biography

by starhawk

He'd thought becoming a Power Ranger was the weirdest thing that would ever happen to him in Corinth. That was before the other Power Rangers starting trying to get him and the crazy developer of Ranger technology together. Most of the weirdness that followed could be directly or indirectly traced to that.

One: asking a former mob member for information wasn't as strange as changing his mind afterwards and having to explain why. He went with the direct approach. Pulling the door of their room shut, he said, "You know that name I asked you about?"

Ziggy had earbuds in, but he pulled them out as soon as Dillon spoke. "Yeah, about that--"

"I found them," Dillon interrupted. "The person I was looking for, I mean. I know who it is."

"Okay," Ziggy said with a shrug. Waving at Dillon's bed, he added, "You'll probably want to tear up the piece of paper in the back of your notebook, then."

He'd left the notebook--a gift from Ziggy--on his bed yesterday afternoon. If he'd had to guess, he would have said it hadn't been touched since. When he flipped open the back cover, though, he found a single piece of folded paper.

He looked at it for a long moment, then glanced at Ziggy. "I asked her," he said abruptly.

Ziggy shook his head. "I've already forgotten what we're talking about," he said, though he didn't pretend to be confused. "You want to talk, you'll have to, uh, remind me. Otherwise I'm just over here. Not noticing you and your ninja ways."

Putting his earbuds back in, Ziggy turned away. Dillon unfolded the paper, absorbed the whole thing in a matter of seconds, and went to crumple it up. He couldn't do it. His fingers just wouldn't clench around the words.

Kaia Kshana, the paper said. Born 30 June 1990. Toronto, ON, Canada. Enrolled at Taddle Creek Montessori School 1993-1995. Enrolled at Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters 1995-1997. Recruited by California Institute of Technology 18 August 1997 for JPL-linked think tank "Alphabet Soup."

Degree: B.S. Applied Abstract Math

Degree: M.S. Exoskeletal Robotics

Consulted for Massachusetts Institute of Technology 2002-2003. Joined "Living Breathing Robots" at MIT 23 January 2003. Headed branch laboratory Horizon Bioelectrics 2003-2007.

Recruited by US Army to run Project: Ranger 2 February 2007.

Military codename: Dr. K

There the parade of names and dates stopped. No mention of family. At the very bottom Ziggy had added in parentheses, (Likes pussywillows, spaceships, hard science fiction. Favorite color: pink.)

Ziggy's foot was tapping against the floor, slightly out of sync with the music. "Ziggy," Dillon said, and he turned around immediately. "Thanks," Dillon said, holding up the paper.

"No problem," Ziggy said, like he'd gotten him a glass of water or something. "Does it say anything interesting?"

He took the whole discretion thing very seriously. Dillon tried to figure out how to respond. "Just the last line," he said at last.

Ziggy smiled. "Cool," he said.

"I asked her," Dillon repeated. "Her name, I mean."

"Yeah?" Ziggy took his earbuds out again. "She tell you?"

Dillon just nodded.

"Huh." Ziggy seemed to consider this. "Maybe she'd tell you the rest of it, too. If you asked."

"Is this--" He thought he already knew the answer. "This--" Holding up the paper, he said, "This isn't very nice, is it."

Ziggy shrugged. "I guess it depends. It shows interest, right? That's nice. Most people ask the friends... you know, when you start dating someone?" He must have seen Dillon's expression, because he added, "You ask the girl's friends about her. Or your friends, if they know her. Dr. K doesn't really have any.

"The thing about asking friends, though," Ziggy continued, "is that usually they'd tell her. That you were asking? So she'd know. She doesn't know about this, so that makes it kind of... weird."

"So I should tell her," Dillon said.

Ziggy held up his hands. "I'm not gonna say anything, okay? You can do whatever you want."

Dillon frowned. Apparently that was all it took, because Ziggy sighed and said, "Yeah. I'd tell her. If I were you, I mean. Which I'm not, and I, being me, won't say anything. So if you don't say anything, she'll never know."

"Which would be weird," Dillon said slowly.

Ziggy didn't answer, but when Dillon glanced at him he shrugged in a way that usually meant yes.

Two: finding a way to talk to said developer of Ranger technology while she was trying to convince inhabitants of another dimension not to come through to Corinth whenever they felt like it--apparently they wanted to help defend the city--and irritated on top of it because half of her supposedly secure facility was going to be used to stage a wedding was about as easy as finding the city had been in the first place.

When she canceled training in the face of an overwhelming Venjix infiltration, he finally gave up. He took a pen to a piece of electrical tape, then slapped the tape on the top of her primary computer monitor while she was off somewhere with yet another interdimensional visitor. If nothing else, she would know he was coming.

Dillon, the tape said. 8pm.

The doors were closed--possibly to block out the noise of wedding preparations--but they slid open for his ID easily enough. Given her mood earlier, though, he wasn't sure just walking in would be seen as "nice." So he stood in the doorway and asked, "Can I come in?"

Dr. K leaned out from behind her computer screen, a skeptical look on her face. For a long moment, she only stared at him, but finally she said, "You're on the schedule."

He felt his mouth quirk. "Sorry about the tape."

She raised her eyebrows, but all she said was, "It was effective."

The doors closed behind him as he walked over to her desk. He figured if anyone could appreciate information independent of presentation, it was her. "I think you're interesting," he said. "I asked Ziggy if he could find out more about you, but in retrospect, it seems kind of weird not to just ask you. Myself, I mean. So. I wanted to apologize."

Okay, not as easy as it had seemed when he was thinking about it. It was true--so why was it so awkward to say? Was Ziggy right that he'd be hurt if she didn't like him? It wasn't like it mattered. She'd proven she would back them up in the field no matter what she thought of them personally.

"I find it hard to believe that Series Green could tell you anything worth remembering," she said flatly.

Dillon pulled the folded piece of paper out of his jacket and handed it over without a word.

She took it, eyebrows raised as she scanned the list. "Well," she said, almost to herself. "I withdraw my original judgment. Never underestimate cartel connections."

He knew when she got to the bottom of the page because she put her finger on it, pressing the paper against the edge of the keyboard. She opened her mouth, and her expression softened a little. "Not all hard science fiction," she said after a moment. "Kim Stanley Robinson, yes. Arthur C. Clarke, no."

"I don't know what that is," he said, but carefully, because maybe it wasn't that important.

"I could lend you a book." She was still staring at the bottom of the list. "I assume it would only take you a few minutes to read it."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I mean... that'd be great."

She folded up the paper again, precisely, along the lines he'd already put in it, and handed it back. He took it automatically, but he wasn't sure he was supposed to. "I was just curious," he said. "I should have asked."

She shrugged. "If there was anything to find on you, I would have found it," she said, looking back at the screen in front of her. "It's understandable that you'd want to know what you can about the people you're putting your trust in."

"That's not why I wanted to know."

Her gaze flicked to his.

"You're interesting," he repeated. "I was curious."

She tilted her head the slightest bit, as if studying him from a different angle. "And is your curiosity satisfied?"

"No," he said.

She gave the auxiliary screens a cursory glance. "If you can work and talk at the same time," she remarked, "you're welcome to join me."

She said it like she didn't really think he would, which only made him want to do it more.

Three: he was completely against "formal wear" for every reason in the book, right up until he saw Summer wielding her wedding veil like a weapon. He had zero fondness for violins until Dr. K turned the amp into a makeshift sonic cannon. Also, Tenaya was really starting to piss him off.

"Can we get some fucking security in here?" Dillon demanded. "Why are all these people still hanging around?"

"Dillon, we're the security," Scott said. "Chill, okay?"

"Yeah, that's worked out really well so far," he snapped. "Tenaya knows who Dr. K is, and apparently grinders can storm the place any time they want, so excuse me for seeing this as a problem."

Unexpectedly, it was Flynn who backed him up. "Man's got a point, there."

"We've been getting pretty lax when it comes to security." Summer, back in uniform and minus her parents--finally--held up her hands. "I know, I know; it's mostly my fault. But maybe it's time to go back to no badge, no entry."

"Uh--" Ziggy raised his hand. "Maybe this is an awkward question, and I'm not trying to say that anyone here would actually do this, but... what if we forget our badge?"

"Don't," Scott told him.

"Right." Ziggy nodded. "Don't. Got it. Very clear." He paused, then added, "But what if we do?"

"Don't," Dillon and Summer said at the same time.

"Fire exits," Scott said. He caught Dillon's eye. "The one out here doesn't have a pushbolt yet; does the other one?"

"No," Dillon muttered. "But they will by tomorrow."

"I'll do it," Scott said firmly. "This isn't personal, Dillon; it's just base maintenance. Nothing to get upset about."

Dillon folded his arms, but he and Scott had already had it out too many times in the last few days. He wasn't going to fight with him when he was right, too.

"Just out of curiosity," Ziggy began, "does Dr. K have a badge?"

"Yes," Scott said.

"Of course," Summer agreed.

"Uh..." Flynn frowned, looking from one of them to the other. "Guys?"

"It's just, if she didn't leave the base before," Ziggy continued, "and it's not like it's really been, uh, locked down lately--but she must have an ID, right? I mean, she goes in and out of the training room, so yeah. She must."

"She wears it on her waist," Dillon muttered.

All four of them turned to look at him.

"Really?" Summer asked, when he didn't elaborate.

"It's clipped to the bottom of her sweater," he said. Like they'd really never noticed before. "Under her lab coat."

Summer and Flynn exchanged glances, but Scott just shrugged. "Okay then," he said. "Question answered. Let's get this place cleaned up and cleared out."