Chapter 1
A/N: This story has a unique story behind it. After AM83220 wrote "And a Teenager Shall Lead Them" and then "The Ranger War" between 2012 and 2018, I started getting ideas about what might have happened afterward. The events of TRW have changed human history forever. The invasion of the UAE in 1998, followed by two years of brutal military occupation, was quite the awakening to the fact that mankind is not alone in the universe.
I started talking to AM83220 about what Earth might be like afterward, how drastically changed human politics, economics, and society would be. Long story short, as familiar as I am with various sci-fi universes in which private military companies and bands of soldiers-for-hire can earn a living quite easily amidst all the wars and chaos, I started to get some ideas together.
AM83220 had and has no plans to write a direct sequel to "The Ranger War", but he didn't disapprove of my ideas for attempting a sequel myself, either. In fact, he was even gracious enough to supply the opening text of the first chapter of this story. It begins three months after the end of TRW, which I pegged as being around the spring of 2000.
April 15th, 2000
"Knowing what was coming, Aurico threw himself to the right in the nick of time. Delphine and Cassie weren't so lucky, taking the full impact of the black and gold blur which smashed into them.
As that blur stopped and resumed the form of the Gold Psycho Ranger, Aurico struck from behind, kicking the back of the right leg and sending his surprised opponent down to one knee. Aurico was already swinging his sword at his foe when the butt of the Psycho Ranger's staff slammed back into his stomach, doubling him over in a blaze of pain. As he tried to regain his bearings something struck him on the front of his helmet, laying him out on the floor with his friends.
Towering over him, the Gold Psycho Ranger forcefully thrust his staff down onto the Aquitan's throat.
"Stop!" Billy's voice cried out.
Immediately the staff was withdrawn from his neck and a white glove was extended downward to Aurico. Grasping it, he was immediately and effortlessly hauled to his feet while Cassie and Delphine rose as well.
The staff vanished and the Gold Psycho Ranger removed his helmet to reveal the grinning, sweaty face of Fred Kelman. Aurico was glad to see they had at least succeeded in making their newest member break a sweat.
There was not yet complete comfort and trust between the former UAE champion and the rest of the team, but the battles with the Red Death and Graviton had certainly helped to bring them closer.
Still, it was unsettling how powerful the human was. They could defeat him when they all battled him, and usually when it was four against one, but no matter what combination of Rangers they used, they had yet to achieve victory in a three on one spar.
"That was a good hit you got in on me," he complimented the Red Ranger.
Aurico nodded in acknowledgement. "You're vulnerable in the instant you rematerialize."
"I'll keep that in mind," Fred told him.
As the two walked over to the side of the room where the rest of their teammates were gathered, Aurico grimaced at the roiling pain in his guts.
Had the time come for him to hand the Power over? To retire and move on?
It was a question he had wrestled with since the end of the Alliance war. He'd had a long career as a Ranger already, and had seen the loss of too many friends and colleagues. Maybe it was time for him to go.
Yet who would replace him? Not to mention the fact that whoever did take up his mantle would lack access to the Great Power, thus rendering him a lesser warrior than the rest of the team. Given the deadliness of the enemies Master Vile had sent against them already, departing now seemed like the worst sort of desertion.
Not to mention that it would mean leaving Delphine.
"Okay, listen up everyone!" Billy said, gaining the attention of all his Rangers. "I've finished repairs on the Zords; they're ready for action now."
That brought a collective sigh of relief. The new Zords and the Mega Sentinel they formed had been badly damaged by Graviton and to hear they were back in commission was reassuring.
"We don't have any indications of immediate threats, so you're free for the rest of the day, just keep your morphers with you."
The later admonishment was unnecessary, but then Billy did seem to see himself as the parent of the group at the time. It was just a shame he was being the mother rather than the father, Aurico reflected.
As the Rangers dispersed Aurico looked toward Fred, who appeared a little lost. Perhaps he should invite him to do some activity, the Red Ranger mused.
By stopping to consider that Aurico was one of the only three Rangers left in the room when Billy's communicator beeped.
He and Fred both instinctively tensed, awaiting the announcement of where Master Vile's agents had struck now. So far Vile had resisted bringing in his armada of ships to this galaxy, trusting to monsters and mutants instead. If he had changed his mind and another full-fledged invasion threatened, then they and entire Galactic League of Light would be in dire straits indeed!
Watching Billy only served to confirm that something serious had happened, as his face visibly paled as he listened to the message.
"Where is it? Where has Vile struck now?" he asked, as much to wipe that expression from his friend's face as to obtain the information.
Billy started, as though jolted from whatever grim train of thought had consumed him.
"It wasn't a report of an attack; it was a message from Earth. It took more than two weeks to make it here to me, because it was from a civilian trying to contact me through the Aquitan embassy."
"Was it Adam?" Fred asked anxiously. The former Green Psycho Ranger had chosen to return to Earth rather than remain on Aquitar.
"No," the Rangers' leader answered. "It was from Dean Stewart, Justin's father. He said . . . he said someone dug up Justin's grave and stole his body."
XX
March 10th, 2000
It was almost time to go. The green light was going to be on any second now.
Nico Raul Alfonso Tejada, or just Nico was he was called by his friends and family when most of both were still alive, stood up, wishing to God he hadn't gotten picked to serve as jumpmaster for this latest batch of trainees. He was eighteen years old, for Christ's sake, but ever since the raid to snatch that UAE freighter and a few VIP convoy escort jobs, Nico hadn't done anything but jump out of planes and then train others to do the same.
It was all part of Captain Michael Cassidy's plan. The 24-year-old ex-Green Beret was a hard bastard, but he'd done a lot to keep Nico's mountain guerrilla unit alive and active during the dark days of the occupation by the United Alliance of Evil. He was a legend among the men, brilliant and fearless. He'd escaped the destruction of a defiant Fort Bragg and made it all the way to West Virginia, and proceeded to become the Blue Ridge Roughriders' military leader.
With the occupation over, a good number of the unit's men had dispersed to try and locate their families and rebuild their lives. Plenty of others had stayed, having nowhere else to go. Nico fell in the latter category, and so he'd been part of the founding infantry platoon of Extraplanetary Operations, a new private military company specializing in operations on the final frontier.
The jumps were all possible thanks to a local airfield one of the men had known about from before the Conquest, the 200 acres ExOps "acquired" around it, and a former West Virginia Air National Guard C-130 cargo plane the men had used to get from the Mountain State down to Georgia. After subduing the United States as a whole, the United Alliance of Evil largely ignored West Virginia's state capitol, even letting the state government continue to run things under their supervision.
The C-130s did some occasional cargo-moving flights, or shipped Quantrons around locally, but other than that they just sat around. Starting one up and flying it away had been surprisingly easy. Right as UAE rule collapsed and the Quantrons all shut down, lawlessness became the rule of the land. Even three months later, local to federal government was struggling to organize and reassert itself.
A red light came on at Nico's right, just outside the cockpit door, and Nico shouted, "Five minutes!" and held up five fingers once, then twice.
The 28 new recruits in this platoon, even the designated platoon leader, were all teens-to-early thirties, all of them former police, firefighters, soldiers, or just resistance fighters. Others had worked in factories for the UAE. Whatever they had been, they were ExOps trainees now, and as a Master Parachutist in training, Nico was responsible for getting this bunch through their first jump. They were wearing the slim-fitting and lightweight combat armor ExOps had devised, but only a minimum of gear. That would come later, as they became more proficient in jumping.
Nico turned and wrestled with the release for the starboard door. It took forever, and Nico needed every bit of his youthful, tanned muscle to pry it loose. Once it did, and the door was open, wind blasted into the open space. Combined with the two propellers turning on the starboard wing, the noise was virtually deafening, even through Nico's helmet.
In what seemed like no time at all, Nico looked at his watch and saw the time was up. He shouted down the bay, "Stand up!"
As one, the twenty-eight men of the latest platoon joining Alpha Company stood, turned to face the jumpmaster. Nico gestured and shouted, "Hook up!" and in one motion the trainees reached up and attached their static lines to the metal bar running over their heads and toward the door. Once they went out, their chutes would deploy automatically, if all went well. If not, well, they had a reserve each.
Christ. Nico hoped he didn't fuck this up and get a whole platoon killed somehow. Iron Mike was gonna kill him. He seemed to like Nico, but he didn't have any love for fuckups.
"Sound off for equipment check!"
At Nico's command, the men started checking the gear, most especially the main and reserve chute, of the man in front of them, then shouting "Thirty okay!" "Twenty-nine okay!" and so on. Then, just as the lead man shouted "One okay!" the green light came on.
"Green light!" Nico screamed over the roar of the wind and the engines. "Go, go, GO!"
Lieutenant David Crews, the first man in line, moved to the door and stepped forward without a moment's hesitation. The instant he was clear, the next man moved up, and the next. Nico slapped each of them on the back as they went, shouting encouragements, and put his boot to one recruit's ass when he hesitated.
After that, Nico reached up, hooked on his own static line, and went out the door.
This was an intensive jump, at all of 400 feet. Nico's vision briefly distorted as the static line jerked his chute open, and then a flurry of noise as the olive-drab material spilled out and the chute deployed. Nico's heart was racing, but he nodded, satisfied, as he saw a whole line of parachutes descending to the ground. Already, many of them were touching down.
Michael Cassidy was adamant about it. ExOps would have no "legs", no men without parachute infantry training within its ranks. And they would be men: 'Iron Mike' had no interest in turning ExOps into a social experiment.
As the ground of the old Charlton County airfield came up, Nico kept his legs close together, tucked and rolled. He pulled the chute toward him, rolled it up, and felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Fucking excellent work, man. A textbook fucking parachute drop at 400 feet and you ran it like it was nothing."
"Aw, you're gonna make me blush," Nico quipped, but he couldn't help grinning.
"Come on. Let's get these rookie troopers together and tell 'em what jumping at 30,000 feet is like."
"I thought we were gonna go out drinking since this is my 100th jump."
"Soon, Nicky. Soon."
XX
Four hours later
Nico slammed the huge mug of beer he'd been handed back down on the bar, grinning from ear to ear, a new pair of silver wings clenched between his teeth. It was the last one he'd need to earn by the fanatical airborne standards set by Michael Cassidy. Jumping from airplanes, jumping from airplanes at up to 30,000 feet, rappelling from helicopters and the captured UAE freighter… but now, at 100 jumps, Nico Tejada, at all of eighteen years old, was now a fully-qualified paratrooper, the elite of what Extraplanetary Operations had to offer.
Applause broke out across the bar as Nico turned to display the wings between his teeth, and a broad-shouldered young man with piercing gray eyes came over and threw an arm around Nico's shoulders.
"What did I tell you, boys? He can jump, he can drink, he can shoot a quarter at a hundred yards with a PLR- is he good enough for the Pathfinders? Is he one of us?"
The troopers of Alpha Company's 1st Platoon, the leanest and meanest of all of ExOps' infantry, bayed and howled like a pack of dogs, shouting some things Nico's mother definitely would not have appreciated.
"Oh, what was that? I think my hearing's going, boys, 'cause I can hear the motherfucking crickets chirp!"
In one voice, the warriors gathered in the bar roared their approval, shouting, pounding on tables, screaming Nico's name. The noise was deafening, but Nico couldn't seem to stop grinning. These were hardened soldiers, warriors to the core. Some of them had served with Michael Cassidy before the Conquest- and Nico had won their approval.
"Nicky, Nicky, Nicky," Michael Cassidy yelled in his ear, "I get the impression these guys like you!"
"Yeah, maybe they do!" Nico yelled back, ignoring the use of Cassidy's preferred nickname for him, a name Nico secretly disliked.
"Alright, boys, drink up, it's on me!" Michael shouted to the assembled troopers, earning him another enthusiastic roar of approval.
"I'll take a Bud, if you don't mind," Nico called confidently to the bartender. The man had to know the well-built merc wasn't twenty-one years old, but that was the old law. They were in a different world now, part of a much bigger universe. Nico got his beer.
"Nicky," Michael said, sitting down on a bar stool beside him, "I wanna talk to you."
Nico took a nice, long drink of cold beer, then set it down on the bar. "There is no Nicky, only Nico!"
"Okay, Zuul," Michael laughed. "How's that tattoo feelin'?"
Before Nico could answer, he received a hard slap on the back, making him wince instinctively. "Hey, come on. The wings-on-the-globe is still new, you know."
Michael gave him another slap. "Suck it up, buttercup."
"What the fuck do you want? You wanna let me drink my beer?"
"Oh, no, I'm gonna drink some beers along with you."
Twenty minutes later, Nico stared at the collection of empty bottles on the bar and tried to remember which ones were his. Well, who cared? He had a decent buzz going, and that was what counted.
"Not bad, man," Michael said, nodding to the empty beer bottles. "So, you ready to go upstairs?"
"Upstairs?"
"Yeah, I got some friends I wanted you to talk to."
"I wanna stay here and get drunk," Nico said, waving him off. "I'm not even drunk yet."
Michael threw an arm around one of Nico's well-muscled shoulders. "No, friends."
XX
Nico stepped into the room, his boots thudding heavily on the wooden planks of the floor. The whole place smelled of cedar. There were two young women sitting on the bed, or girls. One was brunette, the other was blond. Both were already in their underwear, and Nico could see them running their eyes over him, sizing him up.
"This is Nicky," Michael said to them. "Make sure he has fun, all right? Oh, and go easy on him."
Nico turned around. "Hey, whaddya mean-"
The door swung shut.
The black-haired teen turned around and was greeted by the sight of the two calendar girls getting up, looking at him, undressing him with their eyes. Nico's buzz wasn't enough to keep him from being nervous, but he tried to be cool. He'd jumped at 30,000 feet in combat gear, breathing through an oxygen mask. Two women beautiful enough to be on the cover of a magazine couldn't scare him.
Right?
"So, what's up?" Nico made himself say. He managed a smile.
"Not much," the blonde answered. She glanced at the brunette. "So, Michael says you're celebrating."
"Yeah, my 100th jump was today."
"You ExOps guys work hard."
"We party hard, too."
They were on either side of him, getting uncomfortably close. That lacy underwear they had on didn't leave much to the imagination at all. Nico really liked what he saw, though, which made it hard to decide on looking left or right.
"Do you?" the brunette asked.
"Yeah," Nico said, trying to sound confident.
"But… Michael says you're a virgin," the blonde said.
Nico went red and laughed, trying to cover. "Um, I'm-I'm- well, he doesn't know everything about me."
The blond had her hands on Nico's chin, and she pulled him in for a kiss as her friend started working Nico's shirt up and over his head. When the blonde let him go, Nico stood there as the brunette tossed the shirt away, and they looked at him, visibly impressed. Nico saw himself in a mirror across the room, and he could see why.
Two years of rigorous life in the mountains, plus endless training, exercising, and working since the UAE's rule over Earth ended, had left Nico in extraordinary physical condition. His upper body was tanned, buffed and chiseled almost to perfection, and he'd earned those broad shoulders, the squared chest, and the six-pack abs the girls were presently eying with interest. Or was it his belt buckle?
Nico suddenly sprang into action, stripping off the rest of his clothes before the girls could do or say anything else. He'd thought that it would help him feel more confident, but what wound up happening was him standing there, stark naked, something sticking out from between his legs, making his present mood quite obvious.
"Wow," the blonde said. "Look at him."
"We can do more than just look," Nico said, putting on his best smile.
"Okay," the blond said, smiling back. "Let's."
XX
Nico was still in bed at noon the next day. He knew because Michael Cassidy came in, practically picked him up and dropped him on the floor, and said, "Okay, rise and shine! The gang's back at the post; I told 'em I'd come back here and get you."
"Oh, my God!" the brunette yelped, grabbing for the covers.
"Jesus Christ, Michael!" the blond shouted indignantly.
Michael just snickered, looking at Nico, who was sprawled on the floor. "Well, I see someone had a good time last night. So how'd popping your cherry go, Nicky?"
"Fine," Nico grouched, darting for cover and snatching up his clothes as he could reach them. "You didn't need to do this."
"No," Michael admitted, "but it was funny."
"You fucking ass, Michael!" the blond hissed at him. "Go on, get out!"
Michael shrugged. "Well, I thought it was funny." He gestured to Nico. "Come on, man, get your fucking clothes, we gotta go. Today's a big day, we got a lot to do."
With that, the mercenary leader walked out of the room, leaving Nico to hurriedly throw on his clothes and pull on his boots. He stood up, facing the two young women in the bed. "Uh, I never caught your names-"
"Jesus Christ, you horny little bastard," Michael laughed, walking back in and grabbing the teen by the collar. "Figures you'd fuck 'em and not even ask their names. Let's go."
"I'll call you!" Nico promised, waving.
"Okay, Nicky!"
"See you, Nicky!"
"See, man?" Michael laughed, his step not faltering as he steered Nico down the hall, around a corner, and downstairs. "That's your fuckin' name, now get used to it."
XX
Nico made some protests about the nature of his wake-up call (and the fact that he didn't get to have any more fun) but Michael just waved all that aside, saying they had bigger things to consider. When Nico insisted his thing was pretty big and that should be considered, Michael laughed so hard he almost had to pull over.
Once they made it back to the base ExOps' field troops called home, Michael drove to Hangar One, parked, and led Nico inside. The men of the Pathfinder platoon were all there, joking, laughing, carrying on. Everyone was in an excellent mood, despite the heavy drinking more than a few of them had done the night before.
"Hey, Nico, you're finally a man!" someone shouted as Nico walked in, prompting an explosion of laughter, cheering, and shouting of various back-handed compliments.
"Alright, alright!" Michael roared, easily making himself heard about the noise. It was the voice of a man who had survived when all others around him fell, the voice of a man you feared more than the enemy. "Quiet!"
The men quieted down almost instantly.
"Boys," Michael said, "I got something to discuss with you."
"Well, get on with it, then!" Lucas Flint, one of the platoon's best marksmen, yelled with mock insolence.
"None of that shit!" Michael yelled. "I got no time to waste on bullshit right now. We've got a contract. A big one."
That got everyone's attention. The room was silent. No one moved.
"I met with Victor Santiago a couple days ago," Michael began, "and we both talked to a client. Our first off-world client."
Michael paused, let that sink in, then went on, "I asked, what the fuck's he want from my badass fucking troopers? He said, he says there's a client who wants a dead body. Why? I don't know. But he's offering a shitload for it. Says he's got magic, mountains of gold and gems. We take this job, gentlemen, and we'll be rich beyond our wildest dreams. ExOps will expand and take on jobs all over Earth, all across the Milky fucking Way. All that stands between us and the life of our dreams… is digging up a body in Lake Mary. Now, anyone that doesn't want to go, there's the door. If you're as committed to getting shit done as I am, stay."
The men were silent, even reflective. Nobody said anything. Finally, Jason Krupa, the ex-WVU football player, raised his hand. "Captain, would we have got past the door?"
Laughter broke out among the troopers at that, and Cassidy grinned and chuckled as well. "Yeah, you would ask that, wouldn't you, Krupa? So you're all in, then?"
"Sure."
"Yeah."
"Fuck yeah."
"You got it, Iron Mike."
"Let's go already!"
The blond warrior smiled, nodded. He was clearly pleased. Then he looked down at Nico. "You with me, Tejada?"
At least he can say my last name right, Nico thought with some relief. Privately, he felt nervous, excited… and a little squeamish. An off-world client wanted a dead body so bad they were willing to offer a mountain of gold or magic spells to get it? Nico's parents, his old Uncle Raul… they'd all told him that anything less than complete respect for the dead and burial sites was the surest path of all to Hell.
But it sounded like this client was willing to give ExOps virtually any fee they demanded, so long as he got that body.
Nico wasn't sure if his doubts showed, but he didn't want them to. Not to Michael Cassidy, the guy who'd saved Nico's life half a dozen times and taught him almost everything he now knew. And the look in Cassidy's eyes was different as he gazed down at Nico. He clearly was counting on Nico to say yes, and everyone else was watching, too.
After a few moments passed, Nico realized he'd been made an offer he couldn't refuse. He didn't want to look like a wimp in front of the guys, or disappoint Michael. And more than that, there was something about how Cassidy presented this to everybody: he was excited. And when a man who'd served as a Green Beret and led a resistance unit got excited about something… did you really want to stay home and train the next batch of ExOps recruits, or keep going on raids or guard some fat CEO?
Was it even a choice at all?
"Fucking right I am!" Nico shouted, pumping a fist in the air for emphasis.
"That's what the hell I thought!" Michael roared, grinning once more.
XX
It took three hours to get from Charlton County, Georgia to Lake Mary, Florida. Nico had been offered shotgun but declined, preferring to ride in the back so he could nap more easily. The trouble with that was, Nico seemed to have done no more than stuff his KLR under the bench seat and close his eyes when Michael Cassidy was there, shaking him awake.
"Rise and shine, Nicky. Time to earn our pay."
Nico groaned, wishing again that Cassidy would stop calling him that. He sat up, stretched, and immediately became aware of the rain drumming heavily on the van's roof.
"Crap, it's raining."
"It's gonna fuckin' blow digging up a grave in this monsoon," Chris Morgan, a former Air Force pararescue jumper, griped, looking unhappily out the van's windows.
"Ah, quit your bitching, people," Michael retorted. "It's night and with all this rain coming down, we'll be in and out. Nobody's even gonna leave their house long enough to see us."
"I sure hope so," Jason Krupa said. "Hey, Cap, whadda we do if someone does find us?"
"No one will."
"But what if someone does?" Jason insisted.
"We'll handle it," Cassidy answered. "If and when somebody finds us out here, they won't be armed like we are, so we'll still have the advantage." He paused. "Okay, let's get this done."
XX
Nico stepped out onto the downpour, his laser rifle slung over his back, and immediately regretted not wearing more than the ex-Army poncho that Michael Cassidy had gotten him. The rain seemed to instantly find every square inch that wasn't covered and soak it in just seconds. Still, looking out into the dark, Nico felt assured that Michael was right. It was fucking miserable out here, and visibility was terrible. Even some night watchman, if there was one, would be buttoned up someplace dry, probably on the other side of the cemetery.
Someone set a hand on his shoulder, turned Nico around. It was Michael Cassidy, and the shovel he was holding out to Nico made it clear what the older man wanted.
"Aw, c'mon, Boss," Nico said, putting on a little smile. "I gotta be on the dig crew?"
"That UAE shipping crate keeps the ice cold, but it won't keep it cold forever. The dead guy's supposed to be a couple feet over there, near that palm tree."
"Ay, caramba!" Nico exclaimed. "How come I gotta do everything?"
"Because I like you," Michael said with a laugh, clapping Nico on the back. "Get to it, man. Krupa, Morgan, Mitchell, and Born are gonna go with you. Actually, I'll go, too. I better make sure and check the info on the headstone with what I was told."
"Man, who is this motherfucker, anyway?" Jason Krupa asked. "Who the fuck wants some dead asshole dug up like this?"
"Shit, Krupa, you wanna stand around in the rain and play with your dick, or you wanna go get paid already?" Nico shot back irritably. "Our client wants this dead body, he gets his fuckin' dead body. Come on, guys. Let's go."
XX
The headstone proved hard to find in the darkness, especially with the heavy rain, and Nico felt himself growing irritated at Michael Cassidy's insistence on keeping the name to himself. Finally, he turned around and demanded to know, and a bemused Cassidy replied, "It's Stewart, Nicky. Justin Stewart."
Nico stared. "Justin Stewart?" Wait, why did that name sound familiar?
"Yep. Now keep looking. We don't have all night."
The Hispanic teen grumbled something impolite in Spanish as he flicked his sturdy tactical flashlight around, longing to just return it to his pistol belt and get the fuck outta here. But Justin Stewart… had he known someone by that name? It wasn't anybody Nico knew really well. He hadn't known anyone by that name in… years.
Justin Stewart.
The question was still on his mind a couple minutes later as Nico moved slowly but steadily from one grave to the next, moving his flashlight around, hoping this one would be it. Nico was searching his mind, trying to figure out why in the hell the name Justin Stewart sounded so familiar, when the beam of his flashlight danced over the latest grave, highlighting the name JUSTIN STEWART.
"Oh, my God," Nico whispered. The flashlight trembled in his hand.
JUSTIN STEWART
BORN: SEPTEMBER 19, 1983
DIED: JANUARY 15, 2000
LOVING SON AND LOYAL FRIEND
The park in Angel Grove. Finding the Phantom Ranger's cloaked starship when he went to retrieve the soccer ball. Divatox's attempt to destroy the ship, seeing Justin as the Blue Turbo Ranger, watching him, the Phantom Ranger, and several of the other Rangers fight. The guilt he felt when it looked as if the Phantom Ranger had let his ship be destroyed to save Nico from Divatox's minions, and his surprise when he saw it hadn't been destroyed after all. And of course, when Nico had tried telling everybody about what happened at practice the next day, nobody believed him.
Justin had teased him about it, saying, "I told you so."
After seeing nobody would believe his story, Nico had kept quiet about it, but he and Justin had talked about the event a few times. Nico had asked- almost pleaded- to be made a Ranger too, but Justin, with surprising maturity for twelve years old, had said it didn't work that way. Another time, Nico had told Justin of a nightmare he had- that Divatox had come back with hundreds and hundreds of minions, blown up the Phantom Ranger's ship for real, and conquered Earth for evil.
Justin had laughed, and said it would never happen, that the Rangers would always find a way to defeat the bad guys no matter what they tried. He'd said it with such confidence. And then, after they'd known each other for only half a year, Justin and his dad had moved away. Nico had remembered his friend fondly in the years since, and during the occupation by the UAE, he'd thought of him from time to time.
All those fleeting hopes he'd had that the Rangers would come back and save Earth, that Justin's confidence had been rightly placed, looked to have been false after all. The gravestone gave no hint of what had happened to Justin, but he was dead, and that meant he had lost. He had been alive somehow, somewhere, almost to the end of the UAE occupation of Earth. But he'd lost.
"I told you so," Nico whispered, feeling a terrible sadness deep within him. Somebody that bright and energetic should have lived a long time, long enough to see Earth free again, at least. This was so horribly unfair.
"Hey, Nicky!" Michael Cassidy called from a few feet away, his brassy, confident voice easily audible over the rain. "You find an ex-girlfriend over there?"
The guys laughed, but Nico spun around and barked, "Madre de Dios! You wanna stop calling me that?!"
"Woah, cool it, killer!" Cassidy replied, coming out of the dark, his own flashlight in hand. "I just wanted to see what was going on. You stared at that grave a long time."
"I know this guy," Nico blurted out. "I know Justin Stewart. Why didn't you tell me it was him?"
"Hold on, you found him?" Cassidy asked, looking down at Nico, his eyes lighting up. "The guy we're after?"
"Yeah, I did," Nico answered. He dropped his voice. "I used to be friends with this guy. He was the Blue Turbo Ranger, and we got to see the Phantom Ranger once when we both lived in Angel Grove. Can't we just leave him alone?"
"I didn't know you knew a Ranger before the Conquest," Cassidy replied, gazing at Nico with frank curiosity. "What else did you do back then?"
"Nothing, I mean- I wasn't a Ranger or anything. I never saw any of the Rangers again after that one time. But can't we leave Justin? He was a good guy."
"Nico," Cassidy said with obvious impatience, "I can't do that. Our job is to get Justin Stewart's body and bring it to this dude off-world, guy called Master Vile. He wants the body and he'll pay us big to get it."
The dark-haired teen sighed. "Can I do something besides dig Justin up, at least?"
"Got a conscience that's bothering you, Nicky?"
"What the hell's the problem if I do, Mike?" Nico shot back irritably.
Cassidy held up a hand. "Hey, easy, man. We're still friends, remember? Go keep watch near the vans. I'll take it from here."
"Do we have to do this?" Nico asked. "Do we really?"
"Yes," Michael answered. "I don't blame you for not liking it, but we're doing this. Go pull security at the vans, Nico."
Nico took in a breath, let it out uneasily. This was wrong. He didn't believe he would have agreed to go on this job if he'd known whose body they were going to steal. Maybe he should've been against it, period.
It was a little late for that now.
Well, at least some good would come of this. The company would get a ton of money, and so would everyone who went on this job. Some of these guys had families, and the money the company spent on expanding and supplying its bases would aid local economies in getting back on their feet. If ExOps hit the big time, and it sounded like they would after this job, that money would filter into all kinds of other areas. It would help people.
"You alright?" Chris Morgan asked as Nico passed him, setting a hand on Nico's shoulder.
"Yeah," Nico replied. "I just didn't know it was Justin Stewart."
"That's the dead guy we're here for?"
"Yeah."
"I didn't know you used to know him," Chris answered. "Don't let it bother you. We'll be in the Bahamas drinking rum and fucking all the beautiful women we can handle before you know it."
"I will," Nico retorted. "You know they'll only want me."
He turned his back as Chris laughed, and headed back toward the vans, feeling a little better.
XX
Thomas Carter, the ex-West Virginia state trooper who'd been one of the original members of the resistance unit Nico had served with, was standing between the two vans, trying and failing to light a cigarette in the glow of the cargo van's headlights when Nico approached. He gave up, shrugged, and nodded to Nico.
"So, they find the dead guy we're here for?"
"Yeah," Nico replied. He paused, then added, "Justin Stewart. He used to be a friend of mine, back in Angel Grove."
"No shit. Who was he?"
"The Blue Turbo Ranger, for one thing."
"Damn. Guess the UAE did him in, too, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess so, Tink."
Carter shrugged. "Well, I bet he went out fighting. Those Rangers were a tough bunch. Not a lot of 'em left anymore, I hear."
"Just means there's more room for real heroes, like us," Nico said, cracking a smile.
Carter laughed. "Oh, not just heroes, man. Well-fucking-paid heroes. Count on it."
"You know I am, Tink; why else would anybody do this job?"
"Fortune, fame and hookers, my friend."
Nico turned to look back at the lights gathered around the grave forty or fifty feet away, wondered how long the guys were gonna need to dig up Nico's old friend. Nico considered mentioning his misgivings to 'Tink' and was about to do so when an old man spoke up behind him.
"Hey! Hey, fellas!"
Nico jumped and turned around, grateful for once that it was dark and pouring down rain. The old dude coming out of the dark had scared the shit out of him.
"Hey, to you!" Nico called back, putting a smile on, trying to keep it cool. He was itching to go for his pulse laser rifle, but they were not here for that. They were here to dig up Justin Stewart and steal his body. At this point, Nico was stuck. He had to see the job through. And right now, that meant dealing with this dude who was walking toward the two vans out of the dark.
The old guy looked a little nervous as he got close to the Ford vans, their lights and engines on. He got a look at Nico and the other men in view, saw their identical military ponchos and broad shoulders, and got even more nervous. "So what brings you boys out here in the middle of the rain at night?" he asked. Innocent enough question, but with undertones of suspicion and fear.
Nico thought quickly. Visiting a friend or relative's grave would not work. Nobody did that in the middle of a rainstorm at night. Shit. What would work, then?
"Uh, car trouble," Nico lied impulsively. "We had to pull in here. One of the vans got a problem."
"What kinda problem?" the guy asked. He leaned over to look past Nico. "Hey, what's going on over there? Lookin' for car parts between the headstones?"
"Huh?" Nico replied, glancing in that direction himself. He laughed nervously. "Uh, I got no idea, man. Nothing to do with us. What're you doing out here, anyway?"
"I've been watching over this place since the aliens and robots came down and took over everything," the man said. "I'm here every night, rain or shine. Least I can do to so none of them looters get the idea of comin' here. I was about to leave when I saw your guys' lights, and it looked kinda funny to me." He paused. "Are you boys military?"
"Like you'd even know the fuckin' difference," Jason Krupa replied irritably.
"Hey, there's no need to be rude, man," Nico told him.
Nico looked back over his shoulder, wishing the guys would hurry up with the digging, only to see the lights over that way had gone out. Then he looked back and saw the old man had left; he was several feet away, headed for the back of the cargo van.
"Hey!" Jason said suddenly. "Hey, stay away from there, Pops!"
"What in the hell's goin' on here?" the old man cried. He'd neared the back of the cargo van, and as Nico caught up to him, he saw what the old man did- Justin Stewart's burned and battered remains, just set into the container full of ice.
"Nothin' that concerns you, Pops," Michael Cassidy said, coming up behind him. The barrel of his laser pistol looped up and up, then crashed down on the man's head. He crumpled without a sound, and Cassidy stood over him and leveled the pistol, preparing to fire.
"Wait!" Nico blurted. "What're you doing?"
"He's seen too much," Michael answered, as if that explained everything. To him, it probably did.
Nico wasn't convinced. "There's no need to kill him."
"No? All he'll do is tell people that we were here. I don't want any witnesses."
"If we kill him, someone's gonna notice he's gone."
"China's having another civil war right now, and Uncle Sam's just barely getting back on his feet. There's almost no law and order in a lot of places, all over Earth. Human life's cheap right now, Tejada."
"Even if we hide the body someone'll wonder where he went. He didn't even see that much. He's got no idea who we are. We just put him someplace out of the rain, here, and by the time he wakes up, we'll be gone! And if we cover up the grave right, the old guy will have no idea which one we took a body from anyway."
Michael looked at him through the pouring rain. "You're rationalizing. I'm gonna kill him so he can't tell anyone we were here."
Nico took a step forward, keeping his eyes locked on Michael. "No, you won't."
"I won't?" Michael replied, his eyes glinting dangerously.
"No."
"And why's that?"
"Because you're a badass, and there's no reason for someone like that to go and kill an old man."
The rest of the men stayed silent. Everyone looked to Michael to see what he would do. Finally, the man laughed and put his sidearm away. "Okay, fine. Nico, come with me and we'll see if we can get him under cover somewhere. But Nicky, two things you oughta know. I never said it outright in the resistance since we mostly fought Quantrons, but I got two rules I live by."
"Yeah?"
"I never kill anyone without a reason."
Nico considered that for a moment, then asked, "And what else?"
"You can always find a reason to kill someone."
XX
The thirty-two men in the Pathfinders section of ExOps' growing force of private soldiers had split off as they prepared for the mission. The first team had gone with Michael Cassidy to Florida and gotten Justin Stewart's body. The second had gone into Folkston to buy up some additional provisions, topping off the 90-day supply they'd had ready aboard the ex-UAE freighter for any contingency in which a long-range contract in space was awarded. The third team had stood ready at the freighter, standing guard while a small team of technicians verified it was ready to go.
As they reached the front gate of their base, were given a once-over by the guards, then waved through, Nico wondered just who it was that wanted Justin Stewart's body, and why. Even the pay for this job was shrouded in mystery. But from the way Michael was treating this, it had to be a lot.
The long, squarish transport ship squatted on its vertical landing struts, each of them mounting a searchlight that blazed into the dark. It resembled not so much some craft from far off-planet as a giant version of those landing craft the guys in World War II had used during D-Day. The top wasn't open, of course, and the bow ramp leaned forward at a much steeper angle than on one of the old landing craft, but the resemblance was still there.
Of course, it was doubtful that the UAE had known or cared about that coincidence in looks when they designed the long, rectangular vessel. It was built to move quantrons, weapons shipments, whatever the UAE needed. And as big as it was inside, there had been plenty of room in which to install quarters for a human crew and the infantry they would now be transporting.
"Jesus," Nico said, looking up at the ship as the van stopped. "I still can't believe we got away with stealing that thing."
"With the right training, tools and will," Michael said, "a man can do anything."
"Are you getting philosophical on these guys again, Cap?" one of the perimeter guards said, walking up to the van's driver's window.
"Yeah, now how about you get the fuck outta my face, I'm tired of lookin' at it!"
"I hate you."
"I hate you…?"
"Sir."
"That's better," Michael said, nodding. "Okay, boys. Get outta my fucking van. I want six guys to move this dead asshole on ice into the ship, and everybody else get on board. The rest of your gear's already there. Just look for the bunks the techs rigged up for us."
Nico got out, shouldered his laser rifle, and headed to the back of the cargo van just as it finished backing up the lowered ramp of the freighter. He and five others had to work damn hard to get the container holding Justin's body onto the ship; loaded up with ice and the corpse, it was heavier than expected.
Once they were done and the six-man freighter crew, a team of former mechanics and technicians who'd worked for the UAE, moved to secure the casket to the deck, Nico stared uncertainly at it. A long time ago he'd played soccer with Justin Stewart. They hadn't known each other that long, but they'd been good friends. Now, Justin was dead, and Nico was helping ship his body to God alone knew where for money.
"Nicky," Michael said, coming up beside him, "don't tell me you're still hung up about this."
"No, I just- I don't know," Nico said, shrugging. "He was my friend."
"He's dead now, Nicky, like a shitload of other good people, Rangers included. Their days are nearly over, and strong men like us are going to be the ones calling the shots in the future. Isn't that what you want?"
Nico hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
"Then don't worry about it anymore. Justin's dead, you're alive."
Nico nodded again, partly in an effort to reassure himself. "Okay," he said. "What's next?"
"The Park twins get this tub off the ground, and we go on our first off-planet contract. Easy."
"We're actually cousins," Ha-neul Park said as he passed by.
"Well, whatever."
"Everything checks out, Captain," Seul-gi Park said, looking at an electronic datapad's screen. He held out one hand, extending fingers as he listed things. "The bulkheads welded in for the compartments are all holding. The mess hall, crew quarters, rec area and human-manned bridge are all good to go. The plumbing we rigged up works, and the platoon of Quantrons is secured."
"Whenever you're ready, Captain," Ha-neul said.
"Nicky?" Michael asked. "You ready?"
Nico turned toward the cargo ramp, looking out into the night. He'd never left Earth before in his life, and until the arrival of the invaders in 1998, he had never imagined he'd need to. Yet here he was, the last Tejada, about to set off on a journey that would take him far from Earth, to a place from which he might not return.
"Okay," Nico said. "But please don't call me that anymore."
"Nicky, Nicky, Nicky."
Nico said something extremely rude in Spanish, and Michael grinned. "I love you, too, dude." Then he nodded to the Park cousins. "All right. Let's go. Hey, any problems with the authorities letting us take off?"
"What authorities?" Dylan Krupa asked from nearby, giggling hysterically. Jason's kid brother was the little kid of the outfit, a tag-along who'd proven a competent basic parachutist and technician. He continued to straddle both sides of the fence, as nobody was quite sure what to do with him.
"Well, there you go," Nico said, walking over and ruffling Dylan's hair. "See, I even rubbed his head for good luck."
"Hey, yo, I need some good luck," Jason said, hurrying over and ruffling Dylan's hair.
"Yeah, me, too," Michael said.
In moments, virtually every man in the Pathfinder platoon was ruffling Dylan's hair, and the fifteen-year-old quickly started trying to duck off to the side and swat the men's hands away, but Nico grabbed him and held him. The guys all laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. Eventually, Michael started yelling at them to get seated in the row of crash seats on either side of the open space toward the bow, and Dylan escaped to go aid the techs in taking off.
"You ready?" Michael asked, sitting down and strapping himself in beside Nico.
"Yeah."
Michael looked at him for a moment. "You look ready."
Nico smiled. "Did you expect something else?"
"No. You're gonna do great things, Nicky. The both of us are."
"Stop calling me that."
"Fight me, bitch."
Nico tried to be angry, but he couldn't keep the expression up. He and Michael both laughed and joked easily as the freighter lifted off the ground, its engines kicked in and it raced upward, heading for the stars. Their relaxed mood, in turn, helped the rest of the guys, all of whom were nervous in their own ways. They were heading into the unknown, which was scary no matter how well-trained you were.
But there was no question that they were each in the company of the best kind of guys you could do it with. Men with this level of training could do anything.
As the ship left Earth's gravity and the most peculiar sensation of weightlessness set in, Nico turned to Michael and asked jokingly, "So you got any side bets going, you know, opening a Blockbuster, managing a Subway?"
Michael laughed. "What? Please, are you serious? This company is headed for greatness, fucking greatness, and I'm the man that's gonna make it happen. Side bets are for losers. I'm playing to win."
Nico grinned as the artificial gravity generator got going. "Me, too."
A/N: 11-21-2018.
This first chapter, as noted at the beginning, is a composite of my work and AM83220's. It is intended as a sequel to "The Ranger War," and even this first chapter could not have been written- and would not have been written- without AM83220's permission and assistance.
Saren Arterius from the "Mass Effect" video game series is referenced in this chapter, in part because Michael Cassidy is based off him. The 1984 film "Ghostbusters" is also referenced in this chapter, as is the 2010 video game "Fallout: New Vegas".
Laser weapons, primarily pulse laser pistols and rifles, were the standard-issue small arms of the United Alliance of Evil. Now that their empire has collapsed, thousands of these and all kinds of other hardware and technology has been left for anyone on formerly-occupied worlds to snatch up. Pulse laser weapons rapidly fire multiple short beams, versus the longer beams at a slower rate that some other fictional depictions of laser weapons fire.
As this is not on my "active" stories list, and I mostly just worked on it in my spare time for a while and then making a recent push to complete a first chapter, I can't make any promises about when Chapter 2 for this will be. I have a short story planned, also set post-TRW, that will be a direct introduction to the private military company Extraplanetary Operations and their leadership. That is nearly done, and after some editing will definitely be posted before the end of 2018.
My sincerest thanks to AM83220 for all his assistance and support. Among many other things, he gave me the idea of using the minor character Nico, who appeared in "The Phantom Phenomenon", the 23rd episode of "Power Rangers Turbo". Originally aired on September 17, 1997, it showed Nico as a friend of Justin Stewart, while both of them lived and attended soccer practice together in Angel Grove, California. That episode also introduced the Phantom Ranger, a mysterious warrior with the ability to become and remain invisible.
Whatever your thoughts, feel free to share them in a review.