CHAPTER 3 — Bullseye

The attack on Guta village raged on.

Conflagrated households charred the soil black. Vast crop-field expanses, farming equipment and storage facilities were swallowed by blooming laser discharges. Family curios, priceless ties to ancestral heritage, were forever lost in the flames.

But the Silencers were creatures devoid of sympathy, and rampaged unabated. Packs of threes scuttled from one street to the next, brandished pincer blades spinning frantically in a manic search for civilians to terrorize.

"This way," Star whispered soon as the Silencers moved past.

"I'm right behind you, Star," answered Brute. He glanced at Pyre. She was leaning on him, half-conscious. "She's a fighter, alright," he told Star. "I didn't think she had it in her."

Pyre managed a chuckle. "Hey, I may be a rookie, but I'll show you," she slurred.

Star let out a relieved sigh. "Even when the going gets tough, you keep your cool."

"Pretty sure that's a citation from Gent's knightly code," Brute noted. "Did you know he won't let me take a peek? I don't come off as nosy, do I?"

"Shh!" Star interrupted him. "Silencers."

Immediately, all three Power Rangers clung to the nearest wall. The chittering of Silencers could be heard at the next turn.

"Activating T-wave lenses," Brute tapped the left side of his helmet and turned to stare directly at the wall. Under refined Terahertz radiation the piled stonework seemingly melted away, allowing Brute to look past the structure.

"There's six of them," he relayed. "Overlapping patrols. Star, can you read them, see if you can find the superior amidst the pack?"

"Right." Inside Supersonic Pink's helmet, the gem embedded on her forehead gave off a faint, pink glow. As Star entered a state of deep concentration, her psychic presence pushed outward, expanding so as to cover the surrounding area, and with a wilful push the ranger's essence exited her mortal vessel.

Now an incorporeal phantom, the individual that had previously been Star swam in an ocean of aethereal energies. Practicing extreme caution in order to not be swept away by turbulent currents, the phantasm closed in on a distinct disorderly spot. Combinations of differently colored hues danced within each of the six shapes that the phantom recognized to be Silencers. It approached closer still to better inspect the shades in each color and distinguished the subconscious thoughts.

the dominant color… there's one among them… which means… they resonate with that one…

"Their leader is the rightmost one," Star gasped as her mind reconnected with her body. The whiplash she experienced was to be expected after the strong, mental tug that was required to pull back her conscience.

"Nice," Brute nodded. "Now, it's my turn." Keeping the T-wave lens activated, Supersonic Blue gathered the entirety of his focus on the designated Silencer. "I theorize its IQ is less than eighty," he muttered. "Perfect possession target."

Brute's gem, also embossed on his forehead, sparkled with blue light as he concentrated his psyche and hurled it at the Silencer. The alien flinched upon the spiritual collision, the sudden freeze in movement attracting its peers' attention.

The Silencer returned to normal as suddenly as it had gone limp.

"Nh," it spoke in a strange, garbled dialect, unaware that Brute was in control. "Kds'r fn sgzs vzx," and it pointed with the pincer blade toward an alley whose entrance was narrowed by a near-collapsed building.

The Silencers flayed their arms excitedly and skipped to the designated location. The leader figure followed after them, but a strong shudder rooted the alien in place. Had it IQ been any higher, it would have questioned such a reaction; the aftermath of Brute's soul parting from its body.

Instead, the primal creature simply looked over its shoulder, shrugged and carried on.

"Area secured," Brute gave a thumbs up to his fellow rangers.

"Great job, you two," said Pyre. "I'm feeling much better myself, so what say we strike back?"

"The safety of Guta's citizens is our top priority," Star countered.

"Speaking of which," Brute followed, "is it okay if we stop here for a sec?"

Star tilted her head. "Is something wrong, Brute?"

"I gotta relay a message real quick."

The Supersonic Fighter Zord broke past Xybria's low orbit and was greeted by a hail of laser fire.

Ace had been preparing himself since before taking flight.

As his late father once taught a younger Ace, Xybrians were one of several races in the Aquilla Hyperion galaxy that were psychically attuned to the cosmos. Their presence of mind, he described, could be separated into several planes of enlightenment. Their acknowledgement of these layers involved a deeper understanding of the universe at large, which could in turn allow for increased interactivity with their surroundings.

And where the average Xybrian possessed a firm grasp of the present, Ace focused on witnessing the future.

Recalling advanced meditative practices, Ace's forehead gem shone with scarlet luminescence as his mind's eye glimpsed into the realm of infinite realities. Ace skimmed past them in less than fractions of a second, knowing that to pay attention to every instance - the majority portraying his tragic conclusion - would shatter his heightened focus.

Mind and body operated in harmonical unison as Ace used the subtlest muscle contractions to stir the Fighter Zord through the laser storm and extraterrestrial debris. The ship's scanners, running background diagnostics on the contents of each enemy vessel, provided Ace with a rhythmic beeping that helped pace his selection process.

The projector on Ace's left suddenly crackled to life.

"Chief, do you read me?" It was Brute's voice, distorted by static.

"Loud and clear, Blue," Ace replied, maintaining concentration.

"I hijacked a Silencer and just came across valuable info. Their ships might all look the same, but only a select few carry personnel: the M'Kala-class Carriers! You can spot them based on the location of their main engine. The Carriers have it at the rear, just above the jet propulsor."

Ace performed a barrel roll, dodged a searing pillar of crimson light and fired back with a missile salvo. Having elevated his mind to a degree that could balance seer-sight and spatial awareness, he'd taken in Brute's information and ensured it was an enemy vessel he'd blown to smithereens in a near instant.

"I see," Ace breathed, flying the Fighter Zord through the flaming rubble. "If I cripple the engines, can I force an emergency landing?"

"Concentrated bursts can rupture the plating and damage the circuitry, yeah."

Ace cocked his brow. "Is that a theory, Blue?"

Brute snorted. It was the confident kind of snort. "It's a certainty, chief."

Underneath his helmet, the Red Supersonic Ranger's lip curled into a grin. "Coming from you, Blue, it means a lot."

"Boss! Get them!" Pyre's voice invaded the private channel.

"We believe in you, Ace," Star's voice sounded after Pyre's.

"I will succeed," said Ace, masking the strong feelings evoked by his team's support. Reinvigorated, his grip on the flight stick tightened.

"Pink, Blue, Yellow, trust in each other and continue the ground defense. Over and out."

Cain's guttural roars pierced the air with every swing he took at Gent's life. His shawl flapped furiously to the beat of swift, short-winded chops, each attack marked by the rage of a warrior whose thirst for pain was a bottomless well, and his fuel was hatred.

Pitted against the wild and unpredictable storm that defined Cain's swordsmanship, Gent maintained a collected calmness. An unbreachable wall, he parried the opposing strikes just before they connected, effectively creating shorter time gaps between deflection and recovery. With expert finesse, Gent exploited these 'blind spots', putting forward the full brunt of his weight and granting his counterattack jabs heightened impact.

Feral might incarnate, Cain always met the saber by putting his spare arm forward. The blade's tip would slot into his bracer, the plating angled and layered in a way that would trap his opponent's blade and allow him to snap it with a palmed strike. And every time Gent shifted his wrist, forced the blade to slide away and parried again.

The Blade of Torment and Supersonic Saber clashed, bringing the duelists close.

"Is that all you've got?" Cain beamed a devilish grin. "Unless you're going easy on me."

Gent did not reply. The Galactic Swordsman scoffed and broke the deuce, the friction of blade on blade creating a wall of scintilla between them.

Gent flicked his wrist, swinging the Saber in an upward, cross-shaped sweep. The twin strike was true. Sparks danced from Cain's sapphire armor, causing him to stagger. Gent did not let up. He brought the hilt close to his helmet and situated the blade parallel to the ground. With a swift pivot, he rotated in place and put all his weight behind a spinning slash.

The impact sent Cain flying, but the swordsman recovered swiftly, controlling his center of gravity and landing in a crude back-flip.

"You're not half bad," Cain taunted, wiping a droplet of sweat from his brow. "I just might have to take you seriously."

"Mock not thine enemy," Gent responded and reset his stance. "Knightly Code of Conduct, rule number twelve."

"I don't care about codes or rules, Black Supersonic Ranger. I care about winning!" Cain extended his spare hand and the armor coating his fingers strained as he unleashed bolts of forked lightning at the his enemy.

Gent assumed a light crouch and swept out the palm that was previously pressed against his back. Underneath his helmet, Gent's forehead gem glowed grey, a gateway into previously untapped psychic potential swinging open. The lightning, frenzied like its user, redirected its entire might at Supersonic Black's hand and promptly bounced off, blowing open small craters behind the swordsman and kicking up cones of dust.

"A telekinetic! What mastery…" Cain said, unable to hide his surprise.

"Knightly Code of Conduct, rule number forty-five: Tis but the sword itself that may discern the difference between swordsmen."

Cain's eyes, sharpened by cyan kohl, thinned further with spite. "If you think you can beat me with that lousy trick, you're a fool!" he roared and shot out a second torrent.

Gent dashed forward, hilt level with his visor.

He slashed the air with the Supersonic Saber, each cut a controlled burst of force that redirected the electric bursts away from him. The attempt to thwart Gent's advance now became an advantage, the chain of explosions trailing behind coating the Power Ranger's figure.

Cain didn't let up. His power came to a head, the aethereal energy climbing along his arm as even more obsidian bolts lashed like whips.

And suddenly, out of the smoke and fire leapt Gent, blade firmly grasped with both hands, and chopped downward, the strike overwhelming Cain in a continuous stream of sparks.

The Galactic Swordsman bent the knee and sunk the Blade of Torment into Gutan soil.

"Curse you. This isn't the end!" Cain cried before vanishing inside a pillar of light.

Gent spun the Supersonic Saber, willing it to phase out.

"It most certainly won't, fellow swordsman."

The M'Kala-class Carrier ships had maneuvered into a neighboring asteroid belt.

Twin targeting reticles flickered on and off, constantly obscured by drifting remnants of long destroyed planets. Data streamed in a continuous flow as the Supersonic Fighter Zord's external sensors fed the cockpit with notice after notice of debris collision. Despite the superb craftsmanship that defined the Zord as one of Xybria's finest, the craft was sustaining serious damage.

Ace's vision was wavering, and his piloting was losing its steadfastness as a result.

His concentration stretched to its thinnest extent, potential futures snapped in and out of Ace's focus in rapid succession, each instance a potential puzzle piece that contributed to his inevitable victory. The hazardous environment, however, had become a leaden burden, a throb at the back of Ace's subconscious that split his priorities unevenly, and thus disrupted the harmonious balance necessary for such a delicate undertaking.

To succeed, Ace knew he would need to trust in only one of his abilities.

He opted for piloting prowess.

Ace let in a deep inhale, followed by a long exhale. He then sealed his seer-sight, sharpened his environmental perception and deactivated the Zord's velocity limiters. The hull ignited as Ace pushed the thrumming engine to full throttle.

Asteroids dissolved into mere specks as Xybria's strongest spaceship, piloted by its best academic candidate, carved an ever-accelerating path across the belt. The reticles honed in on the Carriers, cross-hairs maintaining a steady trace of their targets: the plating above the jet propulsors.

His resolve hardened to unbendable steel, Ace flicked open the flight stick's top and thumbed the firing button.

A concentrated, V-shaped burst of bright light shot out from the Zord's black beak, ripping through space to find its marks. Carrier plating ruptured in rapid succession, the rear panels buckling under the beam's pressure, and though the ships didn't come apart, they lost their momentum. Pulled into Xybria's lower atmosphere, their final option was a forced landing.

"Rangers! The ships are landing," Ace spoke into the projector. "Pink, Blue, Yellow, I want all three of you prepared for their arrivals. Make sure there are no innocents nearby. I'll leave the landing coordination to you, Blue."

"You got it, chief!" Brute replied. "You'll also be happy to hear the town is clear of Silencers!"

"Excellent work, Blue." Ace switched channels. "Black, status report."

"Our mutual adversary hast retreated, sire. No harm hath been inflicted upon any bystander."

"Good, rendezvous with the others. Blue has the coordinates."

"Of course, sir."

"Over and out."

Ace switched gears, allowed the Fighter Zord to decelerate and turned the craft around. He dialed a command and the thrusters gyrated downward, steadying the Zord as it rotated in place.

Before him, Xybria. A planet of crystalline oceans and continents rich in forests, mountains and majestic cities.

Home.

In that moment, Ace forgot about the mission to drink in Xybria's beauty, as well as the calming sense of satisfaction that came after a successful mission.

Silently, he tilted the stick forward and commenced the journey home.

A perimeter check had spotted the Supersonic Jeep and Carrier Zords behind a hill on Guta's outskirts. Ace planned out a landing sequence that corresponded with the vehicles' energy signatures and let the Fighter Zord's automatic protocol take over.

Ace rose from the pilot seat and headed for the rear ramp. His breathing was labored, his body groggy from the constant gravitational pull fluctuations and his head was heavier still. Racked with a splitting headache since his descent through the mesosphere, the physical repercussions of excessive psychic usage served to remind Ace about the importance of harmony between mind and body.

The ramp lowered and applause greeted the Red Supersonic Ranger.

The sight made Ace's chest swell with pride as he realized that no amount of physical or mental strain could ever truly exhaust him. The Power Rangers were a beacon of hope, a team destined to protect and inspire, and Ace could recognize that sense of admiration on the face of each Gutan resident present.

His team flocked to him, sharing in Ace's vibrancy, and all five of the Supersonic Rangers unclasped the seals on their helmets. One by one they removed them and the cheering grew in intensity, the village's collective happiness evident in the bright glimmer of their forehead gems.

Ace's face came the closest to a hero's. Like a sculpted figure from Xybria's oldest myths, his chin and cheekbones were chiseled, his eyes deep-set, his brows hung low and his faded crew-cut was a bright shade of red. Under a strong, Grecian nose, his thin lips curved into a stoic smile.

"You did it, Ace!" the Pink Supersonic Ranger said and embraced him. A tall and lean young woman, Star's face was a beautiful amalgamation of full cheeks, a small jaw and upturned eyes that gleamed grey, soothing like an early winter sunrise.

"I suppose so," Ace managed, despite the tightness of the hug. "Star," he ventured, searching for the most polite way to phrase his request. "I'm getting dizzy."

Belatedly, Star realized what Ace was insinuating and let go. She stepped back, fiddling with her windswept, coral-colored hair.

"Sorry," she stammered.

Brute, Pyre and Gent shared a chuckle, effectively alleviating the moment of its awkwardness.

"A maiden's concern is but a gesture of deep affection, my liege," Gent commented. "I, for one, shall encourage it more henceforth."

The very visage of a noble knight, Gent's features came alive in laconic elegance. Dark, monolid eyes were complemented by rounded, short-tail eyebrows, finely combed hair and thin lips poised in a kind grin.

"Ditto! Her face was priceless!" Brute added, his all-teeth smile a bright contrast to the warmth of his skin.

Brute was a young man, freshly thrust into adulthood, whose rebellious exuberance was highlighted by his faded high-top, styled in flashy, neon-blue dreads.

Gent raised a finger to halt Brute's snicker. "Not to jest about it, mind you, sir Brute. We are gentlemen!"

"He said it! He said the thing!" Pyre laughed her characteristic snort-guffaw. Brute joined in her laughter shortly after.

The second youngest of the rangers, Pyre was an audacious young lady with a striking tan and dark brown mane that emboldened her round eyes, steep-arched brows and low cheekbones.

When Gent realized he had been baited into this situation his finger, previously straight as an arrow, wavered and slumped.

"How rude!" he huffed and crossed his arms, a smirk distorting the passivity of his regal features nonetheless.

All the while Star was trying her hardest not to be swayed by Pyre and Brute's jester antics.

"Were any citizens harmed?" Ace asked. His sudden seriousness brought Star around.

She turned to Ace. His gaze had fallen on the remains of a Carrier. Reduced to a jumbled mess of disjointed, burning wreckage, the M'Kala-class enemy ship lay half-buried near the hill in which the attack had commenced.

"Were there enemies inside?" Ace pressed.

Star shook her head. "Just the victims. They're all here, around us. Let's go. The village elder has called for us. He's at Guta's outlying district."

Ace nodded. "Sounds good to me." He rounded on the rest of the rangers. "Let's get going."

"Right," they answered in unison.

They traversed a barren town, blanketed by a veil of stillness.

The villagers followed after the Power Rangers. They split into factions, heading down lanes that were once their neighborhoods, but had now been reduced to smoking rubble and detritus. Salvaged lumi-batteries birthed light into collapsed crevices while capable hands responded to any and all hints of movement or echoes. Coordinated teamwork, stemming from the natural camaraderie that existed in small, tight-knit places like Guta, resulted in several successful rescues.

Brute provided a medical backbone to the operations, utilizing the scanning equipment integrated in the ranger suit to determine injury severity. He had analyzed the Silencer weaponry compounds beforehand and had also brought along a portable medical packet from the Supersonic Jeep Zord for cases of burn wounds.

"Medicine? One of my many specialties," he would brag whenever he was asked.

"Rookie!" Ace called out to Pyre, who was assisting an elder lady's escape from a house on the verge of giving way.

Pyre ran to him. "You called, boss?"

"I'd like to discuss your misconduct today."

"Yikes…" the Yellow Supersonic Ranger muttered under her breath.

"What you did today was very reckless," Ace started, the prospect of a scolding making Pyre jittery. "But," he said and placed a hand on her shoulder, "it was also very brave. "

Pyre straightened, a smile stretching her lips. "That kid was in danger," she said. "I couldn't have possibly sat there and watched him get hurt. That's how I am." Here, she paused and ruffled her mane. "I'm a Power Ranger."

That last sentence Pyre had said with pride. Ace could see it in her eyes.

"What you did was really something. I certainly didn't see it coming."

Pyre huffed, the smile still on her lips. "You can't expect me to not save a life whenever I can."

"I didn't mean that," Ace corrected her. "What I meant to say was that you should have let your teammates know. We're the Power Rangers. We're a team, and you can rely on us as we can rely on you."

Pyre swallowed. "I know. Thank you for understanding."

"Anytime, rookie."

The western Gutan outskirts were comprised of isolated, flat-topped hills that overlooked Mupata Valley. They continued for several kilometers, the distinction between butte and mesa recognized in a natural elevation that inevitably merged with the surrounding Yepamu Soro mountain range. The crater-like composition of the land, however, was indistinguishable to the naked eye, the kilometric distance vast enough to blur the horizon.

The Power Rangers climbed the butte closest to Guta and spotted the town's governing figure, Elder Mukoma, sitting atop a tree stump, surrounded by the next generation. The elder propped himself up almost immediately so as to greet the village saviors properly.

The children watched with mouths agape as Ace and Elder Mukoma shook hands.

"Red Supersonic Ranger, you and your team are thanked by everybody present in this gathering. Our village would have been nothing but ashes were it not for your heroic feat!"

Ace smiled, humbled by the elder's words. At the same time, however, he was looking past him…

...Men. Women. Children. Battered and bruised. Searching for their loved ones. What they find frightens them. They lie motionless on Guta's soil. They are too late. They hold the fallen's hands, comforting their departure from this plane…

And amidst them, each and every tragic incident, looms a figure, its features shrouded underneath a rugged hood…

Aka, it calls out.

Aka.

Aka.

Words with no sound…

"Red Ranger? Red Ranger?" Elder Mukoma repeated.

Ace blinked, snapping back to reality. His smile widened ever slightly.

"Thank you for your kind words," Ace replied.

Reassured, Elder Mukoma responded with his own smile and broke their handshake.

"Come, children," the elder said. "Let us meet the rest of the Power Rangers. The dazzling Star. Brute, the prodigy. The knightly Gent, and the newly appointed Supersonic Yellow, Pyre!" The children responded with enthusiastic cheers.

Before they departed, one of the kids ran towards Ace with a flower in her hand. The Red Supersonic Ranger knelt to meet her. She was a shy young lady with big, chestnut eyes.

"Hello there, sweetie. Your pigtails look lovely. Did you braid them yourself?" Ace said, his voice soft and comforting. He nodded to the flower. "What a pretty flower. Is it for me?" He gestured with his finger.

"Thank you, Red Ranger," the girl managed and handed over the flower, "for saving us all!"

She then returned to Elder Mukoma, who laughed joyfully at the heartwarming sight of childhood innocence. Ace neared the flower to his nose, feigning a sniff as he waved goodbye.

Thank you. That was all he needed to hear.

Left alone now, Ace sat on one knee, his eyes moving from the flower to the horizon and back.

"'What was the point?', I think you'd ask," Ace mused to himself as he recalled the hooded figure. "We have lost many innocents today. But we must never forget that we have also saved that many more, and have given them hope when they needed it most."

His smile broadened with newfound resolve. "That's what being a Power Ranger is about."