Intel operatives have found the roster of Dread Youth soldiers dating back to the beginning of the program. We're not certain how up-to-date it is, but not everyone on the list is still alive. You'll need to keep track of who's coming in and going out of your prison and cross-reference it with these names to make certain the individuals are, in fact, Dread Youth. Remember, Major, the list itself is not accurate. I believe you can make use of that fact."

Rogers nodded his head. "Yes, sir," he answered. Just because the politicians wanted things to look a certain way didn't mean that it had to be that way. Basically, Rogers was looking at business as usual. All he had to do keep the paperwork clean.

The colonel handed Rogers his papers detailing the orders. "Do not think of this as a demotion. It's not. This is a very important mission you're being sent on."

"Yes, sir," Rogers answered unenthusiastically. "How long until the first prisoners arrive?"

The colonel checked his log. "Perhaps three days. About twenty were captured in Sector Four and are being marched to New Chicago. They may pick up a few more along the way. The only ones you are responsible for are the overunits and the youth leaders. Perhaps you can learn if your theory of their survival training is correct. The children will be sent to other facilities in the adjoining towns."

"Our superiors aren't concerned with keeping so many Dread Youth in a small area?"

"I don't know what they're concerned with, but I have no doubt you can deal with any trouble that may arise from your prisoners."

Rogers gave the colonel a salute. "Yes, sir. I'll get my squads moving immediately."

Before Rogers could leave, Travis had one last admonition. "Major, just remember, the children are not your concern as far as guarding or incarcerating goes. Let the towns deal with them. Only help if the mayors specifically request your assistance. We can't look like we're interfering in local politics but are there to help should it become necessary. That could cause problems with the paperwork."

A public relations task was included. Someone had made a stink about the recent 'dispositions' of Dread soldiers and how it could look to certain individuals. "Understood, sir."

~*~*~*~*~

Eight Months After Dread's Defeat

"I'm all broken up inside."

"I love you, Jon. So much."

"Just think of me sometime!"

The explosion blasted over the speaker… then silence…

Jon's eyes opened in utter horror, and he sat up quickly in abject terror. That nightmare never left him. Every few weeks, it'd creep out from his unconscious and haunt him. That heart-wrenching moment when he knew he'd lost everything; the agonizing months following when his world had crumbled to dust and he was nothing more than a mindless automaton suffering from the grief that had a tight hold on him.

But it was just a nightmare.

A true nightmare, but one whose ending was much happier than that crumbled world he believed would be the rest of his life. Trying to catch his breath, Jon looked around his chilled, dark quarters. It was small but efficient, like the rest of the facility. The Arctic base was somewhat smaller than their previous one, but it had all the same power specifics and computerized capabilities as their former base. Mentor felt right at home in the main computer – or so he claimed.

At night, they switched the power to one quarter to conserve energy so the only illumination in the room came from the clock that read 3:47 a.m. and the small light on the computer console. Those simple lights gave the room an almost eerie quality. If his heart hadn't been pounding from the sheer fear of losing Jennifer in that nightmarish explosion, then the very sight of the room would have sufficed. Still, the creepy ambiance had to be the influence of the nightmare because the other individual in the bed slept undisturbed, uninterrupted by the eeriness of the low light.

Jon lay back down and faced his sleeping companion. The drama of those few months was chiseled indelibly on his mind. From the moment he thought Jennifer was dead through the lonely months that followed until they learned she had been digitized, reintegrated and held prisoner in Volcania…he felt like his life just stopped. It didn't start again until they raided the fortress and rescued her.

Now, there she was, safe and sound, and deeply asleep.

She must have returned home late. He wouldn't have heard her. He fell into an exhausted sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He'd been helping with the reconstruction of the new San Francisco outpost while Jennifer had been working at the New Vegas facility setting up communication networks with outposts in surrounding sectors. Both jobs kept them busy for weeks at a time and away from the base for long periods.

He reached out and gently touched the side of Jennifer's face. Warm, alive, sometimes he couldn't believe that she was there with him, not after the nightmare of what happened. If anyone had told him several years earlier that he'd have all that he did, he wouldn't have believed them. After things being so bad for so long, it was hard to imagine anything being so good. Sharing a life with the woman he loved – he had never thought to be so lucky.

"You're awake early," she muttered sleepily.

She always was an extraordinarily light sleeper no matter how tired she was. "Nightmare," he told her.

"Nightmare?" she whispered.

"Same one," he answered back as he settled down, pulling her close.

Then he was looking through the near-dark into gray eyes, the slight glint of light reflected in them. "Just remember that nightmare turned out okay."

He let his fingers drift through her hair, feeling it slip through his fingers. "How's the project in Vegas going?"

She yawned, cuddled into him, laying her head on his shoulder. "Got Mexico City and Sonora online. We're trying to patch in some outposts in Texas. Ran a diagnostic that took 48 hours to complete. Scout grabbed the results from me, said I hadn't had a break in over two weeks and told me to come home for a couple of days. How was your trip?"

"I helped lay out the design for the new government building, had to negotiate with Los Angeles for some supplies, got the local communication system working – the mayor wants to bring in you and Scout to set up the long range communications. Worked with Hawk on drawing up the plan for a new airport. Tank's working with the ground breakers to clear out more debris." He didn't tell her about the present he was making for her. It wasn't finished yet, and he really did want it to be a surprise when he showed it to her.

"So… the usual," she said as she settled down a bit more.

"The usual." His fingers kept flowing through her hair, down to her back. Her skin was warm through the thin material of her nightshirt. He could feel the well-toned muscles beneath his fingers respond as they trailed further down. "And given our schedules, I'm beginning to think we're going to have make appointments with each other just to spend any time together."

He felt her giggling, rather sleepily, but giggling nonetheless. "I don't have any plans for tomorrow, and I think we'll have the base to ourselves if the others don't get finished with their projects."

"Tomorrow, huh? It's after midnight, so technically it's already tomorrow, right?"

She leaned her head back so she could look at him. "Just what do you have in mind, Mister Power?"

"Well, Mrs. Power," he used the name he called her in private, "I was thinking that we could find a very good reason to sleep late tomorrow."

"Really?" she asked, moving up a little so she could see him eye to eye. "And since it's already technically tomorrow, that would require us staying up late now, wouldn't it?"

"You know, I think you're a mind reader," he said as he kissed her. It had been weeks since they had even slept in the same bed together. Longer than that since they'd been alone. Long days, travelling all over the country to help rebuild, working late into the night, catching a few hours sleep on a cot that someone graciously loaned – and for the first time in a long time, no one else was at the base.

Beep beep beep

Jon glanced over at his communicator. Talk about bad timing!

"At this time of night, it has to be important," she said.

"Better be." Jon reached over, grabbed the communicator and pressed the talk button. "Go ahead, Mentor."

"Captain, I've just received an emergency communication from Elzer Pulaski. He needs to speak with you as soon as possible."

~*~*~*~*~

4:15 a.m.

Elzer Pulaski, formerly Freedom Two, watched the jumpship's lights as it flew toward his position and land effortlessly in the clearing. Jennifer had to be piloting the ship. No one else could get the aging TF to respond so well.

The captain hadn't sounded happy about the late night call, but Elzer's information couldn't wait for a more convenient time, not if he was right about what was happening – and if he was right, then Jennifer could soothe any ruffled feathers the captain had about the early morning meeting.

The jumpship's exterior lights lit the area, and the pair disembarked, and with a wave to Elzer, walked in his direction. He had to admit that they did make a nice couple even though he still felt a few pangs of jealousy. He never told anyone, but he had some not-so-professional feelings for Jennifer Chase. And why not have feelings for her? It wasn't every day a smart, beautiful woman risked her life to save his, but there had been a war on. Personal feelings came second to everything else. Even so, he could honestly say she chose the best man, even if it was only to himself.

"How are you, Elzer?" Captain Power called out.

"Pretty good," Elzer shook the captain's hand, then Jennifer's. "How are you two?"

"A little tired but curious," Jennifer told him.

"I don't doubt it. Look, I'm sorry I woke you up and called you out at this hour, but I didn't want to say this over an open channel. Besides, I don't think we've got a lot of time to waste."

"Sounds serious," Jon said.

"It might be," Elzer pulled a data disk from his shirt pocket and handed it to Jennifer. "I've been helping Supply and Re-armament out of Colorado and personnel assignments from the West Coast. Both Council and Command needed to get some actual troop and prisoner numbers to better coordinate new assignments, so I was crosschecking data from reports from several government and military sources to collate an answer for them. I stumbled onto a very a serious situation."

~*~*~*~*~

Elzer's report of a serious situation had been somewhat understated, and within two hours, the Power Team had regrouped at the Arctic base.

"How many?" Scout asked again, not believing what he'd heard.

Jennifer brought up the report in question once again. "Thirty-three overunits and sixty-seven youth leaders have disappeared from the system in the last month. They were assigned to the New Chicago prison under the command of Major Rogers, a former Resistance fighter. He's been the warden there for the last five months. He has a reputation of being overly aggressive when not necessary. Possibly seventeen of the cadets who were about to be sent there from the schools in the surrounding towns are no longer listed as being assigned there but there aren't any reports of escapes or transfers. Also, there aren't any disappearances from the orphanages or schools reported."

"That doesn't sound good." Hawk read through Rogers' personnel file. "He's got several commendations for successful missions, but there's something wrong here, like there's something missing from the file."

Tank brought up another file. "The numbers aren't adding up," he pointed out. "Before he took command of the prison, one of his squads was tracking down a group of Dread Youth that had taken refuge in a forest. Twenty-one soldiers in all. His report lists their names and assignments at the end of the war, but there's nothing in any of the prison rosters, deployments, schools or orphanages that show they were sent anywhere."

"Twenty-one are chased, supposedly captured, and they just disappeared with no one noticing the discrepancy?" Jon asked.

"Probably because the discrepancy isn't apparent," Hawk pointed to the monitor in front of him. "Rogers states that they chased the soldiers, says who the soldiers were, where they were found and that the situation was resolved according to orders. There's not a single word of them being captured." Hawk brought up several other files. "Now, here's where it gets interesting. A roster of Dread's soldiers from the beginning of the Dread Youth program was found some months ago. When I cross-reference the names of people on the roster and the names of the people being captured and those that seem to disappear not only in Rogers' jurisdiction but in other places that Elzer found discrepancies… it's not adding up. There are a few duplicate names --"

"No one in the Dread Youth had the same name as another," Jennifer interrupted him. "That was something the caretakers made certain of because they didn't want to risk anyone being confused with anyone else when orders were given."

"Exactly."

Jennifer leaned back in her seat, not wanting to believe what they were all thinking. "So… he killed them instead of capturing them and hid it all in the paperwork?"

"Maybe," Hawk agreed. "Mentor, are you finding any other similarities in the other discrepancies?"

"A few, Major," the computer image explained. "The majority in the files that Mister Pulaski obtained are linked to Major Rogers. More prisoners are sent to New Chicago than are transferred out, yet there is never a population problem in the prison. Alcatraz, the Coastal prison, Joliet, Leavenworth and Facility 7 also seem to have similar discrepancies."

"The names… I wonder…" Jennifer thought for a moment, the quickly typed in new parameters in the database, comparing name and transfer numbers with reports from the prison. What she saw, again, was hidden in the paperwork. "It's the names. That's how they're doing it. That's where a hiding place is."

"How?" Jon asked her.

"Let's say five people were transferred to a prison. Their names are listed on the prison manifest. Something happens to these five, but there's no record of it. They may have hidden the bodies. To keep the population equal to the number reported to his superiors, five more people are transferred in or traded off the books, but they're listed as being housed under the original five's names. And look here –" She pointed to a list of names that seemed to show up more often than others in Elzer's list. "All of these names, every one of them, are from the list of the Dread Youth assigned to Volcania during the final attack." She waited a moment so what she said could register with the others.

Jon glanced at the names, then at his wife.

"Since we waited until the majority of soldiers were out of Volcania before we went in to limit the number of human casualties, these were the only particular names were known for some time. These names were used by more than one person for a few months prior to Rogers taking command of the New Chicago prison. After he took command, which wasn't too long after the full roster of Dread Youth was discovered…" she brought up the list of names that showed the entire roster of Dread Youth personnel, "some of these names start showing up on the reports more than once."

Jon thought for a moment, then, "Is it common knowledge that no two Dread Youth shared the same name?"

Jennifer shook her head. "No, it's not."

"That's something we can use. See anything else?"

Jennifer punched up another file. "This. Mentor said that there were transfers into the prison but never a population problem. The official transfers in would have to be approved by the Prison Commission. There would be a list of names officially recorded as being housed in New Chicago. At some point, the number would reach total capacity. In order to keep anyone from getting suspicious, there would have to be a certain number of prisoners being transferred out. There aren't enough to offset the incoming prisoners. There are, however, a few reports of deaths in prison yard riots or some dying of natural causes. The names of these particular prisoners don't show up again on any list. These names are removed from the Dread Youth roster."

Scout quickly made the connection Jennifer was pointing out. "And all accidents, riots and deaths have to be recorded for the Prison Commission. It may mean that the prison doctors and Rogers' superiors are involved in this."

"There's no way this is the work of only a few individuals," Tank added.

"Paperwork and numbers won't be enough. Is there anything we can do?" Scout wanted to know.

Jon shook his head. "Not without some proof. Any ideas?"

"Get proof," was the unanimous answer.

Get proof.

Easier said than done.

Jon sometimes preferred the directness of battle. You were on one side; the enemy was on the other. There weren't too many gray areas in a fight. It was survive at all costs. Dealing with all the political subterfuge embedded in the chaotic, post-war reconstruction was not his forte.

But if this was a case of murder and it was being hidden by a small group within the military…

How could they get proof and then where would they take that proof?

Another thought that concerned Jon was that Elzer had come across this information while not specifically looking for it. Had anyone else seen the same information and come to the same conclusions only to not act on them? Why? Even Elzer didn't know who to contact in the military with the information. Why else would he contact them? Elzer didn't know who to trust either.

They had to come at this problem sideways, not head on.

So first things first. They had to find a good reason to go to New Chicago. "Okay, we get proof. Any ideas how we're going to walk into the area and look around without raising any suspicion or curiosity? Right now, all our schedules are pretty full, and they're public. It's not like we can come up with just any excuse."

"Public appearance?" Scout suggested.

"None scheduled," Hawk told him. "Meeting with an associate?"

"None are in New Chicago," Tank offered.

"Engine trouble," Jennifer told them. "If we all fly back to the West Coast in the jumpship instead of some of us riding sky bikes, I can make sure our course takes us near the area. If we have some engine trouble, we can land for repairs without too many questions."

Engine trouble. "That'll work," Jon said, "but will the jumpship like it?"

Jennifer smiled her mischievous grin. "It's for a good cause. She won't mind me loosening up a bolt or two to get some smoke coming out the thrusters. I'll talk to her."