The Spectrum Force/Rachel Summers by Heather Ray (graded readers .TXT) 📖

a kind."

Chris frowned. "Then... I'm a freak of nature."

"Think of this tranformation as a gift, rather than a burden, Christopher," Spectra advised, her eyes glowing bright white. She stared intently at the wings, as they flapped rather clumsily from Chris' back. "These wings are composed of psionic energy. That selfsame energy runs throughout your system, which is the 'fire' you spoke of earlier. Your are psi."

"So, what does that mean?" Matt asked. Spectra turned her gaze from Chris' wings, to Chris' eyes.

*Can you hear me?*

Spectra inquired.

"Yeah," Chris answered.

*Answer me with your mind,*

Spectra instructed. *Broadcast your thoughts.*

"But... I don't know how."

*Try.*

Chris nodded, and closed his eyes tightly. Rachel looked at him curiously, and then at Spectra, whose stoic expression didn't divulge any answers.

*Hello?*

a psionic voice called, touching the minds of Spectra and all the Enforcers.

"Chris?" Craig stammered, "How... did you do that?"

"His abilities include telepathy, to a limited degree," Spectra said, "What is interesting is that the psionic energy isn't focused in his occipital lobe. If it were, than he would be a pure telepath/telekinetic, such as the Phoenix is. However, Chris' psionic energy has no stamped focus. Instead, it has several smaller foci, including his back. The energy takes form as wings."

"Amazing," Tamara whispered, staring at Chris' wings.

"What else can I do?" Chris asked, "And how do I control these powers? Can I fly?"

"I cannot answer all these questions for you," Spectra said, "However, I can help instruct you how to regulate your telepathic abilities. This is only because I have mastered telepathy. Unfortunately, the other abilities you have must be discovered by you, and honed by you."

"Can I do that?"

"Sure you can," Keith said, "After all, these abilities are natural for you. Just like a hatchling bird learns how to fly, you'll have to figure it out."

"But, how can I possibly teach myself?" Chris asked no one in particular. Rachel took his hand once again, and smiled up at him.

"Don't worry," she assured him, "we'll help you through this."

To Be Continued In:

The Spectrum Force:

Nightfall

Excerpt from The Spectrum Force: Nightfall

"Keith," said Tamara, glancing at the young man sitting next to her on the row of cushioned seats, "are you okay?"

Keith glanced up at his girlfriend, a weary smile on his tan face. "Sure I'm okay. Why do you ask?"

"Because if my parents were visiting me for my birthday, I'd be ecstatic!" the energetic teen stated, tossing her long ebony braid behind her back, "But you seem... anxious. Aren't you looking forward to seeing your family?"

"Well, I haven't seen them in a while," Keith admitted, "Since... I left for Japan for a semester abroad. I am looking forward to spending some time with Mom and Connie, but Dad..."

"You don't get along with him, do you?" Tamara inquired. Keith sighed, shaking his head in the negative.

"He's been on my case for years, ever since middle school. He thinks I'm a slacker, with no direction in life. He also thinks I don't care about anything but myself, and that the word 'responsibility' isn't in my vocabulary."

"You're exaggerating," Tamara said, a smirk on her face, "I'm sure he loves you."

"I'm not," Keith mumbled, folding his hands tightly, "He always finds a way to criticize me. It makes it really hard for me to tell him anything, or even be in the same room with him."

"Well, I hate to admit it, but you did slack off a little..."

Tamara smiled at Keith's reaction: a surprised and displeased raised eyebrow. "..but you've changed," she finished, taking his hand. She brushed her fingers against the silver band on his finger, with a fiery red gemstone encrusted on the elegantly-designed ring. "Ever since you've become a superhero, you've learned levels of responsibility most people will never even know exist! I mean, the entire world is resting on our shoulders!"

"It's not like I can tell Dad I'm the Red Enforcer," Keith said grimly, "After all, we all decided to keep our identities a secret. Besides Chris, and the Power Rangers, no one has seen the Spectrum Force without their masks."

"True," Tamara admitted, "but you're a different person. I'm sure your father will see how you've grown up since you saw him last."

"I doubt it," Keith muttered, "My Dad only sees what he wants to see."

"Keep your spirits up!" Tammy said, tightening her grip on her boyfriend's hand, "Be respectful to him, and he'll see you've matured. And remember to keep your temper in check... no matter what he says."

Keith chuckled, and gazed at Tamara in amazement. "You know me better than anyone, Tammy. What would I ever do without you?"

In answer, Tamara kissed Keith gently on the lips. "Let's hope you'll never have to find out."

^Flight 345, direct from Austin Texas, now arriving at Gate 13,^ the intercom signaled. Keith glanced up at the gate, where people were already congregating, excited to greet friends and family members. Keith rose to his feet, not letting go of Tamara's hand. Tamara followed, and together, they walked to the gate. Keith's grip tightened as he saw three familiar people walk into the airport.

"Keith!" called a tall woman, apparently in her late forties, with sand-hued hair streaked with a few strands of gray. "Happy Birthday!!"

"Hi, Mom," Keith said, hugging his mother tightly. Tamara stepped away from the reunion, a sentimental smile on her face. After a few moments, his mother let go, and kissed him on the cheek.

"We've missed you so much!" she declared.

"I've missed you too," Keith replied.

"Hey, Big Brother," called a slender girl dressed in blue jeans and a baby-tee. Her vibrant ocean-blue eyes glimmered past the blonde bangs that hung over her forehead, and the dark eyeliner she wore only made them look larger. She grinned widely at her older brother, and spread her arms open to greet him as he stepped closer.

"How are you, Runt?" he asked, hugging his little sister tightly.

Constance Maloy sighed, rolling her azure eyes dramatically before focusing them on Tamara. "How on Earth do you put up with him?" she exclaimed, "He's three years older than me, but I'm more mature!" She then turned her potent gaze upon her brother. "And for your information, I'm not a runt! Five foot three is a perfectly respectable height for a young woman."

"If you say so," Keith said, his grin widening.

Connie then smiled, punching her brother in the shoulder. "So, how does it feel to finally be old enough to drink legally? That

should keep the campus cops off your back, eh?"

Keith groaned. "Don't make me tickle you in public," he warned.

Connie stifled a giggle as she stepped out of arm's length from her brother.

Keith then looked up, and his grin fell sharply. Standing a few feet behind Connie was a man in his early fifties, with a full head of graying blonde hair, cut short and neat. He was dressed in a navy blue blazer, button down shirt, and jeans, and he stood tall and straight, with his hands behind his back. His expression was a deeply entrenched frown, as if it was the only expression his face could display. Keith stood up, and walked over to greet him.

"Hello, Dad," Keith said quietly. He suddenly felt extremely nervous, as he always did when he met his father's scrutinous gaze.

Stephen Maloy III nodded in response, and walked around his son in a circle, examining his appearance carefully. Keith practically held his breath, virtually frozen by the feel of his father's cold ice-blue eyes on his back.

"So, you're letting your hair grow," Stephen observed in a brisk voice. He shook his head at the short golden blonde ponytail, reaching the base of Keith's neck.

"Um, yeah," Keith responded, "I... I like it long, Dad."

"Are you some kind of Hippie?" Stephen practically barked, "Keith, you're a business man! How will anyone take you seriously with that ponytail?!"

"Dad, I'm not

a business man!" Keith yelled, turning to face his father, "I'm a college student! And it's fine to have a ponytail in college!"

"It's rebellious and immature," Stephen replied in an equally loud voice, "It is not fitting of a Maloy!"

"I'll wear my hair how I want to!" Keith yelled, his ocean blue eyes flashing.

Tamara gazed at the two Maloy men in shock. She then glanced at Connie and Monica, who stood quietly to the side, frowning. They weren't the least surprised by this tense argument. Tamara finally decided to intervene, and tapped Keith on the shoulder.

"Keith," she said, "you haven't introduced me to your family."

"Oh," Keith said, grateful for the intervention. He suddenly felt embarrassed for having argued with his father in front of her. "Um, Dad, this is Tamara Fox, my girlfriend. Tammy, this is my father, Stephen Maloy III."

Stephen's expression remained harsh and enraged, but it didn't phase Tamara. She flashed him her most brilliant, disarming smile, and extended her hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mister Maloy."

"Hello," he said gruffly, shaking her hand. Keith then took Tamara's hand, and walked away from his father to the rest of his family.

"Tammy, this is my mother Monica, and my little sister, Connie."

"It's wonderful to meet you, Tammy," said Monica with a warm smile.

"I'm glad to finally meet you, Mrs. Maloy."

"Please, call me Monica."

"Hello, Tammy," Connie said, shaking the taller woman's hand.

"Hi, Connie," Tamara greeted warmly. She then turned to Keith. "So this is your whole family?"

"No," Keith answered, "my older brother Stephen couldn't come for the weekend. He's at Johns Hopkins University studying to be a neurologist, and he's got a presentation to prepare for Monday."

"Yeah," Connie piped up, "fortunately for Keith, one of his siblings was sacrificing enough to bring her books with her, so she could study for her classes without missing his birthday. I told you about that nightmarish microbiology exam I have this upcoming Wednesday, right?"

"You only mentioned it about four times," Keith said with a grin.

"Microbiology, eh?" Tamara said, grimacing slightly, "I think Matt took that class. He said it was murder, and that he would never had taken it if he didn't have to."

"Well," Connie said with a shrug, "I'm a bacteriology major, so I don't really have choice on the matter."

"Wow," Tamara gasped, "that's an unusual major."

"I guess I'm just an unusual person," Connie responded with a humored smile.

"So," said Stephen, interrupting the conversation, "shall we leave the airport and