Author’s Note: This story takes place a year after the Countdown, and the events in “Prologue”.
The sun was setting on Elaris,
capital of Eltar. Another day of rebuilding had ended, another scar had been removed
from the world. Of all the planets aligned with the Federation of Light, Eltar
had suffered most during the wars. But the Great Purge had ushered in a new
age, and the time of renewal was now at hand.
As the crimson eye sank towards
the horizon, its rays illuminated one of Eltar’s most recognized monuments: the
Diamond Arch. Positioned directly above the King’s palace, the Arch was one of
the few landmarks to survive the Alliance invasion unscathed. The dying
sunlight was magnified in its facets, spreading beams of reddish gold out into
the city below. The Arch caught every sunrise and sunset, every birth and
death.
The palace itself was not as grand
as one could expect: King Prexor the Third had abolished the monarchy centuries
ago, granting the Eltarians their long-desired democracy. The line of Kings
remained as political figureheads, maintaining a measure of influence. But
their pride and majesty had not diminished with their power; white walls of
marble shone in the darkness, a beacon of hope even when the Quantrons had
marched into the streets and Dark Specter had claimed Eltar for his own.
Tonight the residence of King
Zalen was nearly empty, as an assembly had been called in the Gardens of
Tranquility. It was a small area just beyond the walls, a place for quiet
contemplation and peaceful respite. Flowers of every type bloomed regardless of
the season, protected by magic. The Gardens had been decorated in bright
colors, and a banquet lay ready for the guests, dignitaries from a hundred worlds
who had come to pay tribute.
A single podium stood behind the
banquet tables, and all was silent as the king stepped onto it and gazed out
into the sea of faces. Zalen was a middle-aged man, weathered by many years of
fair and just leadership; but though he was insightful in his own way, he was
nonetheless considered to be but a shadow of his uncle’s greatness.
“Greetings, esteemed friends.” he
began. “We have gathered here tonight, on the anniversary of the Purge, to
honor the man who delivered us into the Everlasting Peace. Zordon the Wise, my
uncle and hero of Eltar.” Numerous words of praise and reverence were spoken as
Zalen continued. “These festivities may seem inappropriate to those who never
knew him. But he often said that while life is reason enough to celebrate,
death is not reason enough to mourn. In the spirit of those words, we will
rejoice in his memory.” With a nod, the king stepped aside, allowing another
man to approach the podium. He seemed older than Zalen: his face was webbed
with dozens of tiny lines, and there was an ageless gleam in his crystal-blue
eyes, something that spoke of thousands of years’ worth of memories.
He cleared his throat before
speaking. “Members of the Senate, honored guests, welcome. I am… I was Lord
Zedd of Khandur.”
Anything else he might have said
was lost amidst a wave of shocked whispers and murmured curses. The reaction
was hardly unexpected: not too long ago, Lord Zedd had been one of the most
nefarious warlords in the galaxy, a malicious beast hell-bent on destroying all
that was beautiful and good. And though Zordon’s death had redeemed him, it had
not erased the memories of his deeds from the people.
Zalen raised his hand for silence,
and the crowd grudgingly obeyed, allowing Zedd to continue his eulogy. “Zordon
was many things to me. In the beginning, he was my mentor and friend, eager to
teach me the ways of wisdom. And when my hunger for power overtook me, he
became my most infallible enemy, my most worthy opponent. Yes, I loathed him,
as I hated all things in that time… but I also respected him. That in his final
moment he chose to save me speaks of his great compassion, the likes of which
we shall never know again.”
The former despot raised his head
to the sky, wondering if perhaps the great sage could hear him. “I owe more to
him than I can ever repay. My life, my freedom, my very soul was returned to me
through his sacrifice. And I vow that this gift will not be squandered again.”
As he spoke, his gaze drifted downward towards a young woman sitting in the
front row, who was smiling at him. This was his wife Rita, once his underling
and a villainess in her own right. Like Zedd, Rita had succumbed to the dark
arts, using them to spread misery and pain wherever she went. She too had
challenged Zordon; it was she who had cursed him to the bodiless existence he
had endured to the end of his days. For this, the Eltarians hated her even more
than her husband.
But she had been changed as well.
Gone was the narcissistic witch, her face caked in layers of makeup as she
demanded to be adored. This woman’s beauty was natural, her dress no more
outrageous than any self-respecting citizen of Eltar. Her hair, once rolled up
into glaring silvery protrusions, was now dark in color, falling to her
shoulders in gentle waves. Rita, who had married her overlord only for power,
now remained at his side because she loved him. Yet her freedom had not come
without a price: her brother had not survived the Golden Wave, and her father,
hidden deep in the shadows of the M-51 Galaxy, had denounced her and Zedd as
traitors. All that was left of her family was her husband and her two best
friends, seated next to her.
Those women were nearly identical
down to their flowing white robes and long dark hair. These were the fabled
Twin Sages of Inquiris, Dimitria and Divatria. While the former had always been
a force of benevolence, her long-lost sister had once gone by the name of
Divatox, the Pirate Queen: a lustful thief whose avarice knew no bounds. The Purge
had released her from that burning greed, the endless drive to consume and
acquire more. Now they were reunited, and it was by Dimitria’s intervention
that the former villains were not officially held accountable for their former
actions. They had all been reborn. Zedd and Rita had vowed never to wield magic
again, hoping thus to escape the corruption such power had brought once before.
Divatria’s stolen treasures had been returned to their owners, and the fortunes
she had amassed in black market trading had been donated to every Federation
planet in need.
With his eulogy complete, Zedd
stepped down, allowing a quartet of Eltarian musicians to take his place. They
began to play a soft melody, a folk song Zordon had been fond of. King Zalen
and his wife walked towards the center of the garden and joined hands in a
traditional waltz. Other couples were also rising to join the dance, and Rita
smiled as Zedd approached her and held out his hand. She followed him as the
Inquirians looked on with smiling faces. Truly, the sight of the former
villains smiling in each other’s arms was proof enough that the war was over.
The healing could finally begin.
* * *
At length, the tallest of the three – the Warrior – pulled away. “Surely you jest.” she snorted. “This is the mighty Lord Zedd? This powerless mortal?”
The Sorceress leaned closer to the orb, carefully studying that hated visage. “Mortal, yes, but not necessarily powerless. Remember, Zedd is a master of deception.”
As she spoke those words, Zedd seemed to look directly at them, his brow furrowed in confusion. The Seer reacted instantly, withdrawing her hand; the obsidian muck surged up and swallowed his face.
* * *
“Zeddie? What’s wrong?” Rita
asked. Her husband had frozen mid-step and was glancing around with narrowed
eyes.
“We’re being watched.” he replied
in a hushed whisper. “I sensed a presence… it’s gone now.”
Rita could barely withhold a
chuckle. Turning him around, she subtly nodded in the direction of a group of
dignitaries who were glaring at them with a mixture of anger and suspicion.
“They’ve been giving us those
looks since they found out who we were.” she explained. “And Zalen’s mages are
probably keeping an eye on the proceedings. It’s nothing to worry about.”
Zedd considered her words and nodded reluctantly. He was on edge, both from the hostile reception and from the memories this day was stirring. Perhaps he had just imagined it. And even if he hadn’t, neither of them was in danger. The guests were all law-abiding citizens of the Federation, and the three former villains were under the protection of the Senate.
Anyone else who might wish them harm was long dead.
* * *
“No… I really can’t.” Karone
exclaimed, stepping away from the storeowner.
“Please, I want you to have it.” he
said with a smile, offering her the bundle again.
She was tempted. It was a gorgeous
dress, and this man was giving it to her free of charge. Tempted… and once she
would have taken it without a second thought. But she couldn’t. He wanted her
to accept it as a gift, as thanks for saving the city. Like so many others, he
mistook her for a Power Ranger, for a hero. And she had been many things, but
not a hero.
With an apologetic smile, Karone
turned him down again, as politely as possible. Then, before she could change
her mind, she strode out of the store. Being human is a lot harder than I
thought it’d be, she thought. She was so absorbed with her thoughts she
didn’t notice someone come up behind her until he wrapped his arms around her
waist.
“I saw what you did.” he whispered
in her ear. Karone grinned widely and spun around to embrace Zhane, the Silver
Ranger.
“What are you doing here?”
He pulled her closer with an
irrepressible grin. “I missed you.”
“I’ve only been gone an hour.”
He was still smiling as he leaned
in to kiss her. “I can’t help it.” he whispered. “Isn’t that why we’re doing
this?” Pulling away, he looked past her at the display window. “Nice dress.”
Karone shrugged. “It’s a little
too expensive for us. I’ll find something else.”
The couple joined hands as they
left the mall, ignoring the casual glances sent their way. In the year since
the Rangers revealed their identities to Angel Grove and the world, their
celebrity status had not diminished in the least. They had learned to deal with
the public scrutiny as best they could, though some days were harder than
others. Still, it felt good to finally be recognized for all the effort they’d
put into protecting Earth, putting their lives on the line so others wouldn’t
have to. Now they could finally move forward.
He could finally buy the ring.
He could finally propose.
And she could finally say yes.
They hadn’t told anyone yet, not
even Andros. Karone had insisted on keeping it a surprise until they had all the
minor details worked out. She also wanted her brother’s former teammates –
Cassandra Chan, Ashley Hammond, Carlos Vasquez and T.J. Johnson – to be present
when they made the announcement. Unfortunately, getting hold of them was
proving to be a very difficult task.
“Any word from the others?” Karone
asked hopefully.
Her fiancé shrugged. “Cassie’s manager keeps telling me to call back later…
it’s like she lives in the recording studio now. I thought about heading down
there, but…”
Karone shook her head. “No… she
has a career now. We shouldn’t interfere.”
The Pink Ranger had been the first
to go back into the world after the Countdown. Those weeks had been terrible,
locked inside the Megaship while hundreds of reporters and otherwise curious
citizens were banging on the doors demanding to see their heroes. One day,
Cassie had just walked right out the door, answering questions and agreeing to
interviews. Before long she’d used her status to push herself into the music
industry, living out her dream of being a singer. Her debut album, “Pretty in
Pink”, was at the top of the charts, partly because Cassie had a beautiful
voice and partly because she was the Pink Ranger.
She had left, and never looked
back. After that, it was easier for Carlos and T.J. to follow into their
respective sports. Ashley had stayed with them the longest, but in the end even
she had slipped away and vanished in the night, leaving the three Kerovans
behind. Karone knew it had hurt Andros to see how easily his friends had walked
away. The Megaship seemed so empty now, almost haunted.
Zhane paused for a moment, looking
at Karone with a question in his eyes. “I think we should tell Andros now. He
deserves to know, and I hate keeping secrets from him.”
She nodded in agreement. Her hopes
of reuniting the Rangers were practically dashed… why bother waiting any
longer?
The Megaship was parked at the
edge of the lake, its doors sealed shut and the exterior lights dim. They had
had quite an argument about that; Andros had insisted on keeping the ship in
orbit, but neither Zhane nor Karone saw the point in that. DECA’s sensors were
just as efficient on the ground, and they would never be a part of this world
if they kept themselves above it.
They had won out over the Red
Ranger’s decision, but Karone was still troubled by her brother’s behavior. It
was as if he couldn’t bring himself to admit that the fighting was over. They
had seen the vacant wastes of Mandalor where the Alliance once held power, saw
the Quantron hordes reduced to ash. And yet, while the Blue, Pink, Yellow and
Black morphers were now lying in a sealed container aboard the ship, Andros
still kept his strapped to his wrist. Zhane had not retired his morpher either,
if only to appease Andros, but the Silver Ranger was also worried about his
best friend’s behavior. Andros rarely left the ship, monitoring deep space
scans and keeping the Megaship in top working order, ready to blast off at a
moment’s notice.
Zhane believed it was because
Andros had spent so much of his life in a war against evil that he’d forgotten
there was any other way to live. He couldn’t let his guard down because he
didn’t know how. In a time where Ranger teams were being disbanded across the
galaxy, the Red Ranger probably felt a little useless. A warrior had no place
on a peaceful planet. Still, Zhane was confident that Andros would eventually
give up his search for evil.
After all, there was nothing to
find.
* * *
The stars were moving past them too slowly. The Warrior folded her arms and glared at the distant spots of light as if that would somehow cause them to travel faster. Finally, she spun around and marched to the Sorceress, who was meditating on the chamber floor.
“Why do we linger?” she
demanded. “Since our release we have done nothing but watch these wretched
mortals go about their business. When do we attack?”
The Sorceress remained still
for a moment, then turned her head upward to meet her companion’s glare.
“Restless, are you? Be patient a while longer. Our visit to Onyx was
well-spent; much has changed since our downfall, but that festering pit remains
the best source of information in the galaxy. We know now what has become of
our old enemies, and who has the power to defy us in this age. Had we struck
without such knowledge we would have failed utterly.”
Standing a few feet away from them, the Seer nodded. “I saw our end, in flames.” Then she said no more. The other women exchanged glances; the Seer’s words were always clouded in a veil of secrecy. She never spoke freely of her visions, unless it was to her Lord – their Lord. The Sorceress thought to force her companion to elaborate, but the Master would be very displeased, should he return to find his precious Seer harmed.
Taking her statement as an
agreement, the Sorceress rose to her feet. “We cannot afford to charge blindly
into the fray. None on Onyx suspected our true identities; to them we were but
three lost maidens.”
“But soon they will pay in
blood and havoc for their oversight.” the Seer remarked. “The Doom Guard are in
position, and the Children of Chaos stir from slumber. Our time is close at
hand.”
* * *
Eltar
The city of Elaris
sparkled beneath him like a precious gem. The intricate refraction system
caught the light from Eltar’s moon and split it into a thousand rays of soft
silver, bathing the metropolis in an almost heavenly glow. It was a city that
had never known true night.
Zedd contemplated the
beauty before him as he stood at the window of his suite. Though he had
admitted it to no one, the presence he had felt at Zordon’s banquet still
troubled him. He had only been aware of it for a moment, but that was enough to
trigger a distinct sense of familiarity. Not enough, though, for him to
recognize it. Zedd was mortal now, but he still held over fifteen thousand
years’ worth of memories in his mind. Recalling the distant past was not an
easy task.
“Zedd?” his wife called
from the parlor. “I think you should see this.”
Rita was standing in
front of their holonet projector – the Eltarian equivalent of television -
where some sort of emergency news report was being broadcast. A woman was
facing the screen, her image jittering up and down. She held a transmitter to
her mouth, but ominous rumbles all but drowned out her voice.
“…have no explanation for the seismic activity…” The view angled away from the reporter and fixed on an enormous canyon in the distance. The sky above was dark and heavy with clouds; lightning flashed across the shapeless masses. “…report that orbital scanners cannot penetrate… electromagnetic interference…”
Zedd approached the
projector as the transmission continued intermittently. “…advise
citizens not to panic. Geologists have confirmed… tremors are localized…
attributed to shifting tectonic plates and will not affect any populated
regions…” A topographic map appeared under the
woman’s face, highlighting a large canyon some fifty miles south of Elaris. The
caption on the map read The Gap of Triumph.
And suddenly Zedd was ten
thousand years in the past.
The hysterical Deldaani girl scratched at her captors, struggling in vain. “He will return!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs as they dragged her away. “I have seen it! He will return and kill you all! Kill you all!”
The blood drained away
from his face and his eyes widened. “Gods preserve us…” he whispered. “It
cannot be!”
“What?” Rita demanded.
She had never seen Zedd so unnerved before. “What’s going on?”
He whirled around and
grabbed her shoulders in a grip of steel. “Get the Inquirians. Meet me in front
of the palace in twenty minutes.” A note of panic was creeping into his voice.
“We must warn them. They don’t know it’s coming, they’re not ready…” Seeing his
wife frozen in place, Zedd shook her hard. “What are you waiting for?! GO!”
* * *
“You want me to what?”
King Zalen gaped incredulously at his four uninvited guests.
“You must call an
emergency meeting of the Senate.” Zedd repeated. “The Federation is in grave
danger.”
He could see the
skepticism in the Eltarian’s eyes. “Based on what? Our best analysts have
determined that this… anomaly is not
malevolent in nature…”
“The analysts found
nothing, malevolent or otherwise.” Zedd placed his hands on Zalen’s desk,
leaning forward to impress the urgency of his words. “Listen to me, Zalen.
Before the Purge, there was evil in the universe, bringing death and
destruction wherever its agents went. I know this, for I was once such a being.
We were avatars of hatred and greed, but we also knew fear. And the power that
stirs in that place is first among those terrors.”
The younger man shook his
head, clearly bewildered. “What is this power, Zedd?”
Now the Khanduri paused,
as if measuring his words precisely. “I speak of the Prime Enemy. Oldest, first
and last. Devourer of worlds, corruptor of souls, destroyer of light and
darkness. He has many names on many worlds; here, he was known only as the
Unspoken.” Zalen lurched back in his seat, his expression shifting to one of
unmasked horror.
“He’s coming, Zalen.”
Zedd warned. “It will begin here, at the place of his greatest defeat.”
“This… this is madness!”
Zalen cried, leaping to his feet. “You would have me believe that… that myth
is true? The Unspoken is folklore, a tale told
to frighten children at night! There is no documentation to prove it truly
existed!”
Zedd nodded. “That was
your uncle’s decision, though now I wish I had opposed him more fervently. But
I swear to you, Zalen, on all I hold dear, the legends are true.” Dimitria
handed him a folder, which he opened. “Aquitar: electrical storms over an
uninhabited island, cause unknown. Triforia: seismic tremors cause three mining
shafts to collapse, cause unknown. Mandalor: Mount Jal’dysaar, dormant for over
nine millennia, shows signs of a full-scale eruption. Cause unknown.” Zedd
slapped the folder down on Zalen’s desk. “These disturbances all began
simultaneously, each in the vicinity of one of the Enemy’s former strongholds.
Please, alert the Senate! They are all in danger!”
The king sat back down,
making a steeple of his fingers and gazing at the reports. “I will have the
Quantrons investigate the Gap of Triumph.” He decided. “If they find any
evidence to support your claims, the Senate will declare a state of emergency.
Until then, I will not allow you to cause unnecessary panic.”
“By then you will have no
world left to defend!” There was an almost-manic tone in Zedd’s voice now; his
three companions edged away from him slightly. “If the Unspoken has not
attacked yet, it is only because he cannot. But we will not be safe forever! We
must make the first move, and strike while we still can!”
A look of disdain crossed
the King’s features, so unlike the respect he’d shown at the banquet just hours
ago. “Strike at what, Zedd? Would you have me order my forces to invade and
capture a hole in the ground?” He swiveled his chair away from them to face the
city. “This meeting is adjourned!”
Zedd backed away, despair
etched on his features like an epitaph on a gravestone. In his mind’s eye, he
saw their ignorance as a blazing fire that would consume Eltar and spread into
the stars, setting the whole of creation aflame.
“Do what you must.” he
said as he turned to leave. “As will I.”
* * *
Elsewhere
“The Awakening proceeds.” the Seer announced to her companions. Suddenly she froze, and cocked her head ever so slightly.
The Sorceress recognized the gesture and eagerly stepped forward. “What do you see?” she asked.
Turning back to the black orb, the Seer laid her hand upon it and the liquid within began to follow the trail of her fingertips. “Our prize is not on Eltar, as we thought. Where it lies, I cannot say… but there is one who may lead us to it.” The ooze began to part, revealing the face of a young man. Neither the Sorceress or the Warrior recognized him. “An outsider, alone in a world of others.” the Seer whispered, swaying slightly in the throes of her vision. “He holds secrets that will serve us well.”
With a bloodthirsty grin, the Warrior stepped forward. “Where is he? I will bring him myself.”
But the Seer let out a breathy giggle and shook her head. “No need. He will come to us.”
The man’s face faded away.
* * *
Zordon’s Valor, in
geo-synchronous orbit over Eltar
Not so long ago, the
sight of such a dark, massive warship circling the planet would have warranted
a call to arms. That was when Eltar had had powerful enemies, who sought
nothing less than dominion over the entire galaxy.
Times had changed; things
were different now. The vessel once known as the Dark Fortress had been left vacant
after the Countdown, and was given as a gift to Eltar by the Rangers of Earth.
It was a holy place, the very location where the sage Zordon had given his life
for the cause, and as such it had been rechristened Zordon’s Valor, a monument to his greatness.
The most invaluable
resource found within the Valor was the
Quantron factories, once used to produce the Alliance’s feared robotic
enforcers. Eltarian scientists had rewritten the Quantrons’ source programming,
changing their prime function from “Conquer and Destroy” to “Protect and
Defend”. In this new era planetary Ranger teams were obsolete, with entire
garrisons of loyal Quantrons stationed on every Federation world, upholding
peace and justice.
The Valor also served as a transport for
Eltarian dignitaries, so none of the crew found the presence of King Zalen
unusual. But his behavior had certainly sparked muted whispers in the
corridors: immediately after coming aboard, the king had sequestered himself in
his private quarters and had taken personal control over a platoon of Quantrons
currently posted in the outskirts of Ysara City. All feeds and transmissions
from the platoon had been rerouted to Zalen’s chambers, effectively granting
him sole access to those drones. It was hardly common procedure. Still, Zalen
was king. And while his word was not law, he was respected enough by the Senate
and the crew of the Valor to be left to
his own devices.
The nephew of Zordon was
seated in his darkened chambers, the only source of light a wall-sized video
screen relaying a video feed from one of the Quantrons. Zalen could see through
the robot’s eyes as the speeder carrying it and its companions neared the Gap
of Triumph. The electromagnetic disruptions were interfering with the
transmission; the closer they got to the edge of the ravine, the less Zalen
could make out.
Lightning crackled across
the clouds above. The Eltarian’s heart skipped a beat and he leaned forward in
his chair, keying a command into the panel on the chair’s armrest. The Quantron
obeyed, zooming in on the gaping maw. Again the lightning flashed, and Zalen
realized he had not been mistaken: the bolts were rising from the earth
itself, reaching up into the heavens like
fingers.
Or the tentacles of an
ancient beast, dragging itself up to the surface…
A trickle of cold sweat
edged down the monarch’s spine, but the Quantrons proceeded without hesitation.
They weren’t programmed to know fear. The speeder came to a halt a hundred
meters from the edge of the Gap; from there, the robots would disembark and
continue on foot. The rest of the party moved ahead while Zalen’s recorder
brought up the rear. As they pressed on, Zalen frowned; winds had picked up,
scattering dust and gravel in every direction. Despite the lack of resolution
and low visibility, Zalen could still see the other Quantrons vanish into a
wall of sand. Still, they had found nothing threatening yet. Clearly that was a
good sign. Surely Zedd was wrong.
He was still entertaining
that thought when the recorder suddenly halted. Its optic sensors were locked
on a pair of small yellow lights in the distance. Raising its weapon, the
Quantron cautiously moved towards the glow. An outline became visible amidst
the maelstrom, huge and ominous…
Then the sands parted,
and Zalen’s breath caught in his throat.
The red beast was
enormous, broad-shouldered and knotted with muscle. Its massive head was
crowned with two thick horns, and yellow pinpoints of light blazed from its
eyes. As it stepped forward, Zalen could see it walked on cloven hooves, and
its three-fingered claws were grasping the mangled remains of two Quantrons,
literally torn apart.
But that was not
frightened Zalen most. For behind it, he could see dozens – perhaps even
hundreds – of the creatures clawing their way out of the Gap.
“Balar.” he whispered
plaintively.
As if it had heard him,
the gargantuan charged. Static suddenly filled the viewscreen, and then it went
blank.
For a long moment, Zalen
stared at the screen as if willing it to show him more. He did not move, did not
think, did not breathe.
Then his trembling
fingers reached out and typed another command into his panel. A message flashed
across the screen – “Video Feed Deleted” – and the room was plunged into
shadow.
* * *
Earth: Angel Grove,
California
“Andros is in the
Simudeck.” DECA dutifully replied.
The Silver Ranger
groaned. “Not again…”
Biting her lip, Karone
cast a nervous glance down the hall. “Do you want me to come with you?”
Zhane shook his head and
murmured “No, I’ll handle this” before leaving her behind. As he drew nearer to
the holographic simulator, he could hear dull thuds and metal clanging at a
furious pace. The panel by the door confirmed that the Simudeck was operating
at risk factor nine again. Zhane drew his morpher, let out a tired sigh and
inputted the activation code. The power washed over him at once, encasing him
in his Ranger outfit and visored helmet. Strange… the feel of the alloy against
his skin felt different somehow. But then, he hadn’t morphed in at least a
year, not since the Countdown. There had never been any need for him to do so…
at least, not for him or his former teammates.
Andros, on the other
hand…
The door slid open as
Zhane approached, allowing him to enter the Simudeck and confirm his fears. The
chamber had been transformed into a war zone: tall skyscrapers were burning
around them, and energy beams ricocheted around the room, burning and scarring
whatever they hit. The audio effects were in full swing: Zhane could actually
hear the burning, the screams of innocent civilians.
This wasn’t supposed to
be happening. The war was over. But here it raged on, as fierce as ever, and in
the midst of the madness stood the Red Ranger, Andros of KO-35. Unmorphed,
unarmed and unprotected, facing off with three Craterites. A little girl lay
cowering behind him – only a simulation,
Zhane told himself, but her soft sobs still tore at his heart. All three robots
held swords of Korandi design: an omnium monofilament blade, its edges
sharpened to a single molecule. Capable of cutting through stone, steel and
flesh with equal ease.
The Craterites moved as
one, spreading out to surround the Red Ranger. His eyes darted from one to the
other, but none of the trio seemed to be targeting him; Zhane blanched as he
realized they were programmed to attack the girl. Andros didn’t just have to
fight them, he had to make sure the girl wasn’t harmed. No matter what they did
to him.
This is too much, Zhane
thought as Andros leapt into action, kicking one of his enemies squarely in the
chest. The robot was thrown backwards, but the other two were already swinging
their swords in unison. One of the blades nicked Andros’ upper right arm,
another cut into his left cheek. As his friend watched in horror, the Red
Ranger bit back a cry of pain and glared at the robots with fire in his eyes.
Blood was flowing down his face and arm, but he didn’t seem to care.
Worse… he was smiling.
“Enough.” Zhane
whispered, running towards the fight as he silently summoned his Silverizer
wrist blade. The Craterites’ attention was focused on Andros; they never even
saw the Silver Ranger jump at them from behind. Zhane speared one of the robots
in the back, causing it to dissolve and fade away. They, like everything else
in the Simudeck, were only stimulated air molecules, condensed to give them a
degree of tangibility.
Spinning on the balls of
his feet, Zhane brought his arm down in a sharp arc towards the second
Craterite. The Silverizer sliced through the simulacrum with ease, causing it
to vanish in a shower of sparks.
“End program!” Zhane
shouted as he demorphed. DECA obeyed, and the war zone faded away to the plain
grid-design of the Simudeck. Andros just stood there, arms folded, heedless of
his wounds.
“Are you crazy?” the
blond Kerovan shouted. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Factor nine
with no safety protocols? You could get killed!”
Wincing, Andros clamped a
hand over the cut on his arm. “It’s called training. You know the rules, Zhane:
use it or lose it.” He shot his friend a subtle glance. “Speaking of which, you
were a little slow back there. You could use some practice yourself.”
Zhane couldn’t believe
his ears. “For what?” he retorted. “The war’s over, Andros. Why can’t you just
accept that?”
Ignoring that comment,
Andros reared his head back and locked his gaze on the DECA interface mounted
on the wall. “DECA: recall two of the Korandi swords.” The computer silently
processed the command, and a pair of the weapons previously wielded by the
Craterites materialized in midair.
“I don’t want to do
this.” Zhane murmured.
“Remember our first year
together at the academy?” Andros was undoing his jacket buttons as he spoke.
“You and me, in the pit. First time anyone fought me to a standstill.” The
jacket fell to the ground in a heap, followed by his undershirt. With a final
yank, Andros pulled the elastic band out of his hair, casting it away as he
took one of the blades by its hilt and saluted Zhane with it.
He didn’t have much
choice; Zhane followed his friend’s lead, stripping to the waist and pulling
the remaining sword from where it hung. With a little luck, he’d be able to
disarm Andros and get this over with before things got too serious…
But Andros seemed to have
something else in mind, as he immediately lunged forward with all the grace and
deadly intent that had been drilled into them all those years ago. Zhane bent
backwards, missing a swipe that would have taken out his eyes had it connected.
Andros meant business, which meant Zhane would have to be just as serious if he
intended to end this.
The Kerovans immediately
fell into a smooth rhythm as they sparred. They had trained together for years,
knew each other’s moves as well as they did their own. There were no secrets or
surprises between them. But Andros was right; his rigorous exercises had kept
him in shape, while Zhane’s reflexes had slowed just a bit. And Andros
capitalized on that, sweeping Zhane’s legs out from under him and leaping atop
his comrade. Zhane dropped his blade and used both hands to brace Andros’ wrist,
trying to prevent the tag that would mean victory for the older teen.
“There’s… something you
should know.” Zhane grunted as Andros pushed forward, nearing the sword closer
to Zhane’s throat. The Red Ranger was winning, and he knew it.
“What’s that?” Andros
asked, smirking triumphantly.
”I asked Karone to marry me. And she said yes.”
The smirk dropped from
Andros’ face and his eyes widened. The Silver Ranger saw his chance; he rolled
backwards, reversing their position and tearing Andros’ sword from his hand.
Before his opponent could recover, Zhane buried the blade in the deck, scant
inches from Andros’ neck.
“See?” he panted. “All that training and
you’re still dead.”
But Andros didn’t seem to
hear him. For a long moment, it was like he was somewhere else. Zhane stood and
offered his hand to help his friend up; Andros angrily shoved the outstretched
arm away and rose to his feet.
“I’m happy for you.” he
murmured. Zhane suddenly felt a pang of anger at his own insensitivity. This
wasn’t something you blurted out in the middle of a sparring session. It would
have been hard enough for Andros to accept that his best friend was getting
married at all, given their history. But Karone wasn’t just any woman. She was
Andros’ beloved, long-lost sister.
Zhane took a step
forward, gently touching Andros’ shoulder. “I didn’t mean for it to slip out
like that. It’s just that I wanted you to know…”
“I understand.” the Red
Ranger cut him off sharply. Then his eyes softened and his lips twitched into a
slight smile. “I really am glad for you, Zhane. I always hoped you’d find
someone who could make you happy. I just… didn’t think it would be my sister.”
There was more to it, of
course. Zhane knew that. But he didn’t think either of them wanted to bring
that up. Some things were just better left unsaid. For a moment he considered
asking Andros another question that had been lingering in the back of his mind
– would you be my best man? – but it
would be better if Andros had time to process the news first. Squeezing his
friend’s bare shoulder once, the blonde picked up his shirt and walked out of
the Simudeck.
He almost didn’t hear the
hum of the holographic simulators starting up another sequence.
Almost.
* * *
Eltar
A network of underground
vaults lay beneath the splendor of King Zalen’s palace, under the polished
marble and priceless antiques. These were the Archives of Eltar, a repository
of knowledge predating Elaris itself. It had survived the Alliance invasion
untouched, largely due to the fact that few Eltarians were aware of its
existence. Fewer still were interested in what lay within: ancient historical
texts of no use to the modern scholar, outdated starmaps and anthologies of
folklore… In this era the Archives were all but obsolete, and visitors were a
rarity.
Which made them the
perfect hiding spot. Zedd knew this, and he believed Zordon had known it as
well.
“It must be here
somewhere…” the Khanduri said as he dug through mounds of scrolls and
decomposing books.
Divatria paused in her
search to look at him. “What are we looking for again?”
“Proof. One of Zordon’s
journals. He must have hidden it here when he returned to Eltar...” Zedd
explained as he moved on to another shelf. Immediately his eyes widened and he
pulled a thick, musty volume off the rack.
“This is it.” he
breathed, sweeping the dust away to reveal a majestic Z on the cover. Indeed,
it was Zordon’s emblem, familiar to his former enemies from the days when the
armies of Eltar had marched against them, bearing that symbol on their banners.
Zedd turned to his three
companions, holding the book close to his chest. “He knew the Unspoken had
survived our final battle. But he believed that all free races would live in
fear of its return if they knew the truth. Under his orders, all documentation
from the Wars of Anarchy was destroyed. Only this book remains, and he hid it
well.”
Rita shook her head in
confusion. “I don’t understand. Zordon didn’t think this thing would come back.
How can you be so sure?”
“I fought it. I know it.
This is where Zordon defeated it, where its power was greatest and its intent
darkest.” Letting out a shaky breath, Zedd headed for the exit. “We must take
this to Zalen. He wanted evidence of the danger. And he shall have it.”
* * *
Elsewhere
The Age of Peace ended with neither bang nor whisper, but with a single word, spoken in a strong and commanding tone.
“Now.”
Thus the Age of Chaos began.
* * *
Eltar
He sensed it moments
before it happened. The ground heaved beneath his feet, knocking everyone down.
As Zedd and his companions ran out into the streets, they saw a massive pillar
of red smoke rising in the distance, distinctly visible against the dark of
night, and suddenly fireballs were streaking down from the heavens, crashing
into the taller buildings and sending a wave of explosions that rocked the very
foundations of Elaris.
“It’s started.” Zedd
whispered as he watched the horrific tableau unfold. Lightning arced into the
pavement, tearing up the road and slicing into nearby civilians. But as the
bolts touched ground, they began to coalesce into nightmarish figures, lean and
twisted and crackling with electricity. Burning comets smashed into the ground,
and other malformed creatures arose from the smoking craters, larger and
covered in flame. The air was filled with howling, the sound of tortured souls
hungry for revenge, drowning out the screams of the terrified Eltarians.
“We have to help these
people!” Divatria cried as one of the lightning monsters casually lopped off a
man’s head with its elongated pincers. The former pirate leapt to attack the
beast and was shocked with Zedd grabbed her with his free arm.
“There is nothing more we
can do here!” he shouted, transfixing her with an iron glare. “But this isn’t
over yet. Follow me!”
None of the women seemed
willing to abandon the battlefield, but they trusted Zedd’s instincts. Dashing
across the street, Zedd leapt into an abandoned speeder. As he activated the
ignition sequence, he turned his head towards Rita, Divatria and Dimitria.
And the shadow that was
rising up behind them, slowly taking shape.
“DIMITRIA!” Zedd
screamed. But his warning came too late: a bony protrusion slid out of the
demon’s arm, and it stabbed her in the back. Divatria let out a wail of horror
as her sister slid off the spear, collapsing to the ground with a soft gasp. A
bloodstain rapidly grew across her chest, spreading dark red across her
pristine white robes.
Rage burned in Zedd’s
heart. They had known each other only a short while, but he had called Dimitria
friend. The anger was familiar to him, a reminder of a time when the fury had
ruled him, and he had wielded power beyond imagining. He could reduce this
murderous fiend to ash with a thought.
But that would lead to the old
ways, the evil. He had turned away from that. He would not make a mockery of
Zordon’s sacrifice. Instead, Zedd turned the speeder around and throttled the
accelerator. The vehicle lurched into motion, slamming into the demon and
sending it careening into a wall. Rita and Divatria quickly gathered their
wounded comrade and lifted her into the speeder, following suit. Though it
pained Zedd to do so, he turned away from the destruction and programmed the
autopilot for the fastest route out of Elaris. He heard marching in the
distance and knew the Quantrons stationed in Elaris had engaged the enemy.
Though he didn’t expect that to make much of a difference in the long run.
Ten minutes later, the city was
shrinking behind them. But it was a different city now. The peace was gone. And
Zedd knew it might never return.
“Where are we going?” Rita
demanded, doing her best to stop Dimitria’s bleeding. “She needs medical
attention!”
“Eltar isn’t safe anymore.” Zedd
replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the navigation computer. “We’re the only
ones who know what’s happening. It falls to us to stop this madness.”
In the distance, Rita could see a
small hill rapidly growing closer. She recognized it. “The Ancients’ Waygate?”
Zedd nodded. In the days before
space travel, Eltarian mages had used such devices to transport themselves to
other worlds. The Waygate was a large ring of stone, standing upright on the
peak of the hill. Once the runes etched into the granite were aligned and pushed
inward, the gate would be opened. Of course, no one had used the Waygate for at
least three thousand years; they were considered dangerous since the incorrect
sequence of runes could transport the passengers into the heart of a sun or a
black hole.
But Rita understood why her
husband was choosing this particular mode of transportation. They had come to
Eltar aboard the Valor, and it would be impossible to signal the vessel
with the entire city under attack. Moreover, they could hardly commandeer the ship
and take it where they wished.
The speeder came to a halt at the
base of the hill, and Zedd handed the book to Rita as he leapt out and pulled
Dimitria into his arms. The four quickly climbed to the peak, where the Waygate
stood passively, unmolested by time or the invaders. Gently laying Dimitria
down on the grass, Zedd began pulling and pushing the runes into place. “Help
me.” he grunted to Divatria, who followed his lead as Rita knelt next to
Dimitria. The sage had slipped into unconsciousness somewhere during their
escape; if they didn’t get her help soon, she would bleed to death.
Long minutes passed, and Rita
looked to the west. The sun would be rising soon, but she had a feeling the
morning would bring no comfort.
A flash of light turned her attention
back to the Waygate. The portal had been opened, stretching and growing until
it reached the inner rim of the stone ring. Zedd waved to Divatria, who glanced
at her sister before leaping into the gate. Over the howling winds, Rita could
hear her husband calling, shouting for her to follow Divatria. Clutching the
book to her chest, Rita rose from her friend’s side and ran to the gate,
stopping only to kiss her love once, briefly, for luck.
Turning back to the injured
Inquirian, Zedd moved towards her, intending to pick her up and carry her with
him. He never saw the fireball arcing down over his head, but when it struck
the ground the thunderous impact wrenched the Khanduri off his feet, sending
him stumbling backwards into the shimmering portal.
As the gate continued to glow, a
blood-colored demon rose out of the smoke, looking around for a moment and
noting the motionless body of the Inquirian woman. Then it saw the Waygate, and
its lips pulled back into a hideous snarl. The creature crouched on all fours
as fire gathered around it again. A moment later it vanished into a burning
sphere, which shot into the portal just as it closed.
* * *
A klaxon blared throughout the Megaship, followed by DECA’s ever-calm voice. “Warning: Interplanetary gateway detected. Location: Angel Grove Park, sector B-12.”
Zhane and Karone were already at
the bridge when Andros walked in, morpher at the ready. “What’s going on?” he
asked.
“A portal’s opening in the park.
B-12… I think that’s on the other side of the lake.” Karone reported from the
science station, once manned by Carlos Vasquez.
Andros nodded. “I’ll check it out.
Zhane, stay here with Karone. If this is an attack, we need someone to defend
the ship. But be ready to back me up.”
Before Zhane could object to being
left behind, Andros was already on his way to the hangar. The Gliders were in
top shape, though a thin sheen of dust had collected on all but the red
vehicle. Within seconds the Red Ranger was airborne, flying towards the source
of the disturbance.
Karone was frowning at the scanner
readings. Her fiancé drew nearer, looking at the console over her shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“The energy is still building, and the gateway isn’t even
formed yet.” she replied, with a hint of worry in her voice. “Whatever’s coming
is either very big or was sent from very far away.” She paused, and he could
see fear in her eyes.
“Or both.” she murmured.
* * *
Facing my fear. I’m facing my fear. I’m not afraid.
Billy Cranston forced himself to take a slow, deep breath. The mask he was wearing – Aquitian design, of course – allowed him to breathe underwater by converting H2O particles into oxygen, but only if he stayed calm.
Which was easier said than done,
considering the fact that he was deep in the Nevian Sea with no idea where to
go or what to do. Only the reassuring touch of Cestria, his Aquitian lover,
kept him from panicking. Her hand on his wrist, holding him close as they swam
away from the collapsing domes. The water was thick with dark, monstrous forms,
gliding through the waters with ease.
They had come out of nowhere,
single-minded aquatic horrors striking at the underwater dome-cities of
Aquitar. Billy and Cestria had been on an observation deck when the swarm had
closed in and began ripping into the metal and glass, instantly flooding the
city. It wouldn’t matter to the Aquitians, except that their attackers were
just as comfortable in water as they were. And once the protective bubble
encasing the city was torn open, they descended in ravenous packs, claws
extended to rip flesh from bone. There was nowhere to run.
As the water level had rapidly
risen, Cestria had punched out an emergency panel and handed the mask to Billy.
Then they had leapt down into the rising waters, and she led him to a small
exit port leading out into the sea. Even then, he had seen how hopeless their
escape was; where the oceans of Aquitar were usually a bright blue, now they
were black and teeming with dark forms. But Cestria had all but pulled him
along.
They swam fast and hard, and for a
moment the Terran believed they might actually escape.
Then something grabbed his ankle.
The young genius kicked out, but
he was no Aquitian; his limbs moved sluggishly through the water and his feeble
blow was easily evaded. He got his first good look at the creature: sleek,
scaly, green-grey in color. Its lower torso narrowed down into a tail and fins
– Billy suddenly had a mental image of The Little Mermaid – but when it grinned
at him he saw dozens of tiny sharp teeth and the childhood fear came back, the
pain of incisors biting into his tender fingers, the fear of stepping into the
water knowing it was waiting for him…
Its eyes shone red in the darkness
and it reached for him. Something whizzed past his ear, and the monster reared
back and went limp, a harpoon embedded in its chest. Spinning around, Billy’s
eyes widened as he saw Cestria, beautiful as a goddess, reloading her rifle.
Unaware that two more of the monsters were swimming up behind her.
Billy screamed a warning, but the
water stifled his cries. He saw her open her mouth as each creature grabbed one
of her arms; in the blink of an eye, they casually pulled her in half.
She was gone. Just like that. Her
sweet smile and the touch of her soft lips on his, and soulful eyes that could
look right through him. Gone.
Billy Cranston was a gentle soul.
Ever kind, ever compassionate, soft-spoken and true-hearted. All he ever wanted
was to find new and wondrous truths, to make the world a better place. Even in
his time as a Power Ranger, as a warrior in a constant battle for his life and
freedom, his heart had never hardened. He had never known hatred or rage.
Until now.
He was screaming so loud he
couldn’t hear himself. As the remains of his beloved sank to the ocean floor,
Billy lunged on instinct, pulling the spear out of the creature she had killed
and thrusting it through the other’s face, neatly splitting its skull. More of
them were advancing; he saw them through the murky clouds of her blood. The
spear was in both hands now, and he strained against the water, hurtling
forward with the sharp tip aimed at the nearest demon.
But his wrath, though feverish and
burning hot, was impotent. He was still human, his foes were not. They were
masters of the seas, and he was just a scared, tired Terran. They were closing
in on him – he thought he might have killed another one as a hand closed around
his face. Then his mask was gone, and salt water burned his eyes, blinded him.
He flailed helplessly as his lungs strained for air. He tried to swim to the
surface, but the creatures were pulling him down into the depths.
When at last he opened his mouth
and water began to rush into his lungs, Billy realized there was only one thing
he feared more than swimming: Drowning.
* * *
The park seemed calm enough, at
least until he arrived and civilians began gathering and cheering as soon as
they saw him. He waved at them, if only to disperse the crowd as quickly as
possible. It didn’t work; the Red Ranger so rarely left his stronghold that any
glimpse of him was a newsworthy event.
With a frustrated sigh, Andros
landed amidst the throng of people and held up his hands. “Everyone, please
listen to me!” he shouted as hard as he could. “You need to leave this area
immediately, for your own safety!”
That sobered up the crowd almost instantly. The recent peace had not erased the
memories of the bad times, the alien invasions and the devastation they had
wrought. Parents had taught their children two basic rules for monster attacks
in those days: get to the nearest shelter, and always listen to a Power Ranger.
Adults found it wise to follow their own advice in that particular situation,
and the gathered citizens quickly dispersed. More than a few of them seemed
haunted somehow, as if they’d been waiting for evil to return to their home and
now it had finally come.
Andros had struggled with the same
feeling since the Countdown. No, that wasn’t true. If he was honest with
himself, he could admit that the foreboding began shortly after Ashley left.
After she…
The Red Ranger shook his head,
dispelling the phantoms of the past. There was no time to reminisce. About fifty
yards ahead of him, faint white energy was slowly forming a teleportation
matrix, carrying the disassembled molecules of whoever had stepped through. It
was not an unpopular mode of travel; Andros knew the previous Ranger team used
a teleporter system on a regular basis. He had to admit there were advantages
to instantaneous travel, but the Kerovans didn’t have access to that kind of
technology.
As Andros approached the portal,
he readied his trusted Spiral Saber. If anything came through that gate to
threaten this world, he would kill it.
A burst of light illuminated the
area; Andros’ visor compensated and he could see a trio of silhouettes within.
With a surge of energy, the teleportation was complete, leaving three strangers
who immediately collapsed, all unconscious. At the same time, a burning orb of
fire leapt up into the sky. To Andros’ surprise, the fireball suddenly curved
downward, plowing into the ground between him and the newcomers. The earth
shuddered, but the Red Ranger maintained his balance, waiting for the smoke to
disperse.
The impact had formed a large hole
in the ground; fire still danced around the edges. But something was moving
inside the womb of mud and dirt, rising and falling in sync with the sounds of
deep, guttural breaths. Then a claw reached up out of the darkness, grabbing a
handhold. Grass turned black in its grip as it hauled itself upright, and for a
moment Andros could only gape.
He had never seen such a horror
before; its blood-red form spoke of a malevolent creator beyond even Dark
Specter. It stood taller than any monster that had walked the Earth, standing
on two legs as thick as trees. Three massive talons formed each claw; muscle
and sinew pulsed with unholy flame. The beast’s shoulders were shielded by
bone, and its head was nestled between two massive horns curving inward towards
its fanged mouth.
But more than anything, it was the
light that shone in the demon’s eyes that told Andros this was a creature of
evil, existing only to spread destruction and pain. The Red Ranger quickly fell
into a battle stance, raising his sword at the ready. The monster let out a
deep-throated howl as it saw him and quickly charged. Andros dodged the first
swipe, but the tips of its nails scratched his chest and a burning pain began
to spread through his body. Andros winced and backed away; the pain vanished a
moment later, but it served as a potent warning.
The beast did not tire, moving forward inexorably as it reached for him again and again. Andros evaded each blow, aware that it was keeping him on the defensive. That had to change. When the demon swung its right fist at him, the Kerovan ducked beneath the blow and shoved at the extended arm. The creature stumbled, thrown off-balance, and Andros brought his sword around in a wide slash, cutting into its hide.
The demon let out a wail of pain,
but to Andros’ shock fire leapt from its wound, spilling onto the grass and
setting it ablaze. A spurt of flame caught on the Kerovan’s arm, and he
screamed as it seared through his armor, scorching his flesh. The monster
recovered first, bringing a fist down on Andros’ head so hard he felt as though
the skies had caved in on him. Another blow connected with his chest, sending
the Red Ranger sprawling to the ground. He tried to rise, but the demon was
faster, hauling him up before kicking him in the midsection with a hoofed foot.
Ribs cracked in response, and the Kerovan doubled over.
He never even saw the final blow,
slamming into the back of his head and sending him hurtling into unconsciousness.
* * *
Pyramidas was lost. Demons had
surrounded the city. And Prince Trey – Gold Zeo Ranger, last hope of the
Triforians – was dead.
The invaders had emerged from beneath
the ruins of an ancient temple in the northern deserts. There had been no time
to properly defend the Golden City; only the power of Pyramidas could protect
it. The gargantuan Zord had been placed between Aurelia and the advancing
hordes, and as they entered range Trey unleashed a terrible swath of energy,
disintegrating the front lines of the army and sending up a great cloud of
sand.
In the wake of such destruction, a
single creature stepped forward. It was unlike the others, covered in silver armor
from the neck down and carrying a serrated blade in its left hand. Despite the
great distance, the Gold Ranger had also noticed a pair of wings extending from
its back. As he watched the armored beast – some sort of general, perhaps – it
had raised its sword and howled out a command in a foul-sounding language. A
dozen crimson-skinned beasts stepped forward, lowering themselves on all four
limbs. For a moment, all was still. Then the silver-plated monstrosity pointed
at Pyramidas, and the other demons leapt into the air, their bodies catching
fire as they transformed into blazing comets. Trey had escaped with moments to
spare as they slammed into the great Zord, consuming it in a fiery
conflagration.
And then he was alone. He had
fought well, slain as many as he could as the day went on. In his mind’s eye he
saw his family, his people, scrambling to seal the city and establish a
defense. Fortunately, the demons seemed to ignore Aurelia entirely so long as
he remained among them, thinning their ranks. But ultimately, they had brought
him down through sheer weight of numbers, and once he was separated from his
staff the Gold powers abandoned him, leaving him defenseless.
The demons had taken his arms and
forced him to his knees before their commander. As it approached him, Trey
recoiled in horror. It bore a great resemblance to a Titan, of Goldar’s kin,
but no Titan had ever possessed such a visage. Its face was devoid of skin, a
mass of exposed flesh set against two empty eye sockets and a mouthful of fangs.
Though the rest of its body was concealed, the Gold Ranger was sure it suffered
the same condition. Without a word, the knight drove his sword deep into the
Triforian’s chest. Trey had doubled over, but his captors held him as the sword
was pulled out of his body. The Titan brought the blade up to its face and
licked the blood – his blood – before raising it above his head and
howling.
Trey felt himself fall, released into the sands as his life’s blood leaked from
the gaping wound and the demons rushed onward towards Aurelia. He did not fear
his own death. The terror in his pierced heart was for his parents and his
people. Though he could not speak, in his mind he begged forgiveness from those
he had failed. And so the Gold Ranger died. No human eyes marked his passing,
but the smoke rising from Pyramidas was seen by all the citizens of the Golden
City, and the people knew their champion was lost. And those who strained their
ears could perceive a sound unlike any they had known:
The sound of a hundred thousand
footsteps, marching in unison.
* * *
Sweat was trickling down Zhane’s
face, running into his eyes. He blinked and backed away warily, his Silverizer
sword raised at the creature that had knocked Andros out. He’d seen what this
monster could do, and he was the only one left who could stop it.
It seemed to find him amusing as
he circled it, looking for a weak spot. Perhaps because Andros had done the
same, and Andros had lost. But Zhane still had a trick or two up his sleeve.
His friend had been right: he hadn’t trained in months. But he didn’t fight
like the Red Ranger. As leader, Andros had always been expected to take the
direct route, fight an enemy to a standstill and triumph. The way of the
warrior.
But Zhane had no qualms about
using any dirty trick in the book to win. If he could blind his opponent with
dirt, or lock onto some hidden weakness…
One of the travelers – the man –
groaned. The creature swiveled its massive head to look at him, twisting its
torso around to face the unconscious humans. That’s when Zhane realized it. The
demon was too big; it couldn’t look to either side without turning its body to
face that direction. That made sense on a certain level: these things were
obviously created for one purpose, to destroy whatever lay ahead of it. Looking
back was not an option.
It was a weakness.
The beast was already moving
towards the travelers. Clearly they were its objective; Zhane was of no
interest to it. He had to get its attention.
Moving in swiftly, Zhane slashed
at the creature’s leg with his blade. It let out a roar of anger and the Silver
Ranger danced away as a gout of flame leapt from the torn flesh.
The distraction worked. His
opponent narrowed its glowing yellow eyes at him and turned back to face him.
That was all Zhane needed. Rushing
towards the creature, the Kerovan hurled himself through the space between its
legs, rising to his feet behind it. As it turned to face him, the Kerovan
jumped onto the muscled back, climbing his way upward as the demon clawed at
him. His legs flailed, but Zhane grabbed hold of one of the horns and pulled
himself onto the beast’s shoulders, its head locked between his knees. He could
only hold it like this for a moment before it would grab him and yank him down,
but that moment was all he needed. Raising the Silverizer above his head, Zhane
inverted the blade and thrust it through the monster’s skull. He immediately
fell backwards as a jet of flame leapt up into the air, and the creature fell silent,
wavering on its feet. The evil light in its eyes dimmed, and it toppled forward
onto the ground, dead.
* * *
“How goes the invasion?” the Warrior asked. Her prescient companion was standing very still, one hand extended over the Obsidian Eye. The Warrior could see half-formed images dancing in the dark liquid: flames, destruction, murder. All very good things.
At length, the Seer smiled. “He is very pleased.” she whispered. A thrill of pride ran through the Warrior’s body; that was all the affirmation she needed.
The Sorceress entered the chamber at that moment, with a sly smile on her face.
“Good news?” the Warrior asked.
“The Balar have brought us a prize, an alien of unknown origin. I’m assuming he’s the one you foresaw?”
The Seer giggled and nodded, seeming for all the world like a little girl with a naughty secret.
“Excellent. I’ll have him broken soon enough. What of the
Doom Guard?”
“Their mission continues. The Flesh Knight reports success on Triforia; the Wraith Knight approaches his target. They will weed out the enemies of the throne.” The Seer paused. “One of the Balar was diverted. It followed Zedd and his allies to another world. Now it is dead.”
This news surprised the Sorceress. But surely Zedd still had power, regardless of what they had learned of him. “No matter. He cannot evade us once this pitiful Federation crumbles to ash. Let him flee where he wishes. Soon there will be no place left to go.”
* * *
The balance was changing.
Ninjor frowned as he stirred in
meditation. Something had awoken in the deepest shadows, and the universe
itself seemed to react: black holes grew while the light of suns dimmed. For
once, the blacksmith wished he had a companion in his temple, if only to
discuss his unease. But his self-imposed solitude was an unfortunate necessity,
one he could not cast to the wind at whim. All he could do was attempt to
divine the source of this evil himself, and take whatever action was necessary
to quell it.
Outside, a bronze-clad figure
silently slipped through the gates of the temple. As it stood before the doors
to Ninjor’s inner sanctum, it drew a long, jagged sword from the hilt at its
waist.
Had there been any flesh on the
warrior’s face, it might have smiled.
* * *
The Megaship sickbay was as silent as a mausoleum. The strangers – identified by Karone as Lord Zedd, Rita and Divatria – were still recuperating from their excruciating journey. The women hadn’t regained consciousness, but Zedd was awake and was on the bridge with Karone. The book Rita had been holding was locked in a safe, at the ex-warlord’s request.
Andros lay across the room in an emergency unit with two medical droids standing over him. Commander Kinwon had supplied them with a moderately-sized robotic crew eight months ago, following Andros’ formal petition to remain on Earth. Mostly they just maintained the ship’s functions in the absence of a real crew, but several of them were programmed to serve as medics. Zhane was grateful for that, because he was no doctor.
Zhane had demorphed his friend once they were all back inside the ship. Aside from the third-degree burns on his upper right arm, the droids confirmed that there was no internal bleeding and Andros would be back on his feet in a few hours. Zhane was more fortunate; he had escaped battling that creature with just a few bruises, which surprised him considering how out of shape he had been.
The intercom switched on at that moment, and Karone’s voice rang out. “Zhane? I need you up here.”
Removing his helmet, Zhane jogged down the corridor to the bridge, where a pale Karone stood next to Lord Zedd. A cacophony of voices was coming over the sound system, but Zhane couldn’t make out a single word.
“What is that?” he asked.
Instead of responding, Karone typed a command into the Comm panel. “DECA, separate the different transmissions and play them in succession.”
The computer obeyed, cutting off the incoherent jumble. Then it began to replay the broadcasts, heavily laden with static.
“…planetary defense systems were useless… Gods above,
they were already here…”
“…our primary lines have been breached, we are moving
to secondary positions…”
“…lost contact with the outer settlements… took us
completely by surprise…”
“…can anyone hear us?! …under serious attack!
Requesting immediate evac! Please, there are women and children here! We…”
“…too many of them! …can’t hold them back… Goddess,
they’re inside! Help! Somebody hel…”
With a burst of noise, everything fell silent. Zhane felt the blood drain from his face. “Where… what happened? What’s going on?”
“That was the Federation emergency channel.” Karone explained, rubbing her arms as though she felt cold. “Eltar, Triforia, Aquitar and Mandalor are under heavy attack.”
Zhane’s jaw dropped at that news. “That’s not possible. How could anyone invade four major Federation planets at the same time? How did they get past the orbital defenses?”
Lord Zedd, who had been silent till then, let out a sad sigh. “They didn’t. The invaders were on the surface of each world long before the defense systems were created.”
“But… how? And why are they attacking now?”
The Khanduri met the younger man’s gaze. “We are being cut off from any who
would help us. But we can still counter them if we act now.” Taking a step
forward, Zedd clamed a hand on Zhane’s shoulder.
“Gather the Rangers. War is upon us.”
* * *
The Warrior stood outside the chamber,
listening to the screams emanating from within. She had wanted to interrogate
the prisoner herself, but the Sorceress believed she could extract more
information in less time. So far she had not lived up to her word.
At last the agonized cries suddenly
died down, and the cell door opened, allowing the Sorceress to step out. Blood
was spattered against her neck and chest, but it was the wrong color; the
prisoner’s blood, then.
“Well? What have you learned?”
Her companion seemed shocked
somehow, her eyes wide and her steps unsure. “We… have made a grave error.”
The Warrior didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?” she demanded.
“Does he know where it is?”
The Sorceress nodded, reaching
a hand out to the wall to steady herself. “The Seer was right, curse her soul.
He’s seen it with his own eyes, on his homeworld. Some backwater planet
light-years away from the nearest Federation outpost. He calls it Earth.”
Nodding, the Warrior turned
towards the balcony. “We need names and locations. It’s time for a change of
tactics.”
* * *
The secretary had informed Zhane
that Cassie Chan was at a business meeting and couldn’t be interrupted. When he
headed for the doors anyway, she called security, two burly guards who grabbed
him by the arms.
They’d regain consciousness in a
few hours.
At the door, Zhane grabbed the
doorknob and turned. It was locked. So he kicked it in. Inside he saw a normal
office: carpet, desk covered with meaningless legal documents, a balding man in
his fifties sitting behind it with his mouth wide open. A platinum record hung
behind him, encased in a frame: the inscription read “Cassie Chan: Pretty In
Pink”.
And the girl herself was sitting
on the other side of her desk, eyes alight with joy as she recognized him. With
a yelp, Cassie jumped from her chair, embracing her former teammate.
“What are you doing here?” she
asked. There were pink streaks in her hair, and a diamond bracelet gleamed on
her left wrist. But her smile was still radiant. Somehow, Zhane had expected
her success to change her more drastically.
“Excuse me, do you mind?” the man
Zhane assumed was her manager rudely got between them, frowning at the
intrusion. “We’re busy here!”
Cassie touched his arm and gently pushed the older man away. “It’s okay,
Charlie. He’s a friend of mine.” She turned back to the Silver Ranger with one
eyebrow raised. “But he does have a good point. What’s up?”
Zhane knew this would be difficult
for her to accept, knew what he was asking her to give up. “We need you,
Cassie.” Then, lowering his voice so only she could hear, he added: “It’s
starting again.”
Her smile faded; she understood.
He was expecting her to leave her newfound fame and fortune behind. To risk her
life again. To be a Power Ranger. The indecision was painfully obvious in her
dark eyes as she bit her lip nervously, looking at her manager and then back at
Zhane.
Then she made her choice.
“See you around, Charlie. I gotta
go.” she said, picking up her purse and slinging it over her shoulder. Zhane
felt a wave of relief surge through him, and he grinned widely.
“Go?!” Charlie sputtered. “But…
but… what about the tour? And you’re on Leno next week, and Letterman the week
after! The studio’s ready to record the new album on the 15th!
Cassie, baby, don’t do this to me!”
She shrugged and turned away from her manager. “Sorry, Charlie. Duty calls.
World needs saving and all that. Look at it this way: it’ll make a great PR
stunt.”
* * *
The building was so run-down
Karone had to double-check to make sure she had the right place. One of the
mailboxes had a strip of white tape over it, blanking out the name; looking up
towards the third floor, she saw that all the windows were curtained.
Everything about this place seemed to warn intruders to stay away.
Ashley would never live in a
place like this, Karone thought to herself
as she walked into the building. She found herself remembering those last days,
just before Ashley cleared out her quarters and took off in the middle of the
night, without a single word of farewell. She hadn’t returned any phone calls,
and her parents told them she had moved out weeks before.
The Kerovans had each had their own reasons for coming back to Earth. Karone had wanted to make amends and help put Angel Grove back together, and Zhane had come with her to support her. But Andros had returned for Ashley. His feelings for her were hardly secret, and for a while Zhane and Karone had believed that their Terran friend reciprocated those feelings.
But things changed after Cassie left.
The elevator was damp and dark,
and as it carried Karone upwards she heard creaks and groans echoing through
the shaft. It moved so slowly… the first floor passed her by at a snail’s pace.
The Pink Ranger had been the first to set her morphers down on the table in front of Andros. She had hugged each of her friends in turn, and unshed tears had glistened in her eyes as she walked towards the throng of screaming citizens. They had all watched until she disappeared into the sea of humanity. By the end of the month, Cassie Chan was a household name, making headlines around the world. And she was happier than she’d ever been in her life. The people of Angel Grove finally knew the faces beneath the helmets, knew that she and her friends had risked their lives every day so that their city – and the world – would remain free and safe.
She never came back.
That was when the fighting started. They would all be sitting
in the mess hall eating breakfast, and Ashley would ask for salt; Andros would
shake his head and make some comment about salt not being very healthy, and she
would glare at him angrily. Carlos and T.J. kept to themselves, but the
arguments always died down when they were around.
But they were gone within days
of each other, and that’s when things really started to get bad.
Karone shivered as the second
floor sank below her, remembering...
Angry screams behind closed doors, furniture breaking, and Zhane had held her close to keep her from running in there and breaking up the fights. The Red and Yellow Rangers grew further and further apart every day, for no apparent reason. Two days after Carlos became captain of his own soccer team, Ashley moved her things out of Andros’ quarters. The next morning, she was gone.
Andros had sunk into a deep depression. He refused to confide in either his sister or his best friend; ultimately they let it be and hoped he would open up when he felt he could. But it never happened.
And now it no longer mattered. If Zedd was telling the truth, whatever was attacking the Federation would be targeting Earth soon enough. And she had no question as to the Khanduri’s integrity: if he couldn’t be trusted, neither could she.
The elevator screeched to a halt. Third floor. Residence of Ashley Hammond. At least, that’s what DECA said. Her phone number was unlisted, but the Megaship A.I. had interfaced with the local bank accounts, tracking a series of payments Ashley had made on an apartment downtown near the warehouse district. Cross-referencing that with the nearest real estate agency records, DECA had finally come up with an address.
Karone hoped the others weren’t
having this hard a time with the rest of the former Rangers. Cassie couldn’t be
too hard to track down, but with Ashley it was like she didn’t want to
be found. Under any other circumstances, Karone would have respected the Yellow
Ranger’s wishes. But her personal feelings would take a back seat until the
threat to Earth was defeated.
The door was unmarked and the
adjacent bell had been disconnected, or rather torn out of its socket.
Undaunted, she raised her hand and firmly knocked on the door. She could hear
footsteps growing closer, and the door opened the tiniest crack. And though
Karone only saw a sliver of Ashley’s face, she could tell that something was
horribly wrong. The vivacious, energetic cheerleader had wasted away, leaving
behind a pale shell of her former self. Dark smudges hung over Ashley’s eyes, which
widened as soon as she recognized Karone.
“What… what do you want?” she
asked in a trembling voice.
Karone did her best to ignore her
friend’s physical condition. “Something evil is coming, Ash. It’s on its way
here.”
The other girl’s eyes widened, and
she shook her head. “N-no… no, I can’t…” She tried to shut the door, but Karone
wedged her foot in.
“Ashley, listen to me. Whatever
happened between you and my brother isn’t important now. You’re a Power Ranger.
You swore to defend this planet. That hasn’t changed.”
Tears were welling in Ashley’s
eyes. “I c-can’t, please… find someone else…”
“There isn’t anyone else. Just
you. Whatever’s out there wants to start the whole thing all over again:
monsters, people living in fear, endless attacks…” Karone leaned closer, fixing
Ashley with a determined stare. “Will you let that happen?”
To Karone, the seconds they stood
there facing each other seemed to stretch into hours. Her hopes dimmed as
Ashley backed away, but then she heard a click and the Yellow Ranger stepped
out of her apartment, wiping her eyes.
“I’m ready.” she said. Karone
smiled gratefully and took her hand.
* * *
“See you tomorrow, Zack!”
Zack Taylor waved to his classmates one last time before
walking into the apartment building and shutting the door behind him. As he was
retrieving his mail, he noticed a sad-eyed young girl sitting on the stairs, a
backpack slung across her shoulders.
“Hey, Katie.” he called as he approached her.
She looked up at him with a soft smile and dark brown eyes.
“Hi, Mr. Taylor.” He’d tried to get her to call him Zack, but so far no luck.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked, sitting down next
to her.
Katie shrugged, looking more serious than any
eleven-year-old should. “I forgot my keys, and Mommy’s still at work.” Sally
Donovan, a single mother, worked two jobs in the Back Bay area. Zack had met
her and her daughter at a tenants’ meeting back when he’d first moved to
Boston, and they’d become fast friends.
“Why don’t you hang out with me until your mom gets back?
I’ve got macaroni and cheese in the fridge.” It was hardly a foreign concept;
Sally’s shifts often ran longer than she expected, and Zack was happy to help
out whenever he could. Katie nodded, and followed Zack up the stairs to his
apartment. His neighbor, the elderly Mrs. Chapman, was in the midst of putting
out her cat and smiled at the two as they passed her by.
His home was a modest one-bedroom flat, typical of a
university student working part-time at the local community center. Rent wasn’t
too high, and his stint at the Geneva Peace Conference had earned him a grant
large enough to take care of this year’s tuition. All things considered, he was
doing pretty well for himself.
Katie found her way into the living room as Zack headed
into the kitchen. She’d been here enough times to feel at home, and she put her
backpack near the couch as she sat down to watch TV. But before she turned it
on, she noticed something new. A weird statue was sitting on the coffee table,
unlike anything she’d ever seen before. It was made of pale crystal, all bent
and twisted with a lot of sharp edges. She could see a little light inside that
was glowing brighter and brighter, and slowly spreading. Katie wrinkled her nose;
it looked kind of ugly.
“Mr. Taylor? When did you buy this statue?” she asked.
Zack frowned as he set down two plates. “What statue?” he
called back.
“The one on the table.”
It was probably nothing; Katie was fond of the “made you
look!” jokes. Still, it couldn’t hurt to humor her. Coming out of the kitchen,
Zack walked into the living room and froze as he saw the sculpture. The eerie
light suddenly intensified, becoming a blinding glare.
Two seconds later, a massive explosion demolished the
building, spraying glass shards and burning debris in every direction.
* * *
Her parents were dead.
Katherine Hilliard sagged against
the brick wall, panting for breath as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her
parents were dead, and it was her fault.
The Ballet Academy had closed down
for winter break, and she’d decided to come home and see her family. She bit
her lip at the thought of her parents as she’d last seen them: her mother’s
broken body slumped over the couch, her father face-down on the carpet.
They had been waiting for her.
Kat edged further out of the
alley, sliding against the wall as a lance of pain shot up her legs. She’d
never run so fast before. She’d never had to. Her mouth was dry, and her heart
felt like it was trying to pound its way out of her chest. She couldn’t see or
hear them, but she knew they were still hunting her.
“It’s Morphin’ Time.” she
whispered. “Ninja Ranger Power. Zeo Ranger I, Pink… oh God, anything, please…”
But nothing happened. She wasn’t a
Power Ranger anymore. Just a girl.
They were coming for her. If only
she’d stayed in London. If only she hadn’t given up her powers…
Stop it, she commanded herself. She couldn’t afford to be slowed
down by regrets. She had to keep moving. Find a phone, call for help… but she’d
only kept in touch with Tanya over the years, and Tanya wasn’t a Ranger anymore
either.
Fine. She’d fought enough monsters
in her day. She remembered the endless training sequences with Tommy and Adam.
If a monster’s after you and you can’t morph, escape is your first priority.
No clay construct of Rita’s had
ever been so vicious.
Monsters aren’t too bright. Try to hide somewhere with multiple entrances, to confuse them and give you more than one way out.
The intelligence had gleamed in
those terrible eyes. They had recognized her, had stopped their sport to chase
her.
Don’t fight unless you have to.
And if you fight, don’t go hand to hand.
She needed weapons. The antique
shop on George Street. She’d passed it dozens of times, gazed longingly at the
bows on display.
With a last, deep breath, Kat
prepared to lunge out of her hiding place. The streets were deserted at this
time of night, dark and foreboding and full of shadows. She could make it, she-
Something grabbed her by the
shoulders, yanking her back into the alley with irresistible force. The wind
was knocked out of her lungs as she fell onto her back.
Kat could smell them now, the
stench of something foul being burned. Their hulking figures cast a shadow over
her; she craned her head up to see another brick wall barring her escape.
They’d forced her into a dead end.
“No!” she screamed, the tightness
in her chest increasing. She wouldn’t die so easily. All else had failed; she’d
have to take the direct approach. With a grunt, she swung her legs up, rolling
backwards until she was on her feet again. Amazing, how easily the old battle
instincts came back as she smoothly moved into a fighting stance.
There were three of them, crimson
bodies thick with corded muscle. Strong, but slow. She had the advantage in
agility; she could do this.
With a cry of abandon, she dashed
towards the nearest beast, leaping up into a flying kick that would’ve made
Tommy proud. But it was like kicking rock; she struck the pavement harder than
before, and the world seemed to tilt and sway. Her target was completely
unaffected.
They spread out around her; one of
them pinned her legs down as another secured her wrists above her head. Kat
struggled wildly, her thoughts dissolving into a blind panic as the third
creature slowly approached. Its lips stretched out into a horrible grin, and
fire seemed to blaze behind the rotted fangs.
An agonized shriek pierced the
silent night. An inhuman howl followed. And then… silence.
* * *
“Additional teleports detected.” DECA announced. “Los Angeles, Sydney, Boston, Geneva, New York City, Miami…”
Rita shook her head in utter
disbelief. “How are they doing this? They can’t, it’s impossible…”
Divatria nodded in agreement.
“They couldn’t know all this. Something’s not right.”
Zedd stood over the map of Earth
DECA was generating, grimly examining the bright spots coinciding with the
teleport signals. “We’re running out of time. Alpha?” The Edenite-built android
hesitantly approached. “I need a list of Zordon’s former charges, from Jason
Scott’s team to whoever preceded this group. Our enemies have a very large
head-start on us; we must find whoever’s left.”
“What are these things?” Karone
asked.
Zedd’s face became even gaunter.
“The harbingers of our doom.”
* * *
Cold.
It was the first sensation
Kimberly Hart felt as consciousness slowly returned to her: a terrible cold
that seemed to seep through her skin and bite into her very bones. She
shivered, hands reaching out for the comforter she’d probably kicked aside. Marissa
must have left the window open again…
Her fingers brushed against icy stone, smooth and hard. Not the softness of her mattress. With a start, Kimberly sat up, her eyes quickly focusing and adjusting to the darkness around her.
She was in some sort of jail cell: three rock walls and a set of metal bars. No door in sight. A pale, flickering light partially illuminated the hallway beyond. From the distance between the walls, Kimberly guessed it was a pretty big room. Which made her wonder if maybe she wasn’t alone.
Her bare legs and arms were almost
numb with cold; she found herself wishing she’d worn something a little warmer,
rather than Lycra shorts and a pink top. But that was her normal training
attire, and it had looked to be a normal day.
How had she come here? The last
thing she remembered was finishing her morning exercises alone… she was always
the first one up. Then she’d headed towards the showers when something black
struck her in the face. And then she woke up here.
Her musings were interrupted by a
strange clinking sound: metal against metal. The light outside was growing
brighter, and now Kimberly could see a woman walking across the hall outside
the cell, holding a torch in one hand and dragging a small dagger against the
bars with the other. The Earth-born girl squinted, trying to make out her
visitor’s features, but the flickering light wasn’t enough.
The woman came to a halt and
chuckled softly. “Ah, Kimberly Hart.” The gymnast jumped to her feet, instantly
on alert; the malice in that voice was crystal-clear, even if its identity
wasn’t.
“I’ve heard so much about you.”
the shadow-shrouded woman continued. A small whimper caught Kimberly’s
attention, and she whirled around to see a man chained to the back wall, his
head downcast. She hadn’t noticed him before, but now the light from the torch
forced the shadows intro retreat. And despite the horrible scars that marked
his face, the former Pink Ranger recognized him.
“Billy…”
The woman let out another slow,
throaty chuckle. “Do not worry too much about your friend. You’ll soon find you
have far more… pressing concerns.”
The End