50 years ago….
The sun casts it light into the area surrounding the waterfall, as the overwhelming rush of water over the cliff deafens the sound of anything else. A soft pool of water sits just below it, ripples flowing as the new water lands in it. The jungle that surrounds the pool is fresh, and alien, made up of strange trees, and some that seem all too familiar. Any creatures that may live in the thick jungle are hidden from view from the pool though, as the entire scene seems only to echo serenity as the rock that catches the water sits unmoved against the current. But as is the case with all things serene, its time must come to an end. It isn't the traditional sound of a stick or a branch cracking that signals the coming movement, it's the sight and sound that accompanies the blast of an Enea.
A figure, deformed, and mangled comes flying over the falls, and crashes into the sanctuary of the pool. The creature is not human, and far from it. It may be attractive for its species, but for any onlookers from humanity, it can only be described as hideous, and monstrous. It's skin is ruddy, and its back possesses a slight hunch to it. It's eyes are larger than normal, perhaps twice the size of a humans. Its hands were practically claws, as were its feet. The only indication that separated this from a beast was the fact that it wore a uniform, grey in color, and at its side an empty holster, most likely were a weapon rested before hand. It lies lifeless in the pool, for on its deformed chest rests the unmistakable impression of a blast mark.
Over the falls comes another figure, this one clad in all white. The form is graceful, and flips and lands gracefully besides the pool, the legs crossed. As it stands erect, it takes the form of a humanoid, a Ranger. Clad in white, clearly female, she stands confidently, as she raises a Psy Saber in one hand, and an Enea in another. The blaster is pointed carefully at the falls, as she waits for what comes next. Her patience is not needed though, as quickly two of the creatures force their way over the cliff, their landing quite less graceful than the Rangers. The White Ranger tightens her hands on the Enea, as the two creatures leer at her. Moments later there joined by two more as they land behind her in an equal amount of force. She is surrounded by these four creatures, all of them carrying lewd blasters leveled at the Ranger.
Her reactions are timed carefully, and she considers each opponent, not just with her eyes, but her mind as well, for as a Mobium her heightened senses can feel everything around her. Her movements are fast, and before they can even click off a round at her, she's already dropped one of them to the ground, her weapon set to full power. With the proximity she's in now to the others, her blaster is of no more use to her, and instead she switches to her saber. Charging the other one in front of her, she slices him across the middle, and splits him in two, before spinning back around to the others. The energy bolts come next, but a mental field erupts in front of them stopping them from striking her. More of the creatures emerge from the jungle behind the others, and soon they number eight to her one. She replaces her blaster to its magnetic holster where it hangs upon her thigh. Her saber she rotates in front of her where it points to the ground, next to her side. Her other hand is free, and off to the side. Her enemies paused to consider the damage she had already wrought amongst their fallen comrades, and this moment was all she needed to go further. Her armor began to glow, and then suddenly it erupted, changing into thicker version. This was her Guardian Armor, and as it at flourished into her life, so to did her saber, which flared with a new found energy.
The creatures roared with anger, and charged forward. Her saber met them head on, as it took off the head of the first one, she ducked another the next, forcing him to crash into her, and be forced up and over. She sliced the next one across the midsection the same as before. Her thrusters on the back of her armor flared, and took her into the sky, quicker than if she could lift her self with her mind. The monsters glared into the sky as she hovered above them, and slowly she leveled her other arm with buckler cannon at them. It charged quickly, but the others would not go without a fight, and fired their blasters at the hovering target. There energy bolts could not make the difference though for they either missed or bounced off her suit. She would not though, as the blast let loose from her cannon, slammed into the ground, and engulfing all the creatures at once. They didn't even had time to scream.
She landed softly, just as gracefully as the time before, but this time her feet found only the charred ashes of those who stood upon it moments before. If she looked tired or exhausted her form didn't depict. She took a moment to take in the area around her, and then her armor flashed, leaving her true form in its wake. Terisian stood there, her dark hair flowing amidst the wind of the falling water. Her demeanor was calm, and cautious at the same time, but her gaze was far beyond the wooded area. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her gaze, and she spun around defensively. A child slowly emerged from the brush. Not a Mobium child, but a humanoid child of a similar look. It was a little girl, and she stood timidly at the edge of the pool. Slowly she wondered up to Terisian, and the mobium princess regarded her cautiously. Slowly the little girl reached her arm, and touched the Ranger's leg softly, before hugging it, like she would a mother. The mobium slowly placed her hand on the child's head, and stroked her hair softly. Kneeling down, the two came face to face, and the Mobium princess looked into the eyes of the child. She had fought to save these people from the monsters that she had battled, but now her battle was over.
Reaching down to her wrist, Terisian slowly unfastened her lens, and removed it. She held it in her hand for a moment, before placing it into the hand of the child. The child looked down at the treasure that she fingered softly in her hand, completely unaware of the power that she held. Terisian slowly stroked the young child's face, and smiled at her. She stood up, and released her grasp of the child. Slowly the child backed up, and as she did, the Mobium lifted herself off the ground. She didn't even bother to turn around as she shot into the sky, leaving to parts unknown, and returning on her path into history.
Track Insert – Paul Oakenfold "The Way I Feel feat. Ryan Tedder" (Exodus Theme)
Blake stood before the television monitors stirring his coffee carefully. He like the rest of his country were in shock, but the full extent of that shock had not yet reached all of them. It was the kind of shock that you get when you watch things like Hurricane Katrina on television, the kind of shock that can disappear if you're around the right people for long enough. This shock had one different problem though, it wasn't going to disappear. It was going to turn into panic.
His bullpen, the desk of the agents that worked under him was literally in a frenzy. His department was swamped, and he felt the worst feeling any department head could possibly feel, helplessness. Maybe though, it was worse than that, maybe it was guilt. He knew this was going to happen, first hand. He was there in the meetings, he saw the charts, the figures, and he knew how much further this was going to go. The footfalls of the metallic warriors that marched three thousand miles away were heard in the room he was now in. Not over the speakers of a television, or the recordings of a military analyst being played in the background. They were heard subconsciously by all the people who knew what they meat, knew what they herald. The end of man's dominion over this planet.
The rangers had fallen. Blake hadn't heard a word of them since the news copter covering the battle in San Francisco had been blown apart by a barrage of energy bolts from the droids below. It could have ended there though; a tactical air strike by a squadron of Hornets, and the droids would have been a memory. How many civilians dead? How many innocent lives would it have cost? No one knew for sure, but no one was willing to take that chance, especially after Iraq. But who cared about that anymore. That was five days ago, two days before the capital ships arrived in orbit. The hundred or so droids that were left, that were being hunted down by the armed forces were reinforced. They didn't even see the drop ships before tens of thousands of droids marched on the street. Northern California was no longer American Territory. Droids marched in two other regions across the globe, and they were spreading out from there. Blake wondered if he was walking in the beginning days of World War Three.
He had been apart of the events that had led up to this though. It had started with that dummy corporation and the artifacts from a crashed Mobius ship that led to his discovery of Keith. Those seemed like so much easier days, when all he had to do was figure out what was going to happen next, not worry if there was going to be a next. The Mobium had come out of no where, and things had change, and only a rational man could have seen this coming, but the times hadn't been rational, and the decisions of the people in power were made on the fly with the best information they had at the time. Would he be in the text books now with the people who made the wrong decisions? Would his name be next to the death toll? Would there be a book?
He slowly moved across the bullpen lost in his thoughts that he almost ran into one of his subordinates that was going to hand him a note. Slowly he took it from the man, and his grazed across the writing on the paper, a small smile played across his lips. Letting his smile fade though he address his aide solemnly, "Please send him up."
He made it the rest of the way to his office, and sat down into his chair, replacing his coffee mug on the ring that had become its stationary position for the last several months, and breathed out a breath he had been holding in since before he sat down. It was a long and refreshing release for him, and as he ran his hands and fingers through his dark hair, he wondered what the hell had happened.
His answer was being escorted through the bullpen now by two agents that guarded downstairs, and as they pulled Sean through the crowd of stun onlookers, they deposited him through the threshold of the doorway to Blake's office almost like a common criminal. The lead agent took a hold of the door knob, and pulled the door shut effectively muting the conversation to the rest of the world. Blake stood up slowly, and offered his hand, which Sean took quickly, and shook. His words were typical, and very political, "Glad to see your still alive."
Sean didn't look like his usual self, the best look Blake could place upon his ally was disheveled. His hair was a mess, his clothes worn from a harrowing flight of some sort, and his face looked like he hadn't slept in days, nor shaved for that matter. He took a seat opposite Blake's desk, and folded his hands in his lap. "I thought I'd come in person, because this was important. My family is waiting downstairs in the car."
"We all saw the reports out of San Francisco and I feared the worst," said Blake, not really listening to the tone that his friend's voice conveyed in its meaning. "But seeing you here like a goddamn ghost is reassuring. How are the others?"
"Dead," said Sean, rattling it off like he was talking about people he had never met. It was cold, so much more than Blake would have imagined from a man who not only worked very closely with the people he was describing but mentored their leader as well.
"Then the report was true?" asked Blake, his solemn tone that he had used before returning to his voice.
"Keith, and Colleen were taken prisoner before the armed forces arrived on the scene," said Sean, describing the event like he had seen it in a movie. "I can only assume that they're beyond our reach, but the others…." He trailed off for a moment, and a sudden flash of pain was revealed in his expression, pain that Blake knew had to be there, but Sean was apparently hiding for some reason. Emotion though began to betray him in his tone though as he continued, "…the others fought until the end. When they went down, the heart monitors read no life on all their suits. I stared at the screen for about an hour, but there was no change. Finally, I recorded their time of death, and closed down shop. How is the rest of the world fairing?"
"The Chinese have mobilized their million man army, and deployed their air force, and are literally throwing everything they have to stop the force of droids that has occupied Shanghai," announced Blake as if he was giving a report to the President. "The Russians, and the Japanese are sending reinforcements but the Mobium forces are strong, and the technology that the use in their air craft is outdated. They're all fighting valiantly, but the Mobiums are using mere thousands to push over a million back by the day. Their zone of control is spreading. As for the African foothold, it is almost uncontainable by the forces on that continent, and we fear that by the end of the mouth, they'll have the whole continent, and part of the middle east in their grasp. We've pulled everyone we have out of Iraq, and Afghanistan, and moved them back to the front lines. The Pacific Fleet is sitting off the coast of California now, and the Atlantic is moving to help the African nations."
Sean took everything in stride, his look of weariness probably clouding most of what Blake was telling him, "It's as bad as Keith thought, isn't it?"
Blake looked at him, and nodded softly though he concealed his grave concern for the situation that was at hand. "The Defense Department is too busy to admit what the analysts are saying might be true, that even if we deploy Nuclear Weapons against this enemy, and maintain air superiority, we might ultimately be overrun by their superior technology. The Reign of Mankind may be over my friend."
"Maybe it's for the best," said Sean softly.
Blake looked at him seriously for several moments, feeling the great lost that Sean felt for his friends. Sean felt for more than himself, and more than just his family. His pain was for the entire world, for in his mind, the world had lost their heroes; their saviors. No mankind would have to pull itself up by its bootstraps and win this one on his own. Blake though, broke his chain of thoughts as he asked, "Let me have access to your files, perhaps we can use some of the data to help our men."
"The computer is gone," said Sean softly, "along with the rest of the Shelter. I packed my family up, and a few personal belongings, and then burned that place to the ground."
Blake looked at him critically for a few moments, some in disappointment, some in comprehension. He had been in a similar place in his life too, and knew what it took to push someone that far. He could finally feel all the pieces adding up, even the ones he missed in the beginning. Sean wasn't here to deliver a report, he was here to give his closing arguments. He was out of this war. Almost on cue, he delivered his conclusion.
"My family is waiting downstairs," he informed the Federal Agent. "I'm taking them, and going home. I'm done with all this. Good Luck." He stood up, not waiting for Blake to respond, and slowly collected himself. Taking one last look at Blake, he turned, and headed for the door. Blake for his part let the man go in peace. Sean was beyond emotional restoration. If he was going to heal it would be on his own time, and there was no moral booster the agent could give to a man that had just watched all his teammates die. The federal agent only knew one person who would even try, and he was now probably locked away in some cell in the depths of space on his way to his death.
It was a sunny day in Northern California though, practically cloudless as the frightened city of San Francisco awoke again to its occupation. It was to the sound of air craft overhead, but they were in no way American, or even human for that matter. They raced over head like a gust of wind that blows through the cracks of loose boards or doorways in an old house. It was quick and fast as the gracefully, sleek, and deadly craft powered through the sky on patrol. The sun shone brightly upon the Golden Gate bridge, strangely unoccupied with traffic. In fact the sound of cars were absent from the city altogether. But people were not. They moved silently, their voices barely above a whisper as the conferred in little clicks. It had been this way for the last three weeks as they settled into their occupation which had been fast, and swift. One day a few hundred droids, the next a droid on every street corner; in some cases in the downtown area, almost literally.
Most of the city remained intact, except for the places that the battle had been waged for the last three weeks. Three weeks of invasion. The military was routed in but a single day. Forced back not just beyond the city border, but practically beyond the northern border of the state and into Oregon, and the people began to wonder if their liberation was even a possibility. There had been riots, and uprising, and they had been quelled, quickly, and fiercely. Why shouldn't they be? The droids had simple orders. Maintain the peace, or terminate those beings who refused to remain calm. These weren't humans fighting humans, these were an alien race looking down on an inferior race of people, and seeing them like animals.
The people were frightened, for good reason. They had not seen the face of their occupiers, nor would they. Their captors only necessity was to provide for them, and this they did at food vending stations across the city, were people were forced into lines to be served in a sense, protein bars. Field rations is another way of putting it. Enough to survive was the best. There were still markets, but without jobs, which they weren't allowed to go to, they weren't making any money, so as soon as those funds, as well as the goods were gone, then there would be nothing else. They began to wonder would happen if the aliens won.
There were whispers, and paranoia as there always is during an occupation. Fear and panic are of course byproducts of this, and worse of all there was beginning to be talk of the worst thing of all, collaborators. People actually working for the enemy, and forming a secret police. But for what reason? And then the answer would be spoken. The one thing that was always whispered the softest, almost as if its very mention meant death. Resistance. The rumor mill was circulation about the possibility of fighting back against these robotic soldiers, and their non present masters. Some even spoke of military members still being present in the city, hiding, striking without warning. There would be rumors of attacks against droids, snipers, and several days ago, a far off explosion in the distance. No one knew the truth though, no one really knew what was happening around them. How could they?
Captain Andrews knew though. So did the few people he still worked with. Those that were left from the very first battle, the first moment of invasion. Those that had fought next to the people that no one spoke of, the Power Rangers. He had been knocked out by some great force that had taken out all his men at once, but when he came too, he had been one of the few lucky ones that survived. He had regrouped with the other survivors, and contacted his superiors. He was to withdraw, and be replaced by a fresh group. He didn't withdraw though. He had ignored his orders, and instead, he and the others when hunting. Hunting for the being that had been responsible for the death of his friends. The mobium commander they called Lenoa.
They almost had her too. Then the world went to hell, and suddenly the enemy robots were everywhere, and his unit was all but wiped out a second time. It had been almost a month though since it all begun, but if you talked to Andrews he would of told you that it had been an eternity. Everything was different now, and so was he. He had become more than just a solider, he was a freedom fighter now, the very being which he fought against during his tour of Iraq, for what was he in the eyes of the conquering Mobiums but a terrorist. It didn't upset him though, this title that he had earned from the actions of disrupting the enemies movements in the city, nor did it change the way he looked at the world. He was a trained solider, and because of that he only felt one way about his situation, and that way was no different than any other assignment he had faced before. He felt determination; determination to complete his mission, and return home safely.
He wondered if the battle droids he faced felt the same way inside their vast artificial intelligence. He wondered if they had the same sense of survival that organic beings had embedded into their own form of genetic programming that forced them to stay alive. He wondered this each time he peered through his scope of his M-16, as he sat in the ruin of a downtown apartment building, and looked down a small patrol of droids that number five or six. He wondered it every time before he took the shot.
"Come on," he whispered silently to no one around him. He felt impatient as he waited for the Hunter Droids to fall into the assigned spot where the trap was to be sprung. These droids were not like the ones he first faced so long ago. They had a different equipment package which allowed them greater movement, and enhanced tracking abilities due to stronger sensors. His intel provided him with that much resource, but it took a good deal of practice, and luck to figure out that when you aim just above their left visual sensor that served as their eyes, you took out one of their core sensory processing units that allowed them to process inputs. Andrews sat with his greenish gray hat backwards so that he could better see through the scope on his rifle, and clad in the same uniform he had been wearing for a month now. He had become used to the smell, and no longer cared. The mission was everything.
"Gotcha," he said as they stepped foot passed the marker. He clicked off a shot, and soared true, effectively shutting down the droid. It was the others that could predict the point of origin from the shot that you had to worry about though. Andrews took only a second to confirm the kill though, before he started moving, or rather, running for his life. The droids detected his heat signature though, and turned to engage, but it was a fatal mistake on their part.
"Now!" cried a voice, and suddenly three other similarly clad individuals forced their way up out of their clever hiding places behind the droids. Each sporting an assault weapon they opened fire on the droids, and quickly managed to damage the remaining four beyond operation as their thunderous shots rang out throughout the city, bringing a smile to many faces of the oppressed, and a concern to still more who wondered if the Mobiums would take their losses out on the citizens.
"Get moving," came Andrews's voice over the radio that one of the men sported on his chest, concealed in a pocket. "They'll be sending reinforcements in no time." He didn't tell his other teammates though, they already knew the deal. They had been doing this almost everyday for the last month, and they were already skilled at becoming ghosts the second their job was over. This was their life now, as well as Andrews. Their mission was to be a thorn in the side of the lion, something to keep him focused sometimes inwards, and dull his senses to the outward inputs.
Andrews tore down the ruined street, away from the rubble of the thing that used to be an apartment building he perched himself in. He wasn't even concerned with what was behind him, only the thing that was in front of him. He didn't care who saw him, or what, once he reached it, he knew he would be safe. He skidded to a stop above it, and then summoning all his strength, he reached down, and pulled it off its cover, and slung his rifle over his head. He took a deep breath, and then descended into the sewers that made up his escape route, sewers he was sure that the others had made it too. Sealing the hole cover as he went, he plunged into the darkness, wondering if tomorrow he would make it again.
The eerie rhythm of the heart monitor was the first sound he heard, then there was the sound of gas releasing, almost like one of those machines that helped you breathe in those hospital shows. He felt strained, like he couldn't move a single muscle in his body, like the world around him was pushing down on him. It was an almost overwhelming weakness. He tried to fight back against it, but it seemed just the greatest effort to move a single muscle. He just wanted to open his eyes, to see where he was, but that seemed hard to. But he had to do something, had to make some kind of movement. He focused all his energy to his, just opening them a bit would be a success in his book.
He tried for several moments, and then light. Piercing, overwhelming light, as if he had never seen before, and light was only something that had been described to him before. There was no focus to his sight, only nerves being overloaded. Slowly he forced his eyes to focus though, and as he looked up, all he could see was the color white. The color took definition, and seemed to be grided out, in a darker grey tone, while the interior of the grid were white panels, occasionally possessing a light fixture. It was a ceiling. He was in a room somewhere. He had done it, he had forced his eyes opened, but he couldn't hold them open, and slowly they shut again, and he felt himself being pulled back into the darkness.
Dreams came and went again. Dreams he couldn't remember, and visions of the faces of people he only barely remembered. Some he hadn't seen in years, some that had been very close to him only a short time ago. But finally the dreams ebbed away of their own accord, and again he could hear the rhythm of the heart monitor. He was back in reality, for what dream would have that sound. He didn't feel as weak as before, but still there was some weakness. His eyes yielded without a fight, and again he saw the ceiling from the last time he had stirred. He moved his eyes downward, and could see more of the room, including the door to the room, and the window that looked out into a hallway. His fears had been confirmed, he was lying a hospital bed.
"Hello?" he called almost silently towards no one. The audible sound was barely above a whisper, and someone next to him wouldn't of been able to detect the sound. It was all he could muster though, and he wondered if anyone heard it as he sat, and waited for some form of reply. His feeling in his body began to return, but the only thing he really felt were the tubes that were running into his nose, and the monitors that had been affixed to his chest. There was no sense in panicking though, he was too tired and weak to panic. He tried to think back, past the dreams, and past the forgotten memories. Where had he been before all this? What was the last thing he remembered?
Pain. They had been fighting in California. There had been six of them originally, but two had been taken, and then there were four. There was a great battle, with many people. He remembered the squads of soldiers that had advanced on the droids that had invaded; he remembered Lenoa knocking out all the other humans. They had been forced into a circle; the four of them. They stood with their backs to each other as they looked out over the throngs of droids ready to eliminate them with a single order from their commander, and they became afraid. They were going to die, and they knew it.
There was the feeling of being struck by a hundred baseballs at once, being thrown by the strongest Major League pitcher. They tore into the armor that had protected his body, and then into his body as the armor could take no more of the pounding, and failed. He had fallen to the ground, and the very last thing he remembered was wondering if Lexa was going to be alright. He had resigned himself to death. He had tried to lead the team in Keith's wake. He had failed, but somehow against all odds, he had survived. Matt had survived.
He was suddenly no longer alone. Standing in the doorway was a woman in a blue uniform, and she carried a clipboard. There was a small smile on her face, as she entered the room. She was older than he was, probably having been at this job awhile. She was somewhat attractive, but the ring on her finger said she was already spoken for. "You're awake." It was more of a statement of acknowledgement rather than a status report.
"Where?" was all Matt managed to squeak out as he tried to force his body to move up, but found he didn't have the strength to even do that, and the nurse was clearly moving to stop him from doing it. Rather than put up a fight though, he ceased of his own accord.
"Wyoming," she told him softly, pushing him back on to his bed. Her eyes looked away from him, and to some of the machines as well as an IV. "You've been here for almost a month now. We've taken in a number of survivors from San Francisco, the unlucky ones just like you who were at ground zero. You're lucky they found you when they did. Any longer and you wouldn't of made it."
Matt wondered silently if any of the others had made it as well. Where they here now in this place with him? Was there a chance that Lexa or Peter was just down the hall in another room just like this still unconscious?
"Of course you at least got out when we could still get in there," continued the nurse unabated by the fact that she was most likely carrying on a conversation with herself. "You were just part of the first wave. When those ships arrived up above, that when the real battle began. Now we can't even get into Northern California anymore." She moved over, and slowly pulled the sheets loose that he had knocked down from when he had tried to move, and covered him back up. "They say it won't be long before they're going to move into Wyoming, and then I guess we'll all have to move on. They say this might be the last war humans ever fight." Slowly the weakness began to take its toll on Matt, and pushed him into sleep again. He hoped next time there would be more strength, and a better chance to learn what else had happened while he had been asleep. Maybe garner more information.
The nurse watched the Blue Ranger drift back into slumber, and could only watch and wonder. She had no idea who he was, or what he had done to try and stop any of this from happening in the first place. The only thing she could see was that this could be the future of many people, and possibly people she cared about. Recovering her clipboard, she jotted down several notes before leaving the room, and heading back to the station. She smiled at the girl behind the counter, and quickly informed of the good news that her star patient had finally regain consciousness.
Not far from there, Andrews was slowly pulling himself out of the sewer, and into what was possibly the sub basement of one of the larger buildings in the downtown area. The walls were sturdy concrete, the normal dark grey color that most of it was, and steel beams ran across the ceiling to support the many floors above, but these were left unfinished, because they didn't need to be. Pushing the grate aside, he suddenly came face to face with several large assault rifles, but he was accustomed to this, as it was a necessary security measure. He hadn't just entered a basement. He had just gone into the headquarters of the resistance movement. The only thing still fighting in San Francisco. The two guerillas holding the rifles pulled back though when they recognized Andrews. He pushed himself to his feet, and dusted his hands off. Taking a hold of the strap that held his rifle, he moved forward, and into the makeshift base.
Cubicles had been built, creating different sections, and different areas, and easily a hundred or so people were crammed into this area right now, all working towards a different end, each with a different task. It was none of these people though that concerned him though. He was moving quickly to the largest space that housed the person he was reporting to. However, as it has been known to happen, he became sidetracked as one of the officers below him, hurried towards him down the walkway he was on.
"Captain," he announced, and quickly closed the gap. "Captain, this just came in from Wyoming, urgent for the Major."
Andrews took the note from the soldier, and read over it quickly, not really caring if the Major disapproved of it or not. His eyes read no emotion though as he read over the scribbled lines. Instead he only nodded at the soldier, and patted him on the back. "Good Work." Again he moved on, stopping only to drop off his rifle before proceeding directly to the Major's area. Stopping just before the door, he extended his hand carefully, and knocked.
"Enter," came the Major's voice. Carefully he pulled the door open, and stepped inside. The Major's back was to him as he entered, and he found her staring at a projected screen on the wall in front of her. Her quarters were more like a command post. There were projections and map spread out all across the room. Very few personal things if any, and few if any clothes. Just a cot, and a table with a light over it. Andrews' eyes found their way to the Major, and he examined her carefully. From the back she looked just like any other girl. Her feathery blonde hair fell to just above her shoulders. While she was quite slender, she was also very fit, and quite attractive. She wore black. A black shirt with a zipper on the front, and black slacks that were a little rougher, and more durable than most women would wear, but she was in the middle of a warzone. Her boots matched the same color as the rest of her attire. "Report."
"We knocked the target squad offline," reported Andrews. "That'll be a few less droids roaming the street tonight." She turned her head ever so slight, and then turned around completely to address her officer. Her face was quite attractive, and seeing the front side of her one could also appreciate her bust as well which was modest, but noticeable. However it was her eyes that were the giveaway to what she used to be. They were a noticeable orange, something that stuck out all to obviously upon her. On her left wrist she wore a black band, and in the center of it rested a yellow jewel. "I have a message for you too." Andrews handed her the message, and as he did he summarized it for her, "Major, he's awake."
If Lexa heard him, she didn't give any indication at all. The now rather human looking female showed no emotion at all, and simply crumpled up the message, and tossed it away from her, as she turned back towards the projection. Without look at Andrews she gave him another mission. "When your strength has been replenished, please form a group and deploy to the southern quadrant. A squadron of advanced units is defending a line of supply. If the units can be destroyed, a wing of bombers can be vectored in to eliminate the line."
Andrews felt a little taken aback by the Major's lack of response to the note. He knew he would feel quite relieved if he had found out one of his teammates had made it through the initial foothold battle. The Major was a different person though, so all he could do was nod in acknowledgement, and retreat slowly out of the room. Lexa could hear him depart, and still her eyes were locked on the projections in front of her. She had been running this show for the last three weeks, and suddenly out of nowhere she had found out that Matt was now awake. If this affected her in anyway she didn't show it on the surface, or even just below it. But after all, Lexa was a trained soldier, and even they can hide it sometimes. She was still new to this whole thing. Had it been a full revolution since she had graduated from the Star Academy? She was barely above the level of cadet in her people's military, and here she was on the front lines of another world, defending it from the very people she swore to fight for. She suddenly felt a lot older than before, as if time had suddenly attacked her from behind when she wasn't looking.
All of this had been because of one person; one family. It suddenly seemed stupid and crazy that all of this was because of one person, and what that person meant to a world far away from this one. So many people dying for one person seemed so short sighted, but then to the people in power, maybe that was their only sight. Her eyes fell back on the charts that showed the advancing Mobium forces into the rest of the continent. They were an unstoppable force that this world could not hold back. It was no longer a matter of if they took this planet, but when. Keith knew it would come to this, she had sensed that much before they had parted ways, but still she wasn't prepared to have to live through the initial battle and watch the world fall to her peers. So did Keith she realized, but now he was somewhere far beyond her reckoning…at least so she believed.
It was dark, darker than any night on Earth could ever hope to be. There was no sound, no whisper of wind or air for that matter. No movement either. It was like being in a sensory deprivation chamber, completely devoid of any kind of sense, except for one. There was cold, almost an overwhelming kind of cold. The kind that makes it hard to move muscles or to want to move at all for that matter. It was the worst kind of chill, one that forced you to slowly fall into a slumber, one where eventually the cold would over take you. It was the kind of cold, where the only thing you can think of is the cold.
It was cold and dark. And then there was light. Literally. It was the glare of an electrical light that suddenly flooded everything in the area, giving everything depth, and substance. The light traced the outline of everything that floated before it. Various pieces of metal, some in the form of artificial creations, some in the form of remains of larger pieces. They didn't move or rotate, they just floated. But it wasn't these pieces that were floating before the light that was the reason for the light. It was something else. It was the thing that floated right before the light that was of the greatest interest of the light. It was the outline of something specific, something whole, and something small. It was the outline of a being, a bipedal building, almost appear to be lying on its back. Wrapped around it was protective armor, a very unique armor that few had access to; and even fewer understood its true abilities. The light slowly moved, and as it did there was a soft hum, the sound of a thruster, an energy thruster. As the light moved the objects in front of it changed their definition, as did the being wearing the armor, and for an instant, in the cold, dark place where there was nothing before, a glint of color is given off by the floating being's armor. It is the color red.
Slowly as if some unseen force is pulling it away, the being slowly drifts towards the light, most likely not of its own free will, but as it nears the light, a new light appears, and grows larger, until it appears to be some type of door, and beyond a well lit room. Slowly the being drifts towards the room, until it is safely beyond the door that had opened for it. Slowly this door closes, and the new light in the dark, cold place suddenly goes out, leaving just the first light to cast its ghostly light over the remaining objects that remain in this void. A moment later though that light is extinguished too, and darkness returns to the void; a place where senses had no use.