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Jen and Alex entered the briefing room side-by-side, followed by the three other Rangers, they sat at the long table facing a large door that led to the commander's office; each kept their silence, unsure of what the meeting was about, and how it would effect them.
Suddenly, the doors opened and General Tom Horner stepped out with his league of officers, Alex snapped to his feet, his voice crisp: "Group, attention!" The Rangers leapt up, their heels clicking together and their arms straightening at their sides; Horner looked on in approval, nodding with a grunt and waving dismissively: "As you were."
They sat reluctantly, trying to contain their murmurs, Jen and Alex exchanged confused glances, then turned their attention to the commander as he spoke: "Our top scientists have been studying and trying to find ways to improve your armor on the battlefield. As well as your weaponry, et cetera." He took a breath. "They've succeeded."
Jen was the first to speak: "Are we to be issued this new gear anytime soon, sir?"
"There's a problem with that." Another pause. "First off, let us describe these new developements---" a slide popped up behind him, showing the design of the uniform.
"The fabric of the suit is thicker," one scientist spoke up, "therefore more likely to withstand blows from enemy weapons. The weight hasn't changed though, so you'll still be able to move around like before." She pointed to the obvious differences: The reflectiveness of the suit indicating armor, the slight thickness in the arms and legs showing strength.
"Your visor's are now equipped with night vision," a male scientist said, "as well as infra-red. The red shows body heat, therefore you'll be able to spot your non-robotic enemies when your vision is impaired."
Jen couldn't resist a small smile, glancing over to see her fellow Rangers' similiar reactions, then she saw Alex, who seemed to be avoiding the screen and only half-listening to the report; she frowned inwardly, but decided to shake it off till later. Another image popped up, this time it was clearly a weapon, long and black, with the edge of the barrel wider than the rest of the gun.
"This is the M-245 Grenade Launcher," another scientist said, "it can shoot up to one hundred grenades per minute, not that you'll probably ever have to use that way, but you never know. The range is one mile." At their surprised expressions, she added: "From one mile away, you could take out an entire 'platoon' of Cyclobots."
"Wow," Katie muttered.
"The handgun," the scientist went on, "added onto your blasters, is a semi-automatic lead-projectile weapon." This time, she leaned over and picked up a weapon, holding it tightly against her shoulder and aiming it at the wall; when she lowered it, she explained: "Also a lead-projectile, you can fire this at semi-automatic in five round bursts, or at fully automatic with two hundred rounds shooting out in one minute. Range is one thousand meters."
"I believe that's enough for now, officers," Horner finally said, "very impressive, indeed."
Alex sighed, leaning forward onto his elbows, staring at the general from across the table. And don't let it be what I'm thinking it is. "So what's the problem, sir?"
"The problem," Horner said, "is that when the morphers were designed---before these scientists were even born---they were designed not to function when presented with new technology . . . unless the team was complete." He waited. "That is, all five Rangers. Together."
"And the Red Chrono Morpher," Cpt. Logan said, "was lost somewhere in time. No one knows what became of it."
"Unfortunately," Horner said, "there is only one remedy to this issue. And that is, to find the morpher. And therefore, the person who has it."
"Sir . . . " Lucas began, but Jen stopped him.
"Sir, the man who has the morpher . . . died in the Twenty-First Century." She swallowed. "It was left with Wes Collins, the leader of the Silver Guardians, to protect Silver Hills in case any more trouble appeared."
Alex kept his clenched fists hidden under the table as he spoke, forcing himself to keep his voice level: "The only way, is to contact him once again, and have him morph with the others."
"But that would mean he'd have to come here," Trip spoke up, "a person from the past coming to the future---"
"We could always use the memory adaptation chamber," a scientist told the general.
Jen flinched. "Sir," she said, "Wes has already proven himself for all of us, if it hadn't been for him I and the rest of my team wouldn't be here. I believe we can trust him if we bring him here, he won't use any knowledge he acquires---he knows the consequences."
Alex looked at Jen quickly, but she ignored him, sensing his irrational sense of alarm and jealousy: It's true. Wes deserves our trust after everything he's been through.
"So it is your opinion," Logan said, "that we contact Collins, and transport him here?"
"Yes, sir," all four Rangers spoke in unison.
Logan nodded, looking over at the man who had previously held the Red Morpher, and who had so far remained mysteriously silent: "And you, Alex?"
Years of training had drilled into his mind the concept that the mission always came first, despite personal motives or feelings, but saying it was far from doing it; Alex thought for a moment, wondering what the consequences of his actions would be if Wes and Jen were face-to-face again. You can't let that effect your decision, he scolded himself, they need him.
"Yes, sir," he said, quietly.
"Then it's settled," Horner said, "I want that timeship prepped and ready to go by eighteen-thirty tonight. And I want all of you---" he gestured to the Rangers "---on it. As I recall, you were friends not so long ago, it seems right that you explain the situation." His voice had softened briefly, but was once again sharp as he ordered: "Be ready!"
"Yes, sir!"
He stood, and they all once again rose to attention, waiting till he had exited before they relaxed and began talking excitedly amongst themselves; Jen and Katie chatted, the Pink Ranger's smile lighting her face, her eyes dancing as she spoke, Alex stepped back, watching her and picking up on the words the Rangers exchanged.
"I can't believe it!" . . . Trip.
"We're gonna see Wes again!" . . . Katie.
"Wonder what he'll think." . . . Lucas.
"It'll be so good to see him!" . . . Jennifer. "It's been so long."
Alex gritted his teeth, hating himself the uncontrollable jealousy he was experiencing but not knowing how to master it, he didn't say a word, instead turned on his heel and left the room in a hurry; the Rangers continued, no one noticing the sudden absence of one of their own.
Six Hours Later
Alex sat with his back against the wall, his arms folded tightly across his chest and his eyes burning holes into the timeship that waited in spacedock for it's pilot and crew; he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself before the others arrived. He wouldn't be traveling with them, his senior officers didn't see the need, and a part of him was grateful for it; but he would have to face Wes eventually, sooner or later, he would see the man that had taken his fiancee from him a year ago.
Jen was the first to arrive, not unusual considering she strived to be ten minutes early wherever she went, she walked in briskly, at first not noticing Alex sitting alone; but then she seemed to sense him and stopped, looking back. "Alex," she said, softly.
"You're excited," he commented, trying not to sound angry.
"Of course I am," Jen countered, "I haven't seen him in a long time. I mean, he was my friend."
"And more than that."
Something flickered behind her eyes, now almost as unrevealing as his own, she walked over and sat next to him, placing one hand on his leg. "Alex, we talked about this," she said, calmly, "just the other night, remember? I love you."
"I love you, too," Alex murmured, "but that conversation was before . . . before you went to see him again."
She pulled away from him, suddenly glaring. "So now you think I was just saying that because you were convenient?" she demanded, "because I couldn't have Wes, I took you?"
"Well, that's sure the way it seems," Alex said, "you even admitted it, you love him and you always will. I could've accepted that before, but not when he's here."
"What are you thinking?" Jen cried, standing up and backing away, "that when he shows up I'm just gonna run off with him and then go crying back to you when he's gone again?"
"I don't know what you're going to do!" Alex replied, his voice rising as he, too, stood up.
"Oh, so you don't even trust me?"
"I trusted you before and look what happened!" He didn't try to control himself any longer, his pain and anger came through in his unsteady voice as he gestured to the timeship with frustration. "And because of him---because of Wes."
"It wasn't Wes' fault!" Jen snapped, "it was yours!"
Alex stepped back as if she'd physically pushed him, his breaths coming quickly, his blue eyes wet but still fierce with his anger; Jen shook her head, tightening her jaw and reaching down to grab her jacket, she slipped into it, muttering as the rest of the team hurried in: "I'll see you when we get back." Then she began to walk away.
"Jennifer," Alex called, his voice shaking. "Please, wait."
She turned, but continued walking backward toward the ship. "There's nothing left to say, is there?" she said, smiling with no humor. "You've certainly said your piece."
"I didn't mean---"
"You meant every word."
She disappeared into the ship, slamming her fist against the controls to slide the door shut, Alex stood and watched the ship start up and Lucas expertly pilot it into position; he closed his eyes against the sight, inwardly kicking himself for every word exchanged. Damn it, what did I mean? he wondered, I sure as hell didn't mean for it to end like this!
And, as he opened his eyes and saw the ship disappear in time, he wondered how much longer they could go on before they tore each other apart once again . . . and were alone as before.
Jen fought back the tears as she strapped herself in the timeship, ignoring the concerned glances she received from her teammates as they prepared themselves, they must have heard the words she and Alex had exchanged, it was impossible not to have; she stared down at her hands, folded on her lap, trying her best to drown out the sounds around her. Vaguely, she registered Lucas' words as he informed her the timeship was ready to leave, then moments later the rumbling of the engines, and Trip counting down:
"Ten, nine . . . "
We'll work through this. We will. We're stronger than before.
"Six . . . "
But, despite her own words to herself, somehow she knew inside they weren't any stronger than before, and bringing Wes into the picture once again would only complicate everything further.
"Two, one . . . "
Before she could think again, the timeship shot off with a deafening roar and she couldn't concentrate on anything but not hurling out the contents of her lunch; she squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the armrests on her chair and trying to maintain deep breaths. Here we go again . . .
. . . The first thing she noticed was the overwhelming smell of polution in the air of the 21st Century, just like she remembered it so vividly from last time; she stepped out onto the remote beach, the same place they had landed last time, it was rarely-used, privately-owned by a well-known family. Jen took a deep breath, turning around to face Trip: "Did we land in the right time?"
And above that . . . has Wes met his future bride yet?
"It is the year two thousand and five." Trip shrugged. "Four years after we were here. I guess there are still some problems with the timeship's programming, we're three years later than we meant to be, but it'll still work."
"No harm done," Lucas said, brushing by the younger Ranger to walk out onto the beach, apparently reminiscing about "old times", too.
Katie folded her powerful arms, walking over to Jen and elbowing her gently, she raised her eyebrows as she eyed her friend: "Are you okay, Jen?"
"Yeah," her answer was too quick, and she knew it.
"Uh-huh." The Yellow Ranger was clearly not convinced. "I guess Alex didn't take this news too well, did he? And don't you dare lie to me, Jen Scotts, because I can see right through you. It's obvious you and Alex were fighting about something."
"We were . . . he's not happy about me seeing Wes again." That's the understatement of the year. Or the millenium.
"Hang in there." Katie smiled, her confident attitude shining through. "He'll get over it."
"Yeah." She didn't add what she was really thinking: I hope so. But she shook off her doubts, irrelevant compared to the mission they were on in the present; she straightened her uniform, rumpled from the trip, mustering as much authority into her voice as she could: "All right, guys. Let's find Wes."
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She was absolutely gorgeous. Being a man, that was the first thing he noticed about 23-year-old Stephanie Williams, who stood about 5"7 and perhaps weighed 125 lbs.; she was solid, muscular but lean, obviously just as active as he. Her red hair, natural or very-well dyed, hung just below her shoulders, framing a narrow face that held a pair of wide, green eyes; he was struck by them, not only their beauty, but their intensity, and their fearlessness.
"It's, uh, nice to meet you," he stammered. Like a high school freshman meeting his crush face-to-face.
But she just smiled, revealing a set of very white teeth that seemed to flash beneath the lights. Like in all the commercials, right? God, quit acting like an idiot and snap back to reality! He smiled slowly, taking her hand and lifting it slightly, but she stopped him, instead shaking it with a tight grip for her small hands; again, he was pleasantly surprised by her, and returned the handshake.
"It's nice to meet you, too."
Her voice was light and musical. All right, now you really starting to act like a fool! Suddenly, a ringing noise was heard from inside her purse that she carried at her side, and out of her pretty mouth came a not-so-polite, four letter word that caused him to blink in even more surprise. So the angel does have a fault.
"Excuse me," she said, quickly, walking away.
He forced himself to look away and face the man who had been watching him from behind the whole time, an amused expression on his dark face, beneath his near-black eyes, anyone could see a glimmer of humor; when he spoke, it was in an even tone: "Did Cupid hit you in the ass this time?"
"Shut up," the other laughed.
"Uh-huh," he grunted, "don't let it go to your head, lover boy---" his gaze shifted, and he almost flushed awkwardly, but somehow couldn't resist adding: "Or your pants."
The part that found Stephanie particularly attractive was making it common knowledge to anyone who happened to see, instantly he clasped his hands in front of it, feeling the heat rushing to his cheeks; he hoped no one had noticed, especially the certain person who had unknowingly caused it. And that person was closing her phone, turning to smile once again back at them: "It's nobody. So, um, have you been active lately? I mean---" she blushed the same color red "---with your work an' all."
But before he could answer, someone knocked on the front door, he rolled his eyes, calling out: "Can someone get that? I'm a little busy right now." Sort of. He met her eyes now, and was immediately locked in a gaze with her, one he found impossible to tear himself away from; that is, until he heard a familiar voice.
A voice from his past.
A voice he had thought of every day for years.
"Wes?"
Oh my god. He whirled around to face the opening, and quickly saw not only Phillips, but also a woman dressed completely in white leather, her brown hair tied back in a low bun, her bangs swept up neatly; she fiddled uncomfortably with her hands as she awaited his response, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to speak.
So Eric Myers did for him.
The co-leader of the Silver Guardians stepped forward and held out his hand, a polite gesture, followed by typical words from him: "What the hell are you doing here, Jen?"
Wes Collins swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, blinking to clear his mysteriously blurry vision, and to make sure what he was seeing was real; and so it was, for standing in front of him was Jen Scotts, the first woman he had ever truly loved. And, he had always assumed, the last.
Without a word, he rushed forward and hugged her to him, burying his face in her shoulder and smiling when he felt her arms go around his neck and her own head rest on his shoulder; he held her, snug against him, until she at last broke their embrace and looked into his eyes. "We need your help."
"'We'?"
As he spoke, the remaining Rangers filed in from the other room and stood next to her, nodding silently, Wes held back another gasp of surprise, then found himself bursting into joyous laughter; he hurried to each old friend, embracing them just as they had years ago, before going back to Jen and hugging her again, this time kissing her soundly on the cheek, again as playfully as he had before. She laughed, but something in her voice told him to stop, and he pulled back instantly, his face snapping to a serious expression:
"What's wrong?"
She sighed. "We have a lot to talk about," she said, quietly, "and we need you to come with us." After a moment's pause, and seemingly noting that there was a stranger in the room, she lowered her voice: "To the future."
TBC