Chapter Four
William Mitchell was your patriot's patriot. Out of devotion to his country, the man knew what it meant to be a civil servant. Out of devotion, he was a firefighter, a rescue worker, and a naval officer. With a record covered with commendations and recommendations, he was the perfect candidate to be the commanding officer of the Lightspeed Aquabase. Holding the rank of captain, Mitchell had the final say on all operation and tactical policies that landed on his desk. He was also responsible for the morale and discipline of all those in his command. He performed all his said duties by both word and example.
At the moment, Captain Mitchell stood in front of the mirror in his living quarters. He was dressed in standard duty uniform. His clothing consisted of a black hat with golden naval markings, a black turtleneck, a black suit jacket with golden buttons, black pants, and dress shoes. On his left breast was a nametag marked with the name, Mitchell. The sleeves of his jacket were marked with three golden braids. In front of his mirror, he made sure that he looked proper and trim. Happy with his appearance, he then headed out the door with his hands folded behind his back.
Walking down the hall, he remembered the mother of his children, Dana and Ryan. He remembered how every night, she would tell him to slow down. Right now, it was advice he wished to this date he had followed; it would have saved him from a sleepless night of paperwork and dreams of demons from Hell. However, today was another day, demon or no demon.
"Good morning, Captain," said an enlisted man walking down a corridor.
"Morning, officer," he replied. Right now, he was concentrated on getting to Rescue Ops. The trick was now finding an elevator headed up. He stopped in front of a pair of metallic doors. He pushed a button on a nearby keypad. The doors slid open to reveal a small group of personnel. One woman stood out to Captain Mitchell.
"Good morning, sir," said the woman. Her short white lab coat covered her simple outfit of a blue shirt, a black skirt and black high heeled shoes. In her hand she held a clipboard and a metallic cylinder. Her black glasses would have been the envy of high school nerds.
"Good morning, Miss Fairweather." He almost smiled at the sight of the Aquabase's technical and scientific chief. With a simple glare, no one would have thought that they were looking at the best scientist that the free world had to offer. Angela Fairweather, a graduate of Harvard University, designed the morphers, hand weaponry, suits, and combat mechas (zords) of the Lightspeed Rescue Power Rangers. She also had a hand in the design of the underwater base.
"What is the technical report?" Mitchell asked as he boarded the elevator. The door closed behind him.
"I can tell you, sir, that everything is operational," began the tech chief, "I have a tech crew updating the interface software of the zords to accommodate the Titanium Ranger..."
Before she could move to the technobabble of interface software and Ranger morphers, Captain Mitchell cut in, "I would like to review the report, please."
She nodded and handed the clipboard to her superior. The doors slid open. Both the military man and the Harvard graduate stepped off the elevator.
Mitchell quickly glanced at the information on the clipboard. He was satisfied that programming upgrade to the zords would be complete in the next twenty minutes. Taking a pen out from his pocket, he approvingly placed his John Hancock on the paper. In a simple gesture he returned the clipboard to Miss Fairweather. "Keep up the good work."
"I will, sir," replied the chief scientist as she changed routes to head to her destination.
Captain Mitchell strolled into Rescue Ops, the nerve center of the Aquabase.