SITS Chapter 26

[center]Chapter 26 of Signal in the Sky

Overkill
By Purrsia Kat & Spaced Angel[/center]



"Sir?"

Ratar-O opened one eye and peered up at the intruder of his dreams. Scrawny and young, it was hard to believe that Ensign Ratagon came from one of the better families on Plun-darr. He lacked the military bearing of his ancestors, the arrogant pose and the gleam of greed in the eye. Ratagon was decent and willing to please. Ratar-O couldn't help but think he must have been a great disappointment to his family.

"You'd better have a good reason for disturbing me," he said. The youth wavered. "Well, boy, what is it?"

"You told me to wake you when we reached the co-ordinates you specified. And, uh, we have." He gulped nervously. "As per your instructions, sir."

"Very good, ensign."

With a grunt of effort, Ratar-O pushed his blankets aside and heaved himself off the bed into an upright position. He tapped a button on his remote viewer and a planetary system filled the screen. A large star burned at its heart and around this fireball of red and yellow circled several planets of varying colour. Those nearest to the star were an unremarkable brown, but the third in line was a patchwork of blues and greens, peppered with large swathes of fluffy white clouds. Pressing another button downloaded a new set of co-ordinates on to a pad and this Ratar-O handed to the ensign.

"The third planet, sir?"

There was something about his tone that made any good feeling Ratar-O had so far accumulated evaporate. If there was one thing that made Ratar-O's ire rise, it was having his orders questioned, especially by a noble brat who thought he knew it all.

The only thing working in the ensign’s favor was that, although the trip to this galaxy from Plundarr’s was still a long one, it could have been made unbearably longer if not for Plundarrian teleportation technology. Great distances were covered considerably faster by use of it, even though resources and some unknown variables prevented them from making it all but instantaneous. At least it was one thing they had over the Thunderians – aside from an as-yet intact home world – allowing Mutant kind to travel great distances without bothersome suspension science. Ratar-O never trusted cryogenic technology. To him, it seemed too easy for someone to tamper with it while you were in a helpless state. Teleporting, while also having risks, was his preferred way of coping with the extreme distances. If the trip had been any longer than it already was, Ratar-O’s reaction to such insolence would have been far worse – another positive argument for the wonders of teleportation.

"You got a problem with that, ensign?" he barked.

"No, sir!" Ratagon stiffened to attention, staring at a spot on the opposite wall. "It's just…"

Ratar-O sighed. Had this fool not learned his lesson? He was half tempted to send him down for a spell in the sweltering furnace that housed the Rat Star's engines to teach him to moderate his attitude. Years of experience, however, had long since taught him that there was often something to be gained from tolerating empty-headed nincompoops like Ratagon. The boy had already shown a desire to go above and beyond the call of duty, happily telling on his comrades whenever grumblings began below deck. Thanks to that little piece of information, the ringleaders had been pushed out of the nearest air lock before they could incite a mutiny or any such trouble.

With that in mind, Ratar-O was inclined to be lenient. Whatever Ratagon had to say might be of some use.

"Go on, ensign," he prompted.

Ratagon visibly squirmed inside his ill-fitting uniform. One size to fit all clearly had not applied to this skinny youth.

"It's just that the others, sir, they're saying that the reptilian Slithe headed out this way and as you know, sir, that was the last anyone ever saw of him. The men, sir, well, they're saying…"

He hesitated. Sweat was beading on his brow, turning his brown fur to black.

"They're saying that this place is cursed, that there's evil down there and that's why Slithe never came back. Well, that's what I've heard, sir."

Ratar-O twitched his nose in amusement, neither unduly surprised nor worried by this revelation. Tales of cursed planets were as common amongst old space dogs as stories of ghost ships found drifting devoid of crew or power. Of course he was aware that they were on the last recorded course of Slithe and his motley crew of Mutants; that had been one of the first things he had checked when he was given this mission. That fact, however, had only served to confirm the theory that the boy, Jax, had been telling the truth when questioned about his stories of meeting Thundercats. Since Slithe had been tracking the royal Thunderian ark ship at the time, Ratar-O knew it gave credence to the derided belief that some inhabitants of Thundera had survived. Not just any inhabitants, at that, but the noble line. And Ratar-O knew that with them would have survived the Eye of Thundera. If Thundercats were to be found anywhere in the galaxy, then it would be here, in this isolated solar system, on the only planet capable of supporting life. He looked forward to declaring victory over Lord Jaga, who had to be beyond ancient by now, even with the felines’ confounded suspension tricks. At any rate, Ratar-O was sure the old man would hold out as long as he could for Claudis’ boy was too young to take the mantle.

His thoughts turned back to Slithe and why he had never returned to Plun-darr, if he had in fact made it this far. Where his men talked of evil and superstition, he had narrowed it down to a several possibilities. Either the reptilian had crashed his ship and rendered it incapable of flight, thereby also losing the ability to teleport, or he had failed in the primary objective of all Plun-darrians and let his prey escape. If the first, then he could not return. If the second, then he dare not.
Whatever the answer, he would soon find out the truth. For the time being, however, he had to squash these rumours or he would soon have a real mutiny on his hands.

Resting his weight up against a table, he eyed the nervous ensign with interest. Perhaps he had underestimated the boy. He had the makings of the sneakiest rat on Plun-darr. The right blood certainly ran through his veins. His grandfather had shown cunning enough to almost topple the great Ratilla from his throne. Such treachery had been rewarded with a swift execution and promotion for the remainder of his family. After all, it was Ratilla himself who had coined the saying about keeping one's friends close and one's enemies even closer. If Ratar-O had ever had any doubts about why Ratagon was put on his ship under his command, he surely already knew the answer.

"Tell me, Ratagon," Ratar-O said smoothly, "you're a rational lad. Do you believe any of this nonsense?"

His gaze, fixed so rigidly a moment ago, wavered and Ratar-O caught a glimpse of the fear in his eyes. "No, sir, of course not."

"So what have you told the men?"

"M-me, sir? Nothing, sir."

"Come now, you've heard them talking. You must have felt compelled to tell them something."

"It's not my place, sir."

Ratar-O snorted. "Not your place? You are their social superior."

"But not their commander, sir."

"Granted. Perhaps it is time you had promotion then, Ratagon. How does second-in-command sound to you?"

His mouth dropped a fraction, revealing pearly white, unchipped incisors. "Me, sir?"

"Yes, you, sir." He eased himself from the table and approached the young man. "I'll need someone to take care of the Rat Star while I go about my business on this planet. I'm putting you in charge."

"But I know nothing about command, sir."

Ratar-O grinned and patted him on the back. "It's easy, boy. You tell people what to do and they do it. Now, go and tell the crew to stop this nonsense about cursed planets and get on with running this ship. And then best speed to…" He gestured vaguely to the planet.

"Third Earth, sir?" Ratagon beamed. "That's what the men are calling it."

"Then for once they are right," said Ratar-O, recalling that the mucky-nosed boy whose tales regarding the Eye of Thundera had brought him here in the first place used a similar name. "When a planetary orbit has been established, I want a full surface scan run. In particular, look out for Plun-darrian trace signals. If Slithe is down there, I want a word with him."

Ratagon's eyes widened. "You think Slithe survived, sir?"

"That's what you are going to find out," Ratar-O said. "Well, get on with it. And be sure to instruct the bridge crew to bring her down with all cloaking masks up – I don’t want to be detected by anyone down there before I’m ready to show my face."

Ratagon saluted and fairly scampered from the room. Ratar-O grinned at his retreating back view, remembering another young ensign on his first deep space mission. Any other similarities between Ratagon and himself ended there. For a start, he had never scampered anywhere.

[center]***************[/center]


Why did the heaviest book always have to go on the highest shelf? Felina wondered, staring up at the only empty space to be found in her room.

Making an effort to tidy up was easier said than done. She needed a break from her studies, but this hardly qualified. Still, her eyes were going to cross if she had to read one more line researching Thundrainium, sorting out the information uncovered during trips into the Book about Mumm-Ra and the Thundercats’ own past as well, and countless other things she’d fallen behind on in addition to her usual studies. Thundrainium had been the priority as of late given the Feliner’s second attempt to find and rescue the lost Thunderians was nearing, but so far, she was unable to uncover anything of use in the old texts. Much of it had been laden with scientific jargon she didn’t understand, and yet she dutiful took note hoping Tygra could sort that end of it out later.

For now, however, her mind was going to rest in the face of some physical exertion. Felina could only imagine what Snarf or Lion-O would say about her current activities given the two of them seemed to behave as if pregnancy was a certain sentence to nine months of bed rest. Lately, it was as though all they would deem safe for her to do was reading, and even then she risked a paper cut followed by a nasty infection. She only wished that were an exaggeration.

Lion-O in particular had been getting on her nerves lately with as over protectiveness. His concern was touching, but his constant haranguing was nothing short of overkill. It was smothering, as though the news that she was having a baby had suddenly robbed her of all common sense and made her a fool, incapable of taking care of herself or her unborn child. If things continued like this, it wouldn't be long before Lion-O was insisting on following her into the bathroom in case she fell down the plughole and vanished forever. For now, that was her one safe refuge, though at least she was visiting a bit less than before. The sickness that gripped her had ebbed somewhat in the last few weeks.

As she surveyed this space she called her own, Felina pondered how much more their relationship had been complicated thanks to backsliding. It had been about a week ago, late one evening when neither of them could sleep. They bumped into each other in the lounge, both of them seemingly overwrought and worried about any number of things. They took comfort in each other’s company for once, talking into the wee hours. That moment of goodwill made her vulnerable enough to forget her resolve. Before she could mull it over too much, they shared a kiss which threatened to deepen into something more. She couldn’t even remember who made the first move, but it seemed to matter little at the time.

It was definitely going in a sensual direction after they ended up in her room, sprawled across her bed. Then, with little satisfactory explanation, Lion-O suddenly broke from the embrace and made his way out of her room. She’d managed to get a lame excuse out of him before he left – something about not wanting to hurt the baby. Of all the silly things! Surely, he had to know better and Felina felt there was more to it than that. Either way, it frustrated her. One minute he’s breaking up with her forever, the next minute he wants to try again. And yet he’s shying away from intimacy with her at the next turn. He could clearly not make up his mind and it was maddening, the way it played with her emotions. That strange fleeting moment reminded her that maybe he was right in that they were not going to be capable of romance now, or in the future. It surely felt doomed from her standpoint, for she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. At any rate, he seemed content to put all focus on the baby, a role Felina was fast starting to resent.

After much consideration and concerted effort to push thoughts of Lion-O aside, she decided a chair seemed the obvious solution to her current problem. She’d thought of going to fetch a ladder, but that would risk her running into Lion-O or Snarf along the way and no doubt spark endless lecturing from either of them. No, this chair would do. The only chair high enough for the job had a slightly wobbly leg and she climbed up on it with care. It shifted a little, but spreading her weight seemed to make it more stabilised. She stretched, book in hand, and the chair jerked violently to one side. There came the sound of a crack as a leg gave way and she was thrown backwards. The book did a lazy somersault in the air and tumbled after her. She gritted her teeth in anticipation of the impact, but instead found herself rescued from a bump by a strong arm that clamped around her waist and halted her fall. She looked up into Lion-O's frowning face and dreaded what he was going to say next.

"Felina, what are you doing?"

Back on her feet, she felt a little less silly and even more indignant. "The leg of the chair broke. It's nothing."

"It's not nothing, Felina. You could have been seriously injured. I don't think you should do any more climbing until the baby is born."

It was his patronising tone of voice rather than what he said that was most vexing. She felt her eyes narrow and the overwhelming need to take him down a peg or two. She had to remind herself that he was only trying to help and had saved her from some unsightly bruises. Damn him, he had even managed to catch her book. She fairly snatched it from him without so much as a thank you.

"Lion-O, I was only a few feet from the ground--"

"A fall is still a fall, Felina. You have to look after yourself."

"You think I don't know that? Do you think I don’t care about our baby?"

"Of course not. Sometimes you take risks though."

She allowed herself a snort of laughter to release some of her growing tension. "By standing on a chair? By Thundera, the next thing you know, Lion-O, I'll be sitting on one. What could possibly happen to me then?"

He sighed, folded his arms and adopted his favoured expression when dealing with the Thunderkittens. "Will you be serious for a minute? And, what happened to your hair,” he added, his expression changing to that of mild shock.

"Don’t approve of that either?" she replied, using a puff of breath to blow an errant strand out of her face. "I cut it, if that’s fine by you. I was tired of pinning it back every time I get sick."

It was short – a lot shorter than before, passing as a sort of uneven bob – but it was out of her way and that had been the goal when she set forth with a pair of scissors earlier that morning. Maybe she’d let Snarf even it out later, but for now it was the least of her concerns.

“Should I have asked your permission first? Scissors are sharp. I could have hurt myself. Or the baby!” She added a sarcastic gasp of horror at the end for effect. “Oh, you better start going around the room removing all sharp objects and anything two feet off the ground.”

"Felina…I really don’t think sarcasm is called for or helping matters."

She was being hard on him, and in truth she couldn’t imagine herself speaking to him – or anybody else - in such a way when her brethren had first discovered her on Third Earth. But much had happened since then to change her, and particularly over the last several days when there had simply been no end to his constant hovering and fretting. As much as she disliked the person she was becoming, she’d had enough of him. "Just go. I'm fine."

To her dismay, he seemed inclined to linger. "Actually, the reason I came up here was to tell you that we've found something you'll find interesting."

"We?"

Her soul sank. This sounded suspiciously like another of Snarf's lessons in parenthood. Any more talk about naming babies, bottle temperatures and cracked nipples and she was sure she would go stark staring mad.

"Panthro, Tygra and me."

She breathed again.

"What exactly?"

"A possible location for the missing Thunderians."

He needed to say no more. With her interest piqued, she followed him from the relative safety of her room out into a world where Snarf waited to pounce and coo over her and knowing grins were the order of the day. Any reaction to the news that had spread about their break up had been eclipsed by the news she was expecting. It was something of a relief to find that only those that Lion-O mentioned were waiting for her when she entered the Control Room. Cheetara joined the gathering just ahead of her and all three looked up from the thing that Tygra was holding.

"I found her," Lion-O said, giving Felina a pat on the head as though she was a prize puppy. Felina fought the urge to slug him in the arm, and favored him with a glare instead. "Just in time too. She fell off a chair."

"Oh?" said Panthro. "How did that happen?"

"I was just a bit clumsy," said Felina, hating the fact that Lion-O put in her a situation where she had to justify her every move. Rescue came from the only sympathetic quarter in the Lair.

"It happens," said Cheetara reasonably, effectively ending any further discussion on the matter. "Are you all right?"

Felina smiled at her saviour. "Fine. Thanks. Lion-O tells me you've found something?"

"Yes, on the long range scans we got from the Feliner." Tygra swivelled in his chair and pressed a large green button on the main control board. The screen blinked to life and a contoured map appeared. In the uppermost right hand corner, a tiny red splodge could be seen, half vanishing into the screen's perimeter.

"Looks like a massive Thundranium reading," he explained, adjusting the magnification so that the blob filled the screen. "I'm surprised you missed it."

"It happens," said Panthro, showing that he was consciously echoing Cheetara's words by smiling at her. "Besides, we had our eyes on other things."

"So I've heard," said Tygra, giving Lion-O a sideways glance. "I wouldn't have expected you to see this anyway because it was at the very limit of the Feliner's scanning capabilities." He screwed up his eyes as he did a quick calculation. "Must have been over seven hundred kilometres away from your location."

"Any idea what it is?" Lion-O asked.

"Land," was the best Tygra could come up with. "Steep, too, from the look of the contours around it. Probably a mountain of some kind."

"And you think we'll find the missing Thunderians there?"

Tygra shrugged. "If I knew that for sure, we wouldn't be having this discussion."

Lion-O took to stroking his chin thoughtfully with his finger, not taking his gaze from the viewscreen.

"It's a long shot, but it’s the best we've had in a while," said Panthro. "The Feliner's ready to roll, but do we want to risk wasting precious fuel on something we aren't sure about?"

"Don't be such a pessimist," said Cheetara. "How do you know this isn't the place where we'll find them?"

"All I know is that is one hell of a lot of Thundranium for a Thundercat to be around." He jabbed a finger at the screen. "If they are there, I don't rate their chances very highly."

"Unless they're underground."

Tygra's suggestion shook Lion-O out of his reverie.

"What difference does that make?"

"Because of its poor molecular density, Thundranium tends to be pushed to the surface by the heavier rocks. Theoretically, if they are underground, they might be shielded from its influence."

"Theoretically? You mean you don't know?"

He sat back in his chair and sighed. "Not for certain. But then I've never been tempted to test the theory. It’s a substance that doesn’t lend itself to experimentation by a Thunderian."

Lion-O's expression hardened into firm resolve. "Then now is a good time to do so. Panthro, get the Feliner ready. We'll fly out to… to this place as soon as possible. Cheetara, I'd like you to come with us, to see if you recognise any of the terrain from your vision. And Tygra too, if you can spare the time."

Tygra nodded and, as he did so, his eyes dropped to the small metal thing he held in his hand. Now that she looked more closely at it, Felina could see it resembled a flattened box with several wires emerging from it. Logically, there was only one thing it could be - the hearing device Tygra announced he would be making for his daughter when he and Cheetara had told the others of Velouria's deafness. Clearly, he was having some problems with its design, for the thing he held was too large to fit an adult's ear, let alone that of a child.

From the dark circles under his eyes and the light she had become used to seeing under his study door in the dead of night, she knew he was pouring all his energies into helping his daughter hear again whenever he hadn’t been working on the Feliner. Taking him away from his work would be nothing short of cruelty when other members of the Lair were equally capable of investigating this probable location for their missing countrymen as he was.

"Actually," Felina spoke up, "I think I'd like to go, if you don't mind, Tygra."

Lion-O's mouth dropped open. "You? You can't go."

She flashed a smile. "Yes, I can. It was fun last time, despite the crash. I'd like to go again."

"Fun? You slept through half the trip. No, you can't. I forbid it."

She arched an eyebrow. He was making it so hard for her to feel any affection towards him lately. "Do you?" she said icily. "Tygra did an excellent job of acting as our back-up last time. If he doesn't mind staying behind, I'd like to come along."

She hadn’t volunteered to spite anyone, but Felina had to admit the frustration radiating from her estranged mate was giving her a bit of pleasure. A nice side effect, she thought.

“But, you’re not…well, you’re just not—“

Felina crossed her arms and looked at Lion-O expectantly as he struggled to phrase what would no doubt come out as highly insulting anyway. “Not what?” she prodded.

“You know, what if we run into something terrible out there? And Thundranium is out there, in quantities we’ve never dealt with before. Who knows what that would do,” he argued.

“Feliner’s been equipped with—“ Panthro trailed off after taking note of Lion-O’s steely glare.

Felina glanced at Cheetara and saw the woman at least looked on with a measure of sympathy. Felina sighed and took on a less defensive stance when she addressed Lion-O again. “Look, I’m pregnant, not broken. I know it could be dangerous, but likewise it may not be as bad as we’re thinking. Most of all – I’ve met these Thunderians. Isn’t that the reason you wanted me along on the first trip? What’s different about this trip, other than the baby? Surely dangers and mass quantities of Thundranium were possible last time.”

Lion-O’s mouth opened briefly only to snap back shut. True, she still wasn’t a warrior on the level with the other Thundercats and she did have concerns about the Thundrainium. But Tygra had important work to finish and, if she were really a Thundercat, a little danger shouldn’t deter her even as she was with child. It certainly had not stopped Cheetara. Besides, a guilty part of her wanted to be there no matter what the outcome when they found their countrymen. She owed them that much after thoughtlessly writing them off as dead before.

"I don’t object to staying behind," Tygra said with obvious relief and breaking the silence in the room. "In fact, I've a few things to do here if you can manage without me."

"I guess we'll have to," said Lion-O, resigned, if not happy with the situation, "although I'd still rather you stay, Felina."

"Well, I don't," she said decisively, surprised by her defiance. What good was a title like Lady of the Thundercats if she couldn’t assert herself now and then, she reasoned. "When do we leave?"


[center]***************[/center]


The place stunk.

A rancid mixture of old cooking fat and mould had assaulted Ratar-O's nostrils the minute he had stepped into what Slithe ambitiously called Castle Plun-darr. The whole place looked ready to fall down. What wasn't already crumbling was covered in some sort of unidentifiable slime that seemed to be taking over every available surface. It was a disgrace to call this a habitat fit for Mutants. But then what else could be expected with a reptilian in charge? The race had no Plundarrian pride as far as Ratar-O was concerned.

So now he found himself in a litter-strewn room, faced with a table laden with dirty dishes and not a clean seat in sight. The best they had to offer was a crumb festooned bench. Taking a handkerchief from his belt, he dusted the seat clean and then sat down. It was true that his ancestors had crawled out of the swamps of Plun-darr, but that was no excuse to live like them now. Even a rat had standards.

From his position on the other side, he surveyed this pathetic gathering with contempt. The jackal had yet to stop twittering and the ape had scarcely managed to keep his slack jaw shut. He expected more from warm bloods. The vulture he knew by reputation and was dismayed to find that several years under Slithe's leadership had turned a brilliant mind into a bitter and dulled intellect. He seemed content to leave the talking to Slithe, only bothering to scowl whenever the reptilian said something detrimental about his comrades. Then there was Slithe, a bloated mountain of useless flesh, whose eyes seemed permanently bloodshot and his tail showed bare patches where its weight obliged him to drag it along behind him.

So much for the pride of Plun-darr, Ratar-O thought, the golden generation sent out to destroy the Thundercats once and for all. Looking at them now, they wouldn't have been out of place in a backstreet dive. They were a disgrace to all who gloried in the name of Mutant. No wonder they had never come home.

"I expect you're wondering why I'm here," he said, deciding to put them out of their misery.

No one answered. Either they were too bored to care or too fearful of what he was about to say. After all, ultimate authority for this mission had been given to him. Had he wished it, these four wretches could be facing execution for their incompetence. For the time being, however, their local knowledge would prove more valuable than ridding his sight of their nauseating presence. Once the mission was accomplished, their fate would have to be reassessed.

"I'll tell you anyway," he went on. "I understand you have Thundercats here on Third Earth. In fact, the little Lord of Thundera with several of his surviving followers made it here after you failed to destroy them, from what I’ve heard. Don’t tell me you haven’t been able to wrest the Eye of Thundera from the paws of a cubling and his aged keeper Jaga after all this time."

Slithe's eyes narrowed as he got to his feet. At last, Ratar-O thought, a response, a flicker of life to show that he hadn't been stuffed and mounted.

"Who told you?" Slithe growled.

"A brat by the name of Jax. Seems he knows the Thundercats very well."

Vultureman’s beak went slack. “I-I thought he was incinerated!”

Slithe was less shocked. "That little weasel? He's a brainless idiot."

"It takes one to know one," Ratar-O replied. "Which leads me onto my next question, why are the Thundercats still at liberty?"

"Well…" Slithe looked to the others for support. "We've had a bit of trouble, yes. The Lord Lion-O, for one thing, is not so little anymore. And the Eye, it responds to him like no other reigning Lord since Jaga held the position in place of Lion-O’s aging and blinded father."

“Among other things…” Monkian offered in a low mumble.

It seemed the uncertainties of cryogenics worked in the Thunderians’ favor this time. It was all the more reason for Ratar-O to abhor it. "Evidently. What form do these ‘other things’ take?"

"It's…" Slithe was clearly struggling and none of the others seemed inclined to help him. "About this big," he said, vaguely measuring the distance between his hands. "A sword. They call it--"

"The Sword of Omens, yes, I know. We may have had few references to it back on Plun-darr, but I’m no fool." Ratar-O said impatiently. He snapped his fingers and his orderly handed him a sheet from the folder he held. Ratar-O pushed it across to Slithe. "Recognise this?"

Slithe's hands trembled as he looked at it before handing it back. "The Eye of Thundera. But how…?"

"Jax again. He created quite a stir when he returned to Plun-darr. Lord Ratilla was most interested in this," Ratar-O said, tapping the insignia on the sheet.

"Lord… Ratilla?"

"Is that old goat still alive?" spoke up Jackalman. He visibly paled beneath his fur when Ratar-O glared at him. "I… mean, how is your grandfather?"

"Well, thank you, and wanting to know how a Mutant brat comes to be taken in by Thundercats that you seem unable to defeat!"

Ratilla's actual words had been somewhat more vehement than that. His shouts about reptilian incompetence had filled the air with the noxious fumes of his decaying teeth. Several servants had suffered the effects of his anger and the royal stewards were having a devil of a job finding suitable replacements. To say Ratilla was annoyed was something of an understatement. He had been spurred into action after months of lethargy and it had been his favourite grandson who had benefited. Others found the old rat repulsive when he was like this, with his balding face twisted into a grimace of rage that revealed pink skin more wrinkled than a newborn ratling. To Ratar-O, it was a glimpse of the leader he had once been, a spark of his former greatness not yet entirely extinguished. It was all he had been, compressed into a few precious moments when he had bestowed on him above all the others sole command of this mission.

Because of the faith the old rat had shown in him, he was determined not to let him down. That, and the fact that Ratilla would not live forever - when the day came for a new leader to be appointed to Plun-darr's highest calling, Ratar-O intended his name to be top of the list.

”We also noticed a lack of the presence of Lord Jaga in these pictures. I take it that old goat is history?” Ratar-O learned long ago to assume nothing.

Monkian spoke up. “Right, the old fool never survived the journey. But his daughter cropped up here, with that stupid Book of Omens, and now there’s three more Thunderians out there that they’re trying to find.”

Slithe glared at Monkian, causing the simian to shrink back into his chair a little.

Ratar-O was satisfied to learn of Jaga’s demise. That would be one piece of news Ratilla would revel in – that he’d outlived one of his most reviled enemies. Ratar-O then took a moment to mull over all the new information, sensing there was even more to their woes than they were letting on.

"Because of your failure, Slithe, Ratilla has sent me to do what you could not - destroy the Thundercats and take the Sword of Omens."

Slithe eyed him with doubt. "Don't you think we've tried? What makes you think you can succeed?"

Ratar-O nodded to his orderly, who drew a wrapped bundle from his sack and then respectfully left. He could feel the others watching him as he untied the knotted string and let the material fall away with as much care as if he had been holding a live scorpion. Only when the object within was revealed did he answer Slithe's question.

"This gives me the edge," he said, holding the short golden hilt up for inspection. "You do know what this is?"

The slightest flick of his wrist and the weapon came to life. Two burning blades extended in opposite directions from the hilt, curling at their tips to create a perpetual circle. The glow brightened the grimy room and reflected in the Mutants' startled eyes. Ratar-O smiled to himself. He had been only less surprised when he had found it himself. Sure, he still had his trusty pair of sais, but this – this weapon was the one that had put Plun-darr on top at one time before it was thought as lost forever.

"The Sword of Plun-darr," Monkian whispered. "Is it real?"

"Of course it is," Ratar-O replied, slowly twirling the weapon in his hand. The twin blades left fiery trails as they turned like the tracks of a wheel burned into the air. "This is the sword of my grandfather. This is my inheritance. This is the sword that will bring the Thundercats to their knees!"

He spoke from the heart, feeling the surge of history through his hands as his fingers curled around its hilt. Tales were still told about this weapon and Ratilla's epic battle with Jaga. The Lord of the Thundercats was almost defeated until the luck of the felines drew the Sword of Plun-darr from Ratilla's hand and sent it spiralling into Thundera's molten heart. As a ratling, he had often sat at his grandfather's knee and heard him speak of the utter loss of that moment, of his feelings of despair as he saw his advantage lost forever, and then of the years spent in Thunderian prison after his capture.

If he had found that story hard to swallow, then less so did he the belief that on that day, a little of the old rat's spirit had died with the loss of the Sword of Plun-darr. In his youthful innocence, he had declared that he would one day restore his grandfather's honour and his sword. His reward had been a pat on the head and his grandfather's eternal devotion. Since then, he had come to learn that there was more to leadership than mystical weapons and tales to frighten children. Action at the right time could speak louder than all the magical baubles in the world, so bitter experience had taught him. That was the belief that had carried him through many a difficult mission and up the ranks faster than any of his contemporaries. It was a belief that nothing could shake, until recently.

After Ratilla had entrusted him with the mission of finding this Third Earth that the brat had spoken of, his course had taken the Rat Star through the debris field left by Thundera's explosion. A routine scan had turned up nothing particularly interesting, and indeed he was about to order teleporting around the debris in favor of navigating the mess, but then the sensors had reported unusual energy readings from a lump of rock. On his orders, it had been brought aboard and examined. The crewman who found the strange artefact buried inside it had no idea of what he held. After a convenient accident reduced him to a charred mass of fur, that meant that Ratar-O was the only one who knew of the Sword of Plun-darr's survival. It had suited him to keep it that way, until now.

Having suitably impressed them so far, it was time to announce his conditions. "I will be taking over here," he said, returning the Sword to its dormant state and disdainfully glancing about at his surroundings. "There will have to be some changes, of course."

"Of course," echoed Vultureman, the first thing he'd said since blurting out his shock at Jax’s survival. It seemingly took the bird that long to process all the incredible new information.

"For a start, this place will have to be cleaned up. Get some of the locals to do that. In fact, the whole place needs tearing down and rebuilding. I saw some sort of structure out in the desert. You can use stone from that to make some improvements around here."

He wasn't sure what he'd said to make Slithe grin or Jackalman exchange nervous glances with Monkian, but he didn't like being kept in the dark either.

"Something I should know?"

"No," smirked Slithe. "Carry on, sir."

Ratar-O's eyes narrowed. "You insolent reptile, tell me!"

"I'll save him the trouble!"

A voice, strange and booming, flooded the chamber. Tattered rags at the window flapped and lost a few more threads as an unearthly wind blew up. Plates clattered from the table and a strong gust swept Ratar-O from his seat. He ended up on his back amongst the debris, staring up at a towering figure with a powerful grey body and a red glow in his eyes. A massive chest bulged above an almost indecently short loincloth and his bare feet showed unkempt toenails. Whoever this creature was, he certainly had Slithe worried, for the reptilian had retreated to a safe corner and cowered there with his cronies.

"I don't think we've met," said the intruder, staring down at him.

"And who the blazes are you?" Ratar-O demanded. His eye fell upon the curled hilt of the Sword of Plun-darr now in the stranger's hand. "That belongs to me!"

"My name is Mumm-ra," came the untroubled reply, "and this I think I shall keep. It intrigues me."

"How dare you!" Ratar-O got to his feet, pulling his two sais free from their sheaths. "You will return that to me or--"

"You'll do what?" The glow in Mumm-ra's eyes was intensifying until his face was masked by bright red light. "I've been watching you, Ratar-O, and I like what I see. You’re far more a credit to Mutant kind than the whole lot of pathetic fools that call this place home. I'd rather work with you than against you. Together, we could be so much greater than the sum of our parts."

"How do you know my name?"

"I know many things about you, about your family, about your mission." A smile was detectable behind the glow. "Believe me when I tell you that your time here will be spent much more profitably by co-operating with me rather than indulging in pointless hostilities, especially now that I have the Sword of Plun-darr."

With a grace that seemed out of keeping with his bulk, he raised his hand and brought forth the blades of the Sword. Flame licked the air inches from Ratar-O's face and he felt sweat start to prickle his brow. Time to try a different tack, he decided. His sais were no match for the great Sword of Plun-darr and possibly anything else this demon was capable of.

"You're asking me to take a lot on trust. It seems you know me, but I know nothing about you."

The light faded to something like amusement in Mumm-ra's eyes. "I am the Ever-Living Servant of Evil, that is all you need to know. This is my world and the Thundercats threaten my mastery. It has suited me to work with the Mutants of Plun-darr in our mutual battle. That is a courtesy I now extend to you."

As invitations went, Ratar-O had the distinct impression that it was less being offered than being forced upon him. Clearly this Mumm-ra had great power; but then Ratar-O had yet to encounter anyone who did not one day meet their match. With the Sword of Plun-darr back in his possession, he was sure he could give this upstart a run for his money.

He relaxed enough to make Mumm-ra lower his guard. When the moment arrived, he crossed the twin sais and directed their energies at him. The beam would have struck Mumm-ra full in the face had he not raised his hands in time to shield his eyes. The Sword of Plun-darr dropped from his grasp and Ratar-O made a grab for it. Somehow, Mumm-ra was quicker. Ratar-O found himself pushed onto his backside and staring up at a face flushed with rage and anger.

"Arrogant fool!" Mumm-ra roared. "You dare to think you can best me?"

He brought his hands together to form a cup, within which a ball of red energy was forming. Ratar-O started to back away, only to come up against the rough surface of a wooden door. It shattered and rained splinters down on his helmet as the energy ball crashed into it, leaving a sizable hole in the woodwork. Mumm-ra's hand rose again and Ratar-O steeled himself for the fatal blow.

"Be reasonable, Mumm-ra," came Slithe's voice. "We have to live here, you know."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't destroy this rodent where he sits?"

"He can help us in our fight against the Thundercats."

"Why do I need him now I have the Sword of Plun-darr?"

"As you’d just been explaining before my foolish deed," Ratar-O said, suddenly feeling the need to justify his existence in obsequious tones that would make the likes of Ratagon ill, "you need all the help you can get. Besides," he added, brushing his whiskers back into their former state of perfection, "you'll need someone to take these reprobates off your hands when you've got what you want. There's quite a few people who are anxious to have Slithe and his friends back on Plun-darr."

He had the satisfaction of seeing Jackalman and Monkian gulp. Vultureman maintained his bored expression and Slithe's scowl only deepened. Mumm-ra, however, seemed to be giving his proposal serious consideration.

"Very well," he said at last, lowering his hand. The mystical glow of his powers faded and his features were visible once more. Ratar-O tried to read some expression in his dead eyes and found only the promise of greater powers bubbling below his deceptively calm surface. "Even though I could easily reduce you all to smouldering piles of fur, the thought of these mongrels quaking before the judgment of their peers amuses me. You may be of some use to me after all, Ratar-O. Understand this - you will answer to me and I will keep the Sword of Plun-darr."

"As you wish." Let him keep it for now, he thought to himself. There would be time enough to steal it away from him later.

"Now I must go," said Mumm-ra, gathering his cloak about him. "The Thunderkittens have discovered something that will prove invaluable in our final battle against the Thundercats. Be ready to leave when you receive my signal."

He flew from the room, causing what little remained upright to topple over in his wake. Ratar-O got to his feet and brushed yesterday's dinner from his trousers. Under normal circumstances, it was an outrage punishable by death for a descendant of the mighty Ratilla to be treated in this way. Still, these were hardly normal circumstances. Mumm-ra had special powers of the kind that demanded a certain degree of respect, even as he pushed out of his mind the idea that Third Earth was cursed. But even the greatest of them made mistakes in the end. And when Mumm-ra did, Ratar-O promised himself, he would be waiting.

A s****** caught his attention and he whirled on the suddenly silent jackal. "I'd better not catch you laughing, cur!" he growled. "Or your hide will be adorning my command quarters before you can say 'Plun-darr'. Do you understand me?"

Jackalman whimpered a reply.

"Good. Then move your lazy self and get this place tidied up. If I have to spend any time here, it might as well be in comfort. Now get on with it!"

As he stalked from the room, sounds of laughter drifted down the hallway after him. They would pay for this insolence, he resolved. It would take time, but his patience was infinite. And then they would know what happened to those who dared laugh at Ratar-O.

[center]***************[/center]


WilyKit held the object up to her eye and squinted into it. A slight move to the right made the lens fill with the unhappy face of her brother, sitting a few yards away, his mouth set in a down turned curve and supporting his chin on his hand.

"What's the matter, WilyKat?" she said. She’d hoped poking around in the old wreckage would cheer him up. It had her, or at least, it took her mind off guilty ponderings she’d been prone to since everyone learned of Velouria’s hearing problems. And more importantly from where said problems originated. She and her brother weren’t fit to look after a goldfish, much less a child, regardless of Cheetara’s assurances to the contrary. This relic, it had her attention in the meantime, a welcome distraction in her estimation.

He didn't bother to look in her direction. "I'm not speaking to you."

She grinned. It was fun winding him up when he was grumpy. "Why?"

"Because you're mean. You won't let me use your telescope."

She removed her eye from the lens and sighed. Perhaps he did have a point. It was only an old relic she'd found when they been exploring the wreck of the Thunderian ark ship that had brought them to this planet. Not that there was much left of it. Panthro and Tygra had stripped it of most of its salvageable components and incorporated them into the structure of the Lair and ThunderTank. Even so, the wreck still had an air of mystery about it and an almost tangible atmosphere of their lost world.

The others never came here now, and it was only she and her brother who kept up regular visits. Every time, it seemed to have decayed a little more. Third Earth was slowly claiming it. Its once sleek sides were now mottled with rust and flowers bloomed through portholes where once glass had separated its passengers from the vacuum of space. The long scar their crash landing had blazed across the ground was now overgrown with all sorts of flora, the depression it had made the only sign that the trough was not natural. Sometimes she thought how sad it was that a piece of their heritage was fading away like this. Other days it seemed to her that it was a message for them to make this world their new home, to become one with it as well.

Until the day it was consumed by time and foliage, it was exciting to explore. It still had the capacity to surprise, given that things had been jostled, scattered and flung in the less-than-graceful landing. The other day, WilyKat had found a packet of sweets at the back of a locker. Today had been her turn and she had literally stumbled across this telescope half buried in the sand. It was an unremarkable discovery and looked rather ancient. Its blue body flared out to accommodate a wider lens at its base and it had three strange symbols on its side. It wasn't really worth fighting over, especially since it didn’t seem to work.

"Here," she said, holding it out to him, "I don't mind sharing."

His mouth curled into a smile of delight. "Thanks, sis," he said, eagerly lifting it to his right eye. He looked into it, looked away, and then tried again. After giving it a hearty shake, he looked disappointed. "It's broken."

"Yes, I know."

"There's a kind of a glow with flashing lights around the ship when I look through the telescope at it."

"I had that too. It can’t make up its mind whether it’s a telescope or a kaleidoscope. Throw it away, WilyKat. It isn't any use to us."

"Wait a minute." He fiddled with the largest lens, turning it until it clicked. He held it up to his eye and grinned. "That's better. The ship looks normal now." He turned and directed the telescope at her. "But now you're glowing. Ugh!"

"Let me see!" She snatched it from him and stared down it. Sure enough, the ship looked normal, but WilyKat was surrounded by an aura of winking colours. "Wow, that's really pretty."

"How can that be?"

"It was all right till you fiddled with it," WilyKit said accusingly.

"What if it is working right? What do we and the ship have in common?"

WilyKit frowned, trying to think of a connection. "We all came from Thundera."

"Exactly! WilyKit, I think that's it." He took the telescope from her and examined it closely. "I think this is a Thunderscope. When you look through it, things that originally came from Thundera glow. And these symbols on the side, they look like some of the stuff in the Book of Omens. I bet Felina or Tygra would know what they mean for sure."

"You think so? Then this could help Lion-O find our missing countrymen." She jumped to her feet. "Come on, WilyKat, we have to get this home to the Lair as soon as possible."

"Not so fast, Thunderkittens!"

Like a giant bat, Mumm-ra descended from the skies, casting his shadow upon them and covering them in a coating of his native desert sand that arose from his landing.

"Give me that Thunderscope!"

"Never!" declared WilyKat, pressing it to his bosom. "It belongs to us."

Mumm-ra extended his hand and the Thunderscope flew from WilyKat's grasp. "Now it belongs to me."

"Why you miserable mummy!" WilyKit shrieked. She let fly with a sneezing dust capsule straight at his ugly grinning face. To her horror, he flexed his hand and two blazing blades sprang to life, easily deflecting the capsule back in her direction. It thudded harmlessly into the sand a few feet from where she stood and dispersed its contents onto the ground.

Undeterred, WilyKit brought forth her mirror in the hopes of scaring the demon off with its own ugly face. The Thunderkittens gasped as Mumm-Ra showed no reaction.

"Better luck next time," said Mumm-ra. "I have learned from past mistakes and am no longer affected by my reflection. The Ancient Spirits of Evil were kind enough to empower me so during my little sabbatical. Tell Lion-O that if he wants to see the missing Thunderians, then I will have them back at my Pyramid before the day is out!"

"No, you won't," cried WilyKat. "Lion-O will find them first."

Mumm-ra started to rise into the air. As he did so, he tapped the Thunderscope. "I think this rather gives me the edge, don't you?" And with a peel of laughter, he vanished into the cloud heavy sky.

WilyKat looked to his sister. "What are we gonna do, WilyKit?"

"Tell Lion-O," she said, racing for her space board. "Last one home is a sissy!"

[center]*****************[/center]

From halfway across the hangar, Lion-O stood propped up against the Feliner and watched his estranged wife and soon-to-be mother of his child chatting with Cheetara. In a few minutes, she would climb aboard this experimental ship that had crashed on its maiden flight and fly with him to a place that no one really knew much about or what to expect. He couldn't help thinking that a more rational soul would have seen the sheer insanity of the situation.

But then, Felina hadn't been acting rationally at all of late. Since he had found out about her pregnancy, he found himself paying greater attention to her. So much so, they almost reconciled and resumed romantic relations but a week ago. However, he wasn’t as over her slip of the tongue as he’d thought, and when he saw her with that hazy look of lust on her face – the same expression she wore before her fateful utterance - the whole cringe worthy incident came flooding back to him, complete with all the negative emotions it stirred. He’d made some lame excuse he was sure she hadn’t bought for a second, and made a quick exit. Telling her the truth about his change in mood would have only made matters worse, he concluded though he could tell it hurt her. They weren’t ready to resume intimacy, and he only hoped the backsliding hadn’t done any permanent damage to their overall relationship. He reminded himself that this was precisely why he would not consider another chance when she’d begged for one.

In the time since, he put his energy into checking up on her and providing for her – and the baby’s - well being. Lion-O was sure he was simply being a helpful and concerned father-to-be. Panthro’s confession about what the Thunderkittens had found out concerning a possible plot against the unborn child had him on edge, which only exaggerated any protective feelings he already had. He couldn’t help it even as his actions pushed Felina to the depths of vexation. For now, he kept that grim revelation from Felina, convinced he could protect her and carry the burden of the worry, but it had been keeping him up at night. All sorts of scenarios went through his mind, including the Mutants breaking into the Lair again and spiriting Felina away in the night. For that reason, if nothing more, he wished more than ever she wasn’t so adamant about keeping separate quarters. For now, he kept the Eye close in the hopes it would give ample warning should the Lair’s alarms and defenses fail them in such a case. It was all he could think to do.

Other times, he worked to convince himself that the Mutants were bumbling fools who couldn’t pull something of that magnitude off, and he would almost be convinced that everything would be all right in the end. Even so, he’d then obsess over any number of other things that could go wrong in a pregnancy, right down to the most mundane things manifesting into a tragedy – like Felina’s chair acrobatics earlier, for instance. Trouble was if he was that worried already, what was he going to be like when the child arrived? He wondered if this was the real sum of parenthood; a lifetime of worry and wonder. During those long nights when his mind wouldn’t stop spinning endless possibilities and let him rest, he wished Jaga would appear to give some sage advice or just offer support as he had in the past. But perhaps, Jaga wished him to sort through this one himself.

"It might never happen, you know."

The soft voice broke into his thoughts and made him start. He caught a glimpse of the knowing expression on Tygra's face and guessed that his concerns had been all too visible to his friends.

"If you're worried about the Feliner, don't be," Tygra reassured him, wiping smears of grease from his hand onto an already stained rag. "Final checks show that she is fit to fly."

"That's what you said last time."

Tygra smiled. "I did warn you there might be kinks. Hopefully, we've got them all ironed out now."

"Hopefully?"

"I mean, definitely."

Lion-O could feel the weight of Tygra’s stare upon him and guessed that he was not finished with his questions.

"You're worried about Felina, aren't you?"

Lion-O finally acknowledged his interest by meeting his eyes. "Wouldn't you be if she was Cheetara? Why did she insist on coming? She's pregnant, for Jaga’s sake!"

"Hmm, but not stupid."

"I never said she was."

"You act like it though."

Lion-O could feel his indignation growing. "I have a right to be concerned about the mother of my child."

"True, but not to treat her like she's a child herself. I imagine she would find that quite insulting."

"You know her better than I do then?"

The accusation came out in a rush, born of annoyance and said without thinking. It was untrue and unfair. Tygra was only trying to help, Lion-O told himself. After all, he had been through this already and deep down Lion-O was grateful for his guidance. Worse than that, if he allowed himself to go down this road, it would not be long before the whole sordid affair that had caused him to break up with Felina in the first place came babbling out. He took a deep breath and swallowed his pride.

"I'm sorry," he said. "This whole situation is making me edgy. I don't understand why she insists on putting herself at risk like this."

Whatever Tygra was thinking caused him to smile. "May I make a suggestion?"

Lion-O nodded.

"I would say it's less that she wanted to go on this mission and more because you wouldn't let her."

"She's doing it to spite me?"

"No, more to keep a degree of independence, I would say. Besides, there's no reason why she shouldn't accompany you. She's a trained Thundercat, well able to take care of herself."

"And the baby?"

"It's early days, Lion-O. If it were nearer to full term, then I'd worry. For now, though, I'm sure she'll be fine. Don't worry." Panthro called something from inside the Feliner. "Excuse me," Tygra said, "duty calls."

He retreated back inside the vessel, leaving Lion-O suffering the kind of confusion that he was becoming more and more familiar with these days. He never treated her like she was stupid. He may have come across as heavy handed at times, but his heart was always in the right place. For that matter, he failed to see how caring for her translated into everyone taking it as his assumption that Felina cannot somehow care for himself. That had certainly not been his intent.

Perhaps he simply needed to change tacks. But how to do it, that was the thing. The direct approach had failed. What would work now?

"Have you seen Felina?"

Lion-O glanced down to find Snarf at his feet with a small bag in his hand.

"Yes, she's over there. Why?"

"I've got something for her, snarf, snarf. The Warrior Maidens call it ginger. They say it helps to combat morning sickness."

"Snarf, it's not morning. She's not sick now."

Snarf clicked his tongue. "Weeow, and you wonder why you two don't get along. If you paid her any attention, Lion-O, you would notice that she's been sick lately throughout the day."

If only Snarf knew how much Felina had him preoccupied. Still, that’s one thing he hadn’t picked up on. "I didn't know that. She didn't tell me."

"She shouldn't have to. Your own two eyes should have shown you that."

As familiar as he was with Snarf's particular brand of nagging, he found today that it cut too deeply. He folded his arms and retreated into the safety of a huff where his biting criticisms could not reach him. He had reckoned, however, without Snarf.

"Now, Lion-O, don't take on so. It's just a little advice, that's all."

"Is it? Sounds like you're blaming me for our problems."

"No, I'm not." He sat down on the Feliner's open ramp and made himself comfortable. "You know, my old grand-pappy used to say that a problem shared is a problem halved. Or is it doubled? Anyway, what he meant was that it's good to talk things out."

Aware that he was waiting for some sort of explanation, Lion-O sighed and relented. He needed someone to talk to and Snarf could generally be counted on to be sympathetic. "It's hopeless, Snarf," he confided. "We broke up and that seems to be it. It's over between us. I've asked Felina if she wants to get back together, but she doesn't seem interested. Well, I've offered. I'll not make myself look silly again." He was aware he left out several details, but in his mind, that was the basic breakdown.

Snarf considered for a moment. "Why did you break up in the first place? Seems to me that's the cause of all your problems, snarf, snarf."

The details of that fateful night were not something he cared to discuss. "I'd rather not talk about it. All I will say is that something happened and I decided that it was best to break up rather than become bitter and acrimonious over it."

"You wanted to break up? Did Felina?"

His mind drifted back to the tearful scenes of that night. "No."

Snarf purred to himself. "Weeow, then in that case, there's only one thing to do."

"What?"

"You have to start over again, from the very beginning, Lion-O."

"You mean...?"

"I mean court her like normal couples do. You never had to do any of that. You had a wife handed to you on a plate without any of effort involved on your part whatsoever. We never value that which comes too easily."

"That's not fair, Snarf. I tried very hard to make our relationship work."

"By ending it when things got rough? Weeow, Lion-O, you know I'm always on your side, but I have to say you made a mistake."

He had long since come to the same conclusion, but part of him was unnerved Snarf made such a ruling without knowing why they broke up. Perhaps that was his way of saying the why didn’t really matter. "Yes, I know. You think starting over might help?" True, they’d already tried ‘the fresh start’ with disastrous results, but what Snarf was suggesting was different. The other ‘fresh start’ involved them jumping right in with starting a family and going what was in fact, far too fast. Maybe their biggest problem was coming on too strong at times, and they needed to go at their own speed despite what anyone else expected or wanted. It might be worth a shot.

Snarf shrugged. "Can't help to try." He got to his feet and dusted off his fur. "It's a mystery to me why everything associated with machinery has to be so dirty." He pointed to a dark patch on his leg. "Look at that! Oil! D'you know how long it takes me to clean that off?" He sighed with aggravation. "I can't stand around here gossiping all day. Why don't you give this to Felina?" He handed the bag to Lion-O. "Tell her to chew a little if she feels sick."

"Thanks, Snarf, I appreciate this."

"Make sure you do. And, Lion-O, be careful. I'll worry, you know that."

"I'll take good care of all of us."

Snarf nodded and went on his way, just as Felina and Cheetara came over to the ship.

"Are we ready to go yet?" Cheetara asked. "There isn't a problem, is there?"

Lion-O shook his head. "You know that Panthro's like. He's making a few final adjustments."

She looked slightly amused. "Knowing him, we'll be here all night. I'll go and check his progress."

Cheetara disappeared inside the ship, leaving Lion-O alone with Felina. She smiled at him, as though waiting for him to say something. If she expected a challenge to her decision, he had already decided not to take the bait. Instead, he found something closer to hand.

"Snarf left this for you," he said, handing her the bag. "It's something called ginger. Chew it and it should stop you feeling sick, which I know you have been lately."

His remark seemed to genuinely surprise her, as though she hadn't thought him capable of noticing anything significant about her. "That's thoughtful of him," she said. "I'll save these for later."

"You aren't feeling sick now then?"

"No. I don't feel too bad at all. I think I'm starting to get used to being pregnant."

That sounded like a step in the right direction. She seemed to be genuinely pleased at his interest. He was about to build on his success when Panthro's voice sounded from above.

"All aboard that's coming aboard. Let's get this show on the road."

He had to fight the urge to help Felina into the ship and Lion-O knew taking it easy was going to be difficult. While she settled into a rear seat beside Cheetara, Lion-O took the spare co-pilot's seat on Panthro's right. The engines sounded sweeter than before and the purr rose at Panthro's command as the main power cells came to life. The Paw lifted and the Feliner took off so smoothly that Lion-O had to check out of his window to make sure they were moving at all.

"How long will it take to get there?" Lion-O asked.

Panthro grinned. "In this baby, half an hour. Watch this."

He pressed a button on the main control board. A second later, an unseen hand had pressed Lion-O back into his chair and all the colours of Third Earth had merged below into a blur.

"Superspeed," explained Panthro. "One of the modifications we made while we were putting her back together."

"Impressive," said Lion-O. "How does one breathe though?"

Panthro laughed and pressed another button. Normalcy was restored and Lion-O found that his seat wasn't threatening to swallow him up. The acrobatics going on in his stomach settled down considerably, too.

"Inertial dampers," said Panthro. "We think of everything. Sit back and enjoy the ride."

The superspeed did all it promised and it wasn't long before the long-range sensors were registering the massive Thundranium spikes they had recorded earlier. As the Feliner closed in on its location, the sky began to change colour. The sun was dropping in the late summer sky, adding a hint of orange to the dusky grey clouds that hung over the area. Even at a distance, a red peak could be seen in the distance, an anomaly in an otherwise flat landscape.

"That's what I saw in my vision," Cheetara exclaimed. "This has to be the place."

"Worse luck," said Panthro. "The Feliner's shielding should keep us from the worst of it."

The worst was coming up fast. The fertile lands of Third Earth had succumbed to huge ravines and cracked earth from the turmoil of the area. Seismic activity was registering on all sensors and the outside temperature was rising.

"Tell me we haven't got to land to find them," Panthro said. "You don't think there's any chance they'll be in plain sight?"

"They’ll probably be underground, like Tygra said," Lion-O replied. "They’d have to be mad to be out in the open air."

"I'm not sure they aren't mad anyway, choosing to live in a place like this."

Lion-O frowned, old worries cropping up in his mind. "I doubt any will of their own brought them here. Be on guard for anything. In the meantime, everyone keep a lookout for a cavern that could lead us underground. Let's not spend any more time here than we have to."

[center]***************[/center]

At the top of the world, Grune the Destroyer sat and waited. Every now and then he would scan the sky for a sign of an approaching ship, only to lapse back into his bleaker thoughts. The course of life never did run smooth, but his seemed doomed to a bumpy ride every inch of the way. Who could have ever foreseen a situation like this, where he was forced into unbearable contact with the protégé of his hated foe, Jaga, and his spawn, born of the woman he had loved and lost to that snivelling sycophant? And the Thundercats dared talk of loyalty. That was something Jaga had conveniently forgotten when he was out of the way long enough for him to slip into his bed and take over his life. True, he’d had issue with a few things he noted as hypocritical in the Thundercats hierarchy, but that – that had been the last straw.

But fate could not deal a bad hand forever. As much as he resented sharing air with the current Lord of the Thundercats, it had presented him with a unique opportunity. Not even the mighty Jaga could have anticipated this situation when he had sent him into exile in his crystal prison. It was Grune that was alive again, ready for the fight, while Jaga had withered and was forced to watch from the sidelines of the Astral world. Grune did seem to have the upper hand now, and he only hoped the old traitor was watching. The chance for revenge was within his grasp. All it needed was ingenuity and a little luck, and he had plenty of both.

The luck had presented itself when his spy at Castle Plun-darr had reported that the Thundercats were searching for three of their missing countrymen. Finding them had been easy. What Lion-O and his witless friends had failed to grasp was that for all their certainty that the Thunderians had survived, the fact that no one had seen them meant that they were obviously living in some out of the way spot. A little searching had revealed that they had not gone far from their island. Ocean currents had carried them to a bigger island and he had found them industriously making themselves at home, like good little Thunderians were wont to do. They had not put up much of a fight when he had arrived and taken them prisoners. What else could be expected from commoners? He would have killed them on the spot if a better way of spiking Lion-O's guns had not presented itself.

So there he was, watching and waiting from his perch on a red mountain high above a bubbling pit of liquid Thundranium. Not that it bothered him in the slightest; the old sabre species did not suffer from the susceptibility to Thundranium that blighted the lives of the younger generations. It was one of the traits that had once made him such a valuable force on the Thundercats’ team. And today, he hoped it would prove their undoing. Grune was also fairly secure in the knowledge of his foe. If he knew Lion-O, then it was a safe bet to assume that he would be throwing all his resources into discovering the Thunderians' whereabouts. That included using Cheetara and her psychic visions along with anything else and at whatever cost. The cub could be ruthless when he wanted to be, and part of Grune admired that. It seemed Lion-O truly was born to boss.

With that knowledge, as soon as he had captured the Thunderians, he had moved them to the most hostile environment on Third Earth. Firerock Mountain, as the locals called it, was the largest Thundranium field on the planet. No better place existed to spring a trap on Lion-O and his Thundercats. When the influence of the Thundranium robbed them of their strength, they would be easy pickings. The Thunderians were still alive, just in case he needed them for leverage, but if things went smoothly, he wouldn’t even allow Lion-O the satisfaction of setting eyes on them before snuffing him out.

So, for little under two months, he had been waiting. Luckily, the mangy Mutants didn’t follow him, and Mumm-Ra hadn’t seemed any more inclined to stick his decayed nose in, either. It was just as well. His plan had to be modified slightly to take in the fact that the Thundercats had added a flying ship to their armoury. In fact, it had made things simpler. A ship was infinitely easier to spot than a few Thundercats on foot. All he needed was patience.

He knew his reward had arrived when the faintest drone of an engine came to his ears. Coming in fast from the west was a red and white craft, fashioned at the front into a crude approximation of a fanged cat. He smiled to himself and took from his pocket a small remote device. He traced his finger lovingly around the single button on its grey surface and had to contain his impatience a moment longer. No use spoiling it now, he told himself.

The ship drew ever closer, slowing as it started a standard search pattern. From his peak, Grune watched its progress and waited. Only when it passed between the two spires of rock where he had placed the beacons did he press the button. A power grid, fuelled by the energy of raw Thundranium in the pits below, flared into life. Yellow lightning arced out to the ship, paralysing it mid-flight. The scream of its dying engines filled the air as it was finally released to its fate and it spiralled out of control down to the bubbling mire below.

Watching the ship flounder to a halt on a solidified lava flow, Grune reflected that some of the finer things in life definitely improved with time. With that in mind, he picked up his club and started down the mountain to finish what Jaga had begun many years ago.


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“Everyone alright?” Panthro asked warily, turning a quarter of the way in his seat to look back at the ladies behind him.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” came Felina’s answer. “And it’s got nothing to do with the baby, either.”

“I’ll take that as an okay. Cheetara?”

The cheetah nodded. “Shaken up, but in one piece. What was that?”

“Dunno. Came out of nowhere.” Panthro was still a bit shaken from the attack himself.

He was about to take stock of Lion-O’s condition, when he watched the young leader free himself from his seat’s restraints and head back to Felina’s side.
On one hand, Panthro could understand the concern but Lion-O had been going overboard. He almost regretted telling him what the Thunderkittens had reported that night the Mutants were caught lurking outside the Lair. No doubt that made things worse. Panthro had his own suspicions on who the Mutant conspirator was but thought it best not to sound an alarm lest word reach his suspect. Of course, all of that was academic if they couldn’t get out of this mess. It was time to focus on the current situation.

As it was, Lion-O’s preoccupation with Felina was costing them valuable assessment time.

“I have a bad sense about this place,” Cheetara noted ominously. “But I do feel the Thunderians are near…and alive.”

“Lion-O, I really need your focus up here. She’s fine,” Panthro prodded. He didn’t need Cheetara’s sixth sense to tell him they were in a bad spot. He already had a hunch that whatever hit their ship wasn’t natural, and since they’d gotten a call from the Lair not too long ago letting them know that Mumm-Ra had taken the Thunderscope the kittens had found, they weren’t beyond expecting unwelcome company.

Panthro frowned when Lion-O seemed content to stare off into space rather than respond. If the landing had knocked some sense out of him, he didn’t have time to worry about it now. Panthro turned his attention to the Feliner controls in front of him and noticed the vessel’s main power had been shorted out, with the rocket boosters out cold. Only bare minimal systems were running on emergency reserves. Luckily, one such vital system was still up, and that one was shielding them from feeling the debilitating effects of the Thundranium around them, among other things.

Next, he tried to call in to the Lair, but static was all he got for his efforts. Where they had fallen must not be conducive for radio signals, he surmised. They were on their own on this one.

“That was Jaga,” he heard Lion-O telling the women, and turned in his seat. That surely explained the staring into space. “He said Grune is here, and that he’s been holding the Thunderians prisoner, waiting for us to show.”

“And we flew right into his trap,” Cheetara added, her frustration evident in her tone. Felina simply gasped at the mention of Grune’s name.

Panthro sighed heavily. “And we thought we only had Mumm-Ra to worry about. No offense to the great Jaga, but why can’t he give us these tips before our tails are in a vice?”

No sooner did Lion-O sit down in his seat, than the Eye of Thundera growled its warning. So far, the Feliner’s shields were protecting it, too, from the magnetic fields, heat, Thundranium fumes and every other thing this wretched hell-hole was throwing at them. But for how long was anyone’s guess. If they lost total power in the ship, they were sitting cats.

“That thing,” Panthro nodded in the direction of the Sword, “needs some lessons in earlier warnings, too.”

Ignoring Panthro’s grousing, Lion-O unsheathed the blade and called on its mystic powers of second sight. Panthro waited impatiently, running other system scans to try to get a better feel of the damage and whether or not they’d be stuck down there for good.

The vision over, Lion-O turned to his fellow occupants. “More bad news.”

He figured. The sword never really gave them good news.

“Not only is Mumm-Ra coming and Grune as well, but there’s a Mutant ship on its way here.”

Panthro scowled. “A ship? You mean, like a skycutter?”

Lion-O shook his head. “No, like a space craft. One I’d never seen before with a rat Mutant in charge of it I’d also never seen before.”

They were marooned on a planet a million light years from nowhere, on the most remote corner of said planet, and they still couldn’t get away from all these damn Mutants that kept cropping up. It figured. Panthro rubbed his forehead.

“Okay, we—“

He was cut off when the thud of Grune leaping on top of the Feliner’s canopy caught their attention. It would appear Grune was saying something to them, but nobody inside could hear through the glass. The message became abundantly clear when Grune began beating on the ship with his mace. Panthro knew it would only hold so long and then…and then…Jaga only knew what would happen to them then, as exposed to that amount of Thundranium they nor the Eye of Thundera could do much to stop him. In fact, Grune wouldn’t have to lift much of a finger to finish them off. He surmised at those levels with no protection, they’d all be dead within minutes. It didn’t look good, but he was not one to go out quietly. He’d go out swinging, even if it were meekly.

It seemed Lion-O had the same idea, but Panthro stopped him before he could hit the button that released the canopy. He gripped Lion-O’s arm firmly.

“No, you can’t go out there. You’ll be finished in minutes.” He regretted that they never did find anything to protect them from Thundranium on the outside – not magically or practically, other than the Feliner’s shields. And it wasn’t even certain the Feliner would hold up at the time. That was one thing that had gone in their favor so far.

“We’ve got to do something,” he argued, futile as it was.

“Rushing your demise isn’t going to help us, son,” Panthro said evenly, releasing his grip at the same time. He was relieved to see Lion-O relax, having listened to reason. But the fierce leader was looking up at Grune and Panthro could tell Lion-O did not like at all the mocking way in which it was obvious Grune taunted him.

Cheetara spoke from behind them. She was hard to hear over the din of Grune’s incessant pounding. “I know we can’t lift off, but what if we go down, below the rocks. Maybe what Tygra said about Thundranium is true. Something has to be keeping our countrymen alive this whole time – maybe it is as simple as putting a wall of rock between us and the raw Thundranium.”

“If only we’d made suits out of rocks,” Panthro muttered.

Despite his comment, he thought it was a good idea. Granted, the magnetic field would still be prominent and the Sword, therefore, useless outside the Feliner but they didn’t have better options at this moment. He started punching buttons, scanning to assess the terrain they were on, what lay beneath and beyond, and if what they had to dig with could break through the rock they were on. With reduced power, it was a long shot but it beat the alternative.

A shadow passed over them, darkening the cabin momentarily and all looked skyward, even Grune, and saw it – the distinct silhouette of Mumm-Ra’s everliving form, flying overhead.

Things, Panthro thought, just went from bad to worse. With this mystery Mutant ship on its way, there was slim hope any of it would improve anytime soon.

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I cant get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications

Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
Perhaps its just my imagination

Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away

Alone between the sheets
Only brings exasperation
Its time to walk the streets
Smell the desperation

At least there’s pretty lights
And though there’s little variation
It nullifies the night
From overkill

Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away

I cant get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications

Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
Its just overkill

Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away

--Overkill, Men At Work[/center]