Power Rangers In Space by Heather Ray (books for students to read TXT) 📖

lose the sister for whom he’d desperately searched for ten years. He’d only had a few days with Karone… did he even get the chance to know the person she really was at all? And he had to actually kill her himself! He’d had to face his sister, or at least, the brutal monster Dark Specter had turned her into, and deliver the final blow.

It stunned Zhane that Andros was even capable of doing it. That night, he’d been so sure he could get through to her. He’d risked his life to sneak aboard the Dark Fortress so he could talk to her. So he could find his sister again. Something had gone terribly wrong.

It was grossly unfair to Karone as well. Karone, who’d been stolen from her family at a tender age, who’d been raised to become something she simply wasn’t. She’d made the difficult choices; she’d turned her back on her monarch and her evil upbringing and returned to her family, only to be taken again. And this time, she was forced to become an instrument of wanton destruction, so fierce and powerful that the Rangers were forced to take desperate measures.

Judging from Andros’ hitching sobs, the most desperate of measures…

She should’ve been saved. She deserved to be saved. Not sacrificed for the greater good. It just… wasn’t right.

And deeper still, he felt a stab of guilt, for, with all the gut-wrenching sympathy he felt for Andros and Karone, he could spare some self-pity as well. Because it wasn’t fair for the universe to toy with his heart either.

He’d foolishly developed feelings for the Princess of Evil, and those feelings had caused him more than a little frustration, confusion, and grief, because what he’d desired was impossible

. He’d learned to cope with it, to put all thoughts of Astronema out of his mind. He’d gone to Sentar B and continued fighting without dwelling on futile attractions and star-crossed romances that always, always

had tragic endings.

He’d put all ideas of starting anything with Astronema to rest.

But then, he’d learned the truth. He’d returned from his travels with the rebels to discover that Astronema was Karone, that she was human after all, that she had a human heart, a heart no different than his own, and everything suddenly… shifted. Because "the Silver Ranger and Astronema"

may have been impossible, but "Zhane and Karone"

… that was possible. It felt as if the stars had been realigned, just for them.

Zhane couldn’t wait to see her again, to tell her face to face that he’d known

there was good in her, that he’d sensed it from the first. But he never had the chance.

Their hasty rescue attempt was a crushing failure. Zhane and Andros had brazenly stormed the Dark Fortress in a scene taken from an epic movie, only the damsel in distress wasn’t anxiously waiting for her heroes. Instead, Zhane’s eager smile crashed against the frigidly cold stare of the "restored" Princess of Evil, and there was no sign of recognition there. Not a hint of warmth or feeling. Only heartless, bottomless wickedness.

With a heavy heart and raw eyes, he and Andros had escaped the Dark Fortress that day. He’d convinced Andros, and himself, that they’d save Karone another time. He’d convinced himself Dark Specter didn't destroy the curious, willful young woman he'd met in the park. He’d convinced himself they’d have another chance.

And it wasn’t fair that, with all their battles, all their personal sacrifices… they never had a chance. They had come so close; the gulf that separated them had initially been miles wide, and had shrunk to just a few feet

, but they still couldn’t reach each other.

The other Rangers approached their leader, keeping a respectful distance, but lending their vigilant, silent support. Zhane followed behind them, his pace slower as he tried to rein in his frenzied thoughts. This isn’t about me, dammit! Andros needs me right now. Gods, he needs me now…

Then, without warning, a subtle glow suffused Astronema’s skin, swiftly changing her appearance. Crimson hair lengthened, muting to a gentle shade of blonde, and the pale of her face brightened to a healthier tone. The strange cybernetic implants attached to her body vanished without a trace.

All the Rangers watched in disbelief as Karone took a sudden breath, and opened her eyes.

"Andros?" Clear blue eyes blinked into the sunlight as if waking from a dream. "How did I… get here?"

Andros stared at her for a long moment before releasing a short bark of relieved laughter. "It’s a long story."

As others gathered close around the reunited siblings, Zhane stood apart.

Once again, he was too shocked to move, overwhelmed with such an abrupt shift in his heart, he wondered if he could bear the strain of it all. Guilt, anger, and misery transformed into thrilling elation and a burning, blinding hope

; it was so shocking he was tempted to pinch himself to confirm that this

indeed was reality.

A miracle had happened. The universe had shifted once again. The stars had realigned.

They’d been given their chance, after all.

Chapter Six: "Let Me Tell You a Story"

This chapter takes place at the end of "Countdown to Destruction, Part II,"

and assumes the Space Rangers spent a few days on KO 35 before returning to Earth. The story is written in Karone's voice.

The first word that comes to my mind is 'barren.'

Hardly a stone lies upon a stone in the twelve kilometer expanse around me; in fact, there aren't even many whole stones here.

Pulverized. That's the second word. Many of the stones had been pulverized into dust and pebbles. Gray powder clings to my boots and blows in the wind, making my eyes itch.

I notice there aren't enough dust and pebbles to make enough stones to build much of a city. Either the buildings were mostly wood that had rotted in the years since the invasion, or the winds and waves carried most of the debris into the distance.

Or, more likely, most of the stones were carried away by able backs, to be used as building blocks for other cities, on planets Dark Specter hadn't condemned to death. Before I knew of my heritage, I knew of Kerovan architecture. Beautiful, simple designs that withstood time and temperature extremes.

Too bad it couldn't withstand plasma rifles.

I frown at the detached tone of my thoughts, shaking my head as if to chastise my private musings. I shouldn't be doing this. I know I should mourn. Despair. Rage. Something.

Any feeling at all is better than the cold, analytical void I feel right now as I stare out at the desolate wasteland.

But, it's so hard to muster any sort of feeling. I've seen desolation so many times over the past ten years. Whether it is a flattened mountain range, pot-marked pasture, ravaged village, or razed cityscape, destruction is destruction.

I know this was my home, but only because I've been told as much. Despite Andros' insistent words and Zhane's earnest smile, I don't feel a connection to this planet. Nor do I feel any warmth toward this quiet fishing town in particular.

A fishing town… that's how Zhane described it. Other than the waves crashing against the rocky shore, or the shards of wood that hinted at a large pier, there are few hints to the area's prior life.

And that thought reminds me of Zhane's long absence. He wandered off almost as soon as we arrived, saying he'd be right back. I hadn't suspected anything was out of sorts at the time; he'd been nothing but cheerful during the flight here, talkative as always, but he did fall silent upon our arrival.

In retrospect, I should've noticed the warning sign immediately. A silent Zhane is a genuinely troubled Zhane. I've only been around other humans for a few days, but that's enough to see that they don't all behave like my brother.

I track back to the shuttle car, the spot where I last saw him, and follow in the direction I recall him walking. Toward the sea.

I move slowly, watching the footprints and listening to the sound of the ocean and birds. I know many people find these sounds relaxing; the calm flow of the water, the chirp of the animals, but I find the rumble distracting as I search for my missing companion. Instead, I listen for more familiar sounds: screams, laser fire, swords clashing… some reason to explain Zhane's lengthy delay. It may not be likely that some leftover pocket of Quantrons or monsters may remain here, but I've learned not to scoff and assume things were 'impossible.'

After all, it's against all odds that I'm even alive today.

There is no such thing as 'impossible.'

My search comes to an end as I climb a precarious pile of rubble, and find a battered pier with only a few feet of wood still fixed to the earth. And there sits Zhane in profile, bent toward the ocean, his chin resting against his knees.

I stand for a moment, unsure how to approach the situation. Should

I approach him? It's so strange to see it, but before my very eyes, Zhane seems to be… brooding. Zhane, the brash Silver Ranger who dared offer the Princess of Evil marshmallows.

I've never seen this side of him… and I can't help but wonder if he even wants me to see it. I feel like I'm intruding on something private, like when Ecliptor was deep in meditation, and it was inappropriate of me to interrupt.

I'm not certain of the proper protocol… but I am certain that I don't like seeing him like this.

"Zhane?" I call out to him, alerting him to my presence. I'm glad I gave him that warning; he visibly jumps at the sound of my voice, turning to me with wide green eyes.

I respond with surprise of my own; this is more severe than just brooding. His eyes are weary and reddened... in fact, I'm sure I can see tear tracks on his cheeks.

"Um... sorry I disappeared on you," he finally says, breaking the awkward silence. "I wasn't thinking."

He musters a grin, one so fragile my eyebrow rises skeptically. "What's wrong with you?" My voice is demanding, almost harsh.

I don't mean it, but I can't help it. His sadness is... frightening me.

His facade collapses as he waves toward the barren landscape. "I wasn't ready for this."

I turn to the skeleton of a once-thriving town, and then try to meet his gaze. But once again, his eyes are fixed into the distance, watching the rolling waves of the ocean. The one part of the landscape that hasn't changed.

I close the distance between us, kneeling on the splintered wood in front