Chereads / Power Rangers: Gridwalkers / Chapter 85 - The Storm Within

Chapter 85 - The Storm Within

The air warped with a faint shimmer as Red materialized in the Ranger-only teleportation room on Level 8 of the Command Center. The reinforced floor caught her boots with a sharp click, the chill of the sterile environment prickling her senses. The Morphing Grid's energy dissipated around her, but her mind was immediately pulled elsewhere. A storm raged in the neurolink.

Pink's presence crashed into her like a tidal wave. It wasn't just fear—it was terror, raw and overwhelming, threatening to drown her in jagged fragments of thought and emotion. Prism's frantic attempts to stabilize Pink layered over the chaos, each effort falling short against the unrelenting tide of panic. Red's breath hitched as she fought to steady herself, feeling the edges of Pink's emotions cut like broken glass through the link.

Then, another presence flickered on the edge of her awareness—Nova.

The AI surged online with a burst of disorientation that rippled through the neurolink like static. Red winced as Nova scrambled to process her surroundings. The confusion burned bright, raw and disoriented, before it hardened into a sharp, focused anger. Concern and control replaced chaos as Nova compartmentalized the situation in seconds, her attention snapping toward the crisis: Blue.

Behind her, the air shimmered again. Without looking, Red knew it was Black. His arrival brought a steady presence into the link, his calm exterior masking the weight of concern beneath. Bastion's signature followed seamlessly, radiating a tranquility that muted the sharp edges of panic radiating from Pink. The juxtaposition was striking: Pink's terror, Nova's simmering anger, Red's determination, and Bastion's unshakeable calm.

"Three missed Sundays," Bastion murmured through the link, his tone steady and deliberate. "Black's parents were right. That's enough to warrant concern."

The words settled heavily in Red's chest, but there was no time to unpack them. The medical bay was on Level 3—a long way from where they stood—and every second mattered.

Red's voice was sharp as she cut through the mental haze. "We move. Now."

Black fell into step beside her without hesitation, his presence solid and unwavering. Together, they exited the teleportation chamber, their boots striking the floor in quiet urgency as they moved toward the nearest access lift. The sterile corridors of Level 8 stretched around them, the muted hum of lockdown protocols glowing faintly from the walls. The stark lighting seemed colder here, casting sharp shadows across the angular designs of the Command Center.

The lift doors slid open with a whisper, and they stepped inside. Red jabbed the control panel, her fingers tight against the sleek surface as she keyed in Level 3. The lift began its descent, the faint hum of movement a fragile moment of stillness before the storm waiting below.

The neurolink was relentless, a constant barrage of Pink's raw terror and Prism's fragmented reassurances. Red could feel Nova sifting through the chaos, her focus razor-sharp as she sought to stabilize the situation from afar. Every now and then, Red caught flashes—disjointed impressions of the medical bay. Pink kneeling, Prism struggling to ground her, the sterile light reflecting off Alpha's metallic hands as the android worked frantically over Blue's still form.

"Too quiet," Black muttered, his voice low but tense. His eyes stayed fixed on the lift's door, his body coiled with readiness. "This isn't adding up."

"We don't have the full picture yet," Red replied, her tone clipped, though her fingers tapped restlessly against her side. "But whatever this is, we'll handle it."

Bastion's presence remained steady in the link, a quiet reassurance. "We're close. Focus on what's ahead."

The lift slowed, a faint ding marking their arrival. As the doors slid open, Red and Black surged forward into the stark corridors of Level 3. The air here was colder, more sterile, the scent of antiseptic hanging heavy. The faint hum of advanced medical equipment buzzed at the edge of hearing, a mechanical undercurrent that only heightened the tension.

"Stay sharp," Red said, her voice firm as they moved through the hallways. The walls glowed faintly with security protocols, the Command Center's systems ensuring no unauthorized access during lock-down. The polished floors gleamed under the harsh light, their reflections broken only by the rapid steps of the two Rangers.

Finally, the medical bay doors loomed before them, sealed tight with a faint blue glow. Red pressed her palm against the scanner, her clearance verified in an instant. The doors slid open with a hiss, and the cold, clinical atmosphere of the room spilled out.

The doors hissed open, and the atmosphere inside hit Red like a physical force. The walls were alive with streams of data projected on embedded screens, each one an unflinching display of Blue's failing body. Cellular degradation was highlighted in sharp red, organ failures cascading across multiple displays. Neural activity flickered erratically, the chaotic patterns a stark contrast to the calm precision of the medical bay's machinery.

Her eyes snapped to the center of the room, where Blue lay on the medical table.

Red froze as her eyes locked on his form. The breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn't move. Blue lay naked on the table, his body utterly unrecognizable. His once-strong frame had withered into a skeletal shell, his skin so pale it was almost translucent. Veins traced a stark network beneath the surface, his flesh clinging to bone like a shroud. His hair, which had once been a rich, healthy brown, now fell away in brittle clumps, scattering across the table like ashes. He looked less like a man and more like the ghost of one, drained of life and color.

Red's stomach churned, but she forced herself to step forward. She needed to stay steady. She needed to stay in control. Black moved beside her, his usually impassive face betraying a flicker of shock as his gaze swept over Blue. Even through the link, Red felt the weight of his silence—an unspoken acknowledgment of how far gone their teammate was.

In the far corner of the room, Pink sat huddled, her knees pulled tightly to her chest as she rocked back and forth. Her arms wrapped around herself in a fragile cocoon, her fingers digging into the fabric of her uniform as if clinging to it for stability. She didn't look up. She didn't move. She didn't even seem to register their presence. Her neurolink radiated anguish, a looping, fractured wail of fear and self-blame. Prism hovered at her side, her holographic form flickering faintly, projecting soothing words into the link, though her efforts were as fragile as Pink's grasp on reality.

Alpha stood at the table, his metallic hands hovering over Blue's frail form. His smooth, armored chassis gleamed in the harsh light, his angular features betraying nothing as his systems worked tirelessly.

Normally, Alpha avoided connecting to the neurolink—a deeply ingrained respect for the Rangers' privacy—but now, the situation left him no choice. The faint hum of his processors shifted as he reached through the link, a reluctant presence laced with concern and precision.

"Red. Black." Alpha's voice was calm, but the edge of strain was unmistakable. "I am attempting to stabilize his vitals, but the failures are accelerating. His body is rejecting basic life support functions. Neural interference from his AI is complicating my efforts."

Red forced herself closer, her jaw tightening as she took in the jagged patterns on the screens lining the walls. Each one was a window into Blue's failing systems—organ by organ, cell by cell. She clenched her fists, her mind racing as Nova's presence sharpened in the link, a storm of calculations and controlled fury.

Nova's presence surged in the link, sharp and determined. "I've been trying to repair him ever since the morpher was returned. But I don't have enough nanites. Every time I stabilize one part of his body, another starts to collapse. I'm—" She hesitated, uncharacteristically vulnerable. "I'm running out of time."

Red's heart clenched at the admission. "Then we make the time," she said, her voice steady. "What do you need?"

Nova hesitated for only a moment before her tone turned crisp, focused. "The medical bay can synthesize the nanites faster than I can produce them internally. But even with an influx of nanites, there's too much damage for me to handle alone. I need help. All of us."

Alpha stepped forward, his metallic hands hovering over Blue's frail form. The faint glow of his optical sensors flickered as he processed the situation. "Assign tasks," he said, his tone clipped but calm. "What needs to be done?"

Nova's voice sharpened, authority laced with desperation. "I'll prioritize the brain. Without it, nothing else matters."

"I'll handle the heart," Alpha replied without hesitation, his servos shifting as he prepared his tools. "It's on the brink of failure, and if it goes, so does he."

A new presence entered the link—Aegis. Cool and composed, Red's AI radiated precision as he spoke. "I'll focus on repairing the major organs: the liver, kidneys, and lungs. Stabilizing these systems will buy us the time we need."

Prism's holographic form flickered, her usual playful tone replaced by grim determination. "I'll take red blood cell production. His body needs oxygen, and it needs it fast."

"And I'll handle the immune system," Bastion added, his calm voice a grounding presence. "I'll prioritize white blood cells and ensure his body can fight off infection during the process."

Red's gaze darted between them, her mind racing as she absorbed the plan. It was methodical, precise—everything Nova had orchestrated since coming back online. But it wasn't without risks. Blue's body was dangerously weak, and even the smallest miscalculation could push him past the point of no return.

"Alpha," Red said, her voice cutting through the tension. "Can the medical bay handle simultaneous AI directives?"

Alpha's optical sensors glowed brighter as he scanned the room. "Yes. The nanite synthesizers are capable of partitioning tasks. Each AI will oversee their assigned systems without interference."

"Good," Black said, stepping closer to the table. His voice was calm, but his fists were clenched at his sides. "Then let's move."

Nova's presence pulsed through the link. "Listen carefully. We only have one shot at this. Alpha, you'll need to prioritize circulation while I handle the neural damage. Aegis, keep the organ systems stable—if anything else collapses, we're done. Prism, you'll need to ramp up red blood cell production immediately. Bastion, stay ahead of any signs of sepsis or immune failure."

Red watched as each AI synced with the medical bay, their distinct presences rippling through the link. The room itself seemed to come alive, the walls glowing brighter as streams of synthesized nanites were prepared and directed to their respective tasks. The faint hum of machinery grew louder, the medical bay's advanced systems working in tandem with the AIs to stabilize Blue's body.

The room thrummed with urgency as each AI took their place in the unfolding effort. The nanites, synthesized in precise streams by the medical bay's advanced systems, began their journey into Blue's ravaged body. On the walls, holographic displays illuminated every failure and tentative success in stark detail. The steady hum of the machinery underscored the critical stakes, each passing second a reminder of how far Blue's condition had deteriorated.

Alpha's metallic hands moved with surgical precision, guiding the nanites toward Blue's failing heart. His voice was calm, methodical as he reported through the link. "Nanites have reached the myocardial tissue. Beginning repairs."

The monitors displayed a holographic model of Blue's heart, the faint glow of nanites swarming damaged tissue. Red could see incremental improvements—a flicker of blood flow returning to the ventricles—but the progress was painstakingly slow.

"Blood flow is increasing," Alpha reported after a long moment, though his tone remained measured. "However, valve degradation is worse than expected. Diverting additional resources."

Nova's voice cut through the link, crisp and focused. "Acknowledged. I'm prioritizing neural repair. The synaptic damage is extensive, and patterns are highly unstable."

Red's gaze darted to the wall displays monitoring Blue's brain. Stark patches of red marked areas of supposed necrosis, while erratic neural activity danced across the screens like static. Her stomach twisted at the sight. "Nova," she said sharply, "what's going on with his brain? That looks—"

"Complicated," Nova interjected, her tone leaving no room for argument. "The damage is extensive, but I've accounted for it. Let me handle this."

Black frowned, his gaze narrowing on the screens. "Extensive? That looks like the brain's shutting down. Are we missing something?"

"I said I'm handling it," Nova repeated, her voice edged with a rare firmness. "Focus on stabilizing the rest of his body. Neural repair is under control."

Aegis joined the conversation, his voice calm but questioning. "Nova, the indicators suggest widespread necrosis in critical regions. Are you certain this isn't impacting his autonomic functions? It could explain the organ instability."

Nova hesitated for a fraction of a second, a delay so brief most wouldn't have noticed. But Red did. "It's not necrosis," Nova said finally, her tone tightly controlled. "What you're seeing is the result of prolonged neural synchronization. His brain is operating beyond its normal capacity because of me. That's all."

"'That's all'?" Black shot back, his voice rising slightly. "If that's not damage, what is it? Why does it look like that?"

Red's brow furrowed. "You're hiding something, Nova."

Nova didn't respond directly, her focus shifting back to the task at hand. "This isn't the time for speculation. Stabilize the body first. Everything else can wait."

The tension in the room thickened, but there was no time to press further. Alpha's voice cut back in, steady as ever. "Heart rhythm is stabilizing. Blood flow improving, but the valve repairs are slow. Diverting resources to prevent strain."

"Liver and kidney regeneration showing positive response," Aegis reported. "Redirecting nanites to reinforce failing lung capacity."

"Red blood cells at 50% output," Prism added, her tone clipped. "It's going to take longer to meet oxygen demands. Accelerating marrow synthesis."

"Immune response steady," Bastion said. "No signs of infection, but inflammation levels remain high. Continuing allocation to inflammatory markers."

Red forced herself to focus on the broader effort. Whatever Nova was hiding would have to wait—Blue's survival was still at stake. She watched as Alpha's hands moved with surgical precision, guiding the nanites repairing Blue's heart. The faint flicker of life on the monitors was a fragile reassurance.

Nova's voice returned, sharper now. "Synaptic pathways stabilizing. I'm redirecting resources to compensate for neural overload. Motor function pathways require additional attention—reallocating now."

Black crossed his arms, his expression dark. "Motor function pathways? Nova, if his brain's not shutting down, what the hell is it doing?"

"Black," Red said quietly, her voice low but firm. "Not now."

Nova's presence pulsed through the link, her frustration palpable but carefully controlled. "Every system in his body is collapsing. The brain is operating under extreme stress. My focus is ensuring he survives, not answering your theories."

The screens continued to pulse with updates, the stark red of Blue's brain activity refusing to shift. Red couldn't shake the feeling that there was more Nova wasn't saying, but for now, her teammate's survival took precedence.

Prism's voice broke the tension. "Red blood cells at 75% output. Oxygen saturation improving."

"Heart function holding," Alpha reported. "Valve repairs 80% complete. Circulation stabilizing."

"Kidney and liver regeneration approaching baseline," Aegis added. "Lung capacity improved to 60%. Continuing reinforcement."

"Immune markers normalizing," Bastion said. "Sepsis risk negligible. Inflammatory response under control."

Red exhaled slowly, the weight in her chest easing slightly as the alarms on the monitors began to quiet. Progress was real, but fragile. And through it all, the glaring red patches on Blue's brain remained unresolved.

"We're holding the line," Nova said, her tone calmer now but no less focused. "The immediate danger has passed. Continued stabilization is critical."

Red exchanged a glance with Black, the unspoken tension between them clear. Whatever was happening with Blue's brain—whatever Nova wasn't telling them—it would have to come out eventually. But for now, they focused on the fragile victory before them.

The medical bay quieted as the last of the alarms faded, the steady hum of machinery replacing the sharp, urgent sounds of minutes earlier. The screens on the walls, once a sea of red, now pulsed amber—a fragile, tenuous stability.

"Heart function holding," Alpha said evenly. "Blood flow restored."

"Kidney and liver regeneration complete," Aegis added. "Lung capacity nearing baseline."

"Immune markers stable," Bastion said. "No signs of infection."

Nova's voice, sharp and firm, carried the final note. "Neural pathways are holding. He's stable."

The relief rippled through the link like a deep exhale. Red felt the weight in her chest ease, the oppressive tension lifting ever so slightly. The battle wasn't over, but for now, Blue was alive.

Across the room, Pink stirred. The trembling that had wracked her body began to subside, her rocking slowing to a halt. Her wide, tear-streaked eyes darted toward the table, her breaths shallow and uneven.

"Stable?" she whispered, the word barely audible.

Prism's voice was gentle but steady. "He's here, Pink. He's holding on."

Pink pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, her hands gripping the edge of the medical bed for balance. She stared down at Blue's frail, ghostly form, her lips trembling as she reached for his hand. Her fingers brushed against his cold skin, and a shuddering breath escaped her.

"You're still here," she whispered, her voice cracking. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she clung to the faint warmth beneath her fingers.

Behind her, Red and Black stood quietly, their presence solid and steady. The AIs continued their work, their focus unbroken, guiding the nanites through Blue's body with relentless precision. The faint hum of the systems and the soft beeping of stabilizing monitors filled the silence.