Changing Plans
Jul. 1st, 2009 09:31 pm![[personal profile]](http://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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the_ranger_databaseTitle: Summer's Boys (2/?)
Author: Guardian of Hope
Rating: PG-13, Teen (May be adjusted later)
Summary: Thrown together to save a world, Scott Truman, Summer Lansdown and Flynn McAllister must discover the line between teammates, friends, and lovers in a world falling into darkness.
Disclaimer: Aliens are among us.
Characters: Scott, Summer, Flynn Dr K, Colonel Truman, others
A/N: Yes, there was a typo that I fixed. It dawned on me that there was this minor problem as I was driving to work after I posted it last night.
Scott entered the meeting room listlessly, wearing a pair of his oldest jeans and his brother Marcus’s baseball jersey. He slouched his way to stand before the tribunal, and stood there, hands in his pockets, eyes focused on the floor. “Lieutenant?” Mayor Auerbach asked.
Scott looked up, barely restraining a sneer, “I quiet.” He said bluntly, loading a bit of his anger and self-hate into his voice.
“When?” Colonel Truman asked.
Scott stiffened noticeable, and the face he turned to his father was one of loathing and anger; “About five seconds after you forgot that I was as much your son as Marcus.” He looked from the mayor, to the Colonel, and finally the computer screen for Dr K. “Look, are you just here to ask about my behavior,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “‘cause I got things to do.”
“No,” Dr K said, “we asked you to come as a favor, Lieutenant.”
Scott took a deep breath, “Dr K, I’m not in the military anymore. Rank doesn’t apply to me.”
Colonel Truman looked at Mayor Auerbach, who nodded, then he leaned over and said something softly to Dr K. “Be that as it may, Mr. Truman,” Dr K said after a moment of listening, “you are here and there is one question that I must ask.”
“Shoot,” Scott said, crossing his arms.
“Our primary candidate for Ranger Operator Series Red died in the defense of Corinth yesterday,” Dr K said, “as did many others. In the wake of this loss, we would like for you to take the position of Ranger Operator Series Red.”
Scott, who had made a show of looking out the window while Dr K spoke, turned his head so fast, there was an audible pop. He took three steps to the left and sat down in the chair that he had seemingly ignored when he came in. “Are you ok?” Mayor Auerbach asked.
Scott waved his hand and closed his eyes, Oh my god, he thought, why me? I thought with the Colonel as my *father* they’d never consider me for the job. Should I do this? Lord know, I don’t want to b a pilot anymore, and I can’t even look at my father without wanting to attack him for that dismissed bull. For the first time in twenty four hours, the deep, soul clenching pain lessened, as did some of the anger he felt for his father. Hope came instead, hope that he could get away from his father and not have to see his dad look at him as if he was asking why he hadn’t died in Marcus’s place, or with Marcus, instead of coming back. Finally, Scott took a deep breath and opened his eyes, standing up, he executed a perfect salute, “I would be honored,” he said, still not looking at his father.
For a moment, there was silent, then Dr K spoke, “Ranger Red, please report to the Ranger base in one hour to begin your training.”
“Yes sir,” Scott replied. “Thank you.” He turned and headed for the door.
“Scott,” Colonel Truman called.
Scott turned, halfway to the door, “What?” He asked.
“Congratulations,” Mason Truman said.
Scott looked at his dad for a long moment, and then shrugged, “Whatever.”
An hour later, Scott arrived at the Ranger Base dressed in khakis and a red polo. The battered jeep he drove backfired a few times as he stopped outside the building identified as the Ranger Base and walked in through the large doors, “Dr K?” He called as he looked around the large room.
“Greetings, Ranger Red,” the familiar voice of Dr K said. “Please come into the training room. A hiss drew Scott’s attention to a set of sliding doors and he hurried over quickly. Inside the room, which looked like it was made from either plastic or Plexiglas, Scott looked around in awe. On one wall were five lockers with suites inside. Before that were a table and a circular platform. “Ranger Red,” Dr K said. Scott spun and found himself looking at still more computer screens. “Please take the morpher and engine cell from the table and step onto the platform.”
Scott picked up the cell-phone like morpher and the small square that rested on what he could have sworn was an empty table. Then he turned and stepped onto the platform, facing Dr K, “Now what, Dr K.”
“Place the engine cell into the top of the morpher.” Scott studied the morpher and saw the clasp in moments. The engine cell slid in with ease. “Now, hold out the morpher, say ‘RPM’ and draw the morpher back so that you can press the yellow button just below the hinge and complete the code by saying, ‘Get in gear’.”
Scott lifted the morpher, “RPM,” he declared before bringing it back to hit the yellow button. I’ll have to work on that, he thought as he glanced out of the corner of his eyes to make sure that he hit the right button. “Get in gear.” He finished.
Scott had once been shocked by a penny in a light socket, the feeling that ran through him as his hand dropped. Then a surge of elation just like when Marcus had first taken him flying, coupled with the satisfaction of a job will done. He stared down at his gloved hands, “Wow,” he breathed as he held his hand up like he’d never seen it before. "This is incredible,” he told Dr K. "I feel like I’m ready to run from the ridge to the bay, I’ve never felt anything like it!”
Dr K was silent for a moment, “Yes, well, Ranger Red. We have ten minutes agility training scheduled to begin in five minutes. I recommend you stay morphed so that you can adjust to the difference.”
Scott looked down at his uniform, “As long as it’s just the two of us I can do that just one question.”
“Yes, Ranger Red.”
“Does have to be so tight? I thought spandex was meant for work-out clothes, not super hero costumes.” Scott tilted his head, wondering how Doc would take the tease.
“That is not spandex, Ranger Red,” Dr K replied, with a sort of forced calm.
Scott raised an eyebrow, with the instinct granted to younger siblings, he could tell that he’d found a button. He wondered briefly how many others he could push.
“Ranger Red, please step down from the platform and go through the doors before you and prepare for agility training.” Dr K said after a moment.
“You got it,” Scott replied and walked through a set of sliding plastic doors. The room beyond was similar to the training room, except for the lack of computer screens and colored lockers.
“Shall we begin?” Dr K asked, while a large cannon was lowered.
Scott swallowed, “Hey, Doc, I thought agility was golf balls.” He turned to look again for a screen or eve a camera.
A hollow thunk slowed him down, but a sharp contact with his posterior got him moving. “Ranger Red, the point of this exercise is to avoid the balls.”
Scott grunted as he moved again. Unfortunately, he failed to compensate for the power now coursing through him, overcompensated and went sprawling, having been hit by an insulting seven times. He growled and flipped to his feet. “Let’s do this again,” he said, balancing on his toes, eyes focused on the machine. This time, Scott was able to avoid over half of the balls, but the insult was when he relaxed and caught one in close quarters. Groaning softly, Scott collapsed, hand pressed against his thigh. “Doc,” he gasped, “Dr K, plase, stop.”
“Do you need a medic?”
Scott bit his lip, “Yes please,” he managed to squeak.
“To power down, press the yellow button twice.” Dr K ordered. Carefully, Scott followed orders; and hissed as the pain doubled, no tripled. A whirring made Scott look up; a wheeled vehicle whirred into the room with a bag of ice. “Place that on the injured place, Ranger Red.”
“Ice?” Scott wondered, even as he followed instructions.
“In five minutes, we will see if a medic is still necessary.” Dr K replied, “The suite is nominally designed to block most pain you will experience, and y tapping into the biofield, your healing increases as much as twenty fold. However, the suites need time to adjust to your personal biofield and so these moments will occur for only a short time. The more you carry your morpher the easier it will be.”
“Doc,” Scott said, pushing himself upright, “I have to confess, I only read the cliff notes on your dissertation.”
“There are no cliff notes,” Dr K replied, “and do not call me ‘Doc’.”
“That physist guy, Dr Johannason, wrote the cliff notes. I think he thought he was a fantasy writer, though. He was more into a mystical energy source than he was into the hard science.” Scott continued. He moved his leg, and grinned before standing up, “Wow that does work fast; back to work, then, Dr K?”
“Indeed,” Dr K replied, “Shall we begin?”
“RPM,” Scott said, “Get in Gear!”
