Chapter Text
In the same galaxy but still far, far away, a man of about six times Zordon’s years was having a horrible day.
Reflecting in the privacy of his study, Rae'nor of Eltare realized that it was so bad partly because the week had started out so well. He and his Team had been fighting the Vasukiin on Horoth for four months. In the last week, it had seemed as though their opponents were finally giving up and leaving. The retreat had been a trick, and he’d fallen for it. In a battle that began with an ambush on his Team by the Vasukiin’s mind-controlled Horothian slaves, the Vasukiin had critically injured one of his Rangers. They could do nothing for her but send her back to Eltare for care. In the hours since their colossal victory, the would-be overlords of Horoth hadn’t attacked once. In fact, they seemed from the Rangers’ best surveillance to be packing up to leave. It sounded like another trick. Trouble was, the Vasukiin knew he wasn’t dumb enough to fall for the same trick twice. Rae’nor knew that he was missing something crucial, and he wasn’t looking forward to finding out what.
He also wasn’t looking forward to the call from Eltare that would come at any minute – his pretext for sitting in his study. The call would probably involve both chewing him out for “letting” a Ranger be hurt and an attempt to force an empty-headed, ERO’s-pet replacement on him. Worse, he’d be hard-pressed to think up a reason to refuse the appointment, given that the intensity of battle on Horoth would never permit him to travel to Eltare to choose someone himself. He’d barely managed to scrape together a Team radical enough to suit him; he hated the thought that it would soon be polluted by an ERO lapdog.
“Incoming call, Rae,” said a voice from the doorway of his room.
“Thanks, Laise,” he sighed without looking. Allaise of Eltare, the Pink Ranger, was the only one of his Team agile enough to sneak up on him. She slipped away again, and he activated his viewscreen. “Just get it over with,” he sighed without looking up.
The person at the other end didn’t answer right away. [Did I call at a bad time, sir?]
The honorific startled Rae’nor. An ERO representative didn’t typically start out a reprimand with such respect. He looked at the screen and saw, to his surprise, a very young man with a nervous expression. “Who are you?” he asked. Had they decided to insult him further by handing off his reprimand to a junior Ranger?
[Zordon of Eltare, sir, Protector Solus Terrae. Your grandneice asked me to call you.]
“Zordon of...” he began, puzzled. The title clicked moreso than the name, and he groaned. “Why by stars did she tell you?”
[I do appreciate your consideration, sir, but we have larger worries at the moment.]
Rae’nor looked at the young man closely. He saw exhaustion, fear, and a deep excitement. “Say what you’ve called to say.”
[Do you know the name Vilus?]
He scowled. “As well as you do. I lost two good friends in that half-baked mission to stop their takeover of M-51.”
[Master Vile’s daughter has sworn to kill me. I think she means to kill Kiori and our children as well.]
Rae’nor stared at him aghast. “Are you serious? Now they think that they can march through other galaxies and kill off our citizens?!”
[Sir, how would you like to stop Vilus? I mean really try, not just send a few dozen of us to die.]
“I can’t say I haven’t dreamed about it. But it’d take full-out war to do it.”
[Yes, sir. Care to join?]
Rae’nor examined the young Eltarian’s expression carefully but saw no hint of sarcasm. He decided suddenly that he liked his grandneice’s husband. “It would be an honor, young one. Unfortunately, our hands are full here. We took a casualty not three hours ago, and our enemies seem to be planning a second deception as we-”
“Rae!” Laise cried as she skidded to a halt outside his room. He spun to face her. “Rae, they’re gone!”
“What?”
A tall, Yellow-clad young woman skidded in, nearly knocking petite Laise over.
“Ow! Ferin!” Laise admonished.
Her Teammate ignored her completely. “The Vasukiin! They’re gone!” Ferin cried.
“Both ships just went into hyperrush with full crew compliments! They even left behind most of the Horothian slaves!” Laise exclaimed.
Rae’nor took only a moment to process this. “Where’s Aemil?”
“In the sensor room trying to figure out why the sensors are malfunctioning. He’s a little doubtful,” yellow-clad Ferin said.
“When isn’t he? Get him in here, Laise. All three of you should have a part in this decision.”
As Allaise sped off, Ferin asked, “What decision?”
“Whether we join a war.”
“A war?” Ferin repeated, frowning. “Between who? Where?”
“No, Ferin: a War. Between Light and Dark. Primarily against the Vilus family.”
Ferin examined her leader closely, as if trying to discover whether he was serious. “Well,” she said at last, convinced that he was, “I’m in.”
“That’s the spirit!” Rae’nor exclaimed, pleased though surprised. His Red and Pink Rangers, when they returned, needed no more convincing than she had. Even Red Ranger Aemil, skeptical of the simplest proposals, agreed readily. “What’s got into you all?” he asked them frankly, torn between confusion and pride.
“You’re not the only one who hates Vilus, Rae,” Aemil said simply. His dark eyes glared silently at the floor.
“Where’s the war starting?” Ferin asked quickly, as if to divert attention from her friend.
“I don’t know. Zordon?” he asked, turning back to the viewscreen.
[I haven’t thought about it,] Zordon said. The question had caught him by surprise. [It can’t reach Terra, though,] he said after a moment’s thought. [The planet can’t take a war.]
“Primitive civilization?” Rae’nor asked.
[Neolithic.]
“By Power,” Rae’nor groaned. “No, we’ll have to shelter them from it. What’s your situation there? I take it that Vile’s daughter hasn’t reached Terra yet.”
[That’s right, sir. Two of Vilus’s servants are here already, but we’ve got about a fiveday before her main force arrives.]
“That’s something. Have you thought about which worlds you’re going to invite to join the war?”
[Some,] Zordon said. [Kerova’s pledged its full support, and Liaria should — they’re already running scout for us. I’d like to keep the fighting localized to this galaxy if we can to minimize its impact on civilians, so asking worlds from other galaxies is out – unless we really have to, I guess. The only one of the major Light powers here who might need to be left out is Edenoi.]
Rae’nor winced but nodded. “Their strength would be a boon to any conflict... but we don’t need to start a fight within the Eltarian Alliance.” Zordon nodded; that had been his reasoning. Edenoi, the most advanced planet in the galaxy, was also the galaxy's only member of the Eltarian Alliance. “But you’re being vague, Zordon. Whom do you count as ‘the major Light powers’?”
He and Zordon together ran through the potential allies to come up with a list of forty more which they felt could and possibly would join a war of this scale. Zordon included several worlds in the list which Rae’nor hadn’t thought mature or powerful enough to consider. This inclusive spirit surprised the White Ranger and increased his respect for Zordon again. Zordon was even more radical on this issue than Rae’nor himself, and that was delightful. “Is that everyone you can think of?” he asked Zordon.
[For the moment,] Zordon shrugged.
“We can get started on contacting these worlds en route to Terra. We can even swing by a couple of them,” he said. “Sauria’s practically on the way, for one.”
“But wait. What if the Vasukiin come back when they see we’ve gone?” Aemil asked worriedly.
“The Horothians will send us a distress signal, and a few dozen ships from the Light fleet will drop by and scare the Vasukiin scaleless,” Laise answered immediately.
“Oh.” Aemil’s swarthy cheeks tinted with red. “Right.”
Rae’nor said, “Let’s start packing. Everyone meet up at the ship, ready for takeoff, in half an hour.”
Allaise’s jaw dropped open. “Half an hour? To pack all my stuff?”
“Oh, Laise,” Aemil said, smiling, “you can always synthesize new clothes.”
“Easy for you to say,” Allaise retorted. “All you want are shorts and pants and a couple shirts with slashes down the backs. And you don’t even wear the shirts half the time!”
“Oh!” Ferin cried. “Aemil, what about your world?”
[His world?] Zordon asked in confusion. Red was a traditional color for Primus-native Voyaging Rangers, who also were quite often Team leaders for that same reason, but Aemil looked as Eltarian as the rest of the Team.
“He’s Volarite,” Rae’nor answered.
“You mean you can’t tell?” Aemil asked, astounded.
“When you’ve got them folded in like that, you look Eltarian,” Laise told him.
“I do??” the red-clad Ranger said. He looked stunned but rather pleased by the idea.
[I’ve never met a Volarite,] Zordon said, frowning slightly. [I thought Volarites have-]
Aemil screwed up his face in concentration. A moment later, a double set of red-gold wings burst from his shirtless back. When the gossamer wings finished unfurling, they were taller than he was, translucent, and colored in a striking marblized red-gold pattern.
[-wings,] Zordon finished after staring open-mouthed for a few seconds. [Oh, dear. My daughter’s going to adore you.]
Aemil grinned. “They’re just for short distances and gliding,” he said humbly, pleased. “We’re a lot heavier than our ancestors were. But I don’t know about asking Volaren to join,” he said worriedly. “We’re not very outgoing...”
“The species is shy,” Laise clarified for Zordon. “Not scared, or paranoid, just shy. They’re Developmental Class I already and practically no one’s heard of them. Aemil’s not really shy, though, just suspicious; that’s why he left Volaren.”
[Volaren is Class I?] Zordon asked with surprise. He’d read about the world and its sentients, but he’d thought that they were far too young and primitive to be considered. This was clearly wrong. Sauria, one of the greatest powers in the galaxy after Edenoi, was only Class G. Most Class I worlds had been in the Eltarian Alliance for thousands of years. An unAllied Class I world would be an incredible boon to the War, nearly as powerful as Edenoi but without the Eltarian Alliance complication. [And you’re sure that they won’t want to join?] he asked.
“Well... no... not sure...” Aemil said, thinking hard. “I’ll talk to our leaders. I suppose I might convince them.”
“Good. Now get packing, everyone!” Rae’nor ordered. The three young Rangers raced out of the room. Aemil’s wings refolded as he ran, disappearing into long, narrow slits in his back just before he passed through the doorway.
“It’ll take our ship about twenty-five Standard hours to reach Terra. Take care of Kiori for me ‘til I get there, all right?” Rae’nor said quietly. “I’m rather fond of her.”
Zordon nodded. [So am I, sir.]
Rae’nor smiled. “That’s a little backward, don’t you think? You are commanding this war, not I. Call me Rae.”
[Absolutely, sir,] Zordon said, smiling.