At the clock tower several weeks later, Jen, Lucas, Katie, and Trip were huddled around their salvaged chrono-communicator station. It had taken a considerable amount of Trip’s time to repair it to the point that he thought it was functional. To Wes it still looked like an empty frame with antennae on top, but Trip had announced that it was ready to make their first attempt to communicate with their own time.

Jen took a deep breath. “All right. Turn it on and let’s see if it works.”

Trip leaned forward to comply. He fiddled with the instrument for what seemed like a long time, before it hummed and a three-dimensional image began to form within the frame. From a little distance, Wes stared in amazement.

The image was of a man in a Time Force uniform, like the ones the Time Force officers had arrived in. Jen leaned forward and exclaimed, “Captain Logan! We got through!”

“It’s only a recorded transmission. Not interactive,” Trip said, disappointed.

Logan’s image spoke quickly, with a grim expression. “Jen, Lucas, Katie, Trip. We can only hope you arrived safely in the past, since we haven’t been able to contact you. We are transmitting this message in the hope you will pick it up.

“The timestream has shifted as a result of changes Ransik has made in the past. We’ve shielded ourselves from the shift as much as possible but we can’t protect ourselves much longer. Soon we will be absorbed into the new reality. When that happens you four will be the only ones who remember the original timeline.

“Whatever Ransik has done -- or will do in your timeframe -- has affected the formation of Time Force. As you know we have suppressed the records of our own origin in order to prevent exactly this kind of attack. Even we don’t know much about how Time Force was formed, and now we can’t access our sealed records. Apparently Ransik found out enough to accomplish it. All I can tell you is that the time and place where you are now -- Silver Hills, California, year 2001 -- is crucial to our origin.

“Soon, our shielding will fail, and Time Force will cease to exist. In the new reality, without us, several countries produced large numbers of mutant soldiers. Wars were fought with them. The destruction was terrible. Then the mutants decided to turn on their real enemies, the ones who created them and used them as weapons. There is now a war going on between humans and mutants. Biological weapons have been used. Hundreds of millions of people on both sides are dead, more are dying, and there’s no end in sight.

“You must stop Ransik at all costs. Find out what he’s doing, and prevent or reverse it.

“When you didn’t contact us, we feared the worst and started on an alternate plan. We had the new Quantum morpher and the Q-Rex available, and have sent them back. The morpher has been programmed with information about your mission. We planned to send another agent back to use them as soon as the timestream stabilized enough to allow a living being to travel through it. Now we won’t get the chance.

"Unfortunately, the timestream instability disrupted the transfer. The Quantum controller box and the Q-Rex were separated. The controller landed near you, a few weeks ago your time, but the Q-Rex landed about sixty-five million years ago. If you can find the controller, one of you can use the morpher. As you know, it’s more powerful than your Chronomorphers. If you can find the Q-Rex, and it’s still functional, you’ll have an even better weapon.”

Abruptly the image of Logan faded, recovered, then began to show static.

“The transmission’s breaking up,” Trip said softly.

“We will not be able to contact you again. Soon we will no longer exist. Good luck. Save us if you can. Everything depends on you.” He stared out at them for a long moment before finishing quietly, “Logan out.” The image blanked.

There was silence. Wes saw tears in Katie’s and Trip’s eyes, and even Lucas looked shaken. Jen said softly, “Don’t worry, sir. We won’t let you down.”

They sat quietly for a few more moments. Then Jen said, “All right, people. You heard. It’s more important than ever that we complete our mission.” She turned to Trip. “Do you have any ideas on how to find the Quantum controller?”

“I’ll have to work on it.” Trip was already poking through his equipment.

Wes spoke up. “Excuse me for being ignorant, but what’s a Quantum controller? And what’s a Q-Rex?”

Trip answered him while continuing to go through his tools. “The Quantum controller is a morphing and control device, similar to our Chronomorphers but a later, experimental design, voice-controlled and with telepathic capabilities. When it’s activated, the controller box will transform into a wrist morpher like ours. It makes its wearer into the Quantum Ranger.”

Jen continued, “The Quantum Ranger will have control over the Quantum Defender, a much more powerful version of our blasters. He -- or she -- will also control the Q-Rex, if we can find it.”

“What’s the Q-Rex?”

This time Lucas took over. “Its original name was the Quantum Battlewagon. It’s a semi-intelligent assault machine, kind of like a tank, equipped with an arsenal. It can take the form of a flyer, or a walker. In the walker form it looks a little like a Tyrannosaurus Rex, sort of. The technicians started calling it the Quantasaurus Rex, or Q-Rex for short, and the name stuck.”

Trip had called up an image on the communicator display, of something that looked like a compact fighter plane, with a triangular nose section, a short body, and stubby wings carrying two bundles of rocket launchers or cannon. It was colored black with red trim. He touched a button and the device transformed, the nose lifting above the main body, the weapons attaching to the front of the body like short arms, and the wings folding down and changing into powerful legs. It did look bizarrely like a short-tailed, metal Tyrannosaurus Rex.

“The Q-Rex could make the difference. We’ve got to find it and the Quantum controller,” Katie said. “I can’t even think about what’s going to happen if we fail.”

Ransik sat in his workroom in the prison ship, slowly going through the records he had stolen from the Silver Hills library. He looked up at the sound of the door opening, then back to his work as the tall, white form of Conwing stepped in.

“Don’t you ever knock?”

Conwing shrugged. “Not usually. How’s it going?”

“I still can’t make much out of it, except that Bio-Lab is involved. The records from our time indicate that a security service that works for them will evolve into Time Force. But Bio-Lab doesn’t have anything beyond the usual guards.”

“Perhaps it doesn’t exist yet. And we can destroy it at its beginning.”

“Perhaps. But how long will we have to wait?”

Conwing smiled. “We have time.”

Ransik scowled at him. “I have no intention of sitting around here for who knows how long.”

“Do we have a choice? You’ve always been too impatient. Not the mark of a good general.”

Ransik looked up, his face flushing with anger. “Are you dissatisfied with my leadership?”

Conwing only smiled again. “Just with your impatience. For an operation like this we need planning and control. We can’t afford mistakes.”

Ransik was the first to look away. “I suppose you’re right. We wait. For now.”

“Good.” Conwing slipped silently out.

Frax stood in another room in the prison ship, a large room equipped with workbenches and littered with machinery and cyclobots, both whole and in pieces. He bent over a half-assembled cyclobot, talking either to it or himself, or maybe both.

“Ransik is an ungrateful monster. He treats us robots as so much scrap metal. Just slaves and expendable cannon fodder for his mutants. He has no respect for us, no consideration. Calls us useless, while he uses us.”

He paused in his un-robotlike tirade to adjust a part on his ‘patient’.

“Day after day I have to watch my cyclobots being destroyed for Ransik. And then he expects me to make more to replace them. And all for his crusade against humans, to satisfy his hatred. But the day will come when I will accomplish my real purpose here….”

Frax moved away from his work and to a door half hidden by benches and equipment. He took a key from a compartment in his metal body, and unlocked the door. Beyond it was a small room, bare except for a set of shelves. A lone prisoner containment vessel sat on a shelf. It displayed symbols warning of danger, and poison. Frax picked it up, holding it almost lovingly.

“They all have no idea what I have up my sleeve… They think of me as just a machine, good for nothing but obeying orders. But they will find out I’m so much more. Someday you will be the first part of my revenge. Then I’ll show Ransik what hatred and cruelty really are.”

A dark-haired young man waited outside Mr. Alan Collins’ office. He sat stiffly in one of the comfortable chairs in the waiting area, not reading any of the magazines available, just sitting. The secretary glanced at him and smiled when she caught him looking at her. He looked away without returning the smile.

Her intercom buzzed and a moment later she told him he could go in. There was something military about the way he stood up, gravely thanked her and marched through the door.

Collins looked up as the young man entered his office. He pointed to a chair facing his desk and said, “You’re Mr. Myers, right?”

“Yes, sir. Eric Myers.”

Collins selected a folder from the pile on his desk and glanced over the contents. “I asked you to come in today because I like to meet all my new employees as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

“As you know, you’re joining a new private security force, to protect Bio-Lab and its clients. Recently there have been some unusual attacks in the city. You understand there will be a certain amount of personal danger involved in this job?”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

“You’ll have the satisfaction of doing something important, protecting innocent people.” Collins leaned back in his chair. “Any questions? Anything Commander Porter hasn’t told you?”

“I understand I report for training tomorrow. When will we start working?”

“It should take about two months for us to complete hiring and training. Then you’ll go into action. Anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“Well then, welcome aboard.” They stood and Collins reached across the desk to shake hands.

The man spoke again. “Excuse me, sir. I knew your son, Wes, in school. I was wondering how he’s doing.”

Collins’ face grew cold. “Wesley quit his job here and moved away from home. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have more interviews.”

If the dark-haired man was disappointed, it didn’t show. He nodded, about-faced, and quickly left the room.