[hider=Piercing Light]The githkin did not respond to Mable's words, nor react in any way. In fact, once she had handed back the book it simply turned round and left. Gajoon appeared to be quite relieved as he wiped away some... Wait, could Cephapodians sweat? Well regardless, he made the motion of wiping sweat from his brow and looked all the happier for it. Since Mable was concerned with her own thoughts, and the githkin was either too stupid or too impolite, the pop star's manager went through the trouble of closing a simple wooden door. Really, what was the world coming to?

"Miss Love, are you alright?" he asked, approaching Mable. "You're looking awfully flushed."

He then gasped, covering his mouth with four tentacle-hands as his eyes opened wide. "Please tell me you're not having doubts about the concert? You're still in top condition, right? OH GOD WHAT DID THAT GITHKIN WANT?! WE'RE RUINED, I JUST KNOW IT!"[/hider]

[hider=Jackson]Jackson went back to work without a care in the world, and why should he be bothered by anything? Things were going so splendid, weren't they? The drill was handling like a charm, too. Work continued just like that for another four hours. In that time Jackson only had to stop drilling once when he ran into a gas pocket, so they had to get it cleaned up to protect the workers. A single spark from those axes, or his drill, and it could have led to a pretty massive explosion. And that's where Jackson found himself now, standing back behind some specialty workers that were using some kind of Galatec designed machines to siphon away the natural gas pocket.

[i][color=brown]Jackson...[/color][/i]

...What?

[i][color=brown]Jackson...[/color][/i]

Something... Something was... Talking to him? It sounded like a voice, a soft and hushed whisper. Female. For some reason it reminded Jackson of buttermilk icing on cake. But where was it coming from? Nearby the twin sisters, the spotters, stood having their own conversation. Unlike Jackson, they didn't get to take a short break while the cleanup crew worked. They had to keep on coming the walls with small instruments and sensors, looking for potential valuables. Standing right behind them was the same githkin that had been watching over Jackson's crew today, looking... Bored? Could githkin look bored? It was so hard to tell with those mouthless faces.[/hider]

[hider=Ruth]As soon as her orders were given, everyone practically jumped to follow them. The assistants plugged away at their computers to send out the order for the missing slaves' families to be rounded up. Drax didn't waste any time in immediately leaving to the supervisors' dormitories, damaging the door in the process. Foreman Jo'ones gave her a nod and saluted with his brand new arms, then took off without a word. Githkin XJ-47 likewise left without any sort of acknowledgement nor response. It was the way of his kind, after all, to obey without question and without hesitation. 

"Ma'am, the order is complete," said the female assistant.

"Cameras show a group of rebels are nearing this office. Shall I activate the security measures?" inquired the male. It may have seemed a silly question, but the facility policy did indicate that the office security was only to be activated if approved by the foreman or a representative with equal authority, and Galatec was nothing if not a stickler for the fine print.[/hider]

[hider=Drax]The android charged toward his target without hesitation, and quickly found himself in the middle of a large battle between two githkin and seven rebels. The githkin, sensing their general's approach, dove out of the way. The rebels had an altogether different response.

"It's Adelram Drax!" shouted one of them, holding up a pickaxe as his primary weapon. "Destroy him!"

The rebels all assaulted Drax. The leader attacked with his pickaxe, while another leapt at him with a baseball bat. Two more shot at the robot with old shotguns, while another two fired small pistols. The seventh was armed with a laser blaster but never got the opportunity to shoot, as Drax simply barreled through the entire group, completely unharmed, and disappeared around the corner. Drax's CPU computed a 92.3% chance that any survivors would be near instantly rounded up and/or executed by the two githkin they had previously engaged.

A minute after this altercation and Drax found himself at the dormitories just outside of Shplorn's room. She stood in the doorway while the three githkin there, two regulars and one elite, held their heads in confusion. They were being given contradicting orders and while normally the orders of Regional Manager Ruthalia would take precedence, Ruth had severed the connection while Shplorn kept trying. Drax had seen this before, but it was irrelevant to his mission.

As soon as Drax was in her sight, Shplorn's eyes opened wide. She threw her arms up into the air in a complete surrender, allowing Drax's energy wave to easily scoop her up. At the same time he was able to grab the three githkin, and could carry all four in his massive arms without too much difficulty. However as soon as he held the four, his Situation Awareness Sensor picked up a presence behind him. One of Division Alpha, a man about thirty years old wearing some impressive (for scavenged) metal battle armor and holding a plasma blaster in his hand. He had the look of a warrior about him, a man that enjoyed the fighting.

"Drop Shplorn, rust bucket, or you'll need a whole lot more than a paint job when I'm through with you!"[/hider]

[hider=Michael]It was an interesting and poetic thought, if the githkin died with smiles just like the slaves they worked to death. Of course without context it made absolutely no sense seeing as the species had no mouths, but that's neither here nor there. Michael risked his life, everything, to break cover in the firefight long enough to shoot at a githkin with his pistol. His index finger squeezed that trigger, which in turn set the mechanisms of this ancient machine in motion to ignite the powder inside a small metal tube. The resulting [i]bang[/i] was a microcosm of the situation Michael had found himself in. He was just a small metal tube inside a larger, more complex machine, and now he was being hurled toward a danger he understood only too well.

The bullet left the barrel of the gun and struck true, hitting the githkin square in the chest. The creature recoiling about a quarter of a foot, but it let out no grunt or cry of pain, nor did its hand reach to the wound by instinct. Instead it focused entirely on the source of the shot, its eyes meeting Michael's. His eyes were more concerned with that bullet wound, or lack thereof. The bullet had hit it, certainly, but flattened uselessly against the creature's hardened skin, leaving behind only a small bruise.

Uh oh.[/hider]

[hider=Strike Force]One by one, each of the youths transformed using the morphers they had been provided. The rush, the force, the power, it was so... Was there even a word for this kind of experience? Whatever it was, it felt [i]fantastic![/i] With each transformation they had not only an influx of power, but an influx of knowledge. It was a little bit disorienting at first, but something they could quickly recover from. Each one instantly knew the capabilities they had as a ranger, from their weapons, to their enhanced abilities, to their unique ability granted by the suit. Oh happy day.

[color=white][b]"I tinkered with these morphers' designs a little bit and added my own touch. When you came into contact with the Morphin Grid, it should have downloaded your suit's entire skill set directly into your minds. Years worth of training in a single data stream, hahaha."[/b][/color] John smiled, making eye contact with each one of the four that stood before him, then gave his final words before seeing them off. [color=white][b]"Time to be a hero and save your red ranger. Power Rangers Strike Force, move out!"[/b][/color]

Once the four got going into the door Samara had opened up for them, they could feel even more of the power granted by their suits. The tunnels ahead held challenges, though. It was time to see how they'd handle it.[/hider]

[hider=Samara]Once the rangers departed, John shook all over, his composure suddenly vanishing. Samara knew that he put on a brave and confident face in even the worst of times, but he still had his own doubts. Right now fear was showing all over his face.

[color=white][b]"Right, we need to get more power to the RDS. These generators are not going to cut it. The charge time is too long for large teleportations like that."[/b][/color] He quickly paced around, thinking and thinking. With a mind like his, thousands of thoughts would race through and be contemplated, but he didn't seem to like any of them. After several moments, he came to a stop.

[color=white][b]"I have an idea if the generators don't recharge in time... But I don't like it and I doubt you will either."[/b][/color][/hider]