Ruin?

Wes shifted uncomfortably in the plastic uniform, uneasily aware of two salient facts: one, that it was going to require the careful and judicious use of a can-opener to get him out of the thing. And two, that it was, for increasingly constricting and abrasive reasons, a damned good thing he and Jen had already had their family.

Judging from the smothered groans coming from the similarly attired Zordon, he was of much the same opinion. Dimi kicked her erstwhile boss in the shin. "Will you quit complaining?" she hissed. "Do you want to get us captured?"

"But my -- never mind. I should know better than to expect you to be sympathetic, you harpy," Zordon said grumpily.

"Not to interrupt," said Wes diffidently, secretly on Zordon's side but knowing better than to show it, "but I think you'd better act more like a prisoner, Dimi. We're just about to the cellblock, if I'm reading this panel right."

Dimi bent her head and tried to act servile -- not very convincingly, Wes thought, but she was obviously doing the best she could.

It had been decided -- sort of predictably, from Wes' point of view -- that Ben would go find the controls for the tractor beam and disable it so they could get their ship out of there once they found Katie. There was something niggling at Wes' memory about the outcome of this plan, but he was having trouble concentrating enough to put his finger on it. He was having trouble concentrating on anything, actually, other than trying not to be gelded by the hard plastic shell encasing his bits. On the plus side, nobody had stopped them, apparently believing the wafer-thin story that they were taking 'prisoner Dimi' to the cellblock.

Now they just had to figure out which cell Katie was in, get her out of there, get out of the compound and back to the ship, hook up with Ben and fly out without pursuit.

Piece of cake.

The lift door slid open to reveal a pair of guards regarding them suspiciously. "What's this then?" one of them barked officiously.

Zordon swiveled his helmet and looked inquiringly at Wes, who made a face at him behind the mask. "Transferring prisoner 555-0431 from detention to this cell block," he said, improvising with his father's unlisted phone number. What the hey, wasn't like anybody was going to be calling it.

"What? I wasn't notified of this," said Officious Guy, tapping his Britney Spears-like headpiece as he bent to speak into a thin microphone hovering over the console in front of him.

At which point Zordon got overexcited and shot the guy with his blaster. The second man squeaked and dove for the floor; Dimi managed to curse out a string of questions while smacking Zordon upside the helmet. Alpha hollered his favorite expression of distress at the top of his iron lungs, and Wes, after a moment of utter disbelief, dove after the second guy, who was trying to crawl into a hole at the bottom of the console that was roughly twelve inches square.

"Knock it off," he said to the guard, who had got his head stuck in the hole. "Come on, this is silly."

The guard whimpered and tried to compress himself into a cubic foot. Wes yanked unsuccessfully on the guy's shoulder; a shot came from behind him and the guard went slack.

"Well, you weren't getting anywhere," said an unrepentant Zordon, his blaster still smoking. He tugged off his helmet and began to study the console.

"What the hell is the matter with you? Did you have to kill them?" Wes hollered at the pilot, dimly aware that he'd begun to sound like Dimi.

"Who's killed?" Zordon shrugged. "It's only a stun blast."

Wes was deflated. "Oh."

A klaxon went off. "Report, station 126BFG," crackled the console. "Report immediately! We have detected blaster fire in your area!"

"We've had a blaster malfunction," said Zordon, chewing on his lower lip. "Um, we're fine, everybody's fine. No need to worry." He paused. "How are you?"

There was a silence over the console. Dimi stared balefully at Zordon, mouthing 'How are you?' in disgusted disbelief. She threw up her hands.

"Uh, fine, thanks," said the console. "Should we send a repair crew?"

"Negative, negative," said Zordon hurriedly. "We've got a plasma leak, we're attempting to lock it down. Very dangerous, very -- oh the hell with it," and he blasted the console.

"That was smooth," said Wes, folding his arms.

"Shut up," snarled Zordon. "Alpha, get a fix on this Katie person."

Alpha waddled over to the wall and examined it, the little colored lights on his football head blinking furiously. "There is an informational port, but it requires an interface I do not currently possess."

Wes jerked his helmet off and threw it across the room. "Make one," he growled through clenched teeth, causing the little bot to step back. He fingered his blaster. "Or you're scrap."

Zordon looked at Alpha. Alpha blinked at Zordon, shrugged, and stuck his finger in the port. "Downloading," he said after a moment.

Wes holstered his blaster. "Good."

~*~

Hawking entered Lucas' office feeling very satisfied. Kerin was glowering -- which was no surprise -- while Lucas was looking expectant.

"Doc, what's the verdict?" Lucas asked.

"I have a pinpointed date time. We can send a recovery team whenever you're ready."

"That," said Kerin, "might just be the best news I've heard all day."

Lucas looked marginally worried. "I think hell may be about to freeze over."

Hawking blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The director and I have just agreed for the second time in ten minutes."

Kerin choked. "At this rate, Kendall, we may even end up on the same side in Captain Myers' court case."

"I certainly hope so, Director," Lucas retorted.

Hawking shook his head. "Lucas, I trust you have a recovery team in mind?"

Lucas nodded. "The Vengeance trio. If they can infiltrate and exit from the TOI in one piece, they can do pretty much anything."

~*~

Somebody was groaning; after a few seconds Katie recognized her own voice. She sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes, belatedly realizing her hands and arms were free. She must have been out like a light, she thought, for Ransik to have released her.

At least he hadn't killed her. There had been a moment there when she'd felt sure he intended to, a moment when the world had grayed ominously. She'd sent a wave of love to Al and Namir, whenever they were. She'd reflected detachedly, and briefly, that Wes was going to be seriously pissed at Ransik when he caught up with him. That Wes would indeed find Ransik was never in doubt, not in Katie's estimation.

So when the door slid open unexpectedly Katie wasn't remotely surprised to see a disheveled and plastic-clad Wes standing there looking incredibly relieved. Katie grinned and gestured to the suit. "New packaging?"

Wes chuckled. "See what I go through for you, while you're lazing around in these deluxe accommodations?" He helped her to stand, giving her a concerned look when she couldn't stifle a groan. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Katie nodded, limping. "Took you long enough."

Wes rolled his eyes. "That's because my help is a flipping comedy routine. Come on."

The hall was alight with bright streams of blaster fire; Katie found herself shoved behind a handsome, dark-haired stranger, wearing the same sort of plastic uniform as Wes had.

"Gee," said Wes dryly, taking aim down the hall, "I guess they saw through that spiffy ruse of yours. Where's Alpha?"

The stranger ignored him. Another stranger, this time a pretty, dark-haired woman answered him. Sort of. "Is this the best time for discourse? Don't we need a plan to get out of here?"

Wes grimaced, though Katie didn't know why. "Yes, Dimi," he said, a long-suffering tone in his voice. "Have you got one?"

"Can I borrow your blaster?" Wes tossed it to her and Dimi shot a hole into a grate at the base of the wall. A foul stench rose from the opening.

"I am not going in there," growled the handsome stranger, whereupon Wes grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and the seat of the plastic pants and pitched the man into the breach, following him with no particular grace.

"Shall we?" said Dimi, and Katie took the plunge.

~*~

"Oh, cripes," said Wes, holding his nose. "I remember this part." The others looked at him with that what-planet-are-you-from expression with which he was becoming entirely too familiar. He sighed, and wished he hadn't, as it required inhaling. "Forget I said anything. Where's Alpha?"

Dimi looked as if she wanted to answer him but was struggling with it. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. Zordon watched her like a cat watching a mouse hole. Tension mounted. "I wonder if he found his way back to the ship?" she said finally. Wes felt really let down.

Katie looked bewildered. "Who what?"

The stranger shouldered forward. "Hi," he said with a winning smile. "I'm Zordon. You must be Katie."

Wes rolled his eyes. "You figure that out by yourself?"

Katie looked startled, then stunned. "Zordon? Zordon of Eltar?"

"Yeah," said that worthy, looking gratified. "You've heard of me?"

"I -- you -- " Katie floundered. Wes sent her a warning look, and Katie nodded. "Uh, no."

Zordon's face fell. "Oh."

The pile of crap on which they stood sat in what looked to be a couple of feet of slime. The ooze belched, and Wes suddenly remembered something that really would have been better to remember sooner as a tentacle curled around his ankle and jerked him into the foul-smelling fluid.

He fought with the creature, whatever it was, his eyes screwed tight shut. He was aware that the others were shouting and lurching about. His face broke the surface. "Shit," said Wes succinctly, before being dragged under again.

Well, crap. His plastic-clad limbs were growing heavier, he couldn't hear anything thanks to the muck in his ears, and he was pretty sure his hair was dissolving.

And then suddenly the thing let go, and Wes did a slow bob to the surface. Katie plucked him out of the slime. "Thank goodness," he heard her say as he shook the goo out of his ears.

Wes spat. "I have a feeling," he said when he could talk without rivers of slop running into his mouth, "that this is not a positive development."

As if on cue the walls of the garbage chamber began to close in. "Thought so," said Wes.

"You don't have to be smug about it," said Katie, getting to her feet.

"Isn't that the outline of a door?" asked Dimi, pointing to the wall.

Wes stifled an urge to shove the woman into the muck, settling for giving her a look. Dimi shrugged and smiled apologetically.

"We need a new plan, Junior. Think you're up to the challenge, or do you want to let a real man handle things?" said Zordon to Wes.

That was it. Wes shoved Zordon up against the wall of the sewer. "Listen, Jughead, I've just about had it with you. I've got kids more mature than you are."

"Okay, okay." Zordon held his hands out in a gesture of surrender. "What's got your panties in a knot, anyway, Junior? You said you and Miss Katie here were just friends. Jealous?"

Wes shot him a cold glare. "And that's another thing. I'm thirty-eight."

"What?"

"I'm thirty-eight, so can it with the 'Junior' crap."

Zordon fingered his chin. "Thirty-eight, huh? I wouldn't've guessed, looking at you."

Katie's eyebrows climbed pretty well off her forehead at this example of masculine chest-beating. She pushed her way past Zordon toward the wall Dimi indicated.

Wes grinned. "New plan," he said. "Let Katie handle it."

Zordon grinned wolfishly. "Too much for you, Babyface? How about I let my friend Mr. Blaster handle it?" he said cockily with a smile for Katie, aiming at the door.

Katie gave him a withering look. "Bullshit," she said crisply, and punched her way through the door.

Wes couldn't help it. He cracked up at the astonished expression on Zordon's face. "It's okay," he said, as he climbed past the pilot and then helped him up into the hallway. "I felt pretty much the same way when I saw her do that the first time." He patted the now crestfallen Zordon on the shoulder. "Besides, she's married, so you wouldn't have had a chance anyway. C'mon, let's get out of here."

~*~

Rick held Alice close, wishing he could somehow magically make things all better.

"He kept me safe for so long, Rick," Alice murmured softly, still crying. "He protected me...me and mom...and I can't repay that...can't even...I screwed up, Rick."

"No you didn't," he replied, gently stroking her hair. "Whatever happens, you didn't screw up, Ali.."

"Didn't I?" She shifted in his arms and looked up at him, eyes red rimmed and puffy from crying. "I could have...should have..."

"You couldn't do any more than you did," Rick responded. "And whatever happens, I know your dad knows that."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Then believe it, Ali," Rick murmured. "Believe it."

There was a polite cough from behind them. Namir, Rick guessed.

"Uh, guys?"

It was Namir. Rick craned his neck to look round at the blue ranger, who was still morphed. "'Sup Nam?"

"I've found something that we need to get to Lucas."

"What?" Alice asked, her voice slightly unsteady.

"It's about something called Redemption."

~*~

Kimberly didn't dare to hope. "You really think you've found it?"

Ven nodded. "It's complicated -- and there's no guarantee it's going to work..."

"But it's a better shot than doing nothing?" Kimberly queried.

Ven nodded again. "Yeah -- lemme show you."

With a backward glance at Eric, who was now sleeping peacefully, Kimberly followed Ven into the small office. On the computer monitor was a list of procedures.

"I already said I could repair the damage," Ven began. Kimberly nodded. "But, that would just stave off the inevitable because of the toxins in Eric's blood." Kimberly nodded again. "What I think I can do, is purify Eric's blood -- cleaning out the toxins. If I do that, then it becomes more meaningful to heal the damage already inflicted."

"You mean like dialysis?" Kimberly asked.

"Exactly." Ven sighed. "Unfortunately, in this time, dialysis is not a common treatment -- the ailments that require it in your time, like failing kidneys, are healed here at the first sign of trouble -- so we have little in the way of native equipment. I can replicate it, but it's going to take time."

It was Kimberly's turn to nod. "How much time?" Is it time Eric has?

"I won't know until I start," Ven admitted.

"Then start," said Kimberly softly. "Some chance is better than no chance."

~*~

They were jogging at a brisk pace down a corridor, caution, at this point, more or less tossed to the wind. Wes rounded a corner and nearly skidded into a crowd of white plastic. "Whoop," he said, spinning on his heel and backtracking into Dimi. The group of four ran at top speed from the hollering troops and managed to secrete themselves in a doorway. Katie smacked the control panel on the wall and the door slid closed, giving them a breather.

"So you got kids, huh? How old?" Zordon wanted to know, panting.

Bent over, hands on his thighs, Wes had to think about it. "My son Rick is twenty, my daughter Lexia is seventeen."

Zordon stared at him, dawning respect in his expression. "Fast work, Babyface."

There was no way Wes was going to try to explain it, so he just shot Zordon a dirty look.

"Is she cute?"

Wes blinked. "Is who cute?"

Zordon leaned past him, looking down the empty hall. "Your daughter. She cute?"

"Dammit, Zordon --" Wes began, but the pilot cut him off.

"Hey, I'm only asking. What?"

"Come on," said Katie shortly, and they started running again.

The docking bay loomed suddenly out of nowhere. "Think the old man got that tractor beam down?" said Dimi.

"You better hope so, or this is going to be one short trip," Zordon shot back. "Let's go."

They started blasting their way across the tarmac, or whatever the landing surface was called around here. Wes found his steps faltering; something was really wrong, he could feel it. If he could just remember what happened in the movie... oh, shit.

Ben.

He turned toward the end of the landing bay, where he could hear the distinctive sound of -- swordfighting? Not the weird buzz and crackle of lightsabers, but a good old-fashioned clang and thwack. Wes squinted, absently punching an approaching guard. Ben was putting up quite a fight, Errol Flynn style, swashing and buckling. It would've been hugely entertaining if Wes hadn't had that sick feeling in his stomach.

His dark-cloaked opponent spun dramatically, his large silver weapon flashing in the light, and Wes got a good look. "RANSIK?!" he shouted in outrage, running a few steps forward.

"Give it up, old man," cackled Ransik. "You can't win, you know."

"Sure I can," said Ben cheerfully.

Ransik spun, his blade flat, catching Ben under the chin. Wes skidded to a halt, horrified. There was a pop, a fizz, a big puff of smoke, and then just Ben's empty cloak floating to the ground.

"NOOOOO!" screamed Wes. He ran forward, fully intending to tear Ransik's head off, but somehow Zordon was at his side, pulling him toward the ship.

"Come on, Wes," he said, for once his voice serious. "Don't let him have died for no reason. Let's get out of here."

After a brief hesitation, the hordes of white-clad soldiers bearing down on them registered, and Wes sprinted for the ship, scant inches behind Zordon. The hatch slammed shut, Alpha said the usual, Zordon popped him one and the ship shuddered and lifted from the floor, wheeling awkwardly and then exploding from the docking bay doors.

Wes slid to the ground, his head in his hands. "Ah, Ben," he said sadly.

A head popped up from the moveable floorboards. "What?" said Ben.

Wes stared, his jaw working open and closed. This was definitely a departure from the movie, and a welcome one. "You old faker!" he managed finally.

Zordon made his way back. "What's with the noise, Babyface? We've got comp—well, shit." He stared bug-eyed at the older man who was pulling himself out of concealment. Zordon shook himself. "Mental note: ask later," he said. "We've got company, Babyface. Up or down?"

"Up," said Wes briefly, climbing the ladder into the topside weapons array pod while Zordon headed below. Compared to flying a Zord (Wes mentally chuckled to himself), simply shooting their pursuers out of the sky was roughly on a par with Nintendo, so that business was taken care of without much ado. He rejoined the rest in the bridge, where Ben was finishing up his story.

"... it's called flash powder," he said with a grin. He raised a hand to greet Wes. "Nice shooting, my boy."

"Flash powder? Son of a b—gun. I'm glad you're okay, Ben," said Wes, chuckling.

The older man smiled. "If I had been about to die, rest assured I would have come up with something much more pontifical to say."

Alpha bleeped from his little corner, sort of like the robot equivalent of clearing his throat, Wes thought. "I, too, am glad you came through the conflict unscathed, George."

The assembled humans stared at the older man, who blushed to the hairline. "I'd really prefer you call me Ben."

"But why?" inquired the little bot. "My database indicates that your name is not Ben, but Geor—okay, Zordon, shutting up," he finished in response to a glare from the pilot.

Wes cocked his head to one side expectantly. "George?"

"I don't like the name George," Ben mumbled. "And it's hardly relevant, anyway," he went on, his tone stronger. "What is relevant is, we have a little problem on our hands. The Emperor and your friend Ransik have a bit of a surprise in store, and we have to stop them, or not just Tantalis, but all of planet Earth is doomed."

TO BE CONTINUED...