She stared down at the console in front of her, not registering the datastream that had been displayed there for some time now. She suspected Zordon had restarted it before he left, no doubt realizing that she hadn't been paying attention the first time through, but it hadn't done any good. She wasn't absorbing any more of it now than she had before.

With a fierce scowl that the datastream didn't deserve, she slapped the console with her palm and turned away. Intending to join Aura on the other side of the control room, she was brought up short by someone standing directly in her way.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," she growled, irritated that he had managed to startle her. It was a horribly annoying habit of his, that of sneaking up behind people and trying to get them to walk into him. "Get out of my way."

"Go around," he countered. "What I do in my off hours is no concern of yours, Cetaci."

"You came all the way up here to tell me that?" She glared at him. "You'll be late for your precious fighter training."

"What does it matter to you?" he demanded. "The fighters have never been anything but a second rate defense force in your eyes. I would be better off spending my time in the dome, indulging in your ridiculous drills."

"At least then you'd be doing your job," she retorted. "Instead you go thrill-seeking in a craft you will never fly in battle. It is a waste of time."

"My flight experience is no waste," he told her, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Zaal is quite pleased with my competence. I am told the same can not be said of all the zord pilots."

"The Power imparts the necessary skills as soon as one morphs," she said stiffly. "As you have so often found in hand-to-hand combat sims."

"If you flew as often as I participated in combat sims, I would not worry half so much." His tone was as cold as hers. "Power-enhanced abilities are no substitute for practical experience."

"Which you don't gain in a fighter wing!" she insisted stubbornly.

"How would you know?" he inquired, the calm tone belied by his dark expression. He took every insult to the fighters personally. "As your own experience is sorely lacking, I see no reason for you to judge the validity of mine. When you learn to control Mireth I will give more weight to your words."

"Excuse me." Aura's voice intruded before she could retaliate. The Red Ranger had her back to them, but she had lifted her head from the console in front of her to stare at the wall instead. "I do not wish to intrude, but we are not the only ones attempting to work in the control room."

She glanced over to see the Phantom Ranger watching them wordlessly, his expression inscrutable behind his visor. The grey of a paused transmission still hung ominously on the main screen, and she frowned to cover her embarrassment. "Go play hero with your wingmates," she muttered, turning away from Delphinius to glower at the console again.

His voice slammed into her mind the moment she looked away. *Not until you listen!*

Her eyes widened at the sudden intrusion. There had been a time when she welcomed his voice in her mind, but now she couldn't believe his audacity. She whirled on him, seething. "Do not speak to me in that fashion! That is no longer your prerogative!"

His expression froze, and they stared at each other without another word for a long moment. He wasn't going to leave. She wasn't sure why not, but finally she gave a curt nod toward the door.

He spoke as soon as the door closed behind them, isolating them in the relative privacy of the hallway. "I apologize for my action." His spoken voice was suddenly strange to her ears. "I did not realize we had grown so far apart that my thoughts were abhorrent to you."

She stared at him, trying to read anything into his impassively formal apology. "Are you surprised? You called me inept in front of the entire control room!"

"You have done no less to me!"

"You cannot deny that I was provoked," she snapped.

His neutral expression gone, he looked nothing short of incredulous. "I could say the same! I didn't start this!"

"You sought me out," she shot back. "Did you come here for the sole purpose of mocking me, or do you have a better reason for delaying the launch of the entire fighter wing?"

"I fail to comprehend how you can blame me for this argument!" he exclaimed. "I only came here to tell you to stop making everyone else miserable on my account!"

"There were no complaints until you arrived," she informed him. "Go back to your ridiculously dangerous pastime and leave me to do our job."

"I am *not* on duty this morning," he ground out. "Stop implying that I am shirking my responsibility!"

"As long as you stay alive, you are not," she agreed darkly.

He stared at her so long that she wondered what he could possibly be holding back, then turned on his heel without another word and strode for the door. Just before it would have opened, though, he paused and muttered, "I never thought you were inept."

He disappeared into the control room before she could reply. She was left to stare after him, fingers clenching tighter and tighter until she couldn't stand it anymore. With a low growl, she slammed her fist into the wall.

The stinging numbness in her hand was a welcome relief from the angry, swirling thoughts in her head. At least the pain was something she could definitively feel, something that needed no more explanation than what she already had. She shook her hand out and stalked out of the hallway in his wake.