Disclaimer: I do not own the Power Rangers, they belong to their respective copyright owners and are used here without permission. No money is being made from this fic.
Authors Note: This is an alternate universe with an alternate time line. This story takes a lot of inspiration from the 2017 reboot movie's opening scene.
The Great Eggscapade
A small world, far away from civilisation
Billions of Years Ago (give or take an Ice Age)
First there was nothing. Then came… EVERYTHING!
And within the hail of raw matter and the torrent of energy sent out of distances too vast to measure with the First Ones in pursuit, two crystalline objects of unimaginable power were set adrift into the cosmos. Propelled by the power of destruction and rebirth, they travelled from one end of the universe to the other and back again, repeatedly. And each world they passed they lay the foundations upon which the First Ones would build the planets and stars, and galaxies.
They fell through the dimensions, creating the spark of life that the First Ones nurtured into life, until they reached the lowest dimension, the realm of the least complex creatures. There they bounced back and forth a few times, creating the potential for creation, before they came to a halt. Over billions of years as the lower planes evolved, they sat undetected in the dust of a small world. Until they were discovered by a race of beings that called themselves the Morphin Masters.
The Morphin Masters studied the objects intensively, doing all in their power to discern their function and origin. And when they had completed their research, they declared that the objects had not come from the Morphin Grid but were created by the same power that had created the dimension in which the Morphin Grid existed and the raw energy that had evolved into Morphin Energy. They held a power on par to the Grid restrained only by a delicate shell of rock and crystal. And they determined that if either object should break open, the power unleashed would erase the universe and replace it with something new.
They named the objects Power Eggs and did all within their power to keep them stable and protected from harm. They briefly toyed with the idea of placing them in their own dimension locked away from the rest of the universe but knew that there were risks of creating a new Morphin Grid which would be uncontrollable.
And so instead the Morphin Masters used their gifts of foresight to seek out a world where the Power Eggs could be safely deposited away from those that might abuse them. They located such a world that while not yet formed would one day act as a means for them to safely transport the Power Eggs away from harm. Their insight spoke of a journey that would take generations to complete, a sacred pilgrimage to be carried out by their descendants – for the Morphin Masters had other callings.
And so, after centuries of preparations, the Morphin Masters passed the duty of protecting the Power Eggs to their children with strict instructions on the journey the young ones needed to take. Even as the Morphin Masters used the Master Arch to enter the Morphin Grid, their children were already preparing to depart on their own voyager, an excursion that would take them far away from their home before turning back to complete their quest. Along the way they would settle on worlds for short periods before moving on once more, often having seeded their temporary home with life.
It was during one such settlement that the schism occurred within the ranks of the travellers. As generations had passed not all of those that took up the promise to deliver the Power Eggs safely agreed with the plan. The universe had changed since the quest had started and not all of those changes had been for the better. There was war and crime, and suffering. The cosmos called out for an answer to the struggles its people faced, but none stepped forward.
That is when some of those guarding the Power Eggs suggested using their power to stop the darkness and restore hope to the universe. Of course, their arguments were made with the best of intentions, but their plans were turned down time and again. Resentment set in as those seeking to do what was right found themselves blocked by those that allowed an ancient promise to prevent them taking action. And eventually that resentment turned into violence as those convinced that their way was the correct choice tried to seize control of the Power Eggs.
In the times that followed the two factions fought across the stars, one side seeking to keep the Power Eggs away from any that would seek their power without loss of life. Meanwhile their former brethren cared little about those that got caught in the crossfire as them became more and more dedicated in their cause to take the Power Eggs for themselves.
Before long the pursuit stopped being about the way the Power Eggs could be used to aid the universe and more about the need to possess the power they contained and the glory they promised. They wanted the Power Eggs to grant them the same incredible powers that the Morphin Grid had bestowed upon their ancestors.
And as time passed and their effort to take the Power Eggs failed, they managed to seek out, locate and obtain the creations of the ancient ancestors. They empowered themselves using the sacred tools and then renewed their efforts against those that denied them their true prize. As they did so they started to turn on each other, recognising that the Power Eggs would only be able to grant one of them their desire and that in the end the only way to guarantee that they would be that candidate was to remove their opposition.
Billions of years passed in a long-drawn-out war that saw one renegade monk pursuing generations of fleeing loyalists. The renegade raised an army of those he corrupted to his view. He abandoned the limited powers his heritage granted him and instead chose to wield the untamed magic from the darker parts of the Morphin Grid against his foes. He hunted his former allies and their descendants, destroying everything they built. But time was running out.
At some point the descendants of the Morphin Masters realised that the time had come to turn back toward the planet their ancestors had chosen. The trek across the universe had been filled with discoveries and terror. Many of their brethren had been lost, thousands of families had been decimated. To stand against their ancient ally now a deadly foe was to invite a painful end. And so, they continued to run, making their final dash to where the Morphin Masters had promised to meet them and take up the burden of guarding the Power Eggs once more.
It was a long trek back, passing through systems where they had once settled and witnessing the cultures that had arisen since they left. But for each world they encountered their enemy would show his hand by attacking. He ravaged whole worlds just to spite his former kin, all the time attempting to take the Power Eggs before they could be returned to the Morphin Masters.
He failed to stop them as a final stand by monks slowed him enough that two vessels managed to slip away, completing their desperate quest as he put an end to the armada that dared to stand in his path.
Soon the monks were reduced to one pursuer and a handful of retreating warriors. That their tormentor had once been one of their greatest leaders and most inspirational speakers made his betrayal worse. And as the first ship plunged through the atmosphere of the tiny planet they had chosen as their final battleground, they promised that he would be punished for his betrayal.
Five warrior monks had survived the battle long enough to reach the planet Earth.
The huge freighter touched down upon the tiny planet. It was not quite a crash but was far from being a controlled landing. The freighter had broken apart as it had smashed its way through a forest, scattering remains for mile around. Of the crew only six had survived the impact, five warriors and their master. They had little time to lick their wounds or mourn the deaths of their comrades. Their enemy was not far behind and they knew that if they survived the day, it would only be because the prophecy came true, and their ancestors were truly waiting for them.
But there was a problem. They were early. Too early for there to be a chance that their ancient kin would turn up in time to prevent a confrontation. They knew that all they could do was delay their foe as long as possible and hide the Power Eggs where their ancestors could retrieve them. But against an enemy that had taken the title Dark Lord and forsaken their own power, they doubted they would last that long.
Which was why the master known as Xachariah had fled the impact zone, leaving his warriors to try and delay their foe long enough for help to arrive or for the surprise Xachariah had set in motion to trigger.
"Power forgive me for what I am about to do," Xachariah whispered as he placed his checked the modifications, he had made to the small capsule he had placed on the ground. The device would function at least long enough to protect the Power Eggs from harm until they were taken beyond the reach of those that could misuse them. He covered the box with soil, rose shakily to his feet and moved as far as possible away from his previous location. The most important thing now was to slow their foe down, allowing the power cells on the box time to charge fully and activate the force field.
It had been a desperate and, in his mind, a cowardly act to run from what should have been the final battle, but a promise had been made generations ago, a covenant bound by honour to safely deliver the Power Eggs to the Morphin Masters in the knowledge that they would then protect them. And Xachariah realised that despite how much he loathed himself for his actions, keeping the Power Eggs safe from a madman who wished to use their power to enhance his own power was worth any sacrifice. And Xachariah knew that he was going to pay for his actions; there was no way that he would survive this encounter with his ancient foe. There was nowhere to run and no way to defeat such a warrior in combat.
He sensed the moment Maz engaged the enemy forces. Maz was a large warrior, easily towering over most of those he encountered and made up the muscle of Xachariah's elite squadron. His natural size and durability were enhanced by the armour he wore and the power he channelled through his control medal. In combat he could stand toe to toe with any opponent and usually emerge victorious.
Sadly, while the power he drew from his talisman aided him against soldiers fighting on behalf of the Dark Lord, against their commander it was less effective. The talisman allowed Maz to use his willpower to create weapons and enhance his strength. But the dark energy his enemy wielded disrupted those powers just as it did most other forms of magic. The dark powers of the Morphin Grid provided the same protection from harm as those from the light side of the Grid. so long as they were used to bring chaos and destruction.
In the end the enemy proved too much for even the mighty Maz to handle alone. The huge warrior was cut down by a blade of black energy. It was the second blow that ultimately killed him.
"Thank you, my friend," Xachariah whispered as he felt Maz's passing. "Your sacrifice will not be in vain. I promise. We will end this evil today."
Tyerri did not fare any better in her confrontation. Although she used her powers to the fullest potential to boost her speed and agility, his resistance to harm prevented her from causing damage. An unfortunate misstep on her part allowed the villain to corner her and with no more room for manoeuvre, she was rapidly defeated.
As was the case with Cera. Fuelled by his anger at the loss of his comrades, Cera pushed drew upon his talisman to toughen his armour, turning him into a battering ram. He was perhaps the first being that could claim that he managed to knock the Dark Lord off of his feet, but in his blind rage he had forgotten that the Dark Lord did not travel alone and was not above calling on reinforcements when the odds turned against him. Cera did not even receive the honour of dying by his enemy's hand as the moment Macarbre determined that the powerful combatant did not possess his stolen property, he left. And poor Cera was left to be savaged by the throng of beasts that followed the villain's command.
Xachariah was hit by the emotion of his comrade's death but knew this was the wrong time to mourn them; their sacrifices had bought Xachariah precious minutes. And even as he continued to work, he knew that somewhere the enemy had just been confronted by two more opponents. It was a testament to the Dark Lord's skill that he easily dispatched one opponent before giving Ty his full attention.
Determined not to waste the opportunity he had been granted, Xachariah continued his preparations. The trap had been set before the crash, knowing that neither he nor his companion would be leaving the planet alive. He had not anticipated losing so many warriors upon impact and had had to adapt the strategy when he realised that only his bridge crew had survived.
The Lost Brother had proven himself a dominant and unrelenting foe even without the constant energy he received from the Morphin Grid. But by drawing upon the dark energy directly he had left himself vulnerable to the reckless behaviour it was known to induce. And that meant that where he might have detected the trap Xachariah had devised, in his current state he had overlooked the danger. For he had been so angry when he had wiped out the remainder of Xachariah's fleet, he had failed to notice one of the ships that should have been there was missing, wrongly assumed that Xachariah and his team possessed the only vessel to survive the conflict and had never considered the possibility that there was a second ship tracking the activity on the small planet, ready to fire at Xachariah's command.
"Zodin, we are in position, have you acquired the target?" Xachariah asked.
Silence, never a good sign. A combination of the loss of their ship's transmitter array and the interference created by so many types of energy interacting in the atmosphere made long distance communication difficult. He could only hope that his signal was getting through even if he could not hear the reply.
In the distance he heard the cries of battle as Ty battled with the Dark Lord. Xachariah knew that despite the bravery shown by his warrior, it would not be enough. The armies standing against him had never been enough to stop the villain's rampage. The three talismans now in his possession following the deaths of Maz, Cera and Tyerri proved how formidable he was.
He pushed himself to move swiftly across the surface, dragging himself through the dirt, mud, and torn-up landscape. His movement did not go unnoticed, and the enemy sent a bolt of energy in his direction. Debris rained down around him causing him to dodge and roll for cover. He had avoided a direct hit, but his leg had been injured. Still with Ty doing all he could to distract the villain, Xachariah endured and pushed onward to find the beacon that had been dropped during the landing. If direct communication was out, then he hoped that this would work as an alternative.
He had not been expecting to see Stooth again. After she had engaged their foe alongside Ty, Xachariah had been unable to sense her energy. He had believed that she had simply passed away. Instead, it seemed that Macarbre had injured her and then thrown her broken body away from the battle. Somehow, she had managed to hold on a little longer, although a rapid assessment of her injuries told him that she was so far gone she would not last more than a few minutes. Indeed, he barely sensed her life-force even when he was kneeling next to her.
Her body had been torn apart and she lay twisted on the ground, unable to move from where the enemy had carelessly discarded her. What remained of her armour barely clung to her charred skin. Xachariah had no doubt from the awkward angle of her limbs that her spine was broken. Still, she gave him a slight smile as he approached, and he was relieved that she both knew and approved of what was going to happen. At least he knew that somebody approved of his plan.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Rest my child," he replied softly. She had been the youngest member of his elite forces, but he had always thought of her as possessing skills and wisdom beyond her age. "Your duty is complete. Go to those that wait for you on the other side. I will be with you shortly."
She smiled gratefully and closed her eyes. For a moment he felt the spark of life within her glow brightly and then it was extinguished. She was gone and, in the distance, he could sense Ty faltering. Soon he would be all alone. A small weight in his pocket confirmed that Stooth's talisman had returned to his possession, just like those held by her fallen comrades.
He continued to crawl across the battlefield until he reached the beacon. For the first time he felt some hope that his plan might still work. The beacon was intact but would require modifications to boost its signal. The internal power cells would never sustain a signal powerful enough to draw Zodin's attention, but he hoped that he could substitute them with the talismans he had recovered. A lot of power would be lost in the process, but he knew that if it worked the beacon's range would be massively increased. With luck Zodin would be listening.
"Zodin, we are almost out of time. Have you locked onto the target?"
There was no reply, and he knew it was too late to try again. Ty had fallen and Xachariah realised that he would soon be joining his elite in the next world. He did not spare a glance as he heard heavy boots crunch upon the ground. His hand did reach out to grab Ty's talisman as it was thrown in the dirt, followed by the head of the fallen warrior.
"I expected more of the great Xachariah," the Dark Lord stated as he closed the gap between himself and the fallen commander. "I never expected to find you crawling about in the mud like an animal. I'm a little disappointed that the man that dared to steal from me is reduced to such things."
"Macarbre!" Xachariah managed in response, daring to speak the name of their ancient foe.
Xachariah tuned out the gloating as he concentrated on using the power that the villain had unwittingly granted him. In his hand he held five talismans that had been connected to the Morphin Grid. And although they had never served as more than simple batteries with five of the talismans in his possession, he knew that he could conjure anything he desired, so long as he could maintain his concentration. And what he needed most at that moment, was a way to boost the signal from the beacon and then shield the planet from the horrors he was about to unleash.
"You should have joined me when I gave you the choice, Xachariah. But I suppose you are too much like your father, and his father, and his father… Your line has a troublesome habit of refusing my offers." His hand reached out and seized the monk by the neck. "So, tell me, Xachariah, where are my Power Eggs?"
Even now, Macarbre was nigh unstoppable. His connection to the powers of the Grid had enhanced him beyond belief and Xachariah dreaded to think what the madman would do if he had possession of the Power Eggs as well.
Unfortunately, there was no safe way to destroy the Power Eggs. The only option had been the safe removal to another dimension, which according to their ancestors' instruction could only be accomplished on this world in the future. To destroy the Power Eggs or even just damaging them, risked the uncontrolled release of the energies they contained.
"Where are they?!"
Xachariah retorted in his native tongue, throwing out a string of insults. The villain growled a response and threw him to the ground angered that the monk had dared to refer to the grand design that had allowed him to access unfathomable level of power as a mere tool. He kicked Xachariah hard to the stomach and stomped down on his back, causing him to howl in pain. He raised his hand to unleash a killing blast of dark energy before regaining control.
The instinct had been there to kill and destroy. Had he done so he would have lost his opportunity to regain his most prized possession. Xachariah had been able to manipulate his emotions, blinding him with anger – for now he could perceive the spells that Xachariah had attempted to use. He laughed.
"Oh, you are a sly one Xachariah, I will grant you that much. You almost tricked me into killing you. Fortunately, I am not so easy to manipulate. I guarantee I will kill you, but not until you have told me what I want to know. Then you can join your friends in the after-life."
But Xachariah was not paying attention. He mind was focussed on distracting Macarbre, preventing the villain from sensing the location of the two small objects he had hidden and buying as much time as possible for his allies to spring the trap. His attention was drawn to the talismans he had recovered from his fallen team. While they had proven suitable for allowing his companions to fight back, they had never been deemed as truly useful. Those that decided such things claimed that the impure mix of materials made them unreliable and little more than batteries. Xachariah however had discovered that those imperfections allowed them to absorb the genetic traits of their users and pass them on to subsequent avatars when it was advantageous to do so. And more importantly in this case, they could be used to direct all forms of magic, even simple spells.
"Those chosen by these coins, should they be strong enough and prove themselves worthy of the Power, shall inherit the legacy of those that came before." Xachariah mumbled as he slid the fifth talisman into the beacon, boosting its power. He used the last of his energy to lock the power of the talismans away from those that would abuse them. "Let those that are worthy unlock the gifts and possibilities you represent. Above all: protect this world for as long as it needs defending and shield the Power Eggs from all that would seek their power. I beseech you noble ancestors to watch over the Power Eggs until the time arrives for you to retrieve them."
"Enough of this game," Macarbre growled as he raised his golden staff and drove it into the ground. He was Macarbre and he was not going to be denied his prize by a mere wizard. His staff pulsed with energy, fuelled by his fury. The ground quaked in response.
The staff Macarbre carried was evidence of how far the once noble being had fallen. It was forged from relics he had stolen from his fallen foes. A small piece here, a tiny memento there. And given the size of the trophies he claimed, Xachariah was horrified to think how many warriors Macarbre must have destroyed to gain the metal needed for such a staff.
"I tracked you and your little squadron across countless galaxies to this wretched world," he hissed. "I have fought and defeated all those that dared to stand in my way and now I have you at my mercy… It's time for you to end these games and tell me what you did with MY property?!"
"You're already too late," Xachariah answered. "The Power Eggs were never yours to claim and have been sealed away forever."
"You always were a stubborn fool," Macarbre lamented, a hint of the fondness showing for just a moment. At one time he had called Xachariah a friend. But like all friendships it had failed the moment jealousy had reared its ugly head. "Very well. If you will not tell me what I want to know, you shall die with your friends. And once you are gone, I will rip this planet apart until I find what you have kept from me."
He raised the staff to deliver a killing blow but paused as a rumbling sound filled the air. A smile graced Xachariah's face as the huge shadow passed over them. Help had arrived.
"Well done, Zodin."
"Zodin? How can he be here?" Macarbre demanded. "He can't have survived, not after all the things I did to him."
"He is far more resilient than many believe," Xachariah told him confidently.
Not to mention his loyal companion had an innate sense of self-preservation and had set up a survival strategy with countless backups and fail-safes.
"There was nothing left of him. I made certain! I ripped him apart and ground up the pieces. And even if he did manage to save his program, there was nowhere for him to transfer his functions to. I fought what remained of your fleet. I destroyed every ship you possessed and then I watched your base burn to the ground!"
"I was there!" Macarbre snarled. "I watched as every ship you had was blasted out of space before you turned and ran away in your little shuttle."
He paused, mentally rerunning the events in his head. The battle had been a glorious last stand by Xachariah's forces as his armies had cut them down in their hundreds. He had watched as the command ships had crashed onto barren worlds and rejoiced when they had detected the lone vessel known as Sky Dragon withdraw from the combat.
"Why… why did you choose that ship?"
There had been other choices, better options available. Sky Dragon was heavily shielded with powerful cannons, but it was not the fastest vessel for making a getaway. Now that he thought about it Xachariah's flagship, the Eclipse, had not been at the battle. At the time he had overlooked its absence, but now it appeared to be a glaring oversight.
"Survived your ambush," Xachariah told him, the satisfaction he felt in the power of his flagship evident. "I like to have a few tricks in reserve. And with Zodin on board it has been prepared for this moment."
"You knew this would happen!" Macarbre realised.
Xachariah had the grace to look a little guilty. He had been gifted with a sense of prophecy as a child and it had guided him in his brief conflict with Macarbre.
"You knew that it would come to this, you even knew that I would defeat your little soldiers. You knew that fighting me would lead to their deaths… all those deaths. You allowed them to die just to bring me here. Why?"
Why indeed? When Xachariah had received his vision of the future he had seen only loss without hope. Nothing he had tried in his visions had saved the lives of those at his command and had only led to more death and destruction. But the path he had chosen offered a chance to limit those casualties even at the cost of those that served at his side.
"And now what? Do you plan to use the power of Eclipse to strike me down? Do you think that bombarding me from orbit will be enough?" he laughed. "I'm not one those fools that faced you in the past Xachariah. I know what you are capable of… you may command a legion, but you are a priest, not a warrior."
With so much history between them as comrades and enemies it was inevitable that Macarbre would learn to anticipate his plans, just as he had learnt to predict his.
"I knew that tracking Sky Dragon was too easy," Macarbre admitted. "It was too simple and had to be a trap. So, I took a few precautions to prevent you from targeting me remotely. Your friend will not even detect me. And even if he managed to find me, you know my magic can take a volley from Eclipse."
"You really do know me too well, Macarbre," Xachariah allowed. "Fortunately, I know you too. I knew there was a chance you would see through my deception. And I would never rely on such an old trick to defeat you. Luckily… I was able to come up with something different. I thought you might have a way to hide yourself from the ship's scanners, so I chose a target that was not shielded… you just happen to be standing beside me. And as for the Eclipse… you might be able to survive its firepower, but what about its cargo?"
Away from the battle, Zodin had followed his master's orders and selected a large piece of space rock. With the rock secured to Eclipse, it was a matter of activating the thrusters and propelling the large meteor like a missile through space. And now the massive asteroid that was the Eclipse burned its way across the sky, streaking down upon them, guns blazing, cutting up the ground and throwing debris into the air. But at the speed it was moving there was no way that a vessel that size would be able to pull up and avoid a crash. Xachariah's destruction order was about to be completed and if the vast firepower of Eclipse did not obliterate them, the explosive impact when it crashed into the ground would bring their conflict to a permanent end.
"And your dark magic might protect you from the ship's weapons, but even your power could not withstand such an impact. There will be no victory here today," Xachariah declared. "This is where we shall both die. And when we are gone, the Power Eggs will be taken beyond the reach of anyone foolish enough to seek their power."
"Noooooo!" Macarbre screamed. "YOU tricked ME!"
Xachariah took advantage of the distraction to push the last of his power into the talismans, activating the spells he had prepared. The planet's survival had always been a key part of his strategy. Without the planet the protection he had prepared for the Power Eggs would never work. The magic he had set in motion would help the small world withstand the force of the impact even though such a spell was not without great cost. Sadly, his actions meant sacrificing all life upon its surface.
He felt the ground heave as the ship collided with the ground a few miles away. It seemed that despite his best efforts Zodin's aim had been a little off. Still, nobody was perfect. The blast wave from the collision rolled over the landscape, destroying rocks, trees, the primitive animals… everything in its path. In the last moment before his annihilation, Xachariah saw the blast fling a raging Macarbre far away into the burning sky.
He closed his eyes, accepting that the end had come while hoping Zodin had followed orders and abandoned ship before it crashed. The Power Eggs were secure, hidden by spells that would allow them to remain undetected until the Morphin Masters arrived to claim them, Macarbre was vanquished, and the universe was safe. This was the day he would die.
Xachariah had not been entirely correct. Even though he had died in the impact, Macarbre had somehow survived. Although there came a point where it might have been better had he perished. What was left was not a pretty sight.
His body had been pulverised by the impact, incinerated by the explosion and crushed under the weight of the wreckage. The limbs that remained attached would likely never function again. His organs had retained heavy damage that was beyond the abilities of the field healers to repair, had they been inclined to do so.
And yet while the fact that he had survived could be seen as a disappointment, it was a partial relief for those that understood him. Had his physical form perished he would have been released to seek out a new form before returning to continue his rampage. And there were many servants on his side that would willingly gift him their physical bodies. But in his current broken state he was unable to escape, unable to do anything more than struggle to breathe.
Orders were urgently given, engineers were summoned and instructed to find a way to rapidly connected and power the required equipment. As the surgeons and healers raced to strip away the body parts that were beyond saving to reduce the amount of work the machines would need to do to keep the rest of him alive, a base platform was erected and provisioned with ample magical and technological shielding. Then the equipment was positioned in such a way that the patient could never reach or interfere with it. A command chair from one of the support vessels was secured to the floor to act as his medical bed for the duration of his time there. Some had objected that the chair resembled a throne, but those protests were ignored when the safety features of the chair were used to hold their occupant in place. And finally, a tissue regenerator and a stasis field were placed to keep him alive. The stasis field would allow only slight changes while activated and the regenerator would correct any loss of tissue.
As walls were added to the makeshift medical capsule, the question turned to what to do with him. They couldn't kill him now that he was in their custody. Politically it would undermine their efforts to bring order and law to the cosmos. As much as they hated to admit it, he would need to be tried, convicted and then sentenced in accordance with the laws they had been pushing. Even if doing so gave him the opportunity to escape.
In centuries to come his punishment would be the topic of much debate among those that had fought against him. Many felt that he did not deserve a trial and should have been executed immediately. Others were outraged by the waste of resources needed to keep him alive long enough to face trial. There was nobody to defend him and those that had stepped forward had been exposed as active participants in his crimes.
In the end it was agreed that they could not execute him. Despite everything that he had done, his captors had gone out of his way to make certain that he would survive. To those that protested the decision it was pointed out that his survival came at the cost of most of his limbs, his mind and his power. He would never be whole again, just a broken being trapped in a box until his body finally gave up the fight.
It was agreed however that there were no prisons suitable for his incarceration. though that housing him in a norm beneath the surface of a distant planet far away from his precious crystal.
As the cell was shifted to a distant galaxy and buried deep within the molten rock of a lifeless world, the remains of the crashed vessel and all other evidence were removed from the scene of the battle. The planet was left scarred by the impact, but seemingly an unimportant planet in a dull and worthless corner of the galaxy. The life-forms that had started to evolve there before his arrival but had been eradicated by the explosion were replaced with the random genetic materials of races throughout the cosmos. In time those cells would help repopulate the barren world.
Millions of years later
The Power Rangers had triumphed, Rita Repulsa's monster had been defeated and a little girl had been set free. Most importantly the ancient artefacts known as the Power Eggs had been placed within the sacred waters where the ancient Morphin Masters had arranged to meet their descendants. And although the area was empty when they arrived and they were saddened to learn of the strife that had followed the powerful objects through their existence, the powerful beings kept their word and took the Power Eggs away to a place where they could cause no further harm.
And from the shadows an old man smiled as his task was completed. His name was Zodin, last survivor of the ones charged with delivering the Power Eggs to this world. He had been the one to retrieve them from their hiding place and seal them in a chest that could only be opened by the pure of heart. He had been the one to set the chest in the sacred waters, knowing the currents would conceal it until the time came for the Morphin Masters to arrive. And he had watched over the planet ever since, waiting for the day when his mission was finished, and he could join his comrades.
Rest came easy for him that night. All was well.
End of Part
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