Prism

Disclaimer: I don't own them, never have, and barring some sort of miracle, never will.

Thanks for the encouraging reviews! I really can tell you that they help! Sorry it's taken so long…I just moved back to school and what with all of that, I've been otherwise occupied.

Tommy stumbled inside to his barracks. Lying down on his bunk, he gasped deeply for air, filling his burning lungs. That had been close. Too close, he thought silently. He knew exactly how lucky he was that he hadn't been caught by one of the soldiers when he'd blacked out. The dream he'd had piqued at his consciousness, and he began to try to remember the muddle of unfamiliar sights and sounds he'd dreamed himself in. Tanya. Tanya. He repeated the name softly to himself, trying to see if it would bring any sort of memory to the surface. Tanya…

"Are you all right?" asked a softly accented voice above him, breaking into his train of thought.

"Katherine." Tommy said the name feeling an odd sense of recognition flood him as he did so.

The pale girl looked down at him a slightly nonplussed expression crossing her face. "No, it's Kat," she said softly. "Who is Katherine?"

Tommy tried to clear his head. "Sorry," he sighed. "I don't know, actually."

Kat smiled. "It's a pretty name," she said almost to herself. "I like it. If you want to call me Katherine, I don't mind."

Tommy nodded. "Katherine, then."

"I have to go. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"Thank you." Tommy watched her retreat. The gesture had touched him. Among the workers, he always felt terribly alone, and to have someone come to him in such a way was…rare. He lay back on the bunk, turned onto his side and finally wound up staring aimlessly at the bunk across from him. Suddenly, something caught his attention.

Sitting up slowly, Tommy silently let his eyes dart around the room, and when he had ascertained that he had reasonable privacy and that the owner of the bunk didn't seem to be around, he stole over. His fingers scrabbled slightly along the wall. I could have sworn that I saw something sticking out just a little, he thought. However, as minutes wore on and he found nothing amiss, he was about to give up when his finger caught. Within seconds, he had pried the loose piece out of the wall.

Behind the wall lay a tiny nook. Inside the nook was an item Tommy didn't really recall, but that he could identify as having been in his dreams. Giving one more surreptitious glance around, he carefully took it out.

Very slowly, Tommy opened the cover. On the inside, he read the inscription: "To Adam, happy birthday, sweetie! Love, Tanya." Tanya! he thought jubilantly at the name from his dream, but his thoughts were interrupted when he noticed one of the men who had been milling around with a couple of the others in the barrack heading in his direction. Lightning quick, Tommy replaced the item and the wall. Going back to his bunk, his thoughts swirled. He knew, at least, he had to figure out who the person was that would hide an item obviously forbidden. Perhaps, he thought, there is a possibility…

~*~

Adam swung the heavy sledgehammer at the rock face. It felt wonderful to do some work that wasn't quite as delicate as prying crystals whole and undamaged out of the mine, and his blow was strong. Sparks from the metal of the hammer striking the rock lit up the cavern for an instant, and then a large sheet of rock fell away. This sort of labor also had the distinct advantage of allowing Adam to work semi-mindlessly and think about other things than his task. At the moment, he was trying to remember if he'd put the block in the wall back seamlessly. It had been a quick job, fearful he'd be caught and also knowing that he was soon going to have to report for his shift in the mines - not wanting to be late for that - had both motivated speed over quality. Too late, really, to be worrying so, thought Adam. The only thing to be done was to hope the piece had been replaced well enough to escape detection for the time being and checking it when his shift finished.

"Ow!" The sudden exclamation startled Adam mildly. Few workers ever said anything out loud - not even sudden exclamations of pain, most having been cowed into a sullen silence long ago. The young man who the expostulation issued from was standing looking at a nasty gash in his arm where his chisel must have slipped. He appeared to be about Adam's age, of a muscular build and a shorter haircut. Dark eyes caught Adam's. Smiling slightly, the young man flashed Adam what passed for a friendly look. "Idiot chisels," he remarked calmly, heedless of the surprised looks radiating from the other workers, who were both amazed at his bravery in speaking, thus drawing attention to himself, and also his joviality.

Adam wasn't sure exactly what to say. Giving the young man a sympathetic look, he went back to swinging the sledgehammer at the wall. For some reason, the whole thing disturbed Adam. Yet at the same time, he was utterly unable to put his finger on the reason why. Filing away the thought, he devoted his entire attention to his work. Seeing the gash on the man's arm had sobered him, and he knew he couldn't afford to make mistakes. There was no access to medical aid.

~*~

Brushing her long hair out of her face, the small, willowy girl silently stole into the darkness of the prison cells. She was responsible for bringing food to the prisoners, but in addition, her conscience dictated that she attempt to help those incarcerated there, some of them badly injured. She refused to worry about the consequences. It was a decision she'd made when she knew she wanted to help somehow - while she did have an instinct for survival, the idea of allowing suffering when she had even the smallest opportunity to help was abhorrent to her.

She worked in the kitchens that served the workers; she had been selected for this particular duty due to her small size. Much stronger than she looked, however; she had grown used to handling heavy pots and bags of food. Regrettably, she thought, it was unfortunate that they weren't heavier. No one really had enough to eat, especially not the kitchen workers, who got served last. She knew of people who stole bits of food as they worked, but she never felt right about doing so, even when she was hungry. She felt that the miners needed it more, even though life in the kitchen was not easy. The other day, one woman had been terribly scalded by a pot of boiling water tipping onto her. She secretly suspected the woman to be dead by now.

Her fellow workers in the kitchen tended to call her 'Trini', a seemingly nonsense syllable someone had coined from a tag she'd been wearing when the events that led up to the present had been set in motion, she supposed. The name suited her fine, though she vaguely remembered other names being associated with herself. Putting her mind back on her present task, she was grateful that Bear, the young woman who worked beside her in the kitchen, had let her take the food this evening. Bear knew what Trini did, in trying to help the prisoners, and often, if there had been someone punished, would find an excuse to send Trini to the prison. Actually, reflected Trini, often, when she'd reach her destination, she would discover some precious strips of cloth for bandages or extra water for washing wounds clean under the top that covered the food. Trini suspected that Bear of giving the items, and knew that if she herself were caught, Bear would likely also be implicated. It always sobered her and made her doubly cautious, but it boosted her morale to know that she wasn't alone.

Opening the door, Trini gestured to her tray to show the guards her intent. With a few lewd and ugly comments that Trini saw fit to ignore, they allowed her to pass. The metal door clanged shut behind her, and Trini entered the first cell. First, handing the food to the older male prisoner in it, she then carefully glanced around and spoke in a low voice. "Show me that laceration from the other day."

The man acquiesced, and Trini was pleased to note that it was healing nicely. When she first saw the wound, she had feared that he'd get one of the rampant infections, but now she knew he was out of danger. Looking at her tray, she was pleased to note that the cloth strips and extra water were there. Rarely did she get both for one trip, but after the punishment of the young woman earlier in the day, she suspected she'd need both badly.

Continuing on, Trini silently distributed meals and whatever care she could, working to conserve as many of her bandages and water as she could for the girl who had been whipped. At last, she came to the final cell. "Hello?" she whispered cautiously.

Her only answer was a moan from the corner. Setting the tray down, Trini took her bandages and water to the girl. Probing the wounds lightly in the dim light, Trini could tell they were deep. One in particular was especially bad, and Trini sighed to herself, wishing she had more at her disposal. Handing a folded strip to the girl, Trini steeled herself. "Bite down on this if you have to," she hissed, "but don't cry out. This is going to hurt."

She watched as the girl's face set defiantly, and then began to work at sluicing water through the wounds and removing any visible impurities. Twice, Trini found herself unsure how the girl wasn't screaming in pain. At last, Trini began to bandage the wounds, packing the one deep wound full of cloth to put pressure in it and help quell the bleeding. Finally, she carefully tore a few pieces off the girl's garment, and disguised her work. "Don't let them catch you with these," she whispered. "If you have to, rub some of the dirt onto them. If the guards realize the cloth is fresh, they'll wonder where you got it, and we'll all be in trouble." Trini knew that every time she put bandages on a prisoner, she ran the risk of discovery, but she refused to do otherwise. So far, her trust had been rewarded, and she somehow knew that this girl wouldn't break it. Gathering up her materials and covering the tray, she walked out of the cell and back toward the kitchen.

~*~

Billy was in the process of running a number of scans, but until they finished, there was little any of the three could do. At the minute, Billy was trying to determine why the powers had failed, what kind of force had been used to take over the earth, and how damaged or disabled the Power Chamber's equipment was. However, at the moment, there was nothing to do but wait. Yawning, he sighed irritably. I need a walk,he thought, and scans indicate no sign of activity near here. I wonder if I stay right by the door, I could go outside for just a few minutes. Take in this new world. Looking up at Zordon, he voiced the question aloud.

Zordon had grave reservations, but Billy was determined. Crankiness and the want to control just one thing, even if it was as simple as going outside made him stubborn, and at last, Zordon gave him a hesitant affirmative on the condition that Billy strayed no further than 20 feet from the door. Satisfied, Billy headed for the surface. It wouldn't make much of a walk, but at least he'd won the argument, and that gave him some satisfaction.

Opening the door, Billy was lost in thought about theories as to what might have destroyed the powers so suddenly and effectively. Suddenly, he gasped. Blinking hard, he wondered if it were a trick of the light. After a few minutes of stunned silence, Billy ran back down the stairs, yelling for Kim and Jason.

"What is it, bro?" he heard Jason answer.

"Come up here! You've got to see this, you'll never believe me or your eyes!" came Billy's breathless reply. Shortly, Kim and Jason had joined him. Together, they all stepped out the door.

"Ohmigosh!" gasped Kim. "This isn't possible. It's not!"

Jason just stared. "Dorothy," he muttered, "I think we just went back to Kansas." Like the scenes set in Kansas in "The Wizard of Oz", there was not a dash of color to be found. The entire world had become black and white with shades of gray in between, the landscape a terrible monochrome.

"It's amazing," Billy babbled, "Now I know why the powers won't work. The powers are linked to color."

To be continued…