Disclaimer: I do not own the Power Rangers. They belong to whoever holds that copyright. I also do not own Doctor Who, which belongs to the BBC.
Lord Drakkon is the property of Boom Studios and was a part of their Mighty Morphin Power Rangers and Go Go Power Rangers series, and the lead bad guy in the Shattered Grid story arc. This story uses an alternate version of Lord Drakkon in an alternate version of that universe. Setting wise this would have been the point in Shattered Grid where the Rangers have discovered that Promethea have possession of Drakkon and Saba sets out to eliminate the threat.
Author Notes: Byakko the White Tiger Sword – alternate version of Saba from Drakkon’s reality.
Tommy Falls as Drakkon Restored
Drakkon’s destination was the Zuno System, within which lay the Baltoxia Institute. Filled with the knowledge acquired throughout history, the world was overseen by the Inquirians, a race known to value knowledge and the sharing of information. Although the Baltoxia only occupied a small part of the planet, it had proven a vital part of the economy as knowledge seekers and those wishing to glean new sources of information flocked to restaurants and resorts all across the world to read the heavy tomes they borrowed.
But Drakkon had not chosen to arrive on Baltoxia to read a few dusty tomes. He lacked the patience to search for what he needed and preferred instead to seek out the information directly. And that meant an audience with the Keeper of Knowledge.
The Keeper of Knowledge, Custodian of the Great Quill, Guardian of the Xenotome – he held many titles – knew every word of every piece of information held within the institute. His knowledge grew with each passing second as knew information was added to the library’s vast volumes. He was the front end of the largest database in the universe, his wisdom was unsurpassed. So it was surprising given his supposed intellect that he continued to resist Drakkon’s requests.
“I will ask one more time, Keeper of Knowledge, and if you fail to answer me truthfully I will see if I am more successful picking your mind with your brain outside of your skull,” Drakkon whispered as he held the sword to the ancient figure’s throat. Behind him were the bodies of those that had sought to prevent him speaking with their learned master. Drakkon had found the fact they had tried to deny him anything insulting and had dealt with them.
“The Keeper of Knowledge is charged with the task of protecting and sharing the many secrets of existence, child. It is a great burden to be granted such knowledge and not waste away indulging selfish desire. In return and to aid in such a task, those chosen to sit in this place are granted the gift to know those who would seek and audience and the questions they will demand. Your coming was foreseen, Thomas Oliver, and prepared for.”
As he spoke the many bodies of those that had tried to stop Drakkon’s progress, vanished from sight.
“Your arrival was expected. The violence you displayed was anticipated and permitted. Those you ruthlessly killed were protected from your rage. Your selfish actions achieved nothing. And your threats are as meaningless as those of a child.” He leaned forward. I do not hold the knowledge and wisdom of this place, Thomas Oliver. I am merely the means by which it is shared. Removing my brain will prevent you from learning anything.”
Drakkon was not used to being refused. Upon his return to his world he planned to recover and restore the mighty Serpenterra. The Baltoxia Institute was looking like a promising target for a test of the giant machine.
“I would not recommend such a reckless decision, Thomas Oliver,” the Keeper of Knowledge warned. “I know what you seek and I can foresee the answers you will receive. Destroying this planet will prevent you from obtaining the items you do not yet know that you desire.”
“If you will not answer me, then I have nothing to lose!” Drakkon snapped.
The Keeper of Knowledge raised his hand and Drakkon found himself driven to his knees.
“You never believed that there was power in knowledge, did you Thomas Oliver?” the Keeper asked. “Accept this piece of knowledge for free… In this place, YOU are but a child and I hold the power. You could have been ejected at any time that I desired, instead I chose to allow your presence. The answers you seek will be granted, only because I choose to correct your ignorance. Now, ask your question.”
“What is the Green Chaos Crystal? Are there other Chaos Crystals. Do they unite into a more powerful crystal that I should assemble? Why does it only function when empowered by the Green Ranger powers?”
“That is more than one question, Thomas Oliver,” the Keeper replied, well aware that Drakkon face darkened every time the Keeper referred to him as Thomas Oliver. “And for a child such as you the answers will not suffice. You know so little you do not even understand the extent of your ignorance. Any answer I give will be beyond your weak mind. However, I will tell you all that I know about the Green Chaos Crystal. Do you agree, Thomas Oliver?”
Drakkon growled. Since he had assumed the title of Lord Drakkon and taken command of Rita Repulsa’s empire, he was used to receiving the respect of those beneath him and putting those enemies that failed to show respect out of their misery. If he agreed to the Keeper’s proposal he would have to allow the name the Keeper of Knowledge insisted upon using. In the end his need for answers meant that he was willing to delay making the Keeper regret his disrespect… for a while.
“Very well, then I shall grant you the answers you seek. The Green Chaos Crystal is one of the ancient constructs collectively labelled as the Infinity Stones created from Xenomatter by the First Alliance within the Prime Reality. The Green Chaos Crystal measured thirty-three-thousand-two-hundred-ninety-six kilometres at the time of creation and was given a green hue by the refractive properties of its structure. The Green Chaos Crystal exerts natural control over the force of Chaos within existence and along with the other stones can be used to grant absolute divinity to those capable of seeking their power. The Green Chaos Crystal was relocated to this reality after the dissolution of the First Alliance for reasons unknown.”
“Do not lie to me,” Drakkon warned. “There is no way that this crystal is the size you claimed.”
“The Green Chaos Crystal. known as the Heart of Chaos, the Chaos Gem, the Chaos Crystal and the Chaos Stone, was thirty-three-thousand-two-hundred-ninety-six kilometres at the time of creation. The Green Chaos Crystal was altered after the final stone was completed. The properties and capabilities of the Green Chaos Crystal resulted in its current form and size.”
“What capabilities? Which properties?” Drakkon demanded. “Explain.”
“Each of the Infinity Stones were empowered with the ability to exert control over a fundamental force of creation. That power allows them to influence all things including other Infinity Stones. The Chaos Stone is the exception to this rule. It cannot alter the other stones, but can disrupt their abilities and block their influence. The Chaos Crystal cannot be completely manipulated by the power of an individual stone unless its power is bolstered by a second stone. During the attempt to change the size and shape of the stones the Chaos Crystal resisted the transformation and chose its own form.”
“If the Chaos Crystal is so powerful, why do I need to keep charging it?” Drakkon wanted to know.
“The Green Chaos Crystal is naturally subversive. Your inability to access its power is because you are incompatible with its nature.” Drakkon looked angry, but the Keeper continued. “You seek to bring order through your own means. Your methods are ordered and conventional. The Green Chaos Crystal represents the force of Chaos. Only when you act outside of your nature can you access its capabilities… except when you provide it with power. The Green Chaos Crystal operates on a frequency and wavelength compatible with Green Morphin energy and can absorb latent energy from any being capable of using that power. The more life energy it is fed directly, the longer it will remain charged.”
Drakkon allowed the words to sink in. The Green Chaos Crystal could still work for him, but only if he provided the energy it required. But while it would work for him, it was not willing to grant him its allegiance.
“When did I start thinking it was sentient?”
“Of course it is sentient, Thomas Oliver,” the Keeper warned. “The Chaos Stone is one of the oldest creations to survive the earliest times of existence. All that power was bound to cause it some sense of awareness… although not the same level as some of the other stones.”
How could he use the Green Chaos Crystal if he could not access its full power. The Keeper seemed well aware of his frustration for the man was smiling at his discomfort.
“You are not the first to be frustrated by the Chaos Crystal’s nature,” the Keeper of Knowledge told him. “Many of the other stones obey the will of whomever holds them, and those that don’t can be forced to submit to a strong will. The Chaos Crystal will only ever submit fully to the power of the other stones, and even then only so long as they are wielded as one.”
The Keeper seemed to to consider something and shook his head.
“I have told you all that you need to know Lord Drakkon to resolve your problem. You now know the origin of the Green Chaos Crystal and why it does not respond unless you feed it energy. An unwilling, unknowing donor could charge the crystal far longer than a planned donation, but your life force is extremely compatible.”
“What should I do now?” Drakkon asked. The question wasn’t aimed at the Keeper, but the old being chose to answer.
“There are many things for you to accomplish before you return here, Thomas Oliver. You have a sword that has been dulled by your own hand and a morpher that no longer functions as it should. Perhaps your question should be: where do you go to correct those problems?”
“Why are you helping me?”
“I have knowledge of all those that will seek me out and the questions they will bring. I am aware that you will either return with new questions or that you will fall and another will come to seek my wisdom. I am aware of the number of times a visit will be made and when they will end. Now, I will answer you no more. Be gone, Thomas Oliver!”
And despite his best efforts to resist, Drakkon found himself thrown from the Boltaxia Institute. And despite his efforts to enter, he found that his path was blocked. Clearly the Keeper had the ability to keep all but those he allowed to enter from his presence. That made Drakkon wonder why the ancient being had allowed him to set foot inside the institute in the first place?
“You have a sword that has been dulled by your own hand,” the Keeper of Knowledge had said. Well after some research Drakkon had found the perfect place to have his weapon repaired.
The planet of Solus Prime was found in a distant part of the galaxy, a world renowned for its extensive heat shields that allowed it to remain habitable despite its closeness to the system’s star. The same technology that redirected the heat and radiation from the star had long ago been used to power the huge forges that covered the planet’s surface. For Solus Prime was a world of heavy metal and vast construction where any known metal could be shaped by its expert craftsmen into whatever the customer required… for a price. The workmanship of Solus Prime’s smiths was unquestioned throughout the galaxy, but their their work was expensive and those that had tried to cheat or steal from had come to regret their actions.
Solus Prime had been attacked in the past. The Machine Empire had spent thousands of years trying to breach their defences only to eventually turn away after news of what had happened to King Mondo when he had stolen one of their weapons to make himself a sword had reached them.
It currently had a new visitor in the form of Lord Drakkon. Drakkon had heard the stories of Solus Prime’s craftsmen from one of Rita’s underlings as the armoured warrior had lamented the inferior quality of the weapon Rita had gifted him. And so having tried the best craftsmen his world had to offer, Drakkon had used the Green Chaos Crystal – for it had been freshly charged after absorbing he life force of another Tommy Oliver – to travel to Solus Prime where he had sought out the planet’s premier blacksmith for assistance.
It had not been easy to locate a craftsman capable of restoring the White Tiger Sword to its original condition, although he had ensured that the spells that had given it sentience would remain dormant. The sword was useful but Byakko had proven himself a dangerous enemy.
Gillian the Shaper was a short grey skinned man with a powerful build. His body glistened with sweat as he pounded his hammer against the damaged sword. Beating, driving, forcing the metal to submit to the will of the tools and by extension the will of the smith. Small bursts of energy shot from his tools as he welded the tiger head into place on the reshaped handle; the White Tiger Sword’s design had not pleased Gillian’s artistic tastes, so he had reshaped it to blade worthy of the mighty warrior Drakkon had claimed to be. With the hot fires directed from the core of Solus Prime, he crafted a weapon that a hero would be proud to call his own. If he had known the kind of man Drakkon really was he would likely not have bothered.
As the craftsman worked, Drakkon passed the time by studying some of the other weapons that had been forged throughout the life of the warrior turned artisan. Axes, swords, spears, hammers and shields; chains, daggers, staffs and even cannons. Gillian was a true master of his art and the weapons he had built reminded Drakkon of the Power Weapons he had seen the Power Rangers use.
He showed interest in the suits of armour, clearly intended as a form of Ranger armour, but lacking a connection to the Morphin Grid. He could see the slot in the chest panels where something like a Power Coin was expected to empower the suits. Given the cobwebs that had gathered, he suspected that Gillian had given up on that pursuit.
“Your sword!” he heard the smith declare.
He held out his hand and the weapon passed into his grasp. Longer than before, Gillian had worked the metal to keep the same curvature to the blade. It was well balanced as he twirled it in his hand, Drakkon knew that this was a much better fit. His testing of the White Tiger Sword ended with the blade pointing down and the tiger head under his thumb with the face pointing away from him.
“I take it you approve,” Gillian said as he added a few finishing touches to adjust the balance. “Then we should discuss my fee.”
One of the reasons so any disputes arose between potential buyers on Solus Prime and the craftsmen was the ownership terms for the weapons. The forgers believed that each weapon they created carried a portion of their soul and by extension was a part of them. Therefore since they had no desire to sell their souls, their creations were loaned to the new owner for an agreed time before returning to the forge. The fee paid was merely compensation for the worker’s time and skills, and an appreciation of their efforts. Many did not like the idea of having to return such expensive and unique items, but trying to keep such objects beyond the agreed term was not a healthy choice.
Drakkon did not reply with words, choosing instead to squeeze the handle of the blade as he willed it to fulfil his command. The eyes of the tiger head glowed as he shifted so they were pointing directly at the forger, who had enough time to realise what was happening before they fired. Gillian was the first being Drakkon killed upon the planet, but would not be the last slain before Drakkon left. Once he departed a portal opened as his forces ransacked the forge world for everything that could be of use to Lord Drakkon’s empire.
Temple of Ninja Power
The Keeper of Knowledge had told him everything he needed to know even if the information had been given in a way he did not like. He had been told to find somebody to repair his sword and he had done so. He had been advised to have his morpher repaired and had set out to find the one being he knew possessed the means to do just that.
Of course finding Ninjor in his own world was impossible since the ancient warrior had fallen during the final battle when Rita and Drakkon had pooled their resources to decimate those of Zordon and his few allies.
Luckily the other dimension was at an earlier point in its history than his world and travelling there allowed him to meet with Ninjor before the timeline split. Most importantly this was a version of Ninjor he could manipulate and fool into believing his story. He told the truth for the most part that he was a Ranger, that his powers had been damaged during a battle, that his world had been conquered by Lord Drakkon and that most of its heroes including Ninjor had been slaughtered in a final battle.
With those selected truths he had convinced the blue warrior to help him. With a few more edited tales he managed to talk Ninjor into altering the powers to suit his needs. Where before they had been two sets of powers rigged to work together, now they were a single source of power that would serve his need.
That was why Drakkon had trekked his way through the Desert of Despair, easily overcoming its traps before arriving at the doors to the temple, his test complete. If Ninjor had had any doubts that Drakkon was Ranger material, they had disappeared when the youth had conquered the Desert of Despair in record time. He was not aware of what Drakkon, or Tommy as the boy had claimed to be, had done to do so.
Ninjor had even allowed Drakkon to walk the halls of the Temple of Ninja Power unsupervised while the ancient warrior had worked on the new set of powers. Drakkon had used the time to seek out more knowledge on the Chaos Stone and objects like it. What he discovered offered new questions he would ask the Keeper of Knowledge the next time they met.
From there locating Ninjor and convincing him of his need were simple tasks. Aside from a few comments about how amateurish the morpher appeared to be, Ninjor had been completely convinced by his act. In the end the ancient warrior had decided that to discard the old Power Morphed in favour of a new one while keeping the hybrid Power Coin.
As Ninjor worked late into the night, Drakkon studied some of the blue ninja’s other creations. A set of experimental morphers caught his attention. Five had been built as an obvious set with a sixth intended for an additional Ranger later. The seventh morpher however, that was the one that held his attention. There was something special about it, but he couldn’t decide what it was.
“Ninjor, what is this?” he asked, indicating the morpher in question.
“Oh, that’s just a little something I whipped up in a moment of boredom,” Ninjor explained. “I call it the Master Morpher because it has the ability attune itself to any power source, not just the coins I created.”
“Any source?” he pressed.
“Oh yes, there are more powers out there than just the coins you have seen. The Master Morpher can channel their power and use them to create a Ranger form.”
“And it works?”
“Well… no,” Ninjor admitted. Despite the lack of a mouth it was clear he was embarrassed. “The Master Morpher was supposed to allow its user to lock onto any source of energy and use it to create a Ranger. But I could never get it to work. The best it can manage is to replicate an existing link to the Power such as a Power Coin. As long as somebody has held that power the Master Morpher can recreate that link.”
“I see,” Drakkon murmured as Ninjor finished his work and handed him the repaired transformation device, urging him to give it a try. “Black Dragon!”
It worked but his body felt strange. The power was not the same as it had been before, it was weaker, and he said so.
“It will pass,” Ninjor assured him. “Your new powers are building new pathways through your being as whatever disrupted your previous connection damaged those pathways at the same time. Once done you will feel better than ever. Just give it time and try not to get into a fight before you are ready.”
“Would the Master Morpher work with my powers now?” Drakkon asked innocently.
“Oh yes, the moment you used them a connection was made and the Master Morpher can mimic that connection,” Ninjor told him as he picked up the device and turned away to study it. “My finest creation, but still needs some work to prevent it from being abused.”
“That’s okay,” Drakkon told him, drawing the White Tiger Sword. “I’ll take it as it is….”
The Keeper of Knowledge had given him everything he needed to know. Even the ancient being’s insistence on calling him Thomas Oliver had had a purpose it seemed. The Keeper of Knowledge had been directing him on his journey to fix first the sword he had broken and then the powers that had been stripped from him. And now thanks to the Keeper’s explanation of how the Choas Crystal worked, he would charge it and gain some measure of revenge against Tommy and those other Rangers.
The boy never saw the attack coming as Drakkon plunged the White Tiger Sword into the his back. There was no battle between good and evil, no brutal showdown of martial arts or confrontation of powers. The sword slipped into Tommy’s back and a quick twist ensured that the wound was fatal
Even as Kimberly Hart charged onto the scene to grab her dying boyfriend and some unknown warrior trying to blast him out of existence, he saw the pulse of green energy that told him he had accomplished his goal. Tommy was dead, the Green Chaos Crystal was charged, and now it was time for him to depart safe in the knowledge that Tommy would never be there to stop him again.
Earth Reality: 255.266.696.82
In just like that he was back in his world. And after a few minutes he was less than impressed with the efforts to maintain order in his absence. As he proceeded through the halls of his castle, he allowed his guards to deliver their reports. They promised that progress had been made in his absence to retake control, but clearly there was much left to do. It seemed that some competition had emerged to try and take his throne. He would deal with Scorpina in due time, but first there were things to do.
“Have the generals been alerted to my arrival?” he demanded, growing weary of the prattle.
“They have and they await your command, my lord.”
“Tell them they are to wait for me in the Gold Room.”
“But my Lord, they are looking forward to briefing you on our new capabilities,” one of his companions protested.
“Then they will do so when I am ready,” he answered. “For now, they will wait in the Gold Room.”
And with that the doors slammed shut, leaving his underlings to stand around for moment before realising that they had been dismissed.
In another place, another time, a young boy dreamed of the happenings far from his home. And somehow despite understanding that the events he had seen were different to those in the world he knew, Justin Stewart felt a shiver run down his spine and knew that a new problem would sooner arise and that its name was Lord Drakkon.
End of Part
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