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  1. #1
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    RV Favicon Power Rangers - Star Forge Guardians

    Ancient history tells us that, Terra Venture was largely destroyed from it's second crash landing upon it's final resting place, Mirinoi. The distress calls from the downed space station would be answered by the KO35 Shogunate, who were still recovering from Dark Spectre's assault on their world; together with the Lost Galaxy rangers, and the GalactaBeasts, the wreckage of Terra Venture would be transformed into Mirinoi's planetary capital. It was decided by the Corbett Brothers, leaders of the new Mirinoi citizenry, to name the city after the Magna Defender; the faceless hero that died to save Terra Venture.

    In time, the six Lost Galaxy rangers would separate, and help build five other cities on Mirinoi. 26 years would pass, as an unprecedented era of peace had fallen over the Sragosian Planetary Confederacy, until the Troobian Empire entered Sragosian space, declaring war on all planets in the S.P.C.. Suddenly Mirinoi, KO35, Onyx, Triforia, Aquitar, Sirius, and Alandria found themselves wrapped up in bloody space combat within hours of the Empire's arrival.

    Across the stars both galaxies grappled with the Troobians; and even though Gruumm and his main force failed on Earth, the fighting continued for another two years in and out of SPC territory. It was during these two years that Space Patrol Delta made a large push into Sragosian territory, fostering somewhat forced alliances with the members, and establishing a prison on one of Mirinoi's moons.
    118 years have passed since the fall of the Troobian Empire, in their time in the outer rim territories at the edge of known space, they have encountered and enslaved new races. These new subjects of empire surrendered a great deal of technology, resources, and soldiers to the Troobians; but with these gains came upheaval within their own ranks. One figure took center stage, a ruthless space pirate named Yeesildra. The might of this woman wasn't to be challenged, rumors swirled that perhaps she was a descendant of Astronema, or perhaps a monster from parts of the Universe that no one seemed to know too well. Under Yeesildra's iron fisted control, the Troobian Empire transformed into the Troobian Authority, and immediately laid waste to the Sragosian Alliance.
    Last edited by GoseiManta; 12-15-2018 at 01:33 AM.

  2. #2
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    The year is 2143, a fierce battle rages high above Mirinoi’s skies.


    Alarms rang throughout all decks of the Zenith flying fortress, as the interior lightning shifted to red, signifying a shipwide emergency. Smoke filled the corridors and bridge making it difficult to see and breathe clearly. Crew members scrambled for fire suppression equipment, and medical supplies. The loud whistling echo of a hull breach was the telltale sound that this was the end of the Zenith flying fortress.

    The bridge had filled with smoke, and the oxygen scrubbing system was offline while the hull remained ripped open. Chaos had consumed the helm, as crew members were tossed to the floor, and walls; the inertial dampeners had failed, making the ship a screaming metal death trap.

    In the center, a man wearing an all black uniform stood with both hands gripping the inner rails of the Captain's command console. He struggled to stay on his feet while correcting the pitch and roll of the Zenith.

    Once the ship was righted, and headed it away from battle, the crew members regained their composure and began attempting to bring the Zenith back to battle ready status.

    "That won't be necessary, go to the escape pods now... I'm giving the order." Stated the man at the console.

    He stood straight now, attempting to catch his breath and composure; his long blond hair hanging in his face, masking most of his expression as he used the surface of the console to steady himself on his feet. He wore a bit of stubble, and his uniform hadn't been zipped up, showing off his white SPD issue t-shirt, stained with his own blood.

    He nodded to the crew of the bridge as they made their way to the exit, assuring them that once he had plotted a safe course, he would abandon the ship as well. While tense, the few moments it took for the crew to leave, finally ended.

    "Alright Zenith, listen up.." Stated the Captain as he placed his hand upon a large illuminated touch screen located near the helm controls upon the Captain's console.

    "Authorization recognized: Captain Styles Moorecraft, accepted." Chimed an electronic voice.

    "We've got an ugly job to do, and we're on our own now." He smirked as he used the same touch screen to enter in seemingly random numbers and letters.

    "Helm has control." The voice chimed again.

    In front of Styles, the Captain's console suddenly folded away, and in it's place rose a control column with center stick and throttle control. He quickly took hold of both, as the order to abandon ship blasted over the loudspeakers of the Zenith.

    The last escape pod to launch from the belly of the Zenith, carried within it the bodies of those who lost their lives aboard the ship, as was custom with SPD evacuation orders. Styles took a moment to silently thank them for their sacrifice.

    "But we won't let them have Defender City…" He snarled.

    The Zenith banked back toward battle and accelerated, as the escape pods all made their way to the surface of Mirinoi. Styles appeared to be using the Zenith to shield the escape pods, while also re-enaging the enemy.

    A head, the Troobian flagship, Morgana's Wrath casted a wicked a shadow upon Defender City; the Troobian vessel itself seemed almost as large as the city below. Morgana's Wrath prepared to launch a series of vessels that appeared to be designed to penetrate the surface of Mirinoi.

    "They're… They're going to land those things on top of the citizens!" Shouted Styles as he pushed the throttle control forward.

    "Ramming Speed, engaged." Chimed the onboard computer.

    "Let's give these Troobian jerks a reason to fear Mirinoi's spirit!" Styles Shouted as he braced for impact with Morgana's Wrath.

    Below, safe and sound on the surface of Mirinoi just outside of Defender City; the crew of the Zenith, emerging from their escape pods, look up to the sky in awe. The collision of the Zenith and Morgana's Wrath had lit the skies above Defender City ablaze in a bright flash of violet. As pretty as it was, the violet light was swallowed by the bright orange glow of exploding fuel cells, the Zenith had dealt a fatal blow to the Troobian flagship, and both vessels plummeted toward the jungles of Mirinoi.

    Aboard the Zenith, all systems were offline following the collision, leaving Styles with only the view out of the bridge's shattered glass wind screen. However, Captain Moorecraft was left with bigger issues than the view. Pieces of the Troobian ship had pierced the bridge of the Zenith, and debris from the collision had pinned him to the floor, and crushed Styles's left leg. His sternum had separated, left shoulder had been dislocated, and his collarbone had been shattered.

    He gasped for breath, as tears rolled down his soot, dust, and blood covered cheeks. This was it, he sacrificed himself and the Zenith to protect Defender City from the Troobians. He would be remembered as a war hero, a man with--

    Don’t die yet.” A female voice echoed within Captain Moorecraft’s head, as the bridge of the Zenith was illuminated in a bright pink light.

    Just twelve miles outside of Defender City, both ships collided with the ground, sending ash and smoke into the skies for miles around. A deafening silence fell over the jungle, as the death rattle of the Troobians aboard Morgana’s Wrath, tore across the crater that it rested within. The force of the crash, is believed to have woken the Galactabeasts from their century of slumber.
    Last edited by GoseiManta; 12-15-2018 at 01:35 AM.

  3. #3
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    6 Months Later


    Softly chimed a heartbeat monitor, which was at first the only thing Styles could decipher as he slowly woke up. He groaned as his eyes opened, the blinding white light of the room seemed to overwhelm him as he attempted to voice command the lighting to dim, but no sound seemed to come from his cracked and chapped lips.

    He couldn’t make a noise, and couldn’t care less about that fact at the moment. He couldn’t move. Styles could feel his body trying to move, but his muscles just seemed to be unable to lift him. Was he paralyzed? How did he survive the crash? What was that pink light?

    The entrance to Styles’s recovery room hissed open, revealing a doctor wearing a red lab coat, carrying a tablet. This doctor was flanked by two SPD officers, neither of which Styles recognized from his limited field of vision.

    “Commander Moorecraft, good morning!” Greeted the doctor as he pulled a folding seat out from under the bed that Styles laid in.

    A blue holographic lense flickered on, casting a blue tint across the doctor’s eye as he slowly scanned over Styles’s body, taking inventory of all that goings on, and offering a relieved sigh to the officers who had entered with him. Both took relaxed positions, clasping their hands behind their backs, and staring straight ahead.

    “You’re confused, I can tell. To begin with, you obviously survived the crash. But you should know now that it has been six months since the crash. You see, you were in terrible shape when we found you. Somehow you had crawled from the wreckage, and laid up against the base of a tree. You’re quite an amazing man. I suppose that’s why I promoted you from Captain, all the way to Mirinoi’s SPD Commander.” The doctor tried to lighten the mood.

    Styles’s eyes narrowed, unable to ask anything, nor protest anything he was being told. His whole body felt like it was simply too heavy to move. His larrings felt dry, and uncomfortable, perhaps resistant to stretching at this time.

    “Commander there’s no easy way to tell you. You lost your left leg, and most of your upper body’s skeletal integrity. We had to amputate your leg, just above your knee. Your upper body is mostly metal now as well. What you’re experiencing is the paralytic effect of coming out of a drug induced coma. This will only last a few hours.” Explained the doctor as he reached into his left pocket and retrieved a small purple object. He placed it within Styles’s numbed left hand.

    “I found this in your left hand when we brought you into surgery. Clearly it meant something to you. Let it be your inspiration to lift that hand. I want you sitting up on your own by tomorrow morning the doctor explained as he stood up and folded the seat back under Styles’s bed.

    Styles simply laid there, his eyes wide with surprise, though they soon welled up with tears. He tired to turn his head, but he was still too stiff. Instead, he simply wept as quietly as he could.

    “Let’s give him some time.” The doctor ordered, as he stepped out of the room, signalling the SPD officers to follow.

    “Commander Moorecraft, sir? I know you don’t wanna hear this right now, but I want you to know that everyone back at headquarters can’t wait to see you return.” Stated one of the officers, as though he were staring down the barrel of a gun.

    Both SPD officers exited the room, the hiss of the door shutting alerted Styles to his solitude; and he wept. The shuddered groans, and shaky breathing filled the hospital room as he let out all of the grief that had washed over him while the doctor explained what had happened.

    A few hours passed, and Styles slowly regained control of his body. His left side still felt very heavy, and so the best he could do was lift his left hand, and rest it upon his chest. This purple object was a globe of some sort, held in place by a metalic, silver colored framework and base. Inside, the vague shape of a dragon could be seen, obscured mostly by the fogged interior of the globe.

    “A dragon?” He whispered with a low and raspy voice, clearly he hadn’t been able to speak for a long time.

    “What is this thing?” He questioned, turning the whole object with his fingers, and noticing a small LCD screen on the base. The number ‘10’ seemed to be the only readout the screen could show, but it wouldn’t light up.

    Styles found himself sitting up, and holding the purple globe with both hands. He blinked rapidly, looking over his body for a moment. He drew his legs in to sit up in a cross legged position, but the reality of his missing leg set in on Styles as he realized he couldn’t feel his left leg, below his thigh.

    “Right…” Styles sighed out, as he laid back onto the pillows behind him.

    A nurse, dressed in silver and red entered the room carrying a glass of water, and a gas injection gun that appeared to have four cartridges loaded up within it. He set the glass down on the stark white table next to Styles.

    “Commander, you must be thirsty! I’ve got some water here to start you off, and a series of injections that will stabilize your mood, as well as help numb the cold feeling in your chest.” He explained as he presented the gun, showing Styles thoroughly what it was and what it did.

    “I-I hadn’t noticed a cold feeling.” Styles explained.

    “You will.” He replied as he pushed up Styles’s left sleeve.

    The barrel of the gas injection gun, had several needle points, and seemed to line up with key arteries all along the rotator cuff that he now pressed those needles against. At first they didn’t cause any type of feeling, but the needles soon began to burn, as each gas was released into Styles’s system. The gas moved quicker through the human vascular system faster than a liquid would, and thus this was the chosen delivery method of SPD medical personnel.

    “Laaaast one!” Teased the nurse as he pulled the trigger. The now familiar ‘T’SSSSST!’ noise of the cartridge emptying filled the hospital room.

    “Wh-what’s going to happen to me?” Asked Styles looking down at the purple globe, rolling it between his hands, trying to reason out just what it was, and how it came to be in his hand after the crash.

    “My guess is that once you’re ready for a public meet and greet, you’ll being having your own parade. You’re big news Commander Moorecraft, the people of Defender City have been leaving flowers at the city gates; SPD won’t allow them to build another shrine to you outside the hospital after the last one clogged the rain drainage systems.” Explained the nurse with a joking tone as he gently drew the gun away from Styles’s shoulder, and softly rubbed the needle entrances working any unwanted material out of the wounds.

    “A parade? For destroying the Zenith carrier z--flying fortress?” He asked, correcting himself halfway through the name of the Zenith.

    “A parade for the people of Defender City who are the only free people left in the Sragosian Alliance.” Answered the nurse flatly.

    “And the rest of Mirinoi?” Styles questioned.

    “All enslaved by the second wave of the Troobian Authority.” Replied the nurse as he turned away from Styles and headed toward the open door of the hospital room.

    “I don’t understand!” Styles shouted. “Why are you the one telling me this!?” He shouted after the nurse.

    The door hissed shut behind the nurse, leaving Styles with even more bad news than before. Sure he was a hero, but a hero to people who have nothing left but hope. The other worlds, KO35, Onyx, Triforia, Aquitar; all under Troobian control?

    “Why?! Where was SPD?! Where are the damn Power Rangers?!” He shouted in rage slamming his fists down on the guard rails of his bed.

    He felt dizzy now, his pulse had risen too high, and the anxiety medication had been activated. Styles’s figure slumped, as his eyes began to slack. He swayed back and forth, as his face flexed, and relaxed through various angered expressions. But the drugs were too powerful, and Styles was knocked out again, still clutching the purple globe in his left hand.

  4. #4
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    “The forge…”
    “The forge is in danger…”
    “You! You! You! You! You!”
    “Don’t die yet!”

    Styles awoke in his hospital room, the beating of his heart pounded inside of his head, he felt cold sweat running down his forehead, as he sat up in bed he noticed that the lighting in his room had dimmed, he assumed that night had fallen while he was asleep. His hospital issue shirt was drenched in sweat.

    As he caught his breath, something stood out to him; Styles hadn’t noticed it before, but this room didn’t have any clocks in it, and come to think of it, there were no windows, just light paneling on the wall, medical equipment and creature comforts.

    “Nnng!” Groaned Styles as he placed his fists against the bed, and turned allowing his right leg to hang over the edge while he pulled the bedsheets off of himself, and piled them at the foot of the bed.

    Styles scooted closer to the edge now, his right foot rested against the warm tile floor. He shuddered as he looked down at the cybernetic stump at the bottom of his left thigh. He had been fitted for a prosthetic during surgery it seems.

    He reached down, and tore off the left pant leg of his hospital issue cotton pants. He ran his hand across his thigh, and reluctantly traced the the metal collar the bonded his flesh to the biomesh that translated the mechanic linkage to brain waves, and vice versa. He felt his chest tighten as his hand ran across the hard metal stub.

    “Hrk!” Styles heaved, his stomach flipped as his brain tried to grasp the loss of his leg.

    A few seconds passed, and along with his heart, Styles swallowed down the stomach bile, and brought himself to a bent over position, leaning on the bed as he applied weight to his right leg in 6 months.

    “G’yah! This is harder than it looks!” He shouted, attempting to right himself.

    The hospital door hissed open, as two female nurses stepped in, both dressed in silver and red. These two nurses seemed to look-a-like, only their hair color separated them, one a blonde, the other wearing bleached white hair. They quietly approached Styles, as a third, a male, entered the room pushing a wheelchair.

    “Commander, please come with us.” Chimed the nurse with white hair.

    “WHOAWHOAWHOA!” Styles shouted, startled by their sudden appearance, having had his back turned to the door while trying to balance himself on one foot.

    “Easy Commander…” Stated the male nurse as he pushed the wheelchair to the side of Styles’s bed.

    “Are you taking me to the war room?” Styles questioned as he began to shift his weight toward the wheelchair.

    The blonde nurse stepped forward, her hands softly rested on Styles’s hips, aiding him in raising his torso high enough to slide into the seat of the wheelchair. Although visibly winded, Styles leaned back in his chair and combed his own long blond hair from his face.

    The nurses, not one of them, answered Styles’s question. They seemed fixated on keeping quiet, and moving him to some unknown place. This gave Styles a very uneasy feeling, so much so that he began memorizing their body language.

    The wheelchair approached the hospital door; until now, Styles hadn’t seen anything outside of his hospital room, which seemed to lack clocks, windows, and much of anything beyond the medical equipment needed to keep him alive.

    The darkness of his hospital room, allowed Styles’s eyes to adjust much quicker to the very dark hallway. The soft metal clank that the floor made as the wheelchair rolled off of the tile and onto a metal grate immediately alerted Styles to trouble. Above him were flickering lights, and an armored ceiling, which matched the walls.

    “This isn’t a hospital is it?” Questioned Styles.

    “No Commander.” Replied the blonde nurse from behind him.

    “Where exactly am I?” Styles questioned looking up at the male nurse pushing his wheelchair.

    “This is SPD headquarters, the underground Zenith bay to be precise.” Replied the nurse as he too seemed to avoid looking at Styles.

    They rounded a sharp corner, and the corridor ended there. It was as if reality had suddenly peeled away for Styles, as he was pushed out onto a catwalk that overlooked what appeared to be a city block sized refugee encampment. A food line stretched from one corner to the next, and exclusively made up of children. Styles took note that they were up high enough that his presence went unnoticed by the suffering people below.

    The journey across the catwalk was long, allowing Styles to fully take in the scene below, these last six months have been hell for the people of his beloved Defender City. If this is all that remained of SPD, Styles could only imagine what kind of condition the Command Council was in.
    Darkness enveloped the four of them again, armored corridor, grate floor, industrial lighting above. It was hard to fight back the extreme sense of loss that had washed over him while on the catwalk, looking at all those hungry children. He felt so raw and selfish for being so upset over his injuries, when there were people below who had lost family, maybe even their entire family during the six months that Styles spent in a coma.

    Ahead, a set of large yellow doors, illuminated by a single red light, came into view. The white haired nurse sidestepped the other two, and hurried to a small input station next to the doors. She produced a keycard that swiped across a black reflective surface, undoubtedly a wireless card reader.

    A loud thud filled the hallway, followed by the sound of a series of heavy machinery moving, and releasing. The yellow doors cracked open, as the sound of stressed hydraulics flooded the immediate area around the doors.

    The doors opened, revealing a room awash in blue lighting all of which seemed to be coming from above, which casted dark shadows across the room. This room was once a storage warehouse, for parts that belonged to the Zenith. However, it had been cleaned out, and retrofitted with a wall of monitors, and a large round elevated platform which appeared to be planning table that projected a live view of Sragosian space.

    “Where is everyone? Who promoted me to Commander if there’s no one in here?” Asked Styles, his heart beating out of his chest.

    The absence of anyone in this room meant only one, terrible thing.

  5. #5
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    “This is as far as we’ve been ordered to take you, Commander Moorecraft. General Montanile will explain from here.” Stated the white haired nurse as she pivoted on her right heel facing away from the war table.

    “If you’ve activated this, you are dismissed from my service and will now follow Commander Moorecraft’s orders. You have 15 seconds to comply.” Came an elderly man’s hauntingly distorted voice.

    “Yes, sir!” Replied all three nurses, the blonde nurse, and male nurse both pivoted and exited the room, followed by the white haired nurse.

    Those heavy yellow doors began to close, the same mechanical groans and growls filled this improvised war room. Styles felt his blood run cold as the lighting in the room faded out, leaving only the wall of monitors as a source of light.

    “5… 4… 3… 2… 1… 0…” The elderly man’s voice rang out, though still as glitchy as before.

    The wall, made up of more than one hundred different monitors, all in varying degrees of age and functionality, loomed over Styles, like a giant hive of glaringly gray screens. He wheeled closer to the wall, this was obviously where his attention was supposed to be.

    One by one the screens began broadcasting their resolution of an elderly human man, dressed as the Galaxy Red ranger and holding the ranger helmet beneath his right arm. The man’s dark complection, bald head, and large, bushy, gray eyebrows stood out against the colors of his ranger uniform, he looked like a man ready to face his destiny.

    “Hello Styles, my name is General Marcel Montanile, and I am the last Galaxy Ranger.” He stated with a firm tone. “I’ve recorded this well in advance of the inevitable, so be prepared for a lengthy history lesson.” Explained General Montanile as he approached the camera, revealing a remote control in his left hand.

    Styles sat awe struck, the Galaxy Rangers were considered demigods on Mirinoi. The Quasar Sabers don’t choose average humans, only the best of humanity were worthy to wield that kind of righteous fury.

    General Montanile sat down at what appeared to his desk somewhere within the surface SPD base. His office was decorated with various paintings of the original Galaxy Rangers, and directly behind him was a large portrait of the Magna Defender. The general zoomed the camera in, so that the desk, and his upper body filled the screen and then set the remote down. Montanile was very uncomfortable, and took a moment to steady his emotions.

    “Allow me to introduce you to the truth.” General Montanile began. “You should know that since Lady Maya’s passing, the Quasar Sabers have only chosen me. My guess is that the journey through the Lost Galaxy exhausted their power, and I can tell you that I surely don’t feel the might that Master Leo did.” Montanile’s eyes welled up with tears, one escaping his eyelid and running down his cheek.

    Styles searched around at the various monitors, trying to find some kind of liar’s tick within the General’s delivery. None of this made sense, the Corbett brothers were the only ones to ever command the Galaxy Red powers.

    “Styles, fate rarely calls upon us at the time of our choosing. As I record this my orders to relocate you to a secure recovery room within, what we’re calling the Zenith bunker, are being carried out. I must commend you, you’ve succeeded in winning Lady Karone’s favor. She’s the one who rescued you from the ship. It was clear to everyone who responded to that crash site, something had saved your life.” The General explained as he shifted in his seat. “To make matters worse, the Troobians have discovered the secret behind SPD’s presence in Sragosian space…”

    “There is a greater power Styles, greater than even the Galaxy Book. The Morphing Masters, the creators of all things and beyond, hid a very special machine at the center of our Yarolian Galaxy. The Star Forge. To populate an empty universe, the Morphing Masters created a machine capable of birthing single stars, to whole galaxies. Our home, hidden within Epplei the very star that warms Mirinoi. The Quasar Sabers were placed here to defend the Forge from anyone powerful enough to survive the Lost Galaxy.” Sighed Montanile, as another tear rolled down his cheek.

    Styles slumped in his chair, the sorrow in Montanile’s voice, the tears, and the posture this man expressed all backed up how painful this man’s burden was.

    “He left it all to me. This is a suicide note, wrapped in an inspiring backstory!” Shouted Styles, kicking the nearest monitor to him.

    The screens blinked out for a moment, before changing their broadcast so that the entire wall now broadcasted one large display.

    Styles slowly came to a stop, his kicking the monitor sent him rolling backward. Montanile seemed even more mythic now, like a giant speaking to an ant.

    On screen, Montanile reached for the remote, and pressed one of the many buttons blocked from the camera’s view. The display changed to a map of the jungle territory outside of Defender City. The crash site was highlighted and marked with the designation ‘Dragon’s fall’. A large mountain range further north had been marked ‘Ecliptor’s Lookout’. The map zoomed in on that marker, and provided coordinates down on the lower right corner.
    “Don’t worry, the map will be available on the Judgement Scanner I left for you.” Assured Montanile. “Ecliptor’s Lookout is where Lady Karone resided until her death almost 90 years ago. It’s a secret location because you’ll find a doorway there, that leads to the command bridge of the Forge. I’ve been to the Lookout many times, but the door requires a Power Sphere to unlock it. I think the device we found you clutching onto, is exactly what the Galaxy Book described.” Montanile concluded, returning the display back to himself in his office.

    “THE GLOBE!” Styles shouted as he began patting himself down, he had completely forgotten about it. “Ahhhg! A sacred artifact is back in bed, wound up in my sheets like a cheap mobile!” He groaned in frustration, but was interrupted by the the sudden cut off of the recording.

    “What?” Styles questioned as he grasped the wheels of his chair and pushed himself back toward the war table. “Computer?”


    A tone rang out within this large room, as the blue lighting returned, slowly rising from total black to illuminate not only the war table and it’s immediate area, but also rising to illuminate a cavernous hangar.

    “By the Five Lights!” Exclaimed Styles. “Computer, what--”

    “My name is D.E.C.A.” Replied a computerized feminine voice over the loudspeakers within the hangar.

  6. #6
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    “DECA? But how? The Astro Megaship was destroyed over one hundred and thirty years ago!” Styles shouted as he turned to face the war table, thinking it was the input station for DECA.

    “The Astro Megaship was merely a housing for me, Alpha 6 recovered my central core, and I’ve served SPD since this base was constructed nearly one hundred years ago.” Explained DECA.

    “Right, I should have guessed that on my own.” Styles replied hanging his head in shame.

    “What is your query, Commander Moorecraft?” Questioned DECA.

    Styles’s head rose, his blue eyes locked onto the surface of the war table. It projected a live view of Sragosian space, and what he had been told by the nurses earlier, was true. Styles could see that the planet was surrounded, and that colonizer ships like Morgana’s Revenge had landed across Mirinoi, and all across the allied outer worlds. He could feel his heart sink, as he spotted a flashing red icon hovering over Defender City.

    “Where is General Montanile?” Styles asked looking up from the icon, and turning to face the monitor wall behind him which still broadcasted a black screen.

    “General Marcel Montanile is dead, Commander.” Replied DECA.

    Styles knew it was coming, there really wasn’t any other possible outcome. A man like Montanile wouldn’t hide in a bunker, not while the horde rained from the sky. Styles felt a hardness come over his heart, it made his chest ache, Montanile was dead. The last of the Galaxy Rangers, gone.

    “DECA, where are the Galactabeasts?” Asked Styles as he wheeled closer to the monitor wall.

    “Galactabeasts have been destroyed.” Repled DECA.

    Tears began to well up in Styles’s eyes, as the large monitor wall blinked out, only to fade back in with a closed circuit camera view of Voyager Park. In the background, above the treeline several invasion vessels had landed, nearly every building had been reduced to rubble. Behind the ruins of Defender City loomed a large purple spire, larger than any structure Styles had ever seen in his life. But that thought quickly faded from his mind, as the center monitors displayed displayed the most horrific sight of all. The Troobians had not only brutally murdered the Galactabeasts, but had also gathered them together, and crushed their heads; preventing them from being repaired or revived and displaying for all of the city’s resistance force to see: that there would be no path to victory.

    “Hrk!” Styles felt his stomach churn as hot bile filled his mouth. His head quickly jerked away from looking at the screen, to his right shoulder where he spat out that putrid bile.

    “Are you in need of further assistance, Commander?” Questioned DECA.

    “No, no I’m just sickened by the sight. Please shut off these monitors--” Styles’s eyes narrowed to express a deep and profound rage. “--And a damn leg. I need to go to the Lookout.” He sputtered out.
    “Understood Commander, one has already been prepared for you though.” Explained DECA. “Please go toward the flashing light at the other end of the hangar.” She instructed.

    In the distance, at the far end of hangar, Styles could see a red light flashing at a slow pace. He turned his wheelchair to face the light before rolling toward it. The size of this hangar simply couldn’t be overstated, the trek across it gave Styles time to think out loud.

    “The end of that video must of been caused by the sudden attack of another colonizer ship. Montanile summoned the Galactabeasts, but without the other Galaxy Rangers, couldn’t form the megazord.” Styles sighed, coasting for a little while. “It was likely a trap, and he was ambushed by several of them at once.” He added with a remorseful tone to his voice.

    Ahead Styles could see that there appeared to be a wall of lockers, seemingly prepared for the workers that used to perform repairs on the Zenith. There stood a row of 15 lockers against the far wall of the hangar, near the blast proof zord entrance doors, and above that row flashed that red light. Styles began rolling down the row of lockers, trying to figure out why DECA had implied that his prosthetic leg would be here.

    “Recognized: Commander Moorecraft!” Announced a computerized male voice.

    The fifth locker from the beginning of the row, was the source of the voice, and the locker door slid open from left to right, and tucked itself against the next locker. The locker was backlit by a solid white glowing back wall. Hanging from a silver hanger rod, was an SPD Commander’s jacket, still sealed in the plastic that it left Earth in. The locker drawers unlocked and slowly rolled out revealing a black Judgement Scanner, Commander Badge with ‘Moorecraft’ engraved on the name placard. Below a larger drawer rolled out, and tilted downward, presenting a 3D printed metallic prosthetic leg to Styles.

    Styles reached out and picked up the badge and Judgement Scanner. His eyes seemed bloodshot now, as tears welled up in them again. His mouth opened, but the sound of his sorrow couldn’t be heard. His body trembled as his fingers traced the engraved edges of his name on the Commander’s badge.

    “There’s no time to think about her…” He growled under his breath, setting the badge and scanner in his lap, before reaching for the prosthetic leg.

    It was a very simple prosthetic, a cervo housing in the knee and ancle, and one solid plate of metal to act as a foot. The plate had a rubber coating to it, preventing a user from losing their step upon hard, smooth surfaces.

    There was a long pause, as Style’s gripped the prosthetic. His eyebrows lowered, a fierce glare formed on his face as he looked the device over. Although it disturbed him greatly, and so much so that he seemed to avoid thinking about it too much, Styles knew that his was in his life now.
    “Very well then.” He whispered to himself before leaning back in his wheelchair and lining up the leg with the socket prepared for it on his lower thigh.

    Styles grunted as the leg heavily slid into place. A loud hissing popping, and whining came from the attachment, as it pressurized and performed a systems check. Thinking that it was just that simple, Styles took hold of the scanner and badge, and then stood up out of the wheelchair.

    “Nononono!” He exclaimed as he immediately fell over onto his left side, sending the scanner and badge sliding across the concrete floor.

    “Commander Moorecraft, please standby for assistance.” DECA announced from the loudspeakers.

    “No, I demand you cease any attempt to assist me off of the floor!” He ordered.

    There was a brief pause from DECA.

    “Understood Commander.” Replied DECA after a moment of calculation.

    “Thank you.” Styles replied as he rolled onto his stomach, and drew his right knee up under his stomach.

    Once again he grunted, this time as he pushed himself up onto his right knee. The prosthetic didn’t resist any of these moments. Styles leaned to his right, as he brought the prosthetic forward and up, leaving him in a kneeling position. He took a deep breath, before focusing the force of exhaling, on standing up using that prosthetic. He wobbled a moment, quickly grabbing the open door frame of his locker to offer him some stability, and it did.

    “Very good, now to climb a mountain.” He hissed with sarcasm as he peeled the plastic off of his uniform.

    This was a classic design, it was very similar to the Commander’s uniforms during the Troobian War back in 2025, and it gave Styles a great sense of confidence knowing that the heroes of that war once wore a uniform like this. He took uneasy steps still, feeling his balance challenged by the cushioning in the auto-lacing boots that had been issued with this uniform. Styles knelt down to pick up his badge and scanner. He looked at both of them, the gravity of the situation seeming lesson on him as a distant memory washed over him.

    Styles’s eyes closed as he sighed loudly, exhaling the tension that grew in his body. He pivoted on his right heel, but stumbled once his left foot hit the ground. The walk from this far end of the hanger to the war table would serve as good practice for Styles, and so he took uneasy strides.

    “DECA, update my Judgement Scanner with the exit route from the bunker.” Styles ordered as he shakily approached the war table.

    Both hands smacked down onto the side of the war table as Styles hobbled closer, using on his right foot as he leaned away from putting weight on the prosthetic. It didn’t hurt, the muscles in his hip were simply exhausted by trying to pick up that damn leg with each step that Styles took.

    “There’s no need Commander.” DECA announced as he began opening the zord bay doors.

    “Seriously DECA? You let me walk across the entire length of the hangar, just to make me do it again?” He hissed through his teeth.

    “Not at all Commander Moorecraft, a Delta ATV has been prepared for the journey to Ecliptor’s Lookout.” DECA replied.

    “Are you sure it’ll still func--” Styles was interrupted as a small vehicle bay opened, revealing a white ATV.

    The vehicle’s headlight lit up, and he rolled silently out of the small bay it had been stored in, and directly toward Styles. This was an electric version of the Delta ATV, which seemed to have aged better than the petrol powered units from before the war. Styles noticed a built in scanner docking station just below the handle bars.

    “Is that intended to use the Judgement Scanner to take me directly to the Lookout?” Questioned Styles, pointing to the docking station. In truth, he wasn’t sure if DECA had an interior optical uplink or not.

    “Yes Commander.” Replied DECA.

    Styles nodded, and braced his left hand against the top of the war table, as he used his upper body strength to take the pressure off of his left leg as he shuffled closer to the ATV and slowly straddled the seat. He reached into his right pocket, and retrieved his badge, placing over his left breast where the badge magnetized itself. Once again his fingers traveled across his name.

    “Commander, I’m detecting an energy source building up in your left pocket.” DECA announced.

    Styles’s eyes quickly shifted toward his left pocket, afraid of what he was about to find. As he reached for his pocket, he was suddenly bathed in a purple light which quickly dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. He exhaled a sigh of relief, he knew what it was now. Styles reached into his left pocket and pulled out the purple Power Sphere, and his Justice Scanner from his left pocket. He sat down and placed the Justice Scanner in the Delta ATV’s docking station, and held up the Power Sphere to look at it through the blue lighting of the hangar.

    “Power Sphere, huh?” He questioned, tilting his head.

    As he asked that question, a warm breeze rushed into the cold, cavernous hangar, lifting some of Styles’s hair with it’s force. The planet seemed to urge him on, that warm breeze made Styles’s heart skip a beat, the scent of adventure had intoxicated him as quickly as that breeze had washed over him.

    “Right. I’m off then DECA. Please track my location, and keep comms to a minimum… The Troobians are out there, I don’t want to run into them…” He explained, though his expression suddenly changed as he recalled the imagery of the dead Galactabeasts. “At least not until I’m damn good and ready to run into them…!” He added, with a fierce passion that rarely seemed to infect him.

    “The Delta ATV is a signal booster, standard heavy concentration blasters, and it has also been outfitted with disruptor cannons which will cancel out any SPD ranger technology that may be employed against you, by the Troobian Authority.” DECA explained.

    “SPD Technology?” He questioned, suddenly losing all of his fire and fury.

    “General Montanile’s death left SPD with no defences, Defender City, and the surface base are totally under Troobian Authority rule. I have several recorded incidences of their foot soldiers using mass produced ranger powers on the battlefield. The odds have calculated indicate that along this journey you have a 90% likelihood of encountering one or more ranger powered Troobians.” She clarified.

    “Before I go, tell me why Earth’s rangers didn’t come to our aid…” Styles requested with a deadly chill in his voice.

    “The Troobian Authority has Maya’s Pass blocked. During the second wave of their invasion of Sragosian Space, the Troobians discovered and formed a blockade around the wormhole connecting our solar system, to the Sol system where Earth is located.” She answered.

    “That’s hardly an excuse..” His bitterness was palpable.

    Before DECA could inquire what he meant by his comment, Styles had activated the launch control of the Delta ATV and taken off. The ATV moved at a high rate of speed, leaving a trail of melted rubber for a short distance behind it’s initial launch point. Ahead, the giant doorway leading to the airstrip outside of the hangar.

    “It shouldn’t surprise me, Earth doesn’t really care about us.” He added as the ATV left concrete, and gained more grip on the asphalt.

    Styles felt the ATV begin to turn toward the mountain range that he had seen in Montanile’s video. Although he was kilometers away from it, he could already see the wreckage of the Zenith and Morgana’s Revenge, looming over the jungle canopy like the skeletal remains of two battling giants.

    End of Episode 1

    Ending Credits Theme
    The Lone Lawman

  7. #7
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    The crunch of sticks and leaves beneath the wheels of the Delta ATV didn’t echo very far beyond Styles’s immediate position, the dense jungle offered excellent sound suppression. Styles had chosen to go ‘off-roading’ with the ATV, and shut off the auto-pilot function of the ATV. SPD had carved roadway through the jungle to the Zenith’s crash site, and it was far too obvious of a travel route, and would be monitored. He had been cruising for close to a half an hour when the terrain suddenly shifted. Styles didn’t have much time to react as the jungle suddenly gave way to the scorched crash site, the ATV rode up the wall of the crater created by the Zenith and Morgana’s Revenge.

    “WHOA!” Shouted Styles as the ATV came to the peek of the crater’s rim, and launched off of it directly down into the turned soil bellow.

    The ATV splashed down in a large mud hole, rain had filled the floor of the crater, making the ground spongy and difficult to travel across, even on the ATV. At first the ATV would struggle to get going again, causing Styles to question the superiority of SPD technology. Though after kicking up a stream of mud across Styles’s uniform, the ATV found it’s grip and rocketed away from the mudhole. The Judgement Scanner connected to the ATV displayed: ‘Terrain Compensation Complete’ as Styles zoomed across the mud and water.


    Three beams of light crossed in front of Styles, causing him to jerk the handle bars to the right, shifting the ATV toward Morgana’s Revenge, and toward the shots fired. It all happened so fast that Styles hadn’t taken note of the colors of those shots.

    As he squared up on the source of the firing, he could clearly see a massive group of humanoids wearing gray helmets that had red visors, and black tracksuits, all pinstriped with Yellow, Blue, Green, and Pink. The ones that stood out though, were the ones wearing the same gray helmets, but were dressed in all red tracksuits. Each carried in their right hand a short blade that had been merged with a laser blaster. These must be the SPD infused Troobians.

    “Thanks for the warning shots!” Styles Shouted pulling the triggers mounted on both sides of the handle bars.

    A hail storm yellow blaster fire erupted from the cannon barrels that were mounted on the front of the ATV, while they were fixed in position, the concussive strength of the blasts would stun targets that had not been directly struck. Above and beyond that this blaster frequency had been set to disrupt SPD ranger technology, meaning these Troobians were toast.

    The cannons pelted these Troobians, cutting a corridor through their ranks. These tuned blasts struck the Troobians, sending them flying into the air where they would shatter into shimmering shards of their ranger color. Styles rode through the crowd of them, there had to be more than fifty of them gathered here, each divided up into their respective ranger teams, even though these were clearly single minded grunts. Styles didn’t have to wonder why so many had been ordered to the crash site, as he arrived at the rear of this platoon of Troobian grunts, he discovered the twisted remains of one of these Troobians laying on the ground just outside of the wreckage of Morgana’s Revenge.

    Styles banked away from the body, blasting his way through the now fractured horde. He did observe though, that this Troobian wasn’t like the others. This Troobian appeared to have an elongated head with several bone-like spikes poking through it’s scaly purple flesh. It was dressed in a tracksuit as well, but it was all black. Styles didn’t have time to think about it, the Troobians were taking aim again.

    Styles quickly noticed that the Troobians didn’t follow him, they simply reformed into a circle around the purple headed Troobian. Seeing this, Styles slowed to a stop, and still the Troobians didn’t fire. They instead all turned in unison to face the dead body.

    “What?” Asked Styles. “What are they doing?”

    The Troobians dressed in Red, once sure that Styles wasn’t coming back around for another pass, began to push their way into the center of the circle. From Styles’s perspective he couldn’t see what was happening. He stood up on the ATV thinking he would have a better view, but at the distance he was from the group, there was no chance to see down to the ground where the body laid.

    Suddenly these Ranger infused Troobians began to dissolve, as though they were dust blowing in the wind. This dust began to glow in gold as it peeled off of the Troobian’s bodies toward the center of the circle where the Red Troobians had gone toward. The legion of them disappeared into this fine, glowing dust, in a matter of seconds. With the group gone, Styles could see where the dust was going, straight into the fallen, purple headed Troobian.

    “They were ordered to sacrifice themselves, that’s why they didn’t keep firing..” Styles stated feeling his chest begin to tighten up with fear.

    There was a long pause after the last of the gold Troobian dust filled the purple Troobian before the body began to twitch. The muffled sound of bones snapping could be heard, even as far away as Styles was within this massive crater. These snapping noises were soon joined by a gurgling sound as the reconstituted monster vomited up golden ooze that dribbled down the sides of it’s upturned, and agape mouth.

    “I’m not sticking around to find out what happens next…” Styles muttered under his breath as he re-engaged the self driving feature of the Delta ATV and sped away.

    The embankment of the crater made it difficult for Styles to climb out of the crater, for a short distance he was forced to ride the angular walls of the crater until he built up enough momentum to launch himself out over the craggy rim of the crater.

    Coming down the outer wall of the crater, a large cloud of dust hurtling along in his wake, Styles discovered the transport ship that the Troobians had used to travel to the crash site. It appeared to be a medium sized, elongated vessel with a large rotating ring at it’s rear, and a cramped space for 50 Troobians to make planetfall. Strangely, it was colored silver, featuring marker lights, impulse thrusters, and blow off vents all glowing in a shade of hot rod pink. The vessel even included the Troobian Authority’s symbol, a stylized humanoid skull, with two menacing hands grabbing a swirling galaxy, glowing hot rod pink as well.

    “I’ve been out in the open too long, the Troobians likely know that someone has left the bunker by now… I’ll bring--Who am I kidding, there’s no team…” Styles spoke with a very defeated tone, as he pressed on, leaving the transport ship behind.

    The day was beginning to run long, Epplei, the star that warms Mirinoi had painted the skies above Styles in an array of oranges and purples, the sun was setting, and Styles still hadn’t reached the Lookout.

    The headlight of the ATV automatically came to life, illuminating the dense jungle that he faced ahead. He raised his right arm this time, instead of ducking under the leaves. The vegetation of Mirinoi was much like Earth’s South American jungles, tropical plants with thick hides, and trees that basked in the humidity below their canopy. As such, the leaves and branches they grew from, gently bumped against Styles’s forearm, and rode up over the top of his head. He could feel the incline of the mountain, and Styles could plainly see on the Jundgement Scanner’s mapping screen, that he had ascended the foothills.

    EEEEEEYAAAAAAK-EK-EK-KIIIIG!” A powerful, and blood curdling shriek tore through the jungle, the source seemed to be back in the crater.

    Styles didn’t come to a stop, he continued up the incline, and only looked down to the crater on the mapping screen.

    “I hope whatever Montanile sent me up here for can put an end to that creature.” He muttered to himself before looking up toward the path ahead, hearing a waterfall roaring ahead. “A waterfall, up in a mountain range? How is that possible?” He whispered to himself, trying to remember if in all of his days on SPD transports, if he’d seen some kind of high elevation water source. “It makes no sense.” He added, as once again, the jungle peeled away, revealing a ledge overlooking the plunge down a waterfall that could easily exceed seventy stories in it’s height.

    The mist generated by the crashing water masked the bottom of the waterfall, and Styles could easily tell that this ledge was possibly a little higher than midway of this enormous waterfall. But even seeing this natural wonder boggled Styles’s mind, he simply couldn’t fathom where this water was coming from.

  8. #8
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    Mud kicked up behind the wheels of the Delta ATV as Styles sped up the steep incline along the side of the mountain. These switchback trails were established by people, while they were over grown, and untamed these were clearly constructed and at one time, well traveled paths. The lights of the Delta ATV were almost useless to Styles as he charged through the thick jungle vegetation, using his Judgement Scanner to guide him away from the deadly drops at the very edge of these paths.

    “It’s coming…” Styles whispered, unsure of just what that Troobian monster could hear.

    The sound of trees being struck and knocked down thundered through the jungle behind Styles, it was clear now that the monster from the crater had been resurrected and had chosen Styles as it’s new target. He hadn’t let out another shriek, but it didn’t have to, the violent noises related to it’s movement in the jungle, quite clearly spelled out the danger it represented.

    Ahead the silver rays of Miniroi’s moon spilled through the thick vegetation, he had found another clearing. Styles didn’t trust the elevation, and so he drew back on the throttle of the Delta ATV as he approached the edge of the leaves and vines.

    “By the Five Lights! He exclaimed in awe as the leaves and vines were pushed from his vision.

    The Delta ATV’s wheels bumped across a lip that separated muddy jungle floor, from ancient marble stone tiles. He came to a stop in what appeared to be a massive circular landing pad. The tiles that had created this landing pad were broken, stained, and weeds had began to grow between some of the tiles. However, Styles couldn’t take his eyes off of the glowing pearlescent corridor ahead of him. A tunnel of sorts, carved into the side of the mountain, lined with beautiful Mirinoian Ortholuna stonework. Ortholuna is a very expensive material to build with, ancient Mirinoians didn’t just slap it anywhere. Ortholuna is the most readily available of the Bravialumos stones that emit light when exposed to certain radiation.

    Styles dismounted the Delta ATV and began walking down the length of the corridor. His right hand steadying himself as he walked with an uneasy limp, still trying to adjust to his prosthetic leg. The tunnel didn’t stretch far, it was well lit by the the ortholuna walls and floor, but the very end was made of silver, and ornately designed. The metal, upon inspection looked as though it had been weaved like cotton or wool. Styles’s right hand rose to test the texture of the door, but as his palm came to rest on the doorway, a symbol appeared at the meeting of the two doors. It was a large symbol, proportionate to the door. A large star in the middle, and what appeared to be a star map of planets or moons orbiting it, came into view. The symbol itself faded between nearly every color in the rainbow.


    These large silver doors began to open in ward. The sound of dirt grinding against the bottom of the doors caused Styles to flinch and cover his ears. He didn’t wait long, he stepped through the doorway as soon as the doors had parted enough to allow him through.

    “So this is the lookout.” Styles stated as he reached into his pocket and retrieved the Power Sphere from before, and held it up like a flashlight, expecting it to trigger the interior lighting.

    “You are correct.” Confirmed an ethereal voice.

    “Lady Karone, I was sent by Gener--” Styles was interrupted by a small pink light forming near his extended hand.

    The light expanded rapidly, as a hand, bathed in that same pink light, emerged and snatched the Power Globe from his hand. Styles recoiled, backing up ward the doors that had already begun to close behind him. The light from the tunnel soon turned into a pinstripe of light, before all became absolutely dark.

    A head of Styles the hand that had taken his Power Sphere, remained there, still holding the sphere, as more of that same pink light appeared taking the form of a humanoid. The pink light would roll back like water leaving the shore a low tide, revealing an aged human woman. She was dressed in layered robes, each a different shade of pink, white, or gold. She wore black leggings beneath a layered knee length pink and gold skirt. Her blonde hair was long, down to her stomach, highlighted with silver. Her pink light acted as the singular source of light in the room, and so Styles had no choice but to look at her.

    “L-Lady Karone?” Questioned Styles, very timid in the presence of what he knew to be a DemiGoddess. The echo of his voice would carry into the highest reaches of this massive room.

    “Yes Styles.” Replied the older woman, confirming her identity.

    “May I have my Power Sphere back?” Styles questioned as he reached out for it.

    “Not yet.” Replied Karone as he wrapped her fingers around the Power Sphere and pulled back away from Styles’s outstretched hand.

    She would turn from him, walking further into this large chamber. Styles stepped forward, and stumbled, nearly tripping and falling into her. Instead, Styles’s right hand came to rest on her’s, as he leaned on her to steady his balance. Karone’s pink light, didn’t climb onto his body, but he could feel a tingling sensation growing in his palm as it pressed against the fabric of her clothing. The sensation could only be described as being electrocuted, but with such a low wattage that it didn’t sting so much as it tickled.

    Styles hissed in surprised and drew his hand back, looking for burns or disfiguration, those sensations don’t come and go on their own. He wasn’t sure if he was dealing with the actual Lady Karone, or an astral projection of her spirit; but neither option would afford him laying a hand on her again.

    “Well that won’t do.” Karone said looking over her shoulder at Styles’s uncomfortable form.

    Karone pointed to the floor, and as though it had been told to, the energy that surrounded her body extended from her fingertip into the floor. A small puff of smoke and an audible ‘POP!’ came from where her energy had entered the floor. The familiar humming noise of electricity rumbled through these dark ruins, as the interior of the Lookout came to life. Golden walls, with tree-like archways lining them that formed a curved triangle, the intersection of a dome with its supporting arches. This was one giant dome carved into the interior of mountain, by the looks of the design, the Lookout must occupy the interior of the top of the mountain, including the rotunda above them.

    Each archway was painted with a mural of each major battle that the Galaxy Rangers had fought as they made their way here. Above the both of them, painted in the rotunda was a mural of Ecliptor, with his arms stretched over his head, and a little blonde child, opposite of him, with her arms raised and outstretched as well. They appeared to be reaching for each other.

    Finally, in the center of the room, a war table like SPD’s flickered to life. It however did not display a holographic map of Space around Mirinoi, it instead displayed the intensely orange interior of Mirinoi’s star, Epplei. There was a shape there that Styles didn’t recognize, and so he limped toward the table. He could see now, there was a craft inside of Epplei, half as large as the star itself. The craft, unlike it’s background, was displayed in white coloring, making it difficult for Styles to truly see all of the shapes of this ship. It appeared to have 9 flower petal-like extensions, all connected back to the core of the ship, a teardrop shaped core. The craft looked so organic, the projection of it even seemed to throb as though it were breathing.

    “It looks like a bloomed flower.” Styles mumbled as he leaned closer to the holographic projection of the craft.

    “It should, it’s the forebearer of all life in our Universe. That’s the Star Forge, Styles.” Karone explained as she set the Power Sphere down on to the war table.

    As soon as the base of the Power Sphere rested upon the surface of the war table, it began to glow. The purple light that the Power Sphere emitted concentrated at the top of the metal housing that held the purple globe within it and display a holographic rendering of a purple dragon holding an orb shape.

    “Is that why they call the crash site, Dragon’s Fall?” Styles asked as reached for the Power Sphere.
    Karone’s hand grasped his wrist, stopping him from grabbing the sphere. Her grip was hot and tingly, again the energy that made up her form did not jump over to Style’s body.

    “Yes. They blamed the crash on the arrival of the Power Sphere, not your hunger for glory.” She snapped as she pulled his hand away, and pushed it back against his chest. “Just wait.”

    “Yes, Lady Karone, I apologize.” Styles replied as he jerked his wrist away from her grasp.

    “I don’t know how much Marcel told you. But the Troobians have identified the Star Forge, but they can’t get it to it because of the radiation that Epplei emits. The Forge is safe until they figure out how to shield themselves from the radiation.” Karone paused, her blue eyes rose to meet Styles’s own. “The Galaxy Book took many decades to translate, but once Kendrix had access to this place, everything became more clear.”

    “The Morphing Masters created the universe, the Lost Galaxy is a trap door that keeps intruders from Epplei, and the Quasar Sabers, and the Five Lights were all placed here to guard the Star Forge… Right?” Questioned Styles with a cocky smirk on his face.

    “Well, I wasn’t expecting you to know so much already.” She responded, frowning in response to his cocky expression. “Well, the Star Forge has done something that even I wasn’t told it could do… It’s created Ranger powers.” Karone seemed upset saying those words. “That Power Sphere, is a whole new Ranger form. The Dragon Quasar powers.” She added.

    “Dragon Quasar?” Questioned Styles as he leaned down to the dragon symbol projected over the top of the globe.

    “Each Power Sphere contains the energy of an entire galaxy. The Dragon Quasar Ranger is powered by a galaxy that the Star Forge created, but never released. That galaxy was formed around a gigantic purple quasar that took the shape of a snake-like dragon.” Karone said as she picked up the Power Sphere and handed it to Styles. “I chose you to harness these powers, and to look beyond your own glory.” She explained with a bit of sass in her voice.

    “Why me?” Styles asked as he looked over the sphere.

    “Because you’re my great grandson Styles. You didn’t know because my name carries a shadow of shame.” Karone answered flatly.

    “Why? How could that be, Lady Kendrix died, you had to take over the Galaxy Pink powers, there was no other option.. Who cou--” Styles’s frantic questioning was interrupted.

    “Because I was once known as Astronema! Daughter of Ecliptor, and successor of Dark Spectre!” She shouted, reaching up to cover her face with both hands. “I enslaved my own people, Styles. I nearly killed my own brother countless times.” Karone whimpered from behind her hands. “I wouldn’t allow my children or descendents to know where they come from.” She added.

    “Oh…” Styles replied, as a gold chill ran down his spine.

    “History told us that Astronema was vanquished by Andros the Purifier. You were freed from her prison, and volunteered to risk your life to save others from Trakeena’s tyranny.” Styles didn’t know what else to say, he had to get some clarity. “Did they alter recorded history to protect you?” He asked.

    “No, I was brought before a Galactic court where I stood trial for my crimes as Astronema; but it was the testimony from Andros and the Space Rangers that saved my life…” Karone seemed hollow now, caught in a trance-like memory, staring through Styles as though he wasn’t even there. “They proved beyond a doubt that I had been brainwashed by Dark Spectre’s magic ever since Darkonda kidnapped me from KO35. So they rewrote history, separating me from Astronema.” Karone’s eyes fluttered as she snapped out of her trance. “They couldn’t allow a monster like Astronema to also be pure of heart and command a Quasar Saber.” She added.

    “What else aren’t you telling me?” Styles asked with a grim tone to his voice.

    “I know who is leading the Troobian Authority…” Karone offered as she pulled her hands from her face, and began wringing them together nervously.

    “Who?” Asked Styles as he lowered the Power Sphere and locked eyes with Karone.

    “The Quantum Ranger.” Karone replied as she used the keyboard built into the side of the war table.

    The war table’s holographic display dissolved, before reforming into a 3D projection of a woman wearing the Quantum Ranger uniform, and pulling off her helmet to reveal a human looking woman with long, red hair that had been braided into an ancient viking style. There was malice on this woman’s face, and soon backed up as her left eye began to glow in red. The holographic image crumbled shortly after the energy leaving that left eye grew too bright to be recorded.

    “Her name is Yeesildra, and I believe she’s ex-Time Force.” Said Karone rewinding the footage. “Even the Troobians following her have no idea where she came from… The future is the only possible explanation, given this evidence.” She pointed to the morpher build into the left forearm bracer of the suit. “That’s the morpher used by Eric Myers. It’s from the distant future.” Karone seemed fearful of the implications.

    “Do you think that’s how she knows about the Star Forge?” Asked Styles.

    “Without a doubt.” Karone replied staring at the looping footage of Yeesildra taking off the Quantum Ranger’s helmet.

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