"System Control to Mega Voyager 2. Please stand by."

Carlos rolled his eyes as the cool, almost mechanical voice of "System Control" momentarily overrode the intership chatter with the same message he had been getting for the last fifteen minutes. He was apparently stuck in the Kalenay system's equivalent of a traffic jam.

"I got that kid to sign your shirt," he heard someone saying as System Control turned their attention elsewhere.

"In blue ink, I hope," someone else said. It sounded like a reply, but the comm's chatter frequency was overloaded in the crowded space and he couldn't be sure the two comments were related. It did amuse him to listen, though--the comm couldn't translate everything, but what he did catch was enough to make him shake his head in wonder.

"White's not even a real color!" Someone sounded terribly indignant. "Reds could take you any day!" There was the briefest pause, and the answer must have been buried because the next thing Carlos heard was, "I will! You and me, planetside, after the conference."

He wondered if that had been a challenge. Was that even allowed? There was something fundamentally bizarre about the idea of Rangers fighting each other, even in fun--maybe especially in fun. He and his teammates sparred with each other, of course, but they were friends.

"Manjo, did you get that gig at Southshore? Your brother said you thought you could swing it." Carlos gave the comm a suspicious look as something occurred to him. How did the Mega V computer know English slang, anyway?

"Could this setup be any slower?" someone complained. "Anyone want to race me to the asteroid belt and back?"

"Who is that?" a new voice demanded. "Kali, is that you? You're on!"

Carlos raised an eyebrow indignantly. "Hey!" he exclaimed, to no one in particular. "You want to say that to my face?"

"Who are you?" One of the voices was suddenly louder as it locked onto his comm signal. "You're not green."

*Damn.* He'd forgotten to mute his comm after the brief link with System Control. "I used to be," he answered. He could only hope his automatic protest hadn't offended someone important.

"Ah. In that case--"

The voice was abruptly cut off, and he wasn't sure whether to worry or breathe a sigh of relief. He hadn't really meant to get involved. He didn't know any of these people, and he had no idea what to expect from them.

"I've never seen a Power-boosted delta wing design," someone remarked. "How does it handle in an atmosphere?"

"Sorry, Mega V." The voice that had called Green Rangers showoffs was back as suddenly as it had gone, and he glanced down at the link. The gold outline around a display that read Serra zord 7 was all the ID he had.

"System Control deigned to give me an approach vector," the other pilot continued. "I'll see you planetside--and I'll call you a showoff to your face. Serra 7 out."

He couldn't help an incredulous chuckle. "You do that," he muttered under his breath, aware that the other was probably long gone. Who was she that she was audacious enough to make fun of people she'd never even met?

"Whoever's in the Talon zord needs to move up or shut up before I take your orbit and--" The rest of the threat was lost in the chatter, but he blinked at its brashness.

"Kids these days," a distinctly young-sounding voice chirped. "Better, stronger, faster!"

Carlos laughed aloud. It wasn't just the Serra pilot, he realized suddenly. They all talked that way--as though they were friends, even family, whether they knew each other's names or not. They didn't seem the slightest bit intimidated by each other.

*Why should they be?* he wondered, after a moment's reflection. They were all Rangers here. He supposed everyone was on a fairly level playing field. His original assumption, that the people speaking were the ones who were too important to observe formalities, was just that--an assumption. It was becoming clear to him that not only was it untrue, but that the idea itself might be laughable to many of these people.

He called up the data dump that DECA had sent his way before he left, remembering to mute the comm's chatter frequency this time. He had already reviewed the formal invitation and listened to DECA's addendum twice, but this time he wanted to hear it with a slightly different idea in mind. Despite the repeated delays, the intership chatter was almost... festive, and he had to wonder if he was going into this with the wrong attitude. The others didn't seem to be treating it like a chore, but more like--well, a reunion of sorts.

DECA's image appeared on the small screen in front of him, and this time he didn't jump. The first time he had seen her face instead of just hearing her voice, it had seemed more than a little odd. Now, in the midst of the unfamiliar, he found it strangely reassuring.

"The Alliance Conference is the fourth such event since the liberation of the Eltaran capitol," DECA said. "Its purpose is to serve as a tangible symbol of the spirit of goodwill and cooperation that made the foundation of the Inner Alliance possible. There will be no official procedural, charter, or treaty discussions, and it is probably best to refrain from bringing such things up in idle conversation.

"There will no doubt be a short ceremony, as the Alliance is fond of such things," DECA added. "There is typically a buffet, as well, and vid-recorders and holosnaps are a given. Do not allow yourself to be overwhelmed by newspersons--they will not be allowed in most areas, and where they are, remember that silence cannot be misquoted.

He smiled to himself. *Don't trust me?* he thought wryly. *I don't talk to reporters, DECA.* He and the others had agreed that the less media attention they attracted in Angel Grove, whether as part of a school or team-sponsored event or just as "average citizens" at the scene of something exciting, the better the chance of the Power Rangers remaining anonymous. This was obviously different, but by now the reaction was habit.

The comm lit up, and the incoming transmission overrode DECA's recorded message. He turned off the mute on the mike quickly, but it turned out to be unnecessary. This one didn't need or want a reply.

"System Control to Mega Voyager 2," it repeated, and he waited for it to tell him to standby again.

"Please proceed to Station six along vector 29 by 21," System Control told him. "Station Keeping will give you your berth assignment."

***

"Greetings, Power Ranger."

He emerged from Mega V2 into a small room that was both well lit and pleasantly warm. It was also a strange shade of purple, vaguely reminiscent of some parts of Aquitar, but he wouldn't hold that against them. Not until he knew more about them, anyway.

"Please follow the blue markers to the corridor," the voice continued. "Proceed to your left until you are intercepted by a greeter, who will then direct you to the reception area. You will be asked to submit to a security scan before entering the conference proper. If you do not carry a translator, one will be supplied to you on request. Enjoy the proceedings."

He glanced around, but he couldn't figure out where the voice was coming from. There only seemed to be one door, though, so he took a step toward it. It slid open as soon as he moved, and he shrugged to himself. At least that part was simple enough.

"Thank you," he said, when the voice didn't seem inclined to add anything else.

"You are welcome," it replied promptly.

He shook his head, bemused. Computer? And if so, artificial intelligence or just an automated speech? He stepped through the door tentatively, but the voice didn't follow him.

The triangular blue markers led into what looked like an airlock, and indeed, as soon as the door rolled shut behind him the air started to cycle. He frowned, a little worried that it seemed to be replacing perfectly good air with something quite a bit heavier, but he reminded himself that killing off conference attendees probably wasn't in the best interests of the Alliance.

When the second door let him out into a corridor, the air was humid and smelled vaguely... metallic. But it was breathable with a minimum of effort, and it occurred to him that with however many hundreds of species currently being hosted by the self-contained conference center, he was probably lucky not to need a breather.

He hadn't taken more than a few steps to the left when a creature that he could only assume was Irinian accosted him. It squeaked briefly before some sort of translation mechanism seemed to kick in, and then, in an eerie echo of the voice outside his zord berth, it said, "Greetings, Power Ranger."

Before he could reply, it held up a red wand and gave it a cursory wave in his direction. He looked down in surprise as his morpher chimed once, and the being lowered the wand. "Welcome to Irini, Ranger Carlos. Your information has been transmitted to the reception area. Please follow this corridor to its end; they are expecting you."

The short, squeaky being hurried off without another word, giving the impression that it had a long line of other people to identify and greet before it had time for idle conversation. Of course, Carlos thought as he headed in the opposite direction, given the delays in orbit, that might be entirely true.

Only as he entered the reception area did he realize that he had forgotten to ask the greeter for his own translator. He was given one by someone he took to be a security guard instead and without hassle, and he was pleasantly surprised to find that the "security check" was no more invasive than the greeter's identifying wand had been.

He was finally shown into the hall where the "conference" was actually being held, and he made it only a few steps before his impulse to simply stop and stare took over.

From above, the structure toward which his zord had been directed looked impressive. It was a sprawling conglomeration of metal-like geometry and medieval-style turrets, interspersed with clear synthate domes that looked out over the planet's surface. Another similarity to Aquitar there, he had noted--not that he was counting.

But from the inside... he hadn't realized that there was any place quite this big. Looking up, he couldn't tell exactly where the walls ended and the ceiling began--but then, he wasn't sure he could see all of the walls, either. The hall contained some of the most outrageously ostentatious decoration he'd ever seen, and it was rapidly filling up with more people than he had been able to imagine. The influx was such that he could actually see the effects of hundreds of corridors and reception areas just like the one he had entered through, all discharging more and more Rangers into the central hall.

"Mega V?" The voice was just the slightest bit familiar, and he turned automatically.

A girl almost as tall as he was stood beside him, violently green hair spilling over one shoulder and cat-like eyes that were just as bright. She considered the insignia on his uniform briefly before pinning her stare on him again. "Or should I say, 'Showoff'?"

He raised an eyebrow, hoping he didn't look as startled as he felt. For a moment his mind went completely blank, and he was sure he wouldn't be able to remember her zord designation to save his life. But he opened his mouth anyway, and he heard himself say, "It's only showing off to people who can't do it, Serra 7. It's called 'skill' to everyone else."

Her eyes widened, and a grin spread across her face. Her pointed incisors made the expression look a little fiercer than she had probably intended--or maybe not, he thought, returning her grin. Maybe she knew exactly what that expression looked like.

"Proud words," she remarked speculatively. "I suppose you race, then."

Her deliberate casualness set off little alarm bells in his mind. "Sometimes," he said, speaking as lightly as she had. "Not entirely about skill, though, is it."

"Oh?" she responded, and this time there was a dangerous note in her voice. He had clearly just insulted something she was passionate about, and he wasn't sure she was going to take it in the spirit it was intended. "And what do you do for recreation?"

He eyed her carefully, wondering if she was really about to pounce or if it just looked that way. "Have you ever been asteroid-hopping?" he inquired. Aura had introduced him to the sport, and it was a bigger rush than racing could ever be.

"You're on!" she declared, her eyes sparkling oddly. "I'll catch you before I leave. Then we'll see who has the skill!"

He opened his mouth to protest, not sure exactly how a few innocent words had turned into a contest, but something made her whirl before he could say anything.

"Whoa there, killer," a gravelly voice rumbled. "Don't point those teeth at me."

"Don't sneak up on me," she retorted, but she sounded more amused than threatening. "What are you doing here? I thought Sheshani was going to get his act together and make a conference for once."

"First off," the grey-skinned being told her, "I did *not* sneak up on you. A large flock of children would have made less noise than I did. Second, Sheshani is terrified of you. It's entirely possible that he is, in fact, here, but I'm sworn on pain of death not to divulge information one way or another. And third--" He rolled one multi-faceted eye in Carlos' direction. "Who's your handsome young friend?"

"Her handsome young friend," someone else interrupted, "is late. Ranger Carlos, I'm told?"

Bemused, he looked around to see a man in a black v-neck, complete with armband and gauntlets, regarding him quizzically. "Yes," Carlos agreed warily. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet," the other replied with a faint smile. "I'm Trey, of--" He cleared his throat. "Commander Linnse asked me to retrieve you."

"I heard that!" Serra 7 exclaimed. "You can't do it, can you. You can't introduce yourself as just 'Trey'!"

Trey gave her an even look. "As I recall, I have until the end of the conference to complete the challenge. I see no reason for you to evaluate my progress before then."

Serra 7 returned his look with another fierce grin. "Keep telling yourself that, Trey."

Trey didn't dignify her remark with an answer. "If I'm not interrupting, Ranger Carlos."

"No," Carlos said quickly, glancing back and forth between them. "Not at all."

"Before you leave, Mega V," Serra 7 called after him, and he waved once without turning. He had hoped she would forget, but apparently he wasn't going to be that lucky.

"What was that about?" he asked quietly. "Unless it's none of my business."

Trey smiled briefly at him. "Hish believes I'm incapable of introducing myself without my title. I'm trying to prove her wrong."

*Hish?* Carlos wondered, but the rest of the sentence caught his attention. "What *is* your title?" he asked curiously.

"Lord of Triforia." He said it in such a matter-of-fact tone that at first Carlos thought he was joking. He had heard of Triforia--at least, enough to know that it was a planet somewhere in Lesser Magellenic--and the idea of one person being "lord" of something so large seemed incredible.

Trey, however, was not smiling. He seemed to be scanning the room as they walked, and Carlos couldn't help asking, "Did you say Linnse sent you? What for?"

"I'm afraid she's a little impatient today," Trey answered distractedly. "When you didn't instantly join us by the ceremonial stage, she was concerned that you might have forgotten your part in the governing delegation." His gaze stopped searching long enough to give Carlos an amused glance, as though inviting him to share in the humor.

"There she is," Trey said abruptly. "I admit to a certain lack of understanding when it comes to Aquitar's attitude toward formal matters. It seems we'll have to collect the Aquitian delegate, too."

Carlos followed his gaze without meaning to, and two things dawned on him simultaneously. The more relevant of the realizations was the fact that what he had assumed to be ornate decoration was actually a subtle amalgamation of several different environments. The area in which the conference was being held was as much a biosphere as it was a function hall.

The more dizzying revelation was that ex-girlfriends rarely grew less beautiful with time.

Aura was perched on the edge of a large fountain that apparently comprised the corner of a water habitat, so skillfully blended with its surroundings that it seemed flamboyant but not misplaced. She herself was more eye-catching than her environment, wearing skintight leggings and the new short-sleeved tunic design that she and her teammates had adopted. He wished she hadn't picked the week they broke up to start wearing her hair loose during the day.

"Rangers," Trey said cordially, pausing beside the fountain.

The Qesiti to whom Aura had been speaking looked up at the greeting, and she lifted her head just as quickly. Her eyes caught his before they reached Trey, and a startled look flashed across her face as their gazes locked. He knew she couldn't have been expecting to see him here, but somehow she recovered more quickly than he did.

"Greetings, Lord Trey," she said, her voice perfectly steady as she flowed to her feet. She pressed her fingertips together and inclined her head, not acknowledging him in the slightest. "How may we be of service?"

"Lord Trey, Ranger Carlos," the Qesiti added, standing slightly behind her. Her courtesy only made Aura's lack more obvious. "It's a pleasure."

"The pleasure's ours," Trey answered. Aura's gaze flickered toward him at that, then slid quickly away. "I hope you can forgive us for claiming your companion so suddenly, but the doors have been sealed and she's needed on the stage."

Carlos looked around in surprise. He hadn't even noticed when the hall was sealed off, but it couldn't have been long ago. From what he'd read, that meant that the conference had officially begun, and no one else would be allowed in or out of the hall until it concluded. He didn't know whether the ban was a security measure or just a courtesy to speakers, but it was a relatively effective signal.

"Of course," the Qesiti agreed. "I enjoyed our conversation," she added, nodding to Aura.

"As did I," Aura replied politely.

As she turned away from her friend, Carlos couldn't help but be aware that she was still ignoring him. She gave Trey a slight smile when he held out his arm to gesture her forward, but she didn't so much as glance in his direction. He was trying not to notice how flattering her new uniform was when the lights went out.

The noise level increased incrementally as people tried to figure out whether the blackout had been intentional. His eyes strained against the darkness, following the first light that moved, and it took him a moment to identify the faint glow as the ocean phosphorescence that Aura sometimes wore on her wrists.

An all too familiar clanking made him tense half a second before maniacal cackling emanated from the center of the great hall. "Long live the legacy of Dark Spectre!" a voice rasped, somehow loud enough to echo throughout the hall, and a tremendous boom followed the pronouncement.

He was already typing the Astro code into his morpher, but even as he pressed "E" he knew something was wrong. There was no curtain of black, no rush of Power, and most of all--no morph. Flashes of light seared his vision, but he couldn't tell who or what before metal arms wrapped his upper body in an iron grip.

Normal reflexes kicked in and a surge of adrenaline flooded through him, compensating only the smallest amount for the inaccessible Power. It was enough to let him break out of what could only be a quantron's grasp, but no sooner was he free than three more seemed to latch onto him. He could hear shouts and similar clashes from all around him, and in the back of his mind he knew the entire hall must be overrun if quantrons could suppress all of them so effectively.

His head exploded with pain, and he lost all sense of direction seconds before the floor slammed into his shoulder. Through the daze that seemed to have frozen his mind, he was vaguely aware that fighting continued around him, and he thought he saw an energy weapon discharge somewhere above him. It roused him to move, finally, shoving aside the ringing in his ears and forcing him to concentrate on something other than how safe the floor felt right now.

It *was* an energy weapon, he decided as he scrambled to his feet. It had to be his imagination that it was gunning for him, but he did his best to stay out of its way anyway. It wasn't easy, between the pounding in his head and the damn quantrons everywhere he turned, but it was going to take more than a blow to the head and one quantron with lousy aim to stop him.

Or so he told himself until he hit the wall--quite literally, since in the darkness he couldn't see anything but streaks of light and sparks as the weapon kept firing. Only then did it occur to him that he hadn't seen the flash of glowing bands that meant Aura was safe since the lights first went out, but he didn't dare yell for her. Backed into a corner with quantrons all around and an insane shooter bearing down on him, he didn't think that attracting more attention was his wisest course of action.

Without warning there came a whistling sound that he wouldn't have liked one bit, if he'd had time to register it before the wall beside him screeched in protest and erupted outward. *Not the wall,* he realized, startled, as light poured through from the other side. Apparently power had only been cut to the function hall itself. *A door.* He had somehow ended up right beside one of the reception entrances.

Something shoved him hard before he could dive for the opening, and he found himself tumbling through the ruined door. He managed to roll, coming up in a defensive position even as the whistling sound came again. It sounded almost like--

He swore out loud as Aura's sabre blade slammed into an ambitious quantron, tossing it back through the gaping hole in the door. "What the hell are you doing?" he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the sound of Q-blades and Ranger kiais.

"What does it look like?" she yelled back. "Get that door open!"

The second entrance to the reception area politely requested authorization to override the seal, which he would have found amusing at almost any other time. He slid his morpher under the scanner, two seconds from smashing the mechanism if it didn't cooperate, but--somewhat to his surprise--it flashed green and the door slid open for him.

"Aura!" he exclaimed instinctively. The quantrons guarding the door from the other side spun, Q-blades raised. "Help?"

He ducked as they sprang forward, swinging at the nearest one and whirling underneath its closest partner. He shoved his elbow between the head and shoulder of another, and suddenly Aura's blade was there, systematically starting to deactivate the remainder.

He leapt back, avoiding her wide swath of destruction and taking a moment to convince the door behind them that the seal override had been a mistake. It slid shut obediently, locking out the second wave of quantrons flooding through the hole Aura had blasted in the hall entryway. It also locked in any Rangers who might have followed her example, but they had morphers.

He glanced over his shoulder quickly, trying to suppress a wry smile as Aura stepped over the fallen quantrons and headed down the hallway. As though locks had ever stopped a determined Ranger before.

"Where are we going?" he asked, his longer stride catching up with her easily.

"Ranger Control," she said shortly. She came to an abrupt halt in front of one of the corridor's emergency exits, and he raised an eyebrow at her choice of destinations.

She seemed to hesitate, but before he could say anything she had turned to him and taken his arm. "Here," she said, putting her blaster in his hand. "The quantrons can't all be stationed in the main hall."

He looked down at the blaster and something clicked into place in his mind. "It was you! You were the shooter in the hall--were you trying to herd me, or kill me?" He didn't consider either one much more probable than the other, lately.

"I was *following* you," she snapped. "You were heading toward the door."

"You could see in there?" He didn't bother to tell her that any direction on his part had been completely accidental. "And where did this come from?" he added, hefting her blaster. "And your sword, for that matter."

She put her shoulder into the metal door and pushed, ignoring the wail of the automated alarm as soon as the circuit was broken. He followed, grunting a little as she let go of the door and it caught his arm on the backswing. It was heavier than she had made it look.

"Billy came up with a counteragent for the nullspheres." Aura stared up the ladder in front of them for several seconds before sheathing her blade and starting to climb. "The entire team was injected with it."

Carlos waited until she paused on the next deck and gestured "clear" down to him before he started climbing. "He thought the one Cetaci brought back was a prototype," she added, as he drew even with her. "We assumed that the only ones in existence were on Dark Spectre's ship when it was destroyed, so we did not bring it to the League's attention."

He kept climbing, his brain struggling to stay alert and keep up with her explanation at the same time. "Nullsphere" was Billy's technospeak for the device that had been used against them on Dark Spectre's ship in the fall. He had known the Blue Ranger was experimenting with them, trying to figure out how they could be capable of cutting a Ranger off from the Power, but he hadn't known he had found a solution. The whole concept had slipped Carlos' mind soon after their victory, and he hadn't worried about it since.

"Obviously a mistake," he muttered to himself, stepping off the ladder and waving down to Aura.

"Obviously." She sounded irritated, and he realized too late that his words sounded like a criticism of their decision. "We couldn't have known then that we would be wrong."

She signed "one more level" at him as she climbed past, and he nodded. There was little for him to be on the lookout for here, as each of the levels seemed to be a replica of the one before. He wondered if the planet's surface was unstable, or unacceptable in some other way for landing ships--the Irini seemed to have an immense capacity for berthing vessels.

He saw her signal "clear" again, and he followed her up. This time, he emerged in some sort of empty corridor nexus. They all looked the same to him, but Aura took off down one of the left-hand branches without a word.

"All right," he said, jogging a few steps to catch up with her. "How do *you* know where we're going? And why are we looking for Ranger Control, anyway?"

"I studied the schematics," she answered calmly. "Never go into a situation blind."

"It wasn't a situation," he reminded her, a little irked at the implication that he had forgotten something. "It was just a political show."

The sound of quantrons boots on the deck was unmistakable, and she pushed him back against the wall. He resisted the urge to tell her that he wasn't stupid, for he knew intellectually that he shouldn't read anything into gesture. They were Rangers, and teammates or not, they were obligated to protect each other. She didn't mean anything by it.

Unfortunately, the featureless corridors offered little cover, and he was the one with the gun. When the quantrons came around the corner, he had reason to wish that he had been the one to react first. Her shoulder gave him somewhere to brace his firing arm, but he had to work twice as hard to concentrate with her pressed up against him.

As the quantron line staggered under fire, though, Aura pulled away. He didn't have the attention to spare to see where she was going, but he did his best to follow anyway. The free movement down the corridor made them more vulnerable, but it also gave him a better angle, and he picked off the last quantron just before the wall fell away in front of him.

He spun, startled, and saw Aura moving purposefully across a wide circular room toward the bank of controls in the center. Motion from overhead caught his eye and he looked up automatically. The sight of open sky through the dome took his breath away, and a long second passed before he remembered he ought to be covering the door.

"That can't be safe," he remarked, turning back the way they'd come. The corridor was still clear, so he took a moment to scan the room for alternate exits. "Having the control center so exposed?"

"It is not." Aura held her morpher in one hand while she did something to the farthest control panel. She didn't spare a single glance for the view above them. "It's a holographic display, fed into the room through realtime sensor arrays."

He shook his head, checking the corridor again. "Is there anything you don't know about this place?"

"We will find out," she muttered, pausing to study the interface again. She switched her morpher to her other hand and moved on to another panel. She brushed her hair back over her shoulder distractedly, paying no attention when it started to slide forward again.

He tore his gaze away. "What are you doing?" he asked, leaning out into the corridor for a moment before turning to check the other two doors.

"Testing Billy's theory," she answered cryptically.

The second door was morpher access only, and presumably the other would be as well. He paused anyway, taking advantage of the fact that her back was to him to stop and watch her. He hadn't had much opportunity to do that lately, and with someone as gorgeous as Aura the loss was all his.

When she moved again, apparently working her way around the central island, he shook himself awake and headed for the third door. It was exactly as he expected, and he paused to look over her shoulder on his way back to the still-open entrance. "Need any help?"

"From someone who didn't even know how where to find Ranger Control?" she retorted. "No thank you."

"You know, you could be a little more understanding," he told her, returning to his position by the door. "I didn't exactly sign up for this. I thought I was going to be at practice this afternoon, until Andros decided at the last minute to inflict his argument with Ashley on the rest of us."

"You missed soccer practice to attend an intergalactic peace conference," Aura observed, moving on to the next panel. "That is a hardship. My condolences."

He rolled his eyes, but he didn't try again. There was a brief silence, while she did whatever it was she was doing to the control island, and he leaned against the doorframe. The sound of quantrons, when it came again, actually surprised him, and he hissed a warning in her direction as he lifted her blaster again.

"I'm almost done," she whispered, not looking up.

He didn't bother to ask with what, for at that moment the mechanical beings assaulted his eyes as well as his ears. He started firing as soon as he could see them, but this time there were twice as many and cover wouldn't do him any good if they reached it before he could knock them all out. He debated taking out as many as he could and then slamming the door shut in their face, but before he could put that plan into action something changed.

His target site was suddenly clearer, and aiming became as natural as breathing. In the space between one moment and the next he knew exactly how many quantrons there were, and they started falling with a methodical precision that he could have only hoped for a few seconds before.

"The Power should be back," Aura said loudly, joining him in the doorway. Her voice was distinct from the laser fire despite the noise, and he knew she was right. Not only could he see, hear, and aim better, but the metallic tang of the atmosphere was no longer weighing on his lungs. He hadn't even noticed his breathing getting harder until the effect was suddenly reduced.

He passed her blaster back to her without a word, and his sprang into his hand to take its place. He stepped farther into the hall to give her room and they fired simultaneously. For the briefest second, their rhythms were in sync, but as soon as he noticed it the phenomenon vanished. He couldn't focus for watching her, so he took another step back--

An arm snaked around his neck, covering his mouth as a second slapped against his forehead, managing to hit the exact same spot that had taken a blow earlier. If he could have made any sound, he would have, but between the pain and the disorienting rush of sensation he couldn't even bring himself to think Aura's name.

Dimly, he saw her spin toward him anyway, and she reached over her shoulder as darkness started to encroach on his sight. Her blade swung free in a dizzying arc that his limited vision couldn't follow, and the grip on his head loosened and finally fell away. Carlos fell with it, unable to stay upright, as the flash of her blade overhead told him that the quantrons were still coming.

***

He awoke with the thought that either he had fallen asleep on Aura's floor again, or the bunks on the Megaship had gotten substantially less comfortable during the night. His next thought was that the lights were all wrong for either of those places, and furthermore, he should not be hearing the sound of a weapon powering up as he opened his eyes.

He managed to turn his head to one side, and he found himself looking down the barrel of Aura's blaster. It looked a whole lot meaner from this side, he decided. What the hell was going on?

"Prove to me that you're Carlos." Aura's voice sounded steady, but her words had the ring of insanity. It didn't make any sense, but as he stared up at her he saw nothing but sober determination in her silver eyes.

"I love you," he mumbled, pushing himself up on his elbows. Was this Irini? What had happened?

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't try to keep him from sitting up. "Try again."

Damn. Had he really said that?

His eyes fell on the prone form on the other side of the doorway, and his heart froze. That was his face staring sightlessly up at the ceiling--his body lying motionless in the corridor. He looked down at himself, shaken and not at all sure he liked the direction this conversation was taking.

"Who are you?" Aura insisted, not lowering her blaster.

"Carlos Vargas Simione." He caught her eye, somehow relieved that she was meeting his gaze at all. "I'm the Black Astro Ranger. The rest of the team is Cassie, Ashley, Andros, Zhane, and TJ. My parents are Kelly and Andres, my brother is Gabe, and our cat is named Goof."

"What's your favorite ice cream flavor?" she demanded.

He had to grin. "Mint chocolate chip. Yours is red raspberry, and you like chocolate sprinkles but you hate whipped cream. You always get a cherry, though, because you know I like them. Do I pass?"

Her lips twitched, and she let her blaster fall to her side. "I suppose. But I don't get cherries because you like them."

"Well, you don't eat them," he pointed out reasonably.

"I like the way they look." She didn't wait for him to respond, nodding instead toward the figure in the hallway. "Any idea who that was?"

He followed her gaze reluctantly, feeling a shiver run down his spine again. "I'm not--positive, but... I think you might have just killed my Psycho Ranger. Man," he added, forcing himself to stare at it a little longer, "that's really creepy."

"You think it's creepy," she muttered. "You're not the one who killed it and then had to watch it turn into... you."

He glanced over at her, and found her staring at him with hungry eyes. She seemed to need reassuring for once, so he said quietly, "Thanks. I don't know what else to say, but--thanks for killing it."

She sighed, but she didn't take her eyes off of him. "You didn't seem to be having any measure of success. What is a Psycho Ranger?"

He couldn't help looking over at it once more. "It's kind of a long--"

The lights went out and the steady hum of the ventilation units faded into nothing.

"Am I the only one who thinks that the security in this place needs some serious improvement?" Carlos demanded of the darkness.

"Rangers may have cut the generator power on purpose," Aura's voice answered. "It would be the most effective way to isolate and contain the quantrons."

"Not to mention us!" he said indignantly. "I hate this; I can't see a thing."

"That answers the next question, then." It sounded as though she had gotten to her feet and was moving away. "Whether we ought to stay here and wait for someone to find us, or go in search of them ourselves."

"You're that sure someone's going to come along?"

Her voice was less muffled, as though she had turned around to face him. "We left a roomful of Rangers, Carlos. You can hardly expect them to sit still and do nothing anymore than we did."

"You mean, like we are now?" he suggested.

"If you had better night vision, we wouldn't be," she said with some asperity. She was coming closer again. "We have done our part. Now it's up to the others to do theirs."

"Has anyone told them what their part is?" Carlos inquired.

"If you choose to have so little faith in your counterparts, that is your decision," she informed him. "I, however, know what to expect of those chosen by the Power."

He frowned at that and he must have made some sound, for she asked irritably, "What?"

"You said you know what to expect," he repeated slowly. "I was just wondering if that was why you broke up with me--because I didn't do what you expected."

"You did exactly what I expected," she contradicted, her tone neutral. "*That* was why we broke up."

He frowned again, wondering if that would seem as monumentally unfair if she were saying it about someone else. "Afraid of being predictable?"

"I'm not afraid!" she protested hotly. "You're xenophobic! I did not want it to be true, but it is, and it is not conducive to a healthy relationship."

"I'm what?" He stared at her. Or rather, he stared at the place where her voice had been coming from. "Where did you get that idea? I went out with you, didn't I?"

"That is exactly what I'm referring to!" she exclaimed. "You say that like it matters!"

He blinked, wondering if he had been absent the day they passed out the secret women decoder rings. He didn't have the faintest idea what she was talking about, and that only seemed to irritate her further. If he were smart, he would probably just keep his mouth shut until there was someone else present to run interference.

Luckily, there was a commotion out in the hall before he could find out how far from smart he actually was. There came a noise that his translator proceeded to render as a voice yelling, "Appendages where we can see them! Surrender now or be taken by force!"

He glanced in the general direction of the door. "We pick 'surrender'," he called, when Aura didn't immediately answer. "As long as it doesn't involve getting beaten, punched, or chopped at. I think I've had enough of that for today."

There was a brief pause. "Rangers?"

"That's what they tell me." Carlos winced as high-powered flashlights flooded into the room, filling it with a more than adequate light and bringing a handful of Rangers right behind them. They were a welcome sight in more ways than one.

"Greetings, Rangers." The first voice was tinged with irony, and as his eyes readjusted to the light level, Carlos recognized an Irinian figure standing behind one of the flashlights. "I trust you are enjoying your conference experience so far. Perhaps you will even consider extending your stay."