Hartland

By: KSuzie

All things Power Rangers belong to Saban or Disney, everything else belongs to me.

Chapter 6: The End of the Quiet Life

Author's note: For more information on Kemora, see The Coins: Chapter 8. For more information on Ulysses' remembrances of Kim's journey into the past, see: The Coins Chapter 1: History

Tommy settled back in the soft chair indulgently as Kim exchanged pleasantries with Abraham. The chair was comfortable, the fire warm against the chill in the rest of the room, and the jet-lag feeling that had plagued him since his arrival heavy on his shoulders. His stomach churned and he swallowed hard to keep the bile where it belonged. It was a strange sensation; Rangers were rarely effected by travel or sickness. He assumed it had something to do with the Equaline wave they had crashed through, but he honestly wasn't sure.

True to his expectations, the excited greetings and pleasantries settled down fairly quickly and she introduced the old Japanese man to him, but to his consternation, the topic didn't switch to Ranger activities, but instead settled on the more mundane things that went along with the quiet life that had followed the previous campaign. As interesting as it was to hear about their lives and their relationship to his wife, the heat from the fire began to soak sweetly though his tired body, his eyes grew heavy, fluttering briefly before they closed, and he drifted into a deep and inviting sleep.

Netau was not pleased. He hadn't expected the local guardian in charge of the current timeline to be happy to help him, but he hadn't expected an outright refusal to assist him in capturing the demon spawn. Calamity Kim, it seemed, was well entrenched in this particular period of history and Ulysses wouldn't hear a word against her; threatening in return to report Netau, who was also outside his assigned time zone, if he persisted in "wild and unfounded rumors."

The young demon had apparently established herself as a well documented and well accepted figure in the local nineteenth century guardian community; part of not only the dimensional association, but the local inter-dimensional society as well; making powerful friends. It made sense to him, she established the same security net of associations in her home timeline as well, but it was infuriating.

The Guardians themselves were not simply one organization, but a conglomeration of self-regulating authorities. All of them were supposedly dedicated to restoring the Great Balance of power that had been disrupted over ten thousand years before, but almost all had differing opinions of just how this should be accomplished.

There were fractions who dealt with the timeline on a localized, linear level in one dimension, those who expanded their influence to reach cross dimensionally, as well those who dealt with the timelines existentially. Keeping order among the often bickering factions were the Moderators and Panel of Inquisition and above them a few Adjudicators. But that was only the hierarchy of the mortal plain, beyond there, the chain of command was a little more difficult to decipher.

Netau hissed as he mounted his horse and slammed his heels brutally into the sides of the beast. Nothing was more exasperating than the local bureaucracy.

Local, linear guardians tended to resent interference in their nicely ordered one dimensional existence and cross dimensional guardians like himself often grew frustrated with the lack of a local's abilities to see the bigger picture of the universe. Both despised their Existential counterparts as being tight-assed oddballs and the Existentialists in turn looked down their noses back at them for their indiscriminate manipulations and interferences in vital shapings of an unknowing individual's self-chosen mode of existence with respect to the rest of the universe; whatever that meant.

The local bureaucracy was always a nightmare to deal with, Netau thought bitterly to himself as he galloped at full speed back to Nester's old fortress. They were almost always incapable reasoning; focused solely on the narrow-minded day to day events within their own limited assignments. He honestly didn't care whose spirit was imprisoned in what sub chamber or what grid had died or was tainted; he had bigger, universal, matters to worry about.

Ulysses, however, was not simply a narrow minded nineteenth century yokel. Although rare for a moderator to regress and submit himself to the ward-ship of a linear timeframe, it wasn't unheard of; especially in the case of a retirement after a long and distinguished service. He had expected more cooperation though.

Moderators were strict rule enforcers and regulations had definitely been broken if the demon spawn was actively interfering with past timelines by illegally posing as a resident historical figure. Ulysses was well known for his no-nonsense and often callous approach. He should be outraged, he should demand an investigation of the truant girl, he should call in the Inquisitors to get to the bottom of her clandestine activities. Instead, the unreasonable, stubborn old being was furious at him for interfering! He, who had been sent by the Adjudicators themselves to repair the Equaline wave and save the universe from being thrust back into the dark ages.

No, Netau was not happy at all. He had been chastised, berated like a child, told to fix his damn timeline, but he was not to touch or in any way come into contact with Calamity Kim. Unfathomable. It was one more grievance in a long and growing list where the young demon was concerned. It was an injustice; yet another wrong that would be remembered and retaliated against.

Worst of all, the old moderator had made very sure he knew he was now being closely watched. He would have to be very, very careful if he made a play for Ivan's primordial ooze. It was almost not worth the risk, but it no longer existed in his own timeline and there was no other period in close proximity to ferret it out. He had missed his chance when the egg had been opened before. If he wanted the instant immortality the ooze would bring him, he'd have to chance a grab at it now, while officially on a mission to the only other period in time where the egg was relatively accessible. It was now or never.

His lips tightened and his eyes narrowed as he charged forward. It was simply inconceivable that the novice girl could get away with manipulating the timelines as she had. Part of him wondered briefly who was protecting her. Time travel was a difficult mastery. He himself wasn't foolish enough to propel himself back more than a few hundred years; let alone several thousand. With only the slightest of miscalculations, the disruption to the timelines could be unfathomable.

The girl had been identified and placed six thousand years into her home dimension's past and the Equaline wave had begun just under ten thousand….and not just in one dimension. Kimberly was an established multi-dimensional corrections manager; if limited in authority to the cleanup of Kemora's tirades. Either she was incredibly stupid to try so many massive leaps over so many varying dimensions…or someone was assisting her. He was almost certain the latter, but the question remained who.

He would find out, he decided resolutely. He would find out, and when he did, he would expose all of them. He would see them crumble before the Inquisitors and brought to their knees. He would destroy them…

"Netau is most likely here for the same reason I am." Kim murmured, a slight frown knotting her forehead as she pressed her lips against her knees in contemplation; not liking that the other guardian had been sent in and silently cringing at the ways he might try and solve the problem with the timeline. She could think of at least half a dozen other senior guardians who had a much better feel of the harmony of timelines.

"The anomaly?" William asked, and she nodded in return.

She was sitting on the large stone hearth, next to Tommy's chair, arms wrapped around her legs. She had changed out of the formal skirt and polonaise, as well as the corset, and into the split riding skirt, white shirt, and vest that the Western Rangers were accustomed to seeing her wear.

She doubted Netau had followed her, it had to be a coincidence. According to Tommy, Ulysses himself had brought her back this time. Netau had to have been sent after the Equaline wave by the continuum; not after her. But why him? He was in charge of the ten years preceding and then following the twenty-first century millennia; not the twentieth. True, he was powerful and was a multidimensional sentinel, but he would have little to no experience with the harmonies of ninetieth century Angel Grove.

The question worrying her most was if he had recognized her. Zordon had reset her morphanological energies to correspond with the timeline, so she could only hope that she'd ducked away from him before he could get a good reading on her.

"I don't like it." Curtis returned softly, a frown deepening on his forehead. They were all speaking in low voices out of respect for Kimberly's sleeping husband. "The man was obviously allied with Murdock."

She glanced up at him and then to her husband as he shifted slightly. Curtis regarded the pair and absorbed her anxious look. She was worried, but he wasn't sure if it was the appearance of this new adversary or her husband's feverish condition. His instincts told him both, but at the moment she was far more apprehensive about her husband. He knew first hand Rangers rarely fell prey to minor illnesses and her concern troubled him.

As he watched her quietly fret over her sleeping husband, a wave of envy washed through him. He wasn't jealous. He and Kim enjoyed a uniquely close relationship, but he had long since given up any intimate intentions he might have once had toward her. Once upon a time, believing he'd never see her again as she departed from her first visit, he'd actually grabbed her and kissed her squarely and rather passionately on the lips. It had been a whim and he'd been awfully embarrassed when she'd returned a few months later, but she had brushed it off as amusing and the two had simply grown closer from there.

Closer, he thought wryly to himself, but not romantically. She allowed him to love her, and returned that love, but only in a familial way, like a sister, and he accepted that. Truth was, Miss Kimmee was the only woman he'd ever met that he could honestly call his best friend. She was the strongest woman he had ever known and, although she drove him to distraction more than not, she was family to him and had not only helped him be the man he'd become, but the Ranger as well.

Curtis had been born rich. His father had originally made his fortune in the year preceding the great San Francisco gold rush and, in years that followed, quadrupled that fortune many times over by supplying the hordes of hopeful miners that poured into California. But while Curtis had all the best things life had to offer, he never had anyone he could feel close to.

Born in the spring of 1856, he had very few memories of his mother. She had left him in the care of nannies to raise and then disappeared from his life entirely shortly after his father died in 1862. His brothers, considering him a nuisance, had quickly and efficiently packed up him up with the rest of his mother's household and sent their six year old half brother back east to boarding school; conveniently ignoring the fact that a Civil War was in full swing.

He had been a fiercely independent child, which quickly got him kicked out of boarding school and placed in military school, but, in contrast, was also incredibly needy. He wanted desperately to be loved, but learned very quickly that was not an acceptable personality trait in a budding young soldier and a liability to his survival in the dormitories. He learned the hard way that continued existence in the dorm hierarchy meant being stronger and tougher than anyone else and efficiently squashed his gentle side under thick iron walls.

Not having a personality that could be strapped down to a desk in a dark classroom for hours on end and resenting the strict disciplinary regime of his academy, he dropped out of school at the age of thirteen, but never forgot the lessons learned there. The discipline and strict work ethic that had been pounded unmercifully into him remained with him the rest of his life.

Oddly enough, with an innate love of books and learning, and access to the Power Chamber's data bases, he had ended up much better educated than many who lingered decades longer in academia; certainly more of an education than most of his western contemporaries. He supposed, if he could have stuck to his schooling, that he would have made a good scholar, but the wild west, with all its varying terrains and untamed wilderness, called to him like an irresistible mistress and he had been more than happy to answer her.

If his brothers weren't exactly happy about dolling out his inheritance when he returned to San Francisco and demanded it, they were more than happy to see him ride off in the sunset and never look back. He supposed, he thought spitefully, they assumed the west would simply swallowed him up. They had given a little boy a fortune in gold that would confound a man three times his years, but Curtis had always had a plan for his life. He was not one to mindlessly squander what he knew would never come his way again. He wanted something that would last. He wanted land.

Riding southward down the coast for no other reason than an old family story that his ancestors had settled there nearly a hundred years before, he had a plethora of adventures for one so young before ferreting out his family's old homestead and building himself a small mud house; completing the tiny structure just after his fifteenth birthday. He knew the townsfolk were curious about him, how a boy of his young years could come into enough gold to buy his own little farm and a small herd of cows, but he avoided and ignored them; preferring the life of a recluse and throwing himself into the land that he loved.

He'd never really meant to marry his wife a few months later, but it had been the right thing to do. She was the daughter of one of his hired hands and the granddaughter of a local Indian chieftain … and had given him a son a few weeks later. Not quite eighteen months after that, his second son was born and to his surprise, he suddenly found himself a grown up family man and head of a household.

His wife had been a sweet, quiet little thing and he supposed he loved her, after a fashion. At the very least, she had been a good companion and an invaluable asset to settling the untamed land into a working farm. She'd given him a daughter two days after his ninetieth birthday, but then the two had succumbed to smallpox a few weeks later and he found himself a teenage widower.

When her sister had offered to raise his boys with her own children in her village, he'd reluctantly let them go, but had also been relieved. He realized in later years that he really hadn't been a very good father to them, and that thought pained him, but he had been very young and very overwhelmed. Unlike his own family though, he'd continued to take care of them; sending food, medicine, money, anything they needed. When they'd been forced to move the village up the mountain onto the reservation lands, he'd gone with them and helped them build a new cabin. He'd even set up a small school and arranged for a missionary teacher to teach them and the other children in their village. Neither boy wanted much to do with him though, and that disappointed him.

Given their antipathy for him, he wasn't sure why he tried to stay involved with his sons or went to such extreme lengths for them. He hadn't fought to keep them, they certainly didn't want him, and his brother in law resented the interference. Miss Kimmee had accused him of having an innate need to be loved. She said he was a classic little boy denied. He didn't have a family, he didn't have a home, so helped others with theirs. He supposed there was a grain of truth in that, but he'd really never contemplated it. The truth was, she was the one who had secured him a stable home and inspired him to act upon his urges to help others in need.

On her second trip back, she had taken on the Indian agents, bankers, and the entire township of Angel Grove itself to secure him that right. He hadn't liked her interference, and it still chaffed him to remember it, but he couldn't deny what she'd done.

Curtis's ancestor had apparently been related to or migrated out of an unknown western tribe of Indians, but the line he was descended from had lived among the English and Spanish settlers in California for nearly a hundred years. His brothers all sported brown hair and brown eyes, but their skin tone, confined to their offices and ballrooms, was pale in comparison to his propensity to tan in the hot sun of his ranch. He was also esthetically a throwback to that distant and long forgotten ancestor, which had gotten him into more than one sticky predicament with the other settlers, and he'd had an Indian wife and admitted to having two sons who lived on the reservation.

Land hungry and envious of the prosperous ranch he'd built for himself outside of Angel Grove, a few of the local homesteaders had pressed the Indian agents to confiscate his land and have him confined to the reservation with his children. To his dismay, the local banker had been more than happy to assist them and, in the process, confiscate the bulk of the money Curtis had deposited with him. The 1870's had not been very friendly towards the Indians and, to his dismay, he found himself caught up and drowning in the unfriendly laws being passed that threatened to strip him of all he owned and had worked for.

In desperation, he had written his brothers in San Francisco, who were politically very powerful, but had been ignored. They considered themselves done with him and had no intention of coming to his aide. For the first time in his adult life, he'd felt completely helpless and it had been a huge burn to his male ego that the only person willing to come to his rescue and fight for him was female.

It had been a nasty, vicious struggle and he hadn't like the fact that the only way to win it had forced Kim to utilized the Command Center to forge documents and create a new past for him, but at the same time he'd also been deeply touched that she'd fight so hard for him and, in the end, adopt him as her own. She'd claimed him as his sister and given him her last name; no one had ever fought so hard or gone so far out of their way for him. More than that, she'd brought him into the fold of the Rangers and opened a universe for him that he'd never believed possible.

By the time of his twenty-fifth birthday in 1881, the tide had turned and it was Curtis who controlled Angel Grove. He didn't flaunt his wealth and few knew the true extent of his holdings, but he had not only bought out the ranchers who had fought against him, making Hartland the largest cattle ranch in three counties, but he now owned the bank that had tried to confiscate his wealth as well. His father's son, inheriting an innate knack for business, it now amused him to no end that he now held the mortgages on nearly every farm, grove, and ranch in two counties as well as the mercantile, the boarding house, the saloon, the telegraph, two mines, and the local whore-house.

Innately cautious and having never forgotten the turmoil of nearly losing it all, he was extremely cautious that no one know the extent of his holdings. His first order of business was to send the former banker back east with his tail between his legs, his second was to set up a chain of command that would ensure he'd never lose control of his assets again. To the outside world, he remained the unassuming owner of Hartland, privately he controlled every aspect of his life and his fortune as well as the fortunes of many others.

Yet for all his wealth and power, he was envious of the man Miss Kimmee had arrived with. Like the little boy who'd had his life ripped away and was sent packing into the uncertain unknown, he'd give all he had for a woman to look at him like that; to be loved like that.

Looking past her to the narrow hallway beyond the table, he felt his heart clench a little. Down that hall was a door and behind it room where there was even more enchanting female than Kim…but he clamped the thought down, refusing it before it could even properly form. Inside that sick room was a married woman grieving for her child; nothing more.

Thanks to Kim, he had a good life; he had nothing to complain about. Realizing both Doc and Abraham were watching him stare down the long hallway, he looked away and shifted his gaze to the burning fire of the hearth.

Zordon was stunned. If he had still had a physical body, it might have collapsed. Never, since he had bid farewell to his master nearly ten thousand years before, had he ever expected to be contacted by him again.

Primus predated him by tens of thousands of years, although exactly how many, the old wizard didn't know. He hadn't been a young man when his mentor had left, nor had he been a novice, but his loss had been devastating. For the first time in his life, he had felt the true weight of the responsibilities left to him. In the ensuing millennias he had done his best to live up to the expectations of his old master, but he had always privately held the belief, despite the accolades of those who came after him, that he paled in comparison.

At the time of Primus's retreat, Rita had just trapped him within his dimensional warp and the universe itself was heralding a new and untried era. The continuum had only just started to form the Dimensional Guardians and the massive crusade to repair to the damaged timelines had barely begun. The old ways had been discarded; they were re-writing their own futures. Primus and the other ancestors had simply faded away, leaving new generation to carry on in their memory.

To be once again called upon by his old mentor, the being who had taught him everything he knew about the Great Power and how to harness its force, was as devastating as it was exalting. If he were able, he would have broken down and cried; the emotions that poured through him were so overpowering.

Composing himself, he opened the communication link and responded. Whatever had brought his master back from oblivion would have to be gravely serious; the universe itself must indeed be in great peril.

Curtis forced himself back into the present as Kimmee tried to help them decipher the events of the day and strategize plans for the conflict they anticipated. Of primary concern to them all was that Murdock was back and had apparently recruited, or had been recruited by, a new master. She had half heartedly tried to assure them that Netau was technically supposed to on their side and not after releasing Ivan, but she was vague at best as to why the albino would be there.

For as long as he'd known her, Miss Kimmee was a strong force for good. If this Netau was also a force for good, then it didn't make sense at all that he would be out to harm her or stop her from traveling through time to help them. Partnering up with Murdock was the most damning action. Kim would never, ever convince him that the albino was a force for good if he was working with Nester's old henchmen.

"You trust he allies himself with good?" Abraham asked, voicing aloud the thought that they all had. He had spoken quietly, but his deep, growling voice carried easily across the room.

"I can trust that he will accomplish his mission by whatever means he deems necessary." She returned softly, not quite meeting his eyes at first and then looking up and holding them seriously.

Abraham held her gaze sternly for several silent seconds, then nodded curtly once, acknowledging what she hadn't said; what she couldn't say in front of the others. Abraham was also a guardian, but not nearly of her ability and rank. The power he was in charge of protecting was of little significance except to those directly seeking it.

He was not fooled by Miss Kimmee's small size, soft demeanor, or apparent youth. Exactly what the Dimensional Guardians utilized her for, he wasn't sure and she'd never confided in him, but demon spawn didn't usually bother themselves on the local level; even reformed ones. If this Netau was after her, it was for something more serious than simply aiding their Ranger team.

Abraham didn't trust the Guardians or their bureaucracy, with good reason, and although Miss Kimmee hadn't specifically identified this Netau as a Dimensional Guardian, he knew that was what she was referring to. Her concern bothered him. There was more to the story than what she'd relayed. He got the distinct impression that she was afraid of the albino and that troubled him.

He knew they were entering into a period of time commonly referred to as a keystone; a critical juncture. He knew part of the reason she returned so many times was to ensure the timeline remained steady during its transition through that juncture.

"You have plan?" He asked, waving his thin, narrow pipe in a circular motion as if to encourage her to share it.

"I had one." She admitted slowly, " But now I'm not so sure…"

She let her words trail off slowly, head cocked to one side as if wondering what to do. Tommy shifted again slightly and she turned to him, eyes anxious full of worry. She wasn't sure if it was a bad reaction to the equalization process or the Wiporie venom, but he should have adjusted to the time zone by now. He shouldn't be feverish and he shouldn't be falling asleep in the middle of the day.

Her husband was a powerful Ranger. He'd held more morphers than anyone she'd ever heard of. Most Rangers served only a short tenure of a few months at best. Tommy had served for ten years. Although lifers weren't unheard of, no one she knew of had experienced as many varying types of morphers. He had exposed himself to the energies of coins, crystals, keys and even a prehistoric gem not meant for human use; all of which had remolded his DNA and made him extremely powerful. The result was a morphanological signature unique to the Ranger community. She trusted Zordon to blend that distinctive signature with the current timeline, but she couldn't discount that Netau might recognize it anyway.

Fear coursed through her for him. She could handle being caught outside her own time zone. She was a guardian, one that had clearance to work in various times and dimensions; if not this specific time. She could also justify that Ulysses had sought her help and brought her back. Tommy's presence was more difficult to explain. She doubted Netau would accept the truth; that he had just stumbled into the vortex. She doubted the other guardian would care. He would gladly expose her less than legitimate adventures as Calamity Kim and she blanched at what he'd do to her husband.

She forced those thoughts away though. She had quickly shielded herself when she recognized him and he had no reason to suspect she was here. Tommy would be fine, she reassured herself, he was simply having a bad reaction to the equalization process and she knew firsthand how viciously a Wiporie sting could wipe the energy from you. Realizing the others were watching her, she wiped the concern from her face and turned around to face her friends.

"It's not like you to miss a battle when the chimes ring." She commented, looking at Abraham and changing the course of the conversation.

"Delayed." He answered unremorsefully, taking several large puffs from his pipe.

"The Richardson boy find you?" Doc asked lazily, realizing the conversation was turning from Ranger matters. He doubted Kim would elaborate and give them anymore details for a while. "I had him run out to your homestead and ask for a tea that would calm Mrs. Carson's nerves."

"Telegram." Abraham answered, grinning ever so slightly and looking very pleased with himself.

"Not bad news I hope." Alicia commented as she placed a stack of plates and silverware on the table, beginning to set it for a meal. In her experience, nothing good ever came from telegrams. She had decided long ago that the telegraph was a device Angel Grove and the nineteenth century in general didn't need and could very well do without, but as usual Curtis hadn't agreed with her. "I think there's been enough bad news today." She muttered.

"No bad news." Abraham answered, shaking his head, then putting his pipe back between his teeth.

Kim had risen and was making her way to the table to assist with setting it, but she stopped and regarded the old man frankly, silently asking if he was going to share. Slowly, he took his pipe from his lips and placed it on a side table. He leaned forward slightly, bringing out a thin piece of folded paper from an inner pocket and showing it to her.

"My wife come." He answered with a twinkle and an almost wicked gleam in his eyes.

"You don't have a wife you old coot." Alisha fussed from behind the table, hand on her hips.

"Do now." He countered, obviously pleased to tweak her.

At William's exclamation of surprise, Tommy's eyes opened instantly and he sat up in his chair. Kim shot the boy and impatient look, then turned to check on her husband.

Kelly Ann Carson turned in her chair at the noise of the commotion in the great room beyond the dark narrow hallway, then turned to watch Allison calmly ladling stew into a fancy porcelain tureen for the table. Allison hadn't heard the noise she realized. Her momma had told her the pretty blond girl was deaf and couldn't hear or understand her when she spoke; but the meaning of that word really hadn't really sunk in until that moment.

She watched as the girl filled a bread basket and then added it to the tray with the tureen. Kelly Ann wouldn't be allowed to eat with the grownups, but she really hadn't expected to. Her stomach was already full of the thick, rich stew Ms. Alicia had had the farm hand bring in a wagon from Mr. Curtis's ranch and she really wasn't interested in having to sit through a dinner where she'd be expected to sit quietly forever and ever and never say a word; pretending she didn't hear anything that was said.

As Allison lifted the heavy tray that was bigger than she was and disappeared down the narrow hall, she slipped from her stool at the butcher-block cutting table and took her bowl to the washtub, submerging it in the hot sudsy water Ms. Alicia had prepared.

Just then, a brightly colored wagon clattered past the back window of the kitchen, jingling merrily with large metal jingle beds and sporting a huge evergreen tree. A wave of boys and girls raced after it and, convinced Santa was also on the tree laden wagon, she opened the back door and ran after the pack of squealing and clapping children; leaving the door wide open behind her. Santa was the only person Kelly Ann knew that could bring her little brother back; then maybe her momma would be happy again.

As Allison returned back into the kitchen, she paused, realizing it was empty. Spying the wide open door and realizing the little girl was gone, she did the only thing she could think of; she screamed.

Ulysses watched Netau go with a sinking feeling. He didn't often exert his weight as a moderator. Technically, he was retired and had settled into a low level, low stress, assignment as a local grid guardian on his home planet, but from time to time he was still pressed into a more universal service and still held his authority within the continuum.

He was a very old man now and, like many old men, was disenchanted with the way the young run were running things. Specifically he disagreed with the younger generation's tendency to dismiss or disregard him as past his prime and useless. On a good day he was cranky and overbearing, but when vexed he was a formidable force indeed.

His career had begun six thousand years before as one of Zordon's Rangers. He had fought Ivan, assisted Animus with the Orgs, and had struggled through the Beast Wars before being tapped as an interdimensional timeline guardian; rising through the ranks to become a moderator. Few knew his whole history and even fewer knew his relationship to Kimberly. There was no way in all seven levels of hell he'd turn her over to the arrogant, overconfident, supercilious ass that had charged through his doorway without any preamble and demanded charges be brought against her.

As a boy, he'd idolized Kimberly; never forgetting it was she who had saved them by taking them to Phaedos and bringing the Ninjetti powers back to Earth. His bison spirit still guided him, although it had been centuries since he had used his coin to morph. As a veteran Ranger, he'd served with her occasionally throughout his tenure in and outside of time and was not the least bit surprised when she turned up a few years prior to form a new team dedicated to making sure Ivan didn't reemerge from his egg.

Ivan had been his own personal nemesis from his youth and he hadn't blinked twice at allowing her to help the Western Rangers keep him contained. He knew very well she was outside her time zone, but he also knew from personal experience that the Power itself seemed to send her on missions to keep the continuum flowing in the right direction. He was as loyal to her as any Ranger was to a former teammate and trusted her far more than he did any other guardian.

He had already checked the credentials of the pompous idiot who'd intruded on his sanctuary. Knew he was a guardian in charge of a future timeline, not the present one. What he didn't know was why the creature had been sent back by the adjudicators and why he was so hell bent to see Kimberly arrested by the Inquisitors. Netau had been nearly euphoric while damning her and declaring outrageous charges of abuse….and irate at his refusal to assist him.

Ulysses had served with Kimberly on and off periodically for six thousand years. He was more inclined to believe that this Netau didn't understand the situation; that he was unaware the extent of her tenure or what a critical asset she was.

One thing was certain, Netau was power hungry and dangerous. As a moderator, he had seen many, many guardians corrupted by the powers they held; this one was no different. He had no doubt that the being who had visited him played both sides of the continuum and, if he was correct, Kimberly had a very powerful enemy on her hands.

Sealing the doorway of his home, he pulled the collar of his coat up around his neck against the cooling afternoon winter wind and trudged toward his small barn. If Calamity was back in town, that meant trouble in its own right. She needed to be forewarned she was facing far more danger than she was aware of.