A/N
Changelog:
2 Jul 14: Added chapter 1 and boring cover image.
4 Jul 14: Updated cover image.
19 Jul 14: Added chapter 2.
22 Jul 14: Made punctuation edits to chapter 2.
15 Nov 14: Added chapter 3. Removed reference to Ranger-related academic programs in chapter 1.
23 Nov 14: Added chapter 4. Fixed typo and added a few words in chapter 1.
Cam stretched in his chair and slowly rubbed his hands together. He hadn't taken even a short break for a couple of hours; with that bug worked out, it was finally a good time. I feel like I've been writing code for the last three weeks. He stopped rubbing when he realized his hands were sore. Are those blisters? Is that even possible? he thought. There probably wasn't any other explanation. He had designed this keyboard himself to be ergonomic with respect to the zord programming language. He couldn't imagine how his hands would feel right now if they'd given him an ordinary keyboard, but it had been like pulling teeth to get them to let him use this one. Billy had to personally approve it…
His thoughts drifted back to the debacle that was the tech orientation. It was common knowledge that Tommy Oliver had trouble operating a garage door opener, let alone leading a couple dozen employees in a science he knew nothing about. So Billy Cranston himself had been summoned, all the way from Aquitar. Never mind that the Karovans were physically and politically closer. Gotta keep it "in the family", as it were. Not that Cam wasn't grateful for the original Ranger's time; Billy was the best, and at least he'd had the sense to give the technicians both the option of a more public work space (so they wouldn't die of solitary confinement) and the option of a quiet office. It was just inefficient, calling the best of the best from another planet to teach rookies. He couldn't help but wonder if Oliver had simply jumped at an opportunity to see an old friend.
He looked down at his keyboard, the familiar Wind Ninja emblem staring up at him from the big red button. If they made him the zord operator, he would finally get to use that button. It wasn't likely. He knew from the beginning that they were watching him, that they didn't think him psychologically fit for action. But a mind is a terrible thing to waste-
A shrill chirp interrupted his thoughts. He had reserved that particularly obnoxious alert tone for messages from his father. He opened the message in a full window, though there was no need; as always with the sensei, the message was brief and full of hidden meaning.
kwatanabe: I chose to expel three students today.
The Hexagon's poor management processes were temporarily banished from Cam's mind. Expulsion was a big deal. It was not something the sensei liked doing. It made that person a disgrace in the ninja community, and most people never regained its respect. Ninja schools, and the Wind Ninja Academy in particular, did not have very high retention rates, but most of those drop-outs were the result of the students realizing they were not cut out for that kind of life and choosing another path. It was better to quit while ahead.
Cam thought about asking who the students were and what went wrong, but it probably wasn't anyone he knew. That was not why his father had bothered to get on the computer and send him an instant message. Rather, it pained the sensei on a personal level to let go of students with any amount of potential, no matter the reason. It also pained him to be separated from his son for so long. Their respective duties made the hour-long drive prohibitive.
Cam thought for a moment before responding.
cwatanabe: I'm sorry to hear that.
He didn't know what else to say. He cared, but he couldn't do anything about it. He said the next thing that entered his mind.
cwatanabe: Out of curiosity, have you made your choices for the morphers?
He wasn't trying to get on his father's case. The bureaucracy was doing enough of that. He just wanted to know, and a fresh study of the best students at the school might ease the sensei's mind a little. And given that they had the privilege of being the source of the next team of Rangers, it was only courteous to make the decision in a reasonable amount of time. A rumor was spreading that the Thunder Ninja Academy had already chosen three students of its own, just in case the Winds couldn't be counted upon. Okay, maybe I am getting on his case. As if in rebuke, the computer chirped again.
kwatanabe: Not yet. A ninja should never make an important decision without due deliberation, if at all possible.
He sighed. The advice never stops. It never changed its tone, either. It was the same at age twenty-five as it had been at five and fifteen.
Cam got up to get more coffee. The room was so quiet that he noticed every sound he made, despite the soft carpet. When he was done pouring, his ears readjusted until he could hear first the ticking of a wall clock, then the hum of the computer tower, and eventually the soft whine of the monitor. He held on to the mug without drinking for a while, letting it put some warmth back into his fingers. The air conditioning was just a bit too strong for his comfort.
He actually laughed a little at himself. The best place in the world to work, and here I am complaining about the air conditioning.
He should have been happy. He had the privilege of being the only person in the Hexagon working on zord design right now, and he had total freedom in his design choices. But he had heard them talking, and heaven only knew what menial project they would put him on once the zords were finished... once they had gotten every last drop of mental exertion out of him.
"If I had wanted to lock myself in an office building to write software all day," he muttered aloud, "I would have finished college and gotten an ordinary job." The bare walls didn't have much to say in response, but they probably knew that he wanted what everyone at the Hexagon wanted: to be a real part of the Rangers' lives, to be as close to the action as he could.
Evil was no joke. Earth, with its vast amounts of resources and high population of innovative, versatile, and largely ignorant sapients, was consistently targeted by megalomaniacs. A scary proportion of megalomaniacs had access to a ridiculous amount of power. They had to be opposed, and the precious few people with the strength, will and adaptability to combat them tended to be adolescents. And since his father wasn't going to give him the opportunity to be one of those people, he would make damn sure that they got all the help he could give. He just didn't think that constant tech development was the best use of his abilities.
He was a ninja himself; he had earned several honors in his training, though this was usually kept quiet to avoid the appearance of favoritism. He had defended his school and home from attacks. None of that would ever gain him any respect outside the ninja community. It barely gave him any from within that community, for that matter. Discipline, hard work and strong values were expected. Cam wasn't really exceptional. But why does that make me feel useless? Because he was in a building full of exceptional people. It would take far more to earn their respect.
What went into respect, anyhow? Try as he might, he didn't seem capable of getting any more respect from his father than he already did. He was already one of the most skilled zord technicians on the planet Earth, if not the most, and yet the Hexagon was ready to drop him. What did the Hexagon value? Rangers. Only the Rangers. Its leader was the most legendary Ranger of all time. What did he want?
Cam had been down this line of thought many times, but that was a new angle. What if he caught Tommy's attention? People respected those whom the Rangers respected. Not only that, but friends of Rangers were more likely to become Rangers. New threats in new places tended to result in local recruits for the new team, but replacement Rangers were not unheard-of. That was probably the way to go: do things the management liked. Suck up.
He shook his head. Something felt very wrong about a world that operated that way. Perhaps he could gain the respect of others, but he would not be able to respect himself.
Even so…
If he were to suck up, he had an obvious way to do it. Tommy had recently called for a fourth Ninja Ranger power. Green. It was Cam's responsibility, but the zords had (rightly) taken precedence. Rumors had been flying among the technicians when the announcement first came. Tommy hadn't requested for a fourth ninja student to fill the role, so it seemed clear that he wanted a Ranger similar to his original powers: an unstoppable steamroller of an extra Ranger, visually different from the main team. And Tommy was the boss, so he would get what he wanted. That was Cam's duty, wasn't it? He would create the Ranger powers as directed, at the highest quality possible.
Cam slowly sat down again, setting the coffee in its usual place. This could actually be fun. I've always liked green. What goes with green? Silver? No, gold. He smiled a little and cracked his knuckles. It was too easy. You want to re-live the glory days, Oliver? That's what you'll get.
He opened a design program and got to work, sketching a human figure with a roughly triangular breastplate. The new power wouldn't be connected to the way of the ninja, but that didn't mean it couldn't be strong; multiple tech-only teams had proven that. In fact, they had raised the bar. The Titanium and Quantum Rangers were the strongest known to date. I'll just have to do better. He had little doubt about pulling it off. Even as he drew the new suit, his mind was buzzing with morpher and zord mechanics, bringing together scraps of ideas he'd had along the way when designing the Wind Ninja morphers, including new ways to merge disparate power sources.
Outside, beyond the vastness of the Hexagon's other wings, the summer sun was going down. The keyboard clacked merrily.