Thirteen Angels – The Transdimensional Archives

Disclaimer: I do not own the Power Rangers and am making no money from this fanfiction. All ideas herein are original unless otherwise stated. Do not take any ideas without permission. No part of this fanfiction may be displayed without permission. (1/14/2003)

Thirteen Angels
byRandel

The room was bright. At least, the part of the room that she could see was bright, too bright to see anything as a matter of fact. There were others out there, beyond the white light. She could here them. What do they want? Why did they have her here? If only they knew the sorts of friends she had. Powerful friends. She was powerful in her own right, but she had forgotten the box. Music was playing but this is the wrong scene for music, especially such pretty music. Such music is reserved for work on the warriors as mandated by the boss.

Then it was there, the Figure. The Figure behind the White Light, hiding behind white light… He asked her a question she didn't know the answer to. Others hurt her for not knowing. The Figure told them to. Then it asked again.

A Purple Sun. It was pleasantly bright and warm unlike the white light of the room with the Figure. The purple sun shone down upon flowing grasses and a quick movement, then it was gone. It was hiding from something. The grasslands would have been barren except for the hidden movement. So long as the movement was there, there was hope, there was a Purple Sun.

The Figure flared back into being, in the room with the light and burned away all that was, is, and will be into nothing. But it did this because it was a puppet, a willing puppet, but a puppet all the same. It is never the soldier whose ends are met.

It all meant something, but whatever that meaning may have been was now lost to the Shaper until an unspecified time. This gave the Shaper no comfort.

Too much symbolistic nonsense and not enough real imagery.

But that would imply that imagery is real.

No, no... These questions within questions do no one any good. These obscure images conceived in the mind of the caffeine deprived, sleep junky... wait a moment... reverse that. These questions are only irritating. What is the point of displaying imagery of something that means nothing? Further there is less meaning in presenting symbols in a manner that is unintelligible. Why even bother? To make someone listen? Is this all simply an attention getting device?

Exactly. I'm hiding a secret.

That means nothing. If there is any meaning here, let it be known.

Not Yet.

Knock, Knock.

What?

Tashir Rho started awake at a second knocking on the door to her new office. She had fallen asleep in the chair at her desk. It was a nice chair with a high back, plenty of cushioning, adjustable, and made of leather tanned a deep shade of purple. Many of the furnishings in Tashir's office were a shade of purple. As a mage of the Purple, using the Grid to manipulate reality, Tashir was naturally drawn to the color. Just as anyone else who worked with the Grid was drawn to their color. In fact Tashir was clad, as was customary, in a robe of purple. It was an interesting robe, with small overlying folds of cloth giving it almost a scale like design. Tashir had made it herself and was rather attached to it.

The young mage got to her feet and stretched, raising her arms above her head and getting a slightly dizzy feeling for her efforts. The knock came for the third time, causing Tashir to start a bit in surprise. Her sometimes short attention span never failed to irritate the Purple Mage. Someone doing such important work should not be subject to such a ridiculous failing. Wasting no more time, Tashir answered the door.

Standing just outside the door was Kiln, Tashir's secretary. The young Academy student had mouse brown hair and blue eyes hidden behind thick spectacles. She was studying to be a librarian and stereotypically looked the part. Kiln had come with Tashir's new laboratory. Many things had come with Tashir's new laboratory, which happened to be much larger than her last. In fact, it was an entire building. Marthal had commissioned the entire building for Tashir's project. Granted, it wasn't that big a building, but still.

The bottom floor was taken up with desks where her assistants worked on notes and calculations and diagrams. The next floor was a single room containing fourteen mist filled tubes. Tashir only had notes enough to fill up thirteen, but Master Marthal had supplied her with an extra, just in case. Phantom was in the first tube, though obscured by the mists. In the second tube was Pirho, the mists tinted faintly orange. On the third floor was her private office and the work room. It was the workroom where all the real work was done.

Tashir was very particular about the work done on her Rangers and insisted on being there whenever any work was done. She still did most of the work herself, but some of it she left to her assistants. Currently occupying the center of that room was a green and grey armored warrior.

"Master Marthal is here," Kiln told her.

Marthal had shown up for a surprise inspection. Tashir was no longer awed by the White Master, but she was still significantly impressed that she got a bit clumsy and tongue tied around him. Her assistants bowed respectfully at the Master and let their boss do all the talking. Tashir led Marthal to the workroom.

The White Master walked around the grey and green suit of armor then looked at Tashir, an eyebrow raised. The Purple Mage took this as her cue to begin.

"This one I call Swarm. It has about it a theme of insects." Tashir walked over to a worktable and picked up a small yellow item and brought it back to Marthal for him to inspect. "These are the wasp missiles. Fast and sharp. They don't have a whole lot of explosive power, but they strike with enough velocity to burrow a bit into their target. That coupled with the fact that they are launched en mass should make this a devastating weapon."

Tashir again went to the table and picked up another small item. "This is an arachnid bomb. It strings anywhere from one to several thousand thin wires which, when snapped, trigger an explosion. The firepower of an arachnid is more than the wasp and is used in smaller numbers." Finally, Tashir picked up the last item on the table.

"Dust moth. Several of these are released at once. They release glittering dust and sparkles of light. This is meant as a distraction, for example releasing several of these at once into the face of an enemy temporarily blinding them."

Marthal Jeneth inspected each mechanical bug, then handed them back to Tashir.

"Each of these weapons is lightly connected to the Swarm allowing the warrior to control each individually. The biggest obstacle so far with Swarm has been finding a way to allow for control of all the weapons at once."

Marthal nodded and Tashir continued, leading her master to a stand where a suit of heavy armor rested. "This is the Kabutoain Armor. When summoned it gives the Swarm several extra weapons." Tashir indicated the helmet horn and spikes on elbows, knees, and toes. "The armor is subject to change as I'm not sure how practical some of those spikes will be in combat."

"Finally my favorite part," Tashir reached into a pocket and withdrew a length of dark wood split down the middle with a hinge on one end and a clasp on the other. "This is called a butterfly knife." Tashir deftly undid the clasp and flipped the knife open. The wood split and one half swung to meet the other back to back, as it did so it revealed a single edged blade. Tashir handed the knife to Marthal who looked at it interestedly.

"I have developed a Butterfly Sword for Swarm. I don't know if it'll work though." Tashir opened a trunk and lifted out the peculiar weapon. Closed, it was still two feet long. "I cannot utilize it with any sort of grace. I'm hoping that a Ranger's enhanced dexterity and strength will be able to pull it off."

Marthal set the knife down on the table and looked at the mage. "Tashir, you're working yourself too hard. I hear you wont have any work done on the Rangers unless you are here."

Tashir blinked. "Well... well yes sir. I have to be here to make sure everything goes right."

Marthal smiled fondly. "My dear girl, you are too important to me to loose to exhaustion." The White Master took Tashir's hand in both of his own. "Please, allow your assistants to do some of the easier work while your sleeping. For me?"

Tashir could hardly believe someone would show such concern for her. "If that's what you want," she relented.

Marthal smiled and Tashir felt as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders. He gave her hand a reassuring pat. "Thank you. Now... is Swarm ready for a trial run?"

"Yes sir, I just finished connecting the equipment to the Grid." She reached into another pocket and withdrew a small black box. no longer or wider than the palm of her hand and only three inches tall. It was a special box containing a warping of space. It had been difficult to create. Within this box the three morphing talismans of her creations were held. It contained the amethyst that was the talisman for Phantom and a stylized golden flame set with small round fire opals that was for Pirho. The third item was a small beetle shaped talisman, colored green and grey with tiny little emeralds for eyes.

For every run though the simudeck, Tashir had morphed into the warrior she was testing until she perform the specific warrior's abilities without flaw. She was becoming quite good at it and it took less time to perfect subsequent warriors.

Tashir selected a few assistants to accompany her and Marthal to the "'deck in order to analyze Swarm's performance. The hallways leading to the simudeck were dull grey metal. As were all the halls in this building.

As she walked down the hallway with Marthal on one side of her and Joson, another acquisition that came with the new lab, on the other, only half listening to the conversation, making appropriate noises and head motions, Tashir felt suddenly very tired. Perhaps Master Marthal was right. She needed more sleep. But not now. It was always "'not now'. Sleep could wait. Tashir reached to the power and felt her strength return.

But I'm not morphed, how could I reach out to the Power? Is it because I carry these talismans with me all the time? An interesting question. There had been cases before where a Ranger, for one reason or another, had not unmorphed for weeks, months, even years at a time. Upon finally unmorphing, that energy suddenly was gone and the Ranger would often collapse into unconsciousness, perhaps even slip into a coma.

They had reached the simudeck.

Marthal placed a hand on Tashir's shoulder. "Good luck," and he smiled at her. That smile, that show of friendship, which had opened so many doors for her, made Tashir smile in return, and it was a genuine smile. Master Marthal Jeneth was the father Tashir had never had, the friend she had always wanted and the mentor she needed. She was determined not to fail him.

Tashir waited until Marthal and Joson were in the surveillance room before she programmed the CCS, Craterite Combat Simulation. The computer took a few moments to process the data, then the doors swished open. Tashir entered the room and opened the box that contained the talismans. She removed the Swarm Scarab gently, then put the box away. The first of the purple Craterites appeared.

A flash of grayish-green light and Tashir Rho, Mage of the Purple, was gone, replaced by Swarm.

Swarm faced down the horde of enemy soldiers. A surge of power, a thought to shape it, a gesture to direct it. Several small wasp missiles streaked towards their targets. Swarm saw from dozens of eyes and flew into an enemy's face here, a wrist there, a knee there. The wasp missiles detonated at once destroying a few of the enemies and incapacitating several others.

Several more enemies appeared behind Swarm and the warrior reached back a hand releasing several dust moths. The motes of substance obscured the vision of those behind her. Swarm charged those in front, still recovering from the wasp missiles. In a fluid motion, Swarm reached over her right shoulder and drew the butterfly sword, easily flipping it open.

Behind her helmet, Swarm smiled.

It was later. Much later. Tashir was in her office, as usual. She was staring at her computer screen blankly. Absently, she picked up a set of dice that were lying on her computer table and rolled them. The cubes came up both ones, snake eyes. Tahsir could no longer recall what she had been working on. The white screen filled her vision until there was nothing else. Nothing by pale white light bathing her face.

The Figure appeared before her with its White Light. The Shaper was cold. The Figure asked the question again. But it wasn't really a question. Not one it wanted an answer to anyway. It was an implication, and that implication hurt the Shaper more than any physical harm could. The Figure asked again an again and Shaper howled in agony. It hurt her head until the blood throbbed so hard it shook her head against the cold and all went black. A liquid void, which really isn't a void at all.

The Shaper took comfort in the lack of the White Light. Just lightlessness. The Shaper was staring into the liquid black swirling mass. There was nothing in there but the mass and some sugar.

Tashir opened another packet of fake sugar and dumped it into her coffee. She was sitting in one of the small cafes spread throughout the Academy campus dumping yet another packet of caffeine into her otherwise bitter drink. Her mind, as always, was on her work when she could make it behave. Currently, said mind was on the trial run of the Swarm and its surprising success. Marthal had been pleased.

Tashir was working on two Rangers at once now. Marthal had requested it of her. He had told her the need for her Rangers was becoming more dire and the quicker she finished, the quicker they could be put to use defending the galaxy.

Phantom, Pirho, and Swarm all rested in their mist filled tubes now, each built to the peak of Tashir's abilities.

"Hello Tashir."

Tashir's eyes snapped open and she looked up from dumping another packet of sugar into her coffee. It was Joson, her top assistant.

"Don't see much of you out of the lab," Joson smiled in a friendly manner, "Good to see you getting out some."

Tashir smiled in return. "Yeah, it feels good to be out of the lab for a while." Joson was nice to Tashir, always ready to offer an opinion, but never over bearing with them. Always ready to go with whatever Tashir decided. Before Tashir really knew Joson, she'd thought the other woman to be a stickler for tradition, something Tashir's projects didn't follow at all, and something of an egocentric.

Joson sat down. "I'm still impressed with Swarm's run last week." Joson glanced at the dice on the table. "Two ones, is that good?"

Tashir raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes. Stars... Feels like I was testing Swarm just last night. Where has the time gone?"

Joson frowned a bit, "You look tired, are you getting enough sleep?"

"Why do people keep asking me that?" Tashir heaved a sigh, "I'm fine, I promise. Besides, there's little time for sleep right now, we're getting close to finishing the next two."

The next two Rangers to be constructed were the Hema-imber and Harvester. Tashir was getting good at this. It had only taken a week to get the basic form created. The individual weapons and power took a bit more and had to be concentrated on separately.

Tashir blinked and she and Marthal were sitting in her office and she was explaining the two Rangers to him.

She pressed a small button at her keyboard and a holo image of the Hema-imber appeared over the desk. It was clad in bright red armor, a sword at its hip. The cuffs of its boots and gloves were black. A black mask covered the helmet done in a design of the ancient blood daemon masks.

"Hema-imber means Blood Rain... but it's not as gruesome as it sounds. It draws its power from others. That is, while it has its own link to the Grid, its primary ability is that of draining the power of others. In magic, blood is often seen as the life-force, as energy of a body, thus the name. I understand that Hema-imber is a little frightening to look at, but the tradition of life force among tribes of central Enthara involves daemons and the masks they used to frighten off evil spirits." Tashir removed a glove from a drawer and passed it over the desk to Marthal. "These gloves are equipped with devices in the palms that make the draining of this force possible. It's a combination of gravia magic and... Well the technical details are rather involved. I'll send you the full schematics later. Anyway, this creates some extra energy that goes into regenerative qualities. Blood Warrior will not likely ever have to power down from too much damage."

Marthal looked over the glove noting the piercing objects.

"In addition to energy draining it has the ability to read the minds of its opponents, surface thoughts only. It can incorporate what an enemy will do next into its strategy. Blood Warrior can also temporarily absorb the knowledge of an opponent's special maneuvers and utilize a modified form."

Tashir typed out another command on her keyboard and another image replaced the first. Harvester was in black armor with angular orange pattering on its shoulders. A thick black caped hung from its shoulders. It carried a sleek black hafted, silver bladed, scythe.

"This is Harvester. It is themed around the harvest season of my home village." Tashir shot an embarrassed look at Marthal. The White Master just smiled and nodded for her to continue. "That is... abilities associated with the harvest season. Wind is a big part of it, but..." Tashir trailed off, her vision blurring. She shook her head to clear it and yawned.

"Have you been getting enough sleep Tashir?" Marthal asked her paternally.

"Yes... I mean, I got five hours last night."

Marthal raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Honestly sir, I'm fine..." Tashir insisted. "In any case, Harvester has powers based around the symbols and climate of harvest season."

"Like what?" asked Marthal.

"Like the scythe," responded Tashir, "In ancient times, farmers would harvest crops with scythes. Also, the wind thing I mentioned before... Harvester can summon a hail of razor sharp blades that are hurled at the enemy with wind. They're quite light and the shape and color of leaves that have fallen from trees during harvest. You see?"

Marthal nodded. "Indeed I do."

Tashir blinked again.

The black caped warrior leapt high over the purple Craterites attacking her, and let loose with a powerful freezing wind. The troops were frozen by the blast and as Harvester came back down from its jump, she swung her black and silver scythe shattering her enemies. Another group of enemies appeared and Harvester sent thin whirling blades flying at them.

But there was another warrior there, not one of the Craterites. Harvester turned slightly and saw hidden in the lightless shadows this other warrior. But why was it hidden?

Because as long as it is hidden, there is the possibility of escape. The most dangerous prison is one's own mind. A mind operates best when opened. It is a frightening power to be able to close the mind of another.

Is that what the Figure did? Did it close the mind of the Shaper?

Not entirely. The Shaper is responsible as well. There is something that the Shaper does not wish known to anyone, most especially to itself or else the Figure might find out and the Figure is to be thwarted or all will be ash.

Yes, I already know this. Tell me something I do not already know.

Rest is the bane of the Shaper, for rest is meant to tighten the hold of the Figure, and yet the Shaper appears to have avoided this by hiding itself in the Purple Sun. The White Light behind which the Figure hides is dimming. It will be too late.

I could do something if only you would give me a straight answer.

Not yet.

Tashir Rho stared at the armored figures before her. She held a pair of dice in her hand. It seemed all of her life now was creation of power. No, that wasn't right. The power was already there, she had not created it. Instead she had tapped into this power and was shaping it. Yes, she was a shaper of power now, and it was all she did. She rarely slept anymore. When she slept, she dreamt, and she no longer wanted to dream. Master Marthal would not be pleased if he knew. He insisted that sleep was good for her, helped to keep her in top form. But Tashir knew now that the Power could keep her in top form as well. Tashir field-tested and experimented with every power she had shaped into a warrior and she was in the best shape of her life. Further, she kept each talisman with her at all times. Even when she wasn't morphed, she felt a connection to those warriors and thereby the power.

Tashir glanced at the dice in her hand. Snake eyes.

Five, there were five of them completed now. That was a lot of power.

The two most recently finished were the Hema-imber whose talisman was a red coin with the daemon mask stamped on its surface, and the Harvester, a detailed metal leaf painted orange with golden gilt.

But now she was staring at her next project.

On the left was a white armored figure with black boots and gloves. The symbol on its left breast was that of balance; a black and white circle divided by a sinuous line. The helmet was stylized after a wolf with black eyes and highlights. On the right was almost a mirror image. A black armored figure with white boots and gloves. They symbol of balance was on its right breast. The only part of the black figure not a mirror image was the helmet in the shape of a tiger with white eyes.

The White Wolf and Black Tiger were foils for each other and would, once they were completed, work very well together. In fact one without the other would be quite hampered. Each could sense what the other could, effectively being in two places at once. However, they were still separate warriors and could indeed work separately if need be. Each carried a single edged blade at their sides, White Wolf at its left and Black Tiger at its right. The Wolf and Tiger also carried the ability to amalgamate into one being, combining their power.

Because the White Wolf and Black Tiger were so similar it was rather easier to work on them at the same time than it was with others. In fact it would have been impossible to work on one without the other. Therefore, Tashir had yet another figure in the workroom.

The third figure was clad in smoky grey armor with pale yellow markings. The Storm Bringer. Tashir had always been fascinated by the simple power of a good storm. She had integrated what she determined to be the six aspects of the storm into this warrior; rain, ice, fog, wind, lightning, and thunder. Storm Bringer, by far, had the capability to harness more raw power than any other warrior Tashir had created. It carried no sort of melee weapon nor did it excel in sort of regular combat. Instead the Storm Bringer battled its foes with the elements of the storm.

A Storm is power unrelenting. The wind howled around the buildings of the Academy, rattling windows and driving rain to the earth. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled. Power magnificent within the roiling clouds hanging so low to the ground that one might simply reach up and capture some of this power.

In fact someone had.

The Shaper?

Yes. Who else? This all about the Shaper, is it not?

Maybe I'd have a better idea if you'd stop speaking in riddles.

There is no other way to speak. Listen now, and listen carefully. The Shaper is bound though it does not know it. It was bound in secret and then the memory of the bondage was wiped away. The mind always works better when it is opened.

Who closed the mind?

You know.

The Figure.

Yes.

What do I do? I must help the Shaper. Without the Shaper, I am nothing.

Purple Sun.

By the Stars! Why do you insist on tantalizing me with bits of fluff and air? Why won't you just tell me?

Not yet.

Lightning flashed followed closely by thunder. Ice began pelting the window causing the young mage staring out into the tempest to blink slowly. Had she really managed to contain such fury into a single warrior? The thought was kinda scary. Lightning again lit her face for a brief moment.

She picked up her dice and tossed them onto a table. Without looking, she knew the result.

Tashir was supposed to be resting, but she couldn't sleep. Wouldn't sleep. The dreams confused her whether she slept or not, but so long as she was awake, they came less often. Marthal suspected her insomnia, but he couldn't know for sure. Tashir did not want to disappoint her mentor.

Eight warriors completed and five to go.

Life's experiences are different when you haven't been sleeping. The Power is like a drug, take too much and eventually the effects start to wear off. Or sometimes it begins to affect you in a different way. Tashir always carried with her the box containing the morphing talismans of her warriors. This seemed to be affording her a connection to the Grid that was always present. She drew upon the connection in order to keep moving, to keep working.

The focus of her attention was always on her work. The rest of life passed her by so quickly. One minute she'd be staring out her window at a raging storm, and the next she'd be in her office having a meeting with Master Marthal.

"Sir, if we are to have these warriors ready with all expedience," Tashir was saying, "Then we should begin selecting candidates."

"Candidates?" Marthal asked mildly.

Tashir blinked in confusion, the statement had seemed perfectly obvious to her. "Well... yes. We shall need humans to morph into the warriors, otherwise it won't work."

Marthal smiled. "Ah. Consider this my protégé, what if we simply allow the Power run the Rangers?"

"What do you mean?"

Marthal stood from the chair in Tashir's office where he'd been sitting. "Have you not heard of the research? A Power Ranger that is simply the personality of the Power. It cuts back on the death of our people you see. So long as the talisman is recovered, there's no chance of losing a ranger or a friend."

Tashir shook her head, a faint headache coming on. "But sir... the reason such practices were outlawed is because there was no moral inclination behind such a being. It does only what its master orders and whatever is in its nature."

Master Jeneth shook his head in amused tolerance, "My dear child, only without guidance or in the hands of the corrupt is such a thing dangerous. With you guiding your Rangers and me guiding you, there is no chance for failure and every chance for resounding success. Think of all the good we can do with your Rangers."

Tashir found herself nodding despite reservations. "I think I see what you mean."

"I thought you might. Trust me Tashir, I would never lead you wrong, would I?"

Tashir smiled. "Of course not sir."

The White Master's lips quirked a bit and he said, "Tashir, I must ask, why are your dice always showing two ones?" he pointed to the ivory cubes.

Tashir shrugged, "I don't know. Just lucky I guess."

The laughed.

"Now," Marthal clapped his hands together, "Show me the next batch of Rangers would you?"

Tashir nodded and punched a few keys on her keyboard causing a holo image to appear above her desk. The warrior was dressed in black armor. "The first is Nocturne. A nocturne is the name given for a piece of music generally played during the night hours. A serenade of sorts, it implies graceful movements. Tashir looked up at Marthal and smiled a bit. "I suppose by now you are used to my poetic nature?"

"Indeed." Marthal was looking at Nocturne with interest. "I believe your creative license in construction of these Rangers is the most fascinating aspect. Please, continue."

"Nocturne, has no way in which to sense the visible light spectrum. Instead, its audio senses, sensitivity to change in temperature, olfactory senses and the like have been greatly enhanced. Some might see this as a disadvantage, but I believe that an enemy trying to hide itself from sight will reveal itself in one of these other ways. Nocturne also sings in an attempt to confuse its enemies but the song is also to help it coordinate its movements. Nocturne uses a style of fighting that is very much like dancing.

A few keystrokes and the image of Nocturne was replaced with that of a pink armored warrior.

"The second warrior we're currently working on is the Rose. Rose is a passive and crafty warrior. Rose creates illusions to appear where it is not. It confuses its opponent, manipulates them, gets them doing exactly what it wants, and then dispatches them with a single blow. As little energy expended as possible for maximum effect. Kind of like Pirho."

Marthal sat in his customary chair across the desk from Tashir, flipping through the notes and schematics. Finally, he looked up, his face set in a serious expression.

"Tashir, our situation has become critical. Frontier and fringe settlements are under attack daily and the Council is hard pressed to keep these attacks at bay. The addition of your Rangers would greatly relieve this burden. I need to tell the Council something good. Your Rangers outfitted with a starship could patrol the area and bring it under control. But we need the full thirteen. And we need it soon."

The Purple Mage regarded her mentor.

"I can begin Sky and Kenryu immediately. I'll need a staff increase of one hundred percent. We'll have to work around the clock." Tashir made several mental calculations. "If all goes well, all thirteen will be ready in five days."

Marthal smiled his pleased smile. Tashir felt a swell of pride. "I knew I could count on you," he said. "I shall arrange everything. If there is anything you need, just let me know."

At all hours of the day and night, Tashir's laboratory was busy. Techs calculated and designed and recalculated and built. All of it was under the watchful, if somewhat sleepy, eye of Tashir Rho. Nothing was put into action without her say so. In under a week, the next two warriors were completed.

Sky was a lightly armored warrior with the ability to fly effortlessly. Tashir had managed to suspend the physics of inertia to a great degree with this warrior allowing it to stop and accelerate quickly and to turn on a dime. Sky was clad in pale green armor and carried several kinds of small throwing spikes. The helmet design of Sky was that of a vicious looking raptor.

Kenryu was a Dragon warrior. Kenryu was the best hand-to-hand fighter Tashir had created thus far with innate knowledge in several styles of combat. Years earlier, experimentation had been done with high-speed data download of entire fighting styles into soldiers of the Grid Academy. The project had been halted because of damage it did to a human's neural pathways. No one had seemed to think of utilizing the project for creation of Rangers. A simple request was all it had taken for Marthal to have those disks and the research files sent to her office immediately.

Kenryu was a golden armored and quite splendid looking warrior with intricate designs on its breastplate, and its helmet a grand looking dragon with rubies for eyes.

Then there were twelve. Only one left to go. She was almost there.

Tashir's thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

"You will obey me."

The voice of the Figure, over and over. The relentless command was harder now to resist despite the Purple Sun. It had shone without pause for much too long now. It could harm the Shaper if not allowed to rest.

"You will obey me."

The difference between dream and awake was almost indiscernible to Tashir anymore.

We are running out of time.

So tell me. Tell me what happened. Tell me what is going on.

Not Yet.

Why not? How is it I am supposed to be able to do anything when you tell me nothing.

What makes you think you can do anything?

Because I must. I am her. I am the Shaper. I must do something, but I can't unless I know what is going on.

And just what the hell do you think I am? Did you ever think that there was a reason the Shaper forgot?

Because she was made to.

And because she wanted to. Because she needed to for her own safety. If we remember now, then we remember it all at once and there is no turning back. If we remember now... The Figure will find out. If the Figure finds out we will be unable to fight him.

How do you know that? Perhaps if we remember, it will give us what we need to defeat him.

Perhaps.

So lets do it.

...Alright.

She was taken from her bed in the night. She tried to grasp her talismans, the small magical items that would allow her to utilize the Morphin Grid to change into a powerful warrior, but they held her fast. She was carried in the dark for much time before secured into a chair. It was an uncomfortable chair of metal, cold against her bare skin. Her wrists and ankles and waist were held in place with biting nylon straps.

The covering was taken from her face and she squinted her eyes against the bright white light. Her eyes blurred with tears and her head began to throb. A sharp pain in her side caused her to try to look down but her head too was held in place. She began to feel light headed.

"Dear Tashir," the voice of Marthal Jeneth.

No! He was her friend, her mentor, why would he do this to her?

"Thirteen Rangers. You have thirteen Rangers for me, and I simply cannot let something like that slip away. Therefore, I will make you mine. You will become absolutely loyal to me."

"But," stammered the mage, "I'm already loyal to you."

She couldn't see the White Master, all she could see was the blinding light. The White Light. It hid everything in the room.

"Of course you are." For a few moments there was silence. "What if I told you that there was corruption in the Council, Tashir? What if I told you that a high ranking White Master was under the tutelage of the Dark Specter himself?"

"Wha... I don't understand."

Marthal chuckled and it wasn't the grandfatherly patience Tashir associated with the man. It was a malicious, deriding, laughter. "For a Purple, you're not very fast on the uptake. Let me put it to you simply. I am an agent of Dark Specter. I have instigated the Superiority Ideal in order to create a rift in the Grid Council and I shall use your Rangers in order to control the city after the Grand Masters have been killed."

Tashir was horrified. The White Light before her began to blur and take amorphous shape. Her eyes began to drift shut, but someone in rubber gloves roughly taped them open.

"Why?"

"You will obey me. You will create your Rangers for me Tashir."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you telling me?"

Marthal was silent for a while causing Tashir to loose herself in the blinding light and the spots of darkness that were popping up before it.

"Because." When Marthal spoke, it caused Tashir to jump. "Because I'm rather sadistic. I enjoy seeing you in mental anguish. Knowing that you will assist in the downfall of the United Alliance of Benevolence and that you have no choice in the matter."

A finger lightly ran up the middle of Tashir's torso causing her to shiver and try to cringe away in disgust.

"You will obey me Tashir. You will obey me. You will..." The blinding white light faded slowly and the command echoed in her brain.

She might have been asleep, but she wasn't. They thought she was. She could see nothing, could feel nothing, but suddenly she could hear voices.

"Sir, will she be capable of creating these Rangers? That was a lot of Tzoric-dine I shot into her." It was a voice she didn't know.

"It doesn't matter," that was Marthal. "You have her notes don't you?"

"Creating powers isn't that easy sir. Tashir is a mage and thinks intuitively. I don't have the power she does and further, her notes are haphazard and incomplete. Sir, I don't-"

The sound of a blow to soft flesh stopped Marthal's companion. "I don't want excuses. If you have destroyed the mage's mind, it will be you in that chair next time. I want those Rangers Joson."

Joson was crying. "Yes sir."

"Remember to encourage her to sleep. Sleep enhances the suggestions we've implanted."

"Y-yes sir."

"Now get out of my sight, your sniveling disgusts me."

Tashir's ears filled with a buzzing and then she was again in the void.

I see now, everything is beginning to make sense.

No, not everything. You know now who the Figure is, and why he is our enemy, but you still do not know our dangerous secret. Once we know this, the Figure will consider us a threat and we may not be able to fight him off. I forgot this on purpose.

I must know. We must know.

The truth is a dangerous thing and must be handled carefully. There is no choice now, but I hope you're right.

Tashir Rho had completed the warrior quickly. She had done it in the basement of the building she had been given, when everyone thought her asleep. It was a purple warrior, her color. Its helmet was designed after a snake, a cobra to be exact, her spirit guide. This was the Ranger she had designed for herself. A tall collar framed the helmet, something like the hood of a cobra. The collar was attached to a long robe of purple created with folds in such a way as to appear as scales. The armor was light and on the chest was a golden crest featuring the king of serpents.

A purple staff was held in the hands of the warrior capped by the black enameled head of a cobra. It was her only weapon. Tashir finished connecting the talisman to the Grid and prepared to empower the armor and weapons and abilities of the warrior. The talisman was a small golden coin, the most traditional of morphing talismans.

Ten days, she had completed the Violet Cobra in ten days.

Oh by all that is good and sweet in the universe.

Didn't I tell you it was a dangerous secret?

That robe...

Yes.

Then that means... all this time... that's dangerous for us.

Indeed it is, but we felt there was no other choice.

I can understand that. What do we do now?

Now we wake up and take things as they come. Now that we know, we must stop the Figure.

Wake up. Wake up.

Tashir Rho stood up quickly. She was at her desk, in her office. She was alone.

"I know now." She spoke aloud though there was no one to hear her. "Marthal is a traitor and sought to use me and my creations to take over the city on the orders of Dark Specter."

Tashir ran her hands over her robe. For the past three months, Tashir had remained morphed in standby mode as the Violet Cobra. She had morphed as her other warriors while in this mode. Something she had assumed to be impossible. It had been the Violet Cobra, that warm Purple Sun that had kept her from succumbing to the commands of Marthal. But prior to that... prior to the creation of Violet Cobra, she had managed to fight off the programming long enough to create the warrior that would keep her sane. She had shown amazing force of will. Tzoric-dine was a powerful mind destroying drug.

"It is time I stopped Marthal Jeneth," Tashir whispered. Taking the hood of her robe in her hand, Tashir slowly pulled it over her head, hiding her face in shadows. Softer still, she said, "Back to Action."

She rolled the dice. Snake eyes.

It was the dead of night. Stealthily Violet Cobra slipped through the grounds of the Academy, unseen by any. She quickly found the building in which Marthal resided. The security was no match for her abilities and expertly she made her way to the White Master's apartments. She opened the door quietly and was quickly inside. What she found had not been what she'd expected.

Marthal sat in a comfortable chair, a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. He looked up mildly at the Purple warrior who had just come into his private chambers.

"Tashir, good to see you. You truly are a remarkable person, you know that?"

"I'll stop you Marthal," Violet Cobra hissed menacingly.

Marthal smiled. "What you do not realize my dear, is that I control you."

She shook her head, "No, I've defied you since the beginning."

"Um." Marthal took a sip of wine. "I'd been afraid that my brainwashing attempt had failed, but I plan for every occasion." Marthal set down the book and took up a small black box resting on his low table. The box she had created. Marthal had the talismans.

"How..."

Marthal shook his head, "It doesn't matter my dear. I've won. All I need is your last warrior there, and I'll have what I want. Now, demorph and give it to me."

"Never!" she screamed as she launched herself at Marthal, the cobra staff raised high.

Violet Cobra was stopped however, by someone she couldn't see grasping her ankle mid flight, and twisting it sharply. The air rippled and a familiar black armored warrior appeared. Then Mathal reached down, and with a touch, forcibly demorphed her.

"Tashir, you remember the Phantom Ranger, don't you?"

The young mage was in blinding pain. "How..."

"Oh, it's a trick I've picked up. You never know when you might need to demorph a Ranger. I must thank you dear Tashir. You've provided me with exactly what I needed. A coterie of warriors devoted just to me. But you have outlived your usefulness." Marthal laughed. "This was easier than I thought it would be."

Tashir screamed as powerful hands grasped her under her shoulders as another held a foul smelling cloth to her face. The world faded from her vision into a blinding White Light. The Purple Sun was gone, swallowed by the light just like everything else.

We've failed.

Yes, we have. But we had to try. Didn't we? ...didn't we...

And the Figure that was a puppet burned away all that was, is, and will be. With the power of the Purple Sun, the Figure brought hell to the shining star of civilization. The Shaper was broken and thrown out to die. All became nothing, and nothing was all. The White Light had prevailed.

To Be Continued