Chapter 7: Royalty

"I still think this is a bad idea."

A non-committal sound came from the back of his throat as he shrugged on the hooded cloak. Andros' method of camouflaging himself on semi-hostile worlds wasn't his cup of tea but he wasn't going to risk being recognised as the Orange Ranger on the planet Jabarkas had come from. Even if there was a negligible chance any of them would regard Jabarkas as a hero, there would only be one or two bad apples that had the potential to spoil the entire harvest if left unchecked. Rolling his eyes at the apple-themed imagery, he looked over his shoulder at the Black Ranger. From what he had heard from Muiesaf, the battle had gone surprisingly well after his 'acceptance' and had been wrapped up within ten minutes. The Zords hadn't even needed to be summoned, which slightly annoyed him but he dropped the subject pretty quickly. Sleeping in the vertical position wasn't altogether too different from the horizontal bunks…but there was still the small issue with knowing how the toilet and shower worked. Fortunately for him, he could teleport to the Meteor Masher and take care of the essential things before firing off the message. Hopefully, it would be well-received.

"From a tactical position, it's a necessary evil. I know next to nothing about the planet and the people you protect. Also, I'm an outsider so they may be more inclined to reveal shady information to me. No offence but you and the others stick out like sore thumbs."

Adjusting the cloak over his clothes, he stole a glance outside to the courtyard and the first of the rising suns. A small group of Hurans were already assembled there, sonic blasters at the ready. He supposed they would wait for a larger crowd to form before attempting to blast through the doors. Checking his belt for his Raptor Laser, he exhaled slowly as he looked at himself in the mirror. The cloth was a rich and deep red, almost like dark red wine, with a single orange thread woven on the hemlines. Xristi had somewhat sheepishly admitted to taking his measurements the night before on the off chance he would do something stupid. When the Green Ranger had found the time to create such a masterpiece was a question that would have to go unanswered for now. Actually, the question that was most on his mind was how she had known he would do something stupid. He had tried to ask her but she had given him a small smile and a shake of her head. Standing in front of the mirror, he looked at himself once again and tried to calm his nerves.

Apart from his Raptor Laser and his fire summoning, he would be going out there completely unarmed and unarmoured. He was leery about exposing himself as a Ranger to the general populace as they would probably try and recruit him to help their cause. His disguise would be of a simple traveller who came from a world where the light of the sun was harmful to his 'species'. To his great amazement, it seemed as though there was such a planet in the farthest reaches of the Universe whose inhabitants were as mysterious and secluded as the Spiderians had been. He doubted they were humanoids but, even if they were, that wouldn't surprise him that much. Pulling on the dark gloves that hid the last of his skin from view, he made sure everything was still in place before smiling thinly.

"The cover story you have is that you are just a traveller wandering the stars in search of your higher calling. The Elder thought that story would go well with your shadowy appearance…and your reluctance to drink Y'lchn wine."

At the name, he shuddered lightly and thanked whatever stars above that wine of Earth was made out of normal things…like grapes. Alcohol created from fermenting and decaying meat was not his cup of tea; especially due to the overpowering stench of rotting lemons. Absently, he wondered if he could use the stuff to clean the internal components of his Zord but thought against it as the last thing he wanted was for it to get inside the air conditioning vents. Adding to his slowly growing list of amusing things on Huran, the meat of the Y'lchn was rather fragrant when cooked and held an extreme amount of tenderness and flavour – so much so that seasoning was not needed. The only downsides he could see with shipping a few animals back to Australia were that they were rather large creatures and their feed was native to Huran. Also, they were carnivorous around half of the time so that would make the transport back to Earth a bit…harrowing.

"I'm ready. Muiesaf, whenever you're ready, you can begin the…"

Orange and green sparkles obscured his vision for the briefest of moments before the heat washed over his body. Shielding his eyes from the glare of the binary sun, he looked around him for recognisable landmarks. A roar overhead made him look up and reach for his Laser…only to see a bulky green and brown ship fly dangerously close to the ground. While he couldn't see the courtyard that led to the Central Command, he could see a thin stream of disgruntled Hurans walking past him. For the most part, they paid no heed to the stranger that had literally appeared out of nowhere and continued on their way. He could even hear snippets of conversation regarding the supposed tyranny of the Rangers and how the King would lead them to victory once more. Shaking his head once, he looked around at the buildings. The small dwellings were supposedly houses that Hurans lived in; whereas the larger buildings were for businesses and the like. Everywhere he looked, there was a clear disparity in the building materials used, from mud and crudely stacked stones for the houses to thick sheets of metal and laminated armour for the businesses. If he had to compare it to something, he would have said it was like walking into an Old West town.

Forcing his legs to move, he walked down the dirt road. He had absolutely no idea where he was going but he was supposedly a traveller. His confusion and general awe of the place around him would actually be doing him a favour for once. Sliding a hand in his pocket, he felt for the currency chips that Zriac had placed there. She had told him that they would be enough to eat and rest for a few days at least. He didn't want to spend a few days gallivanting around town as the Rangers wouldn't have the luxury of time before the doors fell. He would try to get all the information he could by the end of today and, hopefully, shed some light on the whereabouts of the relic that needed to be found.

"You lost, kid?"

The voice shook him out of his thoughts and he shook his head, looking around. He was in front of a building that looked like a bar of some kind. While his grasp of the Huran alphabet wasn't the best, the Power would automatically translate the lettering into English or Galactic Standard. Peering through what little light filtered into the shop, he could see an old Huran male behind what passed for the counter. Bottles filled with liquids of various colours lined the walls and he could just about make out the dim outline of a door on the far wall. Shaking his head once more, he turned in the direction of the Huran and walked into the establishment. As soon as he had crossed the threshold, the slightly rancid smell of rotting lemons wafted into his nose and he tried to keep his coughing to a minimum.

"No, I'm not lost. I'm curious as to why everyone wants the regime changed."

The Huran looked at him suspiciously and, for a moment, he thought his disguise had failed. Pulling out one of the stools, he sat down and waited patiently for the Huran to make his mind up. Up close, he seemed older than most and his face was covered with battle scars. The most prominent of them was a single twisted line on his throat that almost seemed like it was self-inflicted or forcefully done with a garrotte or something. He doubted that as, apart from Ranger weapons and certain metals, nothing could penetrate Huran skin. The only other alternative was rope but he surely doubted the Huran in front of him would be so desperate as to take his own life…or attempt to do so.

"It's got to do with the Rangers and their Elders. Two of them, holed up in the Command Core or whatever they're calling it these days. They hoard the Power to themselves and don't care about the little people on the ground. Now, I'm not saying the King and the Royals were any better when they were around but…"

The voice trailed off and Weihan nodded, slapping down a small chip on the counter. The old Huran looked at it suspiciously before whisking it away and placing a flimsy slip of paper in front of him. It took a few moments for the Power to decipher the badly scrawled characters but he pointed to one of the options that wasn't Y'lchn wine. He doubted he would be getting the memory of the aftertaste out of his mind for a long time. As the bartender turned around to reach for the bottle that held something called 'Super Sparkle', Weihan stifled a gasp at the amount of scars on the Huran's back. A literal roadmap of healed rips, tears, cuts and scar tissue knots stretched from his neck to…well, the hips. Temporarily forgetting the hood that concealed his face, he averted his eyes and looked at the worm-eaten wood of the counter. He glanced up as the Huran spoke again, his voice somewhat muffled by the angle of his body.

"Truth be told, the Royals abused the power the people had entrusted them with and rightly so. I don't know where you're from, sir, but we Hurans only care about one thing: war and fighting. Well, I guess that's actually two things but…anyway, all of our being is fixated on fighting. Not fighting to find a better life or anything, but fighting for the sake of fighting. Before our last King came to power, the world had already been through at least seven civil wars, during which the Rangers had come into being. Twelve of them, all thrown together to fight the beings that came from other worlds; the plan looked good on parchment and held together through thick and thin."

The old Huran turned back to face him, a glass filled three-quarters with a pale liquid with thin slices of jelly or something gel-like suspended in the liquid. Taking the glass from the Huran, Weihan raised it to his lips with some amount of trepidation and took a sip. Hmm…it wasn't that bad; it had a mild citrus flavour and the gel reminded him of the aloe vera drinks that had started appearing in shops. The slow burn of alcohol was still present but it was pleasant and not like drinking jagged glass. Nodding in approval, he made a mental note to ask Muitime or Zriac exactly what was in Super Sparkle and what it was made of. Knowing his luck, it would be made of the bile and distilled blood of Y'lchn. He opened his mouth to speak, choosing his words carefully to avoid suspicion.

"Rumour around my world has it that the number is less and that one of them recently split. I don't know what's worse: the lessened number of Rangers here or the other rumours going regarding the spike of Ranger numbers on Earth."

A heavy sigh came from the bartender.

"The Cyan Ranger, supposedly he was in the running to lead the team before the Black Ranger popped up out of nowhere. Damn hotshot kid ruined everything…but that doesn't matter to you. A traveller from off-world shouldn't stay too long on the surface. You want a bit of advice from an old-timer like me? Do what you need to do and leave the sooner the better."

The Huran shook his head and ran a scarred hand over his blood-red horns and thin wisps of brown-grey hair. For the briefest of moments, Weihan seemed to see another side to the male; a regal side that made him think of a king. However, that faded into nothingness and, soon, all he could see was a tired Huran with a world-weary voice.

"War is coming."

TBC…