Chapter One
--

2010

He ran his mouth over her bare shoulders as she wrapped her arms around him, moaning indulgently and gasping sharply at times; he covered her mouth with his, running his fingers through her long, soft hair. Her blue eyes were wide open as she lay back on the bed and slowly began to undo the buttons of her snug jeans.

He laughed quietly and leaned over her, his warm breath against her neck, she shivered and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him down. She giggled, kissing his cheeks and neck, then unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off his well-toned chest.

The music from the party outdoors grew louder and louder as he ran his hands up and down her legs, she pulled a light sheet over their bare bodies, laughing when he tickled her slightly. The gathering celebrating his 29th birthday, went on without them as they lay together in a room upstairs, his arms protectively encircling her small frame.

They slept soundly, but awoke early to find each other once again, before he rose and walked across the room. She sighed sleepily. "Where're you going?"

"I promised Dad I'd meet him for breakfast," he answered. "So I'd better get going."

He disappeared into the bathroom, moments later she heard the water running and was tempted to join him, but instead got dressed and waited for him. He emerged not ten minutes later, his hair soaking wet, looking as good as ever . . .

"Have fun," she said.

"Love you." He went over and kissed her soft cheek tenderly, then rushed out.

Through the halls . . . down the long, winding stairs . . . into the parlor and out the front door. He stepped into the light and hopped onto his motorcycle . . . then Wesley Collins drove off.

--

3005

Jennifer Scotts rose early, as usual, and went for a jog before eating breakfast and heading for work; she entered the briefing room, glancing at her ex-fiancé—Alex Collins—who stood across the room. The tension between the two of them had never lessened enough for a friendship to build; despite their best efforts . . . it was over the day Jen laid eyes on—

'No,' she scolded herself silently, 'don't you dare say his name.'

Wes . . .

She bit her lip as she and Alex sat side-by-side at the long table, sensing his eyes on her, as they always were when they were in the same room. She wished he would move on with his life, accept the fact that she didn't love him, but she could hardly criticize him—after all, her love was even more hopeless.

Admiral Joseph Fuller walked in, his strides long and precise; he didn't sit, but leaned on the table and met the eyes of everyone seated. "I'm afraid I have some unfortunate news," he said. "An old partner of Ransik has escaped."

Jen and Alex stiffened, both remembered hearing of Ransik's infamous partner, Sordna; she was captured a few years before their last battle with her partner, but had vowed someday she would escape, and they would live to regret ever putting her in there.

"Do we have any idea where she could be?" Alex asked, sitting upright.

"No," Fuller answered. "Gathering up what's left of her and Ransik's army, wherever they are. We have no way of knowing what her next move may be."

Jen rubbed her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut and fighting the impending headache; Alex shook his head as Fuller spoke, running through his mind the many possibilities. Then a short, stubby man raced in—out of breath and obviously worried as he gasped: "Admiral Fuller!"

"What is it, Ensign?" the admiral asked, turning to face the younger man.

"There have been reports," the ensign stammered. "Of time travel—" Alex and Jen exchanged worried glances "—four time ships have been stolen from space port."

Fuller paled visibly. "Was it Sordna?"

The ensign nodded slowly. "They think so, sir," he said. "We're still waiting for one of the guards to awaken—they were knocked unconscious. Two were killed."

Alex stood abruptly, his face lined with determination, his jaw set firmly as he asked: "Sir, do you want me to lead a team back in time to stop her?"

"Yes, of course," Fuller replied. "But we'll wait for a full report on this incident. Dismissed."

Jen and Alex's heels clicked together as they brought their arms up in crisp salutes, then turned swiftly and walked out of the dark, cold room. Alex stopped as the doors swished closed, causing Jen to turn, expecting an explanation for his sudden halt.

"What?" she said.

"Don't even think about it."

"About what?"

"Going back with me."

Her eyes widened, flashing with anger—and a little hurt. "Why not?" she demanded. "I'm one of the best officers they have here!"

"I'm well aware of that, Jen," Alex said patiently. "And I'm well aware that you were also in love with Wes Collins."

"We don't even know if that is the time period she went back to," Jen pointed out.

"But if it is—"

"Alex, stop," Jen interrupted him. "I don't need you lecturing me about my feelings. I've never let them get in the way of my job before, and I won't now. Or ever."

Alex's eyebrow shot up quickly, as if her statement surprised him; she looked away, then turned back and walked down the hallway as fast as she could without running. She had a queasy feeling about this upcoming mission, although she wasn't certain yet why; she prayed it wouldn't involve her seeing Wes again, but something told her it would.

Alex watched the young woman's retreating back, knowing he had upset her by stirring up memories she had wanted to bury. Yet she had refused to have them erased, despite Alex's urgings; she had insisted that she wanted to remember him always, even though it hurt her every day.

He sighed and walked the other direction, aching from his battle the previous day; he had had no sleep since then, and his eyelids drooped as he pressed the button to open his doors. He rubbed his sore shoulder and winced as he entered his quarters. Perhaps he could catch an hour's sleep before he was called up again . . .

--

"See you later, Dad," Wes said, standing up and preparing to leave.

Alan Collins smiled and stood with his son, clapping him on his shoulder. "All set for the big day?"

Wes blushed as he put out a tip for their waitress, and then started to head outside. "Yeah," he said. "Really looking forward to it."

"As well you should."

The sun shone brightly that June morning, three weeks before the most highly anticipated wedding Silver Hills had seen since that of Alan Collins and Wes' mother, Lilia Foster. In three weeks, the people of Silver Hills would witness the marriage of Wesley Collins and Ariana McNally.

Alan frowned as he watched his son get onto his bike and put on his helmet, after dating for a year, he had proposed and Ariana had accepted, and at first Alan was thrilled, but his excitement quickly faded. He began to doubt Wes' love for his wife-to-be, despite his son's insistence that he was "crazy about her."

No, Alan had seen his son "crazy" about a girl before, he knew how Wes acted; Jen Scotts had appeared nine years ago and stolen Wes' heart, then returned to the future, having never returned it. Oh, Alan didn't doubt that Wes would take good care of Ariana, he would never mistreat anyone . . . but she wasn't Jen.

"Dad?"

"Yes?" Alan snapped back to reality.

"Did you hear that?" Wes asked, looking around.

"No . . . " Alan felt his insides tighten. "What was it?"

"I don't know."

A blast from behind took a window of the restaurant and sent a waiter flying backwards, Wes jumped off his bike and ran to the young man, feeling for a pulse. "Get him out of here!" he ordered to another waiter.

Wes ran in front of his father, his eyes scanning the area, and finally coming to rest on the long, slender figure of a mutant not ten yards away from him. She was unlike the mutants he had encountered with Jen and the others, more like Ransik; despite the horrid scars on the side of her face, she still had a stunning beauty about her.

"You must be the Red Ranger," she said, recognizing Wes from the pictures she had seen in the future. "Wesley Collins."

"Yes." Wes stepped forward, slowly pushing his father back. "Who are you?"

"I am your executioner," she replied. "Your conqueror. My name is Sordna."

Sordna . . . the name rang a bell, and Wes searched through his mind as he clenched his fists, wondering who this new enemy was, and what she wanted. He didn't carry his morpher anymore; he hadn't needed it since they defeated Ransik. He was weaponless.

"Get him," Sordna hissed.

At her words, a dozen or so cyclobots appeared from behind her, followed by other creatures he had never seen before, but bore resemblance to Vypra's soldiers.

Wes tore off his suit jacket and tossed it to the side; he leapt up and kicked, his boot connecting with one of the cyclobots and knocking it to the ground. He felt a rib crack when he was hit in the side, but recovered quickly and swung his leg around, grimacing as he tore a muscle.

"Wes!"

He whirled to see the Silver Guardians running forward, Eric Myers in the lead; they stood side-by-side as Eric morphed, then they charged into battle together.

Eric jumped up and threw out his leg, hitting one of Sordna's soldiers square in its face and sending it flying; Wes punched a cyclobot in its midsection. "Thought we were through with this!" Eric shouted as he elbowed his opponent, doubling it over.

"Me too!" Wes replied.

Sordna frowned, her eyes flashing with fury as she watched the men and women of the Silver Guardians defeat her small army; in a loud voice she shouted for them to retreat, and they immediately obeyed. She took a few steps forward, a long staff appearing in her right hand; Wes and Eric braced themselves for an attack, but she made no move.

"You have been warned," she said in a low voice.

And then she disappeared.

"What the hell was that?" Eric demanded.

Wes remained silent, staring at the empty space where Sordna had just stood. "She said her name was Sordna," he muttered. "I—I remember once . . . it wasn't long after we met, Jen mentioned Ransik's old partner. Sordna."

"You think she's seeking vengeance for what we did to her old pal?" Eric said dryly.

"I don't know," Wes said. "Why would she go back in time?"

"Simple—" Eric shrugged "—think about it, Wes. Here we are in the year two thousand ten; we're slightly less advanced then the Thirty-First century. I hope."

"She thinks she has a better chance in the Twenty-First." Wes paused. "And she does."

"Oh really?" Eric's eyebrows shot up. "Well, if that . . . Sordna thinks she can rid of us that easily then she's in for one hell of a surprise!"

Wes chuckled, rubbing his throbbing side as he limped back inside the restaurant, followed by Eric; Alan stood from where he was kneeling by the injured waiter. "Are you two all right?" he asked.

"Fine, Dad," Wes sighed. "But it looks like we're back in action."

--

"It's been confirmed," Admiral Fuller said gravely. "The memory banks show Sordna has led a number of attacks on Silver Hills. Most likely in hopes she will be able to defeat the Twenty-First Century easier than ours."

He walked down the line of Time Force officers, stopping in front of Alex. "Gather your best ream, Commander Collins. Take them back to stop her."

"Yes, sir." Alex saluted smartly, then left.

Jen waited as the admiral stopped in front of her. "I want you to go too, Lieutenant Scotts. You've already proven yourself in one similar situation, I think you can do it again."

"I know I can, sir," Jen replied.

"Good." Fuller inspected her carefully. "Report to Commander Collins at nine-hundred hours in the shuttle bay."

"Yes, sir."

Jen walked away stiffly, glancing at the old-fashioned clock on the wall, she had an hour and a half to prepare for her trip back to the 21st Century. Her legs were unsteady as she made her way to her quarters and packed her necessities quickly, glancing up once to catch herself in the mirror: Not much had changed since those days when she and Wes had fought side-by-side. She was still Jen Scotts. Brown hair, wide eyes, fierce independence . . . and still madly in love with him.

"Jen?"

She turned to see Katie in the doorway, leaning on it and staring at her, she said: "Alex selected me to go with him—Trip and Lucas too. Are you coming?"

"Yes," Jen answered. "Admiral Fuller wanted me to."

"Good." Katie smiled. "Be like old times, huh?"

"No." Jen smirked. "Alex wasn't sure I could handle it."

"You can," Katie said.

"I know."

Jen put her blaster in its place at her hip. "What year exactly are we going back to?" she asked absently.

"Two thousand ten," Katie replied. "Nine years after we left off. I can't believe this whole situation—how does someone escape like she did?"

"With connections."

Alex was waiting for them at nine-hundred, now fully-armed and looking every bit battle-ready; he was joined by Lucas and Trip, then two others—both just as experienced as Alex.

"Lieutenant," Alex spoke to Jen. "Ensign Donavan Sherrin, and Lieutenant Cara Wisnosky."

Jen nodded crisply, then they boarded the time-ship; she felt the odd sensation of deja vu as Alex went to the controls and programmed them correctly. She seated herself next to Trip, smiling at the young man, whom she hadn't seen in nearly four years.

"How have you been?" she asked quietly.

"Good," Trip answered. "You?"

"Fine."

Alex twisted in his seat to make sure everyone was ready, then his hands flew over the console and the ship fired up.

"All set?" Lieutenant Wisnosky called.

Murmurs of "yes" and the like greeted her, and Alex acknowledged them with a barely a twitch of his shoulder. The ship shot out of dock, blinding its passengers with a bright ray of white light as it traveled through the years . . . .