The Storybook Dimension

See disclaimer.

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The Weakest Color

Chapter 2: The Clam Before The Storm

–

So far, it had been a difficult day at SPD. Despite the fact that there had been no giant robot attacks, a rarity on its own, Kat had been exceedingly busy, due to several long-overdue departmental reviews and a series of relatively minor (but most infuriating) mechanical glitches which had plagued the headquarters since early that morning.

The machines were easy enough; she simply set the main computer to run a complete diagnostic, which it had been doing for (Kat checked her watch) nearly six hours.

The departmental reviews, however, were a completely different matter. As unpleasant as they were, Kat understood the necessity. To her, it was a yearly reminder of exactly how many different people and talents went into making SPD function properly – and for them, it provided incentive to improve their work.

However, a day of dealing with disorderly labs and their denizens, who ranged from scatterbrained geologists to one particularly ill-tempered exo-botanist, had left her both exhausted and exceedingly thankful that she hadn’t been assigned to one of the other departments, all those years ago.

So it was with palpable relief that she entered the doors to her own lab, only to be met with a particularly horrific sight.

–

“What is that?” Kat demanded, struggling to not pull her ears back and hiss, “And what have you done to my lab?”

The room in question was a veritable hive of activity, all centering around a single table, at which stood Bridge and Boom, both hovering over a bizarre-looking contraption. At a safe distance stood Kat’s lab assistants, looking every bit as distressed as their boss.

“Well, it used to be a subterranean field shuffler,” Bridge replied cheerfully, completely nonplussed by the mess he was making, or the stricken look on Kat’s face, “but now it’s more like a gravel-transporting cell fossilizer.”

“Actually,” Boom added, his arms elbow-deep inside the machine, “It fossilizes more than cells, but it doesn’t seem to work on anything more complex than a clam.”

“That’s probably a good thing.” She observed wryly, cautiously approaching the two inventors.

Previous experience with Bridge and Boom’s projects had taught her not to get too close, especially during the development stages. Although SPD had benefited greatly from some such inventions, there were also entire rooms in the basement devoted to the storage of those machines which were deemed too dangerous, either to others or the user, to be of use.

And, needless to say, Kat had never forgotten that unfortunate incident with the transformation ray. Fittingly enough, it had turned her into a house-cat, complete with fur, claws and calico markings. Despite the fact that she was unable to communicate and trapped in said form, the experience would almost have been bearable – except for RIC’s canine programming. Cruger still hadn’t repaired the claw marks on the curtains of his private quarters.

Under the commander’s watchful gaze, Bridge had soon figured out how to restore her, and Kat had been forced to endure Cruger’s jokes about kitty-litter ever since.

“Done!” Boom announced, replacing the lid on the contraption, and powering it up at the touch of a button. “Look!”

Pulling a clam out of a nearby container, Bridge placed it directly in front of the machine, within a circular blast mark presumably caused by a previous demonstration. Kat momentarily wondered where he had gotten the clams (surely not from the dining hall?), and then returned her attention to Bridge’s deft manipulation of the controls.

The Green Ranger pressed a complex series of buttons, and then, a blinding flash of light and a slight burning smell later, a fossilized mollusk lay in the place of what had once been a living clam.

Kat approached the table, curious. It really was a unique effect, unlike anything she had ever seen. Maybe it could be modified and used as a weapon, a way to contain dangerous criminals during transport. She took another step forward, only to stumble over a small pile of rocks on the floor.

“The gravel-transporting thing is a side-effect.” Bridge said, gesturing dismissively at the pile in the way of explanation. “It seems to have some kind of affinity for the molecular structure of stone.”

“It’s… interesting.” She admitted, picked her way across the disaster zone that was once her laboratory floor.

“Interesting? It’s fascinating! And,” Bridge gestured triumphantly, “It can be operated with only two fingers!”

Kat glanced at the control panel, and shot Bridge a skeptical look.

“It’s not too strange to think that someone who wants to use this might have only two fingers,” Bridge argued defensively, wholly misinterpreting her look. “I mean, evolutionarily, it’s not like we even use all five, just two would be enough. Except if we played the piano, in which case we’d just have to have less keys. Or we could play with our feet.”

Kat smiled, amused, even as she made a mental note to call a cleanup crew. “I’ll just leave you to it, then.”

The two inventors made dismissive noises, already having turned their attention back to the fossilizer. Leaving them to their experiments, Kat walked out of the lab, only to be run down by a visibly agitated Sky.

–

For the second time that day, Kat was saved by her quick reflexes. Sky, however, was not so fortunate, and was sent sprawling on the floor. Mustering the tattered remnants of his dignity, he got to his feet, offering an apology to the agile scientist.

“Kat,” Sky said, suddenly remembering his previous resolution. “Can I have a word with you?” He looked at the laboratory door. “Privately?”

Kat nodded, her curiosity piqued by Sky’s behavior. It wasn’t like him to be so distracted …or so secretive. Knowing that something strange was happening, she followed him into a nearby room, closing the door behind them.

–

It was late afternoon, and the passageways of SPD were filled with cadets. They chatted and jostled each other, enjoying their break from training. As he passed he was greeted with salutes, and the occasional ’sir.’ Despite the fact that he had been on B-squad for nearly a year, Bridge still felt uncomfortable with the terms of respect the other cadets afforded him. Even though he was a senior cadet, he was younger than most, and since SPD drew people from all over the galaxy, Bridge often felt positively dwarfed by both the age and experience of his fellow cadets. The fact that they looked up to him as a role model, a stellar example, simply added to the pressure.

However, almost four years at SPD had taught him a few tricks, and he knew all the secret ways and shortcuts to get wherever he wished within SPD. Usually outgoing, today Bridge put that knowledge to use avoiding starry-eyed cadets and cynical techs, choosing instead to take the back corridors on his way to the megazord bay. Sky pejoratively termed such behavior “skulking”, and knew Bridge’s ways so well that he could probably find his roommate anywhere on base.

The chatter of the other cadets faded behind him as he turned down a narrow side hallway, the thin seam along the floor marking it as one of the passageways which allowed the base to transform into the delta command megazord. There were hundreds of such hallways within SPD, unused except on those rarest of occasions when the headquarters folded in on itself like a giant piece of origami. At all other times, they were empty except for the occasional cadet, and the tiny robots devoted to cleaning the floors.

And that was when it happened again.

He felt the telltale buzz that usually accompanied the use of his powers, only this time it was a thousand times worse. A searing, blinding pain lanced through his skull, and Bridge clutched his head and staggered, instinctively steadying himself against the wall.

Yet even as he touched the white-washed surface, his entire sight was illuminated by a dazzling array of colors, and Bridge realized that he had made a critical mistake. In his current state, gloves would offer meager protection, and Bridge felt his powers spiral out of his control, his perceptions expanding until they encompassed all of SPD – and beyond.

He sensed the people surrounding him, sensed their thoughts, feelings, and innermost impressions. They moved around him in an indistinct blur, masses of swirling auras. Time held no meaning – he saw what was, and what would be. Closing his eyes, he struggled to block out the invading flood of sensations, battling to retain a small fragment of self distinct from the crush of a thousand minds.

A presence approached him, and spoke in a tantalizingly familiar voice. “Bridge?”

‘Yes,’ he realized. ‘That’s me. Bridge. I’m Bridge.’

Using that thought as an anchor, he managed to banish the ‘others’ from his mind, systematically limiting his psychic perceptions until the voices and images faded into the background. Having regained a tenuous control, Bridge opened his eyes, only to discover Z standing before him, a concerned look on her face. “Bridge? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He managed, hoping his voice didn’t tremble too much.

“That wasn’t fine. You almost fainted!”

“I’m okay.” He reiterated, grasping for a plausible excuse. “I just felt a little dizzy. It’s probably just hunger – I was working with Boom and forgot to eat…”

Z frowned, not believing him for an instant, but knowing that pressing him on the topic would be useless. Taking Bridge by the arm, she steered him towards the main hallway. “You’re coming to lunch with me, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

‘That way I can keep an eye on you.’ She added silently.

“I can’t,” Bridge insisted. “I told Boom…”

Z rolled her eyes. “Boom can come with us.”

“Come on, Bridge.” She cajoled, noticing his reluctance. “Your gadgets can wait!”

Bridge sighed, relenting. There was no resisting Z once she had her mind set on something. “Alright. Let’s go.”

–

Speaking with Kat had seemed like a good idea, but now that the moment had come Sky found himself plagued with doubts. He paced nervously, attempting to gathering his thoughts.

“Yes, Sky?” Kat prompted politely, crossing her arms.

Sky paused, and turned to face her. He didn’t like interfering with his roommate’s private affairs, but if Bridge wasn’t going to help himself, Sky would. It was his duty as a friend. “It’s about Bridge. He’s been acting strange recently, and hasn’t been sleeping well.”

“You’ve known him longer than any of us,” he stated reluctantly, knowing that it was a touchy topic. “He won’t accept my help, but maybe from you…”

Kat tilted her head thoughtfully. “I hadn’t noticed anything, but…”

Cruger’s voice suddenly rang over the intercom, interrupting what she was about to say. “Rangers, report to the command center!”

Kat gave the Blue Ranger a reassuring look, and told him the short version instead. “Don’t worry, Sky. I’ll look into it.”

—

To Be Continued

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