Author's Note: No, I have not abandoned "A Euro-Trip I'll Never Forget." Far from that! But I had this idea and whenever I take strolls around the Jardin de Luxembourg it just keeps developing more and more… and so I follow it.

Mother of Us All
Part I: Loss and Exile
by MegaSilver

"Hey."

At the sound of the masculine voice, Karone whirled around, away from the large window on the observation deck of the MegaShip, from whence she had been gathering her thoughts with the cosmos as backdrop. "Hey, Andros," she said.

"What're you thinking about?"

Karone hesitated. What would be his reaction if she told the truth? "I was… thinking about Ecliptor," she confessed, putting her hands in her pockets and staring at the floor.

Andros folded his arms and nodded, not looking directly at his sister.

Karone felt a bit ashamed. "Andros, I—I know what that sounds like, but… he did save us that one time, before they… Andros, after Darkonda took me, Ecliptor took care of me. He was the only one who ever did until you—"

"He took care of you to turn you into Astronema," Andros reminded her.

"I know."

"And then he stood up for you because he thought of you as his work."

"But he didn't forget about me when I didn't become what he'd tried to make me!" protested Karone. She blinked a few times.

Andros was breathing heavily and Karone thought he might be holding back anger. For a moment she almost stepped back, but then she heard his breathing calm and saw his expression turn to one of sadness.

"Mom and Dad made you what you are," Andros said bitterly. "Ecliptor helped the invasion that killed them."

"Oh, Andros, Mom and Dad!" Karone could only pull him into her arms and listen to his soft sobs. She herself was shedding a few tears, but her parents were but a very faint few sounds and blurry images to her. She didn't know how to mourn them properly.

All of a sudden a dreadful thought came over her and she pulled back to look her brother in the eye. "Andros, I… I remember hearing about that awful day. I was fifteen. One month later and I would've been sixteen and then…" She began stammering. "They would've… they might've… gotten me to command… that invasion… and—"

"Karone, please!" Andros shut his eyes tight and pulled her back into his arms. "They didn't. You didn't. Just don't think about it!" He sniffled. "Oh, Karone, right up to the end, Mom was talking about how much she missed you and wished she'd see you again someday…"

Karone just didn't know how to respond to that. She, too, wished she could have seen her mother, but she knew it was a desire born of genetic loyalty and curiosity rather than acquired filial affection. How could it been otherwise?

Zhane proudly presented his medical licence to Cassie and T.J. "Well, what do you think? Can I get an equivalence to practice medicine in the United States?"

Cassie flinched a little bit, but she was somewhat amused. "Umm… I'm pretty sure you'd need a translation… and I don't think the American Medical Association would recognize a purportedly certified transcription from Kerovonto to the Latin alphabet."

Zhane turned the licence back around to gaze upon it. How beautiful it was, how artfully the lettering was engraved onto the marble backdrop! Inanimate written pieces, whether on stone or on paper, had long since become rare in the Kerova system, but they were still used for certain official, permanent documents. Zhane found them absolutely charming, for the same reason he loved cooking out on a campfire or paddling a boat with his arms: no artificially-generated electrical power, no numerical technology. Apparently there was a lot of that on his soon-to-be new home planet. How exciting!

All the same, he was certainly cocky enough to flaunt the superior scientific knowledge and technological advancements of his own native people. "Yeah, but I mean, c'mon: after what's just happened the last few days, sure they've got to make some sort of derogation! Just look at the cryo-healing chamber in this thing: that stuff's routine on KO-35! Not to mention I got my full licence by age 21!"

"Uh… Dr. Psycho?" T.J. sniggered just a bit. "That little fact might not go down so well for your cause if that's common practice on KO-35."

Just as Zhane was about to retort, Karone entered the bridge. "Hi," she said, not really smiling.

"Hey, what's up?" said Zhane, walking over to her. "Where's Andros?"

"He's out on the observation deck." Her tone and her voice remained somber.

Ashley looked concerned. "Is—is he okay?"

Karone opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She gazed over at Zhane, and her eyes seemed to ask him for help.

"I'll go see him," Zhane announced, and started out of the control room.

"Andros?"

His friend looked so forlorn there seated by the main window, head pressed up the glass. Zhane sat down on the windowsill close to him and tried to catch his eyes. "Andros, what's up? Karone told us you were up here… did something happen with her?"

Andros shook his head. "Nothing. She just left me alone pretty fast, but it was my fault; I unloaded too fast on her. She almost doesn't even remember our parents… I think she knows how much it means that they're gone but she just doesn't feel it as hard as I do."

"Aww, buddy!" Zhane said in a low voice, pulling Andros into a bear hug. "C'mon, it's hard for you both. It's just hard in different ways."

Zhane knew what he was talking about. On the one hand, he'd lost his own mother at age three—and he understood how that sort of temporal distance and delayed consciousness of deprivation must affect Karone, as well. On the other hand, he'd known Andros since they were ten—and he knew just how special she'd been to Andros, and how kind she'd always been to Zhane.

"Karone knows that, too—believe me," Zhane continued. Then, not wanting to cause a scandal, he added, "I mean… she hasn't said anything about it specifically, but I can tell. It kinda goes along with everything else she's had to go through."

Andros nodded, pulled out a handkerchief and blew into it. "I'm still really worried about her."

"Hey, I know, but look: I'm here, too; we're all here: you don't have to help her all alone! And you've gotta look after yourself, too, you know."

Andros looked thoughtful. "Shouldn't be a problem. I had to look after myself for a year and a half after you and the other Rangers went down."

"Well, look, now we got your back," Zhane promised. "I got your back." He patted Andros's shoulder and squeezed it, smiling. "Hey, you've had ours plenty. You really had mine that day."

At last he saw Andros manage a smile. "I'm really glad I did."

"Well, good!" Zhane patted his friend's shoulder once more and then arose. "I'm going back down. You want to talk about anything at all, you just buzz, okay?"

"All right."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Hey!" Zhane snapped his fingers. "What do you say after dinner we creep off to the SimuDeck, set up a nice little lounge and have ourselves a nice little… refreshment?"

"Hey, why not?"

"See you there, then!"

Zhane was quite content as he made his way back to the bridge. Okay, he didn't really like seeing Andros all melancholy—but he thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to be actively supportive.

As well, of course, as the anticipation of sharing a nice little cocktail afterwards.

A charming little platinum-colored café stood on the corner of a rustic, ancient-looking street in the heart of Triplex City on the planet Triforia. Outside, one might have thought oneself in first-century Memphis, Egypt or in the Roman Forum.

Inside, a nervous young waiter approached a table with a very peculiar, non-Triforian-looking couple at the table. "May—may I help you two?" he asked. The Triforians were well aware that other sentient beings and hominid subtypes inhabited the universe, but they were not a particularly well-travelled race, nor were they particularly accustomed to seeing aliens on their planet.

So the sight of this obnoxious, unitary middle-aged couple with noses buried in the menus was quite the educational experience for this young man.

"Yeah, make it a double-sliced pork cut plate… for two!" the man snorted, jerking his face away from the menu."

"All right… uh… anything to drink?"

The man fumbled though the menu, growling at obviously not being able to find his beverage choice. "A pitcher of triple-fruit wine and two goblets!" he snuffed at last, tossing the menu to the poor boy. The woman did likewise.

As soon as he had gone, the woman pointed to the upended salt shaker in front of them. "Oh, Zeddy!" she hissed. "Haven't you forgot? We need good luck now; we're not bad anymore! Quick, toss some salt over your left shoulder!"

Zedd did so and paid no attention to the "Excuse me!" from the lady he'd just doused behind him. "Well, Rita, old habits die hard, ya know!" He said it loudly enough that a few people in the restaurant turned to look in their direction.

At that moment, the front door opened up and a tall, powerful, royally-clad figure walked in, carrying an emblematic staff. It was a figure all too familiar to Zedd and Rita.

And apparently to everyone else in the restaurant, who immediately exited their seats and descended onto one knee.

"Your Royal Highness!" everyone said in unison.

Zedd and Rita glanced nervously at one another. "Quick, get down!" she whispered. They immediately genuflected, but neither doubted it was too late. Crown Prince Trey of Triforia, the Gold Ranger, would surely have them in his sights.

Glancing around at his subjects, Trey donned a smile, not a smug smile but one of paternal appreciation for those around him. "You may all rise," he commanded gently. "And be as you were."

Along with everyone else, Zedd and Rita returned to their booth, but these two were trembling just a little, and the trembling gave way to outright terrified shaking as they saw Trey come closer, then fix his eyes upon them, then stop to stand before them.

"May I be seated?"

"Y-y-yes!" both ex-villains insisted, each one moving slightly inward to make room for the Prince of Triforia.

"Your Royal Highness!" Rita added quickly, grinning wildly.

"Your Royal Highness!" Zedd followed, grinning equally wildly.

"Thank you." Trey sat down.

"What may we do for you?" asked Rita, not shaking any the less.

"I wish for an audience with you at my palace, the Pyramid of the Three Sectors in the city center, in two hours from now." Before the duo could reply, Trey reached into the small sack on his belt and took out a large silver coin, which he placed on the table. "For your meal," he explained. "Will you come to my palace this afternoon?"

One reason for the relative provinciality of the Triforians was the very stringent restrictions on travel and entry on Triforia. Only members of the royal family could come and go as they pleased, and only the sovereign monarch could legally grant authorization to enter or exit.

And the primary reason for such restrictions was that on Triforia, gold was far more abundant than on almost any other habitable planet in the universe—making Triforia a delicious potential target for space pirates. As a matter of fact, the inclinations of Divatox towards reckless piracy were precisely the reason Dark Specter had assigned Rita and Zedd to Triforia, fearing that the former would pillage the planet's wealth and squander it before he himself had had proper time to consolidate his newfound gains.

The abundance of Triforian gold and the metal's few industrial applications—beyond being a key component in many Morphing devices such as Power Coins or the Gold Staff, all of which used only a few ounces of the metal—meant that the planet's inhabitants took great advantage of its decorative potential. So Trey's palace was a splendid sight to behold: the columns were lacquered with pure gold on the top and bottom, as was nearly every panel in sight. The throne room simply glistened with a natural richness that would have made the architect of Versailles envious. Even the ropes tying the curtains above the throne incorporated real gold in their coloration.

Trey had specifically instructed Zedd and Rita not to present themselves by name, assuring them that the palace guards would be expecting his "guests from the Terra system."

And now, as these guests presented themselves in the throne room, terror overcame them once again. They were used to royal protocol, and to being received in Dark Specter's throne room, and to managing their own such rooms, and to the overt animosity and bad feelings that were so ubiquitous in the aforementioned quarters.

But never had they been in the throne room of someone who was or who had been on the opposing side of their own—and who had been so powerful while they, suddenly, were so helpless.

Trey descended his throne and approached his nervous, vanquished and genuflecting foes. "Welcome, my guests. You may arise. Shall we proceed to more comfortable quarters?"

Zedd and Rita looked at each other and then back at Trey.

"Excellent idea!" replied Rita.

As soon as a server had finished pouring three cups of a hot infusion beverage on a round table in the ornate and well-furnished study, Trey said, "Thank you, Anton. Emilien," he said, addressing the guard standing at the door, "Anton, I would like a word alone with my guests, please. Anton, please set the pot on the commode behind me; we'll serve ourselves if we wish to refill."

"Yes, your Royal Highness," said each one in turn before leaving the room and closing the door behind them.

When his faithful servants had gone, Trey turned his full attention to his guests. "Thank you both for coming. I'm very glad I was able to find you again when I did."

Zedd and Rita gritted their teeth, looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

"Well, you… really have a nice planet here!" Zedd remarked.

"And such a beautiful palace!" Rita cooed.

Trey smiled. "Thank you."

"Umm—listen!" Zedd blurted. "It's… very nice of you to receive us like this. I assume—I mean, there's no hard feelings about that little invasion last week, is there?" He bounced his eyebrows and gritted his teeth.

"Yeah," said Rita, "no hard feelings! I mean, see, we were just going through a bit of a… well, a fifteen thousand year phase, if you know what I'm talking about!" She laughed nervously. "But we don't do that anymore!"

"Oh, no!" agreed Zedd. "We're out of that game!"

Trey nodded. "I know. I wanted you to come here so that we could discuss precisely that."

"Oh." The terror was now at its maximum. This was it: the moment of truth and justice. The moment of comeuppance.

"You see," Trey explained, "your invasion, as well as the vandalism, injuries and few deaths your forces caused fall under, as you might imagine, the jurisdiction of the Triforian Principality. Legally, the evidence is there, and certainly beyond any shadow of a doubt, against you. Therefore, the penal court is bound to prosecute, convict and sentence you—and the sentence, I'm afraid, will certainly be execution.

"However, as Crown Prince I feel I have a responsibility not only to my own people but also to those who happen to venture onto my dominions. I also believe in penal law as an instrument not of punishment, but of discipline and of deterrence. It is one thing to execute a dangerous individual, but it pains me to see the death of one who is, very clearly, no longer dangerous—particularly if his life experience gives him enormous potential to do good for the universe."

Zedd and Rita breathed a little bit more easily now, but were still quite intimidated. So there was just a little hope… but for what? What lay ahead?

Trey took a deep breath and continued: "There is just one problem. As sovereign lord of the planet, I am constitutionally permitted to pardon anyone for any reason, but I do not have the power to grant a pardon until the court has handed a sentence. The length of time it takes is varied, though in your case it would probably take less than one week after the case went to trial. So it would be painful, but very swift."

Zedd and Rita breathed a sigh of relief.

"That's not the problem," Trey added.

Zedd and Rita tensed right back up.

"The problem, you see, is this: once your case goes to trial, everyone on this planet will recognize who you are. And when that happens, it may not matter whether I pardon you or not. We pride ourselves on being a peaceful race. Unfortunately, almost no one in the universe is totally immune to the poison of the vengeful spirit."

Zedd and Rita just looked at each other, dread on their faces. There were no words to say at this point.

"And I'm afraid we cannot avoid the trial. Someone will recognize you. Non-Triforian hominids are nonexistent here: when aliens come it is always with my direct permission and almost always for only a short time, and your particular mannerisms make you… quite distinctive. It will only be a matter of time.

"So, Zedd, Rita, I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you to remain on Triforia, neither for your own good, nor for the stability of my dominion."

Zedd and Rita were still looking at each other, the dread gone from their faces, replaced with dejection. Rita just shrugged.

Zedd piped up. "So… where do you suggest we go?"

"Anatomically, in your present state, you could only hope to blend into one of two star systems: the Kerova system or the Terra system. Of the two, you stand a much higher chance of success on the Terra system, as not everyone on Earth believes in extraterrestrials or the Power Rangers."

Rita was puzzled, somewhat taken aback. "Really? Well, I'll be!"

"Now that I think about it," remarked Zedd, "it makes sense. None of us has ever ventured beyond Southern California—except for that one time I tried to nab Kimberly in Florida."

Rita glared at her husband.

"Sorry!" Zedd gritted his teeth and cowered a bit. He had forgotten he was forbidden from bringing that incident up.

"So," said Rita, "we go to Earth. Then what?"

"So far as advice for living is concerned, I believe that Rangers of Earth, if they receive a message from myself, would be willing to see you on your way." Just listening to that prospect, Rita and Zedd cringed visibly. "I'll send you as far as Angel Grove. Ultimately I do believe it would be wisest for you to go elsewhere. However, as I cannot say exactly where would be a suitable location, I will have to leave you in their hands for that advice."

Trey arose. "Unfortunately, there is nothing more that I can do for you from my position here. But I know I can count on the Rangers of Earth to deliver their aid.

"And now, if you'll kindly excuse me, I do have some other business to attend to this afternoon. You will stay in my palace as my guests for tonight. But stay quiet and above all, reveal your identities to no one. No one else saw the battle's end that day. Only a few of my trusted servants know you are here, and only I am aware of who and what you are. And we must act while that is still the case."

Trey tapped his staff against the floor. A golden beam of energy shot onto the door and the handle glowed for a few seconds. That was the signal for Emilien to enter.

"Emilien," instructed Trey, "please show my guests to the Quarter of Privilege, and send the message for Anton to return for the porcelain."

"With pleasure, your Royal Highness," the guard agreed.

"I'll be back this evening and you will be called down at eight to dine with me," Trey informed his guests before leaving the room.

TO BE CONTINUED…