Ray, Gaby, Gunn, Alcott, Lorent, and TransGenics are mine.
Rated PG-13 : Mild sexuality; harsh language, strong violence.
Eric watched Daryl Gunn, taking a moment to relax as the Bio-Lab security chief sat at his desk reading a report. Gunn was his kind of person, quick, efficient, and didn't care too much about the niceties. Eric's respect for him had grown over the last few months, as they worked together. He looked over at the other occupant of the room. Dr. Michael Zaskin sat in another chair in front of the desk, wearing his usual slightly anxious expression.
Gunn's office was sunny, comfortable, and cheerful, in contrast to his rather impersonal and often formal manner. Eric's thoughts briefly visited Mr. Collins' dark, bare office, and his own, which was small, undecorated, and contained only the necessary items. Some people assumed he resented the fact that Wes's office was considerably larger and more impressive than his, and both Wes and Mr. Collins had tried to get him to take something better. But the truth was that he preferred to stay where he was. Any form of luxury made him uncomfortable.
"Interesting," Gunn remarked, bringing Eric's attention back.
"I thought so too." The report was from Dr. Zaskin, on the two blaster weapons that had been recovered from the break-in at Bio-Lab's drug storage warehouse two weeks ago, the weapons that had been used on him and Wes. "Those weapons aren't based on Bio-Lab's blasters. They're much more powerful, more advanced. If that blast cannon had hit us directly, I might not be here right now."
"Where do you think they came from?"
Eric hesitated and glanced at Zaskin. He, Collins, and Wes had discussed this only the night before. The inevitable conclusion had been that if they expected Gunn to do his job in this situation, he would have to know the truth. It had fallen to Eric to tell him.
"That's… a long story. Remember the mutants from a couple of years ago?"
"Of course. Before my time at Bio-Lab, of course, but I was living in Silver Hills. They almost destroyed this city. And Bio-Lab, as I recall."
"This must be kept in confidence."
Gunn smiled. "I can keep secrets."
"I'm not kidding. Only a few people know about this." He waited for Gunn to nod, a bemused expression on his face. "Those mutants came from two hundred years in the future. They were criminals who came here trying to change their own history. The other four Power Rangers -- besides Wes and me -- were law enforcement officers from their time who came to take them back. The Ranger weapons all come from the future."
Gunn stared at him without expression. "The future?" he finally said, his voice skeptical.
"Think about it. Mutants, advanced weapons, the Ranger equipment, the Q-Rex. Where did you think they came from?"
"I heard rumors about the future. But most people think they came from secret government research projects. Or outer space."
"And is time travel less believable than that?"
"Maybe not. Are you sure about this? That they traveled through time?"
"Wes and I took a little side trip into the past. Sixty-five million years ago."
Zaskin spoke up, his voice wistful. "I wish I could have gone along. To actually see living dinosaurs…"
Eric frowned. "It wasn't exactly fun. We almost ended up getting eaten." He still occasionally had dreams of being chased into a tiny cave by that huge and terrifying creature.
Zaskin grinned. "Would have been worth it."
Eric turned back to Gunn. "Do you believe us? You can ask Mr. Collins if you like. Or Wes."
"No need. You don't impress me as the type to make up something like this."
"Good. To get back on the subject, we think these weapons may have come from the future."
"As far as we know, Bio-Lab is the only one that examined the mutants' and the Rangers' technology," Zaskin said. "We never got anywhere, except for the Guardians' blasters, which are a simplified version of the mutants' blasters. We aren't capable of building better ones. No reason to think anyone else could either."
"So you think someone's visiting us from the future again. Bringing weapons," Gunn said slowly.
"And if that's true -- their government strictly forbids interfering with history. They have to be criminals. They've been giving weapons and other technology to T-Gen and the gang that tried to rob us," Eric said. "Probably selling them to the highest bidder."
"In which case, we have a serious problem." Gunn leaned back with a half smile. "I have some friends in low places. I'll put out feelers. Let it be known that Bio-Lab is interested in buying advanced weapons. Maybe we can get in on the action."
"And I'll call a few of my friends in the police department. See what they found out from the men we captured."
"How's Wes, by the way?"
"Fine. Still at home, recovering. He should be back sometime next week."
Wes eased himself into the chair carefully. The doctors said his ribs were healing nicely, but they didn't feel very nice. Once settled, he looked down at his plate unenthusiastically.
"Dad. Mashed potatoes and tomato soup?"
"You're supposed to be recuperating. Taking it easy."
"It's not my jaw that was broken. How about a hamburger?"
Collins laughed. "Sorry. Philips just automatically went into his 'nursing the invalid' mode. Can't get him out of it. I'll talk to him again."
"Thanks." With a sigh, Wes started to eat. "How's things at Bio-Lab?"
"Fine. Eric's increased security on our storage facilities."
"Yeah, he told me."
"If those weapons really came from the future, we've got trouble."
Wes looked at him. "You know it's the most reasonable explanation. They have to have come from the future." He was silent, his appetite suddenly gone. His father watched him with concern in his eyes.
"Eric and Gunn are working on it."
"Yes. I'll have to talk to them. See what I can do to help."
"Wes, you're supposed to be resting. I don't want you getting involved."
"I am involved. Jen and the others are my friends. If something's going on in their time, I need to help them." He looked at his plate unseeingly.
It had been over a year now since they had left. Trip, Lucas, Katie, and most of all, Jen. His friends and the woman he still loved. He had never expected to see any of them again, but if someone was traveling between their time and his... maybe...
"A letter came for you." Wes looked up as his father held it out to him. It was an obvious attempt to change the subject, and not an unwelcome one at the moment. He took it and opened it, seeing that it was from Emma, his former assistant, one of the mutant sisters who had been their allies against TransGenics a few months ago.
"What does she say?"
"I'll read it to you." He held up the sheet of paper and began.
Dear Wes,
I heard today you were hurt, but you're going to be all right. I hope you're feeling better by now. Gina says she felt something bad, and she still feels like something very bad is coming. At this distance she can't do any better than that, so I don't know if it means anything, but please be careful.
We've settled in pretty well now. I'd like to let you know exactly where we are, but the others think it's too risky. Anyway, we're doing fine, and having a great time on your father's money. Just kidding. Dana and Carrie have gotten jobs, with help from your father again. I hope if they spend more time with humans, they'll learn to like them more, although Dana says her boss is enough to turn her off humans forever. Angela is working also, and Gina is considering a career as a criminal mastermind. Just kidding again.
I hope Eric is over Angela by now, and having a mad, passionate affair with someone else, preferably Gaby. Don't tell him I said that, he'll glare at you and tell you how ridiculous the idea is.
We all want to thank you again for helping us with the treatment for our illness. We all feel fine now, and Gina says we are cured.
Tell everyone at Bio-Lab I miss them. Say thanks to your father for us, and to yourself, and Eric, and Stevie Miller, and the Gunn.
Bye for now, Emma
Collins frowned. "Something bad's coming. I don't like the sound of that."
"Yeah. Too bad Gina never seems to see the details, until it's about to happen."
Gaby tried hard to get her uncooperative body into the right position. She flexed her knees, trying to stay balanced, ignoring the ache in her muscles. But as soon as her arms were right, her legs were wrong again.
Eric had decided he wanted a computer in his home, complete with secure access to Bio-Lab's systems. Since Gaby was the company's computer security manager, he had come to her for help. Typically, he was unwilling to accept a simple favor, and had offered to give her a few lessons in martial arts in return. She had accepted mostly out of curiosity.
It was slow going so far. Gaby had a certain natural athletic ability, but knew she lacked coordination and balance, and that she could never come close to his level. Eric had said she was a challenge, probably trying to be nice for a change. She watched him, moving fluidly through the positions, every motion graceful, his body powerful and controlled. Beautiful.
Watching him, she had to admit that there was another reason she had accepted their bargain. She had always found him physically attractive, and wanted to get to know him better, find out if the attraction went beyond the surface. Her first impressions of him had not been favorable, she had found him moody, hot-tempered, and unfriendly. But in the months they had been working together, and forming a tentative friendship, he had improved, or perhaps she had learned to be less critical.
"Focus. Just relax." Eric's voice was smooth and soothing, very different from his usual abrupt tones.
"Yeah, easy for you to say. If I relax, I'll fall on the floor."
Eric smiled. "You need to concentrate, not make jokes."
"I'm not joking."
"Try the movement again."
She sighed and decided to distract him. "I really appreciate this."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm so bad at this... for you it must be incredibly boring."
"I wouldn't say that." He smiled again. "It's probably hard on you, trying to teach me how to use a computer."
"You learn pretty fast."
"Your legs are too straight. Concentrate."
"Geez. I thought this would be more fun. So far it's just getting in weird positions and doing movements and exercises. When do I get to kick your butt?"
Suddenly he moved forward, so fast she couldn't react before he had grabbed her and thrown them both to the mat. He landed on the bottom and instantly rolled them over, pinning her. He grinned down at her. She became sharply aware of his face so close to her own, and the weight of his body on hers. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he was off and standing, putting a hand down to help her up.
She thought she saw a trace of embarrassment in his face as he said, "Sorry. But I'm afraid it's going to be a while before you kick my butt."
"I guess. But you could always let me win."
"Fat chance."
"You are not a gentleman," she grumbled. He laughed in response. "That's the tenth time I've seen you laugh."
"You're keeping count?"
"It's such a rare occurrence." She smirked at him, earning another smile, and got back into position.
"You're almost done."
Ray Pettis blinked, waiting for the face above him to swim into focus. After a moment he could make out the features clearly. An angular, intellectual face, with short dark hair. Dr. Jonathan Alcott, his employer. The only person who cared about him. The man who was making him into someone worth being. He smiled. "Thanks, Dr. Alcott."
The face moved away, but he could still hear the voice as hands pulled the needles from the veins in his arms. "This was the last treatment. How do you feel?"
"Still weak."
"That'll pass quickly."
"Yeah, like before." He sat up slowly, feeling Alcott's hand steadying him. After a pause he swung his feet to the floor and stood up. Already his strength was coming back. Not just ordinary strength, the kind of strength the treatments were giving him. A moment of dizziness came and went.
"I'm thirsty."
"Sit down. I'll be back with something for you to drink."
He sat and listened to the footsteps going down the hallway outside the small treatment room. Another effect, his hearing was much better than it had been, much better than any ordinary person's. He smiled. He was becoming a new man.
Suddenly energized, he stood and moved in front of the mirror Alcott had put against one wall, probably to encourage him. Looking at his reflection, he could see the change in himself, and knew it would only increase. He raised his arms, flexing the impressive muscles that hadn't been there two months ago, admiring the face that now seemed bluntly handsome instead of sallow and weak. Even the paleness and the thickened, slightly rough texture of his skin pleased him. The strangest thing was his hair, it was growing in a pale blue, instead of the light brown he was used to.
It was worth it. He was stronger than any weightlifter, could run faster than a racehorse, could move faster than anyone. His hearing, eyesight, and sense of smell were better. There was a change inside, too, his mind was starting to work better and faster. Maybe soon he wouldn't even be dumb anymore. He laughed. He had become Superman. Or maybe Captain America was closer.
And he owed everything to Alcott, and the company he worked for, TransGenics. They had taken him in when he was broke, a high school dropout, without family or friends. His mother had given him up when he was a small child, and died soon afterwards. He had never had a father. Alcott was the only person who had ever taken care of him in his seventeen years of life, the only person who had ever given him anything. And his loyalty was absolute.
Footsteps came back up the hallway, and the door opened. He accepted the glass Alcott offered, and drained it. "Thanks. How long before I get stronger again?"
"Not long. In a couple of days the effect will be complete. Feel anything yet?"
"I feel great."
"Good." Alcott smiled. "You should be in shape to help guard our shipment next week."
"I'll be ready." He looked up. Someone was coming. The sound of individual footsteps had become recognizable to him now, and he knew who it was before he opened the door.
Alcott turned. "Lorent. You're just in time."
The newcomer was a tall man, broad shouldered, handsome and well-built, with spiky reddish hair that seemed too young for his middle-aged face. He smiled, his eyes moving over Ray. "I see the last treatment went well. How do you feel, Ray?"
"Great."
"Good." He turned to Alcott. "We need to talk."
Alcott nodded. "Ray, would you excuse us? You'd probably like to get some sleep anyway."
"Sure." Ray went through the door. As he closed it, he could hear Lorent start to talk. He hesitated, reluctant to snoop. But he was curious, and there had always been something that bothered him about Lorent. They didn't yet realize how good his hearing was. He would know if anyone came down the hall. It was safe enough to listen.
Lorent's voice. "What do the tests show?"
"He's all right, for now. Should stay that way for two or three weeks at least, before he starts to deteriorate. We'll do better next time."
"I hope so. Still under control?"
"Absolutely. Does anything I want."
"The next shipment is on schedule. I want him at the warehouse on guard duty. Bio-Lab is starting to ask questions, and the Quantum Ranger is likely to show up. If he does, you know what to do."
"Don't worry. We'll get him."
"Just be careful. I don't want him dead. Not yet."
"I know. This should be interesting."
"Yes. I want to see how well Ray stands up to a Ranger, before you use the weapons. Only the strongest mutants in my time could handle them. And that's the purpose of this mutating treatment. As soon as we can find a way of stabilizing them, we'll have a valuable product."
"The mutants in your time are stable. Why can't you tell us how to perfect ours?"
A sigh. "We've been through this. The mutants of my time were created with direct genetic manipulation. Your technology isn't even close to that level. The treatment I gave you is obsolete, hasn't been used in my time for decades. It mutates the genes chemically. The result is enhanced abilities, but genetic instability. The longer after birth the treatment takes place, the faster they die. I'll do what I can, but it's up to TransGenics to find a way to correct it."
"How do I know you're not holding something back? It's been over twenty years and we haven't seen any return yet from the mutation experiments. In fact, we had a major loss when the sisters escaped. I still think you could do more."
"I advise you to take what you can get. You're profiting now, from the weapons I'm bringing. You have nothing to complain about. Now, I want to go over those test results in detail."
Footsteps started for the door. Ray sprinted down the hallway, running noiselessly, ducking around a bend in seconds. Minutes later he was in his room, sinking onto the bed. His head whirled with what he had heard. Most of it he hadn't understood. It bothered him, but even the possibility of confronting Alcott was too overwhelming to think about for long. They must have been talking about something else. Someone else. Not him.
Year: 2202
"This isn't working, is it?"
She looked up at him from her plate, realizing she hadn't been paying attention. She glanced around, mentally returning with a jolt to the restaurant where she and Alex were having dinner. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"This. You and me."
She sighed. "I'm trying. I'm just distracted tonight. It was a shock, finding out about -- what's happening."
"Yes," he said softly. "What's happening in the past." His face was calm and serious. "Jen… You're still thinking about him, aren't you?"
"This involves him -- of course I thought of him."
"That's not what I mean." He paused to look at her steadily. "I wish you'd make up your mind. Either forget him, or stop seeing me."
Her eyes slid away from his guiltily. "I'm sorry. I just need time."
"It was time that pushed us apart in the first place." There was a slight smile on his face. "And Wes had something to do with it," he added softly.
"We thought you were dead. You were dead, until history changed."
"I know." His eyes dropped to the table.
"He's in the past, Alex. I know that. It's over."
"It may not be. We -- or some of us -- may have to go back."
The thought had occurred to her as soon as she had been informed that someone was definitely traveling into the past again, specifically to two hundred years ago. Wes's time. It frightened her. Her life was stable, safe. This could disrupt everything.
"I hope not," she said, sincerely.
"You want to see him again, don't you?"
"No." She kept her face as blank as she could.
She glanced up, and then lowered her eyes again, avoiding his questioning, skeptical gaze.