They were taking far too long in there.

Although millennia of existence had taught Mumm-Ra the dangers of haste, it would be a far cry to say that the mummy had mastered the virtues of patience. The rising moon found him pacing back and forth along the bunker’s perimeter. Something was wrong. The Lunatacs should have reached the Thundercats by now. What was taking them so long?

For a moment, Mumm-Ra considered stepping over the threshold. He stopped and leveled a demonic glare at the bunker as he considered the possibility. But he dismissed the thought, for such a move would prove disastrous. The Ancient Spirits of Evil could not empower him on the grounds of the bunker. He would be reduced to his mummy form and for all intents and purposes, powerless. It was not a favorable prospect.

But what could be taking the Lunatacs so long? Mumm-Ra softly cursed Bengali who’d come from nowhere and vanished into the bunker. That Thundercat was probably partly responsible for whatever delay was holding the Lunatacs in there. But there was nothing Mumm-Ra could do about it.

Or was there?

He could completely bury the structure. He was planning on doing that anyway, but he needed to make certain that the Thundercats would be unable to get the cure. That was the purpose in sending in the Lunatacs. They would make certain the cure never surfaced. The Thundercats would never find it, the Lunatacs would never learn of it, and Mumm-Ra would soon be able to vanquish both sides permanently.

But did he dare bury the structure now? He couldn’t harm it directly, but he could cause the earth to rise up and swallow it. But would that crush the bunker? Would he be able to destroy those inside? Or would Lion-O and that incessant sword manage to rescue them, cure and all?

But did he dare risk the Thundercats emerging triumphant, cure in hand? They would be hard to beat if the Lunatacs didn’t take care of them. One Thundercat could escape with the antidote while the others engaged Mumm-Ra in battle. Then again, if the Lunatacs managed to defeat the three Thundercats, four counting Snarf, he wouldn’t have to worry about escaping Thundercats and could bury the bunker without any of the nagging doubts that had seemed to plague him since the Thundercats’ arrival on Third Earth.

For the third time in as many minutes, Mumm-Ra cursed the second age and the discoveries their technology had made in combining science and the arcane. Those discoveries that had bridged the gap between the natural and super-natural had managed to construct a void across which no outside magic or technology could travel. Physical objects could pass through, but electronic transmissions, scrying spells, or anything else like that became lost in the void.

If only they hadn’t been able to block his influence! Mumm-Ra needed to see into that bunker. Of course, Lion-O would have the same problem with Sight Beyond Sight. If something did happen in there, the other Thundercats wouldn’t know about it. Their scanners wouldn’t work unless they were in the range of the bunker’s perimeter, and then they’d only work within the perimeter’s circle, not outside of it. Communications wouldn’t work, so the Thundercats were basically on their own. But Mumm-Ra was still reluctant to seal them within the bunker without knowing for certain that they were finished. He’d learned the hard way that one couldn’t underestimate the Thundercats.

Good’s nemesis resumed his pacing. He was tired of waiting. In his mind, it was time for action. Once again, he glared at the bunker.

They were taking far too long in there.

Bengali was no more than a fleeting shadow as he slipped around another corner. He hated this sneaking around corridors, waiting for something or someone to pounce. It was dark enough that he couldn’t clearly see what was around the next bend, but it was light enough that one false move and his brilliant white fur would give him away as easily as if he just marched down the hall while shouting his arrival. He thanked whatever gods watched over the Thundercats that RedEye had been infected with the Pain Fever. At least that was one set of eyes he didn’t have to worry about.

He’d been through a few intersections, but had always kept veering toward the center of the structure, knowing everyone else would be doing the same thing. And as he crept forward, he could see evidence of Amok’s passage in small indentations on the floor. He was going the right way. But where were the other Thundercats? He felt like he should have come out the other side of the bunker by now.

"Down," he murmured. "I’m going steadily down. The center must be underground, somewhere." He turned another corner and groaned. A long straight hallway lay before him. What was worse, there were enough lit panels in this hallway to provide fairly decent light. Anyone who turned the corner up ahead and came toward him would have a perfect view of the tiger. But there was nothing to be done about it. As quietly as he could, he started down the corridor.

About halfway down, he stopped. Something was different. It took him a while to determine what exactly was different, but he eventually recognized it: the air. The air had changed. The humidity had suddenly decreased. And there was a slightly different smell to the air. A smell of…chemicals?

Hardly daring to hope, Bengali moved a little faster toward the turn at the end of his corridor. And then he heard voices. Voices of Lunatacs. Luna’s in particular. Bengali briefly wondered why the irritating voices traveled the furthest distance. He crept a little closer. There was Alluro’s. And that was TugMug’s. But where were the Thundercats?

He eased his head around the corner. Before him were two towering black doors, one of which had been opened. Beyond the door, he really couldn’t see what was happening. But he could see something just in front of the door. Crumpled against a wall and rolled into an red and yellow ball lay a convulsing snarf.

Bengali swiftly moved to Snarf’s side and pulled him away from the open doorway. Snarf was obviously unconscious, but he appeared to be stirring slightly. "Snarf?" Bengali gently shook him. "Snarf?"

As if for an answer, Snarf let out a pitiful little cry, but he didn’t wake. Bengali growled softly, cursing the Pain Fever. "Hang in there. You’re not finished yet."

Bengali silently moved to the doorway and listened. He could clearly hear the sounds of the Lunatacs now. But what had happened to Cheetara and Tygra? They wouldn’t have just left Snarf lying in the hall. With a growing feeling of unease, Bengali carefully poked his head through the doorway.

And stopped cold.

Wiley Kat had never seen sickbay as crowded as it was. Stepping through the doors, he could only gasp. It seemed like all of Third Earth had decided to move to Cat’s Lair. All the jury-rigged respirators only added to the congestion, and Kat had to wonder if they’d enlarged sickbay to hold everyone.

The sound of footsteps behind him caused him to turn and face a very tired-looking puma. She would have walked into Kat if he hadn’t jumped out of the way. His motion seemed to wake something inside of her and she stopped in confusion. "Kat?"

"Pumyra, are you okay?"

Pumyra looked blank for a minute and then seemed to comprehend the question. "Yeah, I guess so. I just haven’t slept for a while, that’s all. I’ve come down here so often that I’m kind of running on automatic."

"That’s not healthy," Wiley Kat warned. "Aren’t you and Tygra the ones who are always warning us that if we stay up too late, we might endanger the rest of the Thundercats because we won’t be able to function in a crisis."

"We’re already in a crisis, Kat. And have been for weeks."

"That doesn’t mean you should miss out on your sleep."

Pumyra smiled and ruffled Kat’s mane, forgetting momentarily that the Thunderkitten absolutely hated that. "Thanks, Kat. I guess someone should look out for my health. But if I may ask, what are you doing up so late? Or early, I guess. It’s morning now, isn’t it."

Kat reddened and shuffled his feet. "Couldn’t sleep."

"So you thought you’d lecture me on sleeping?" Pumyra laughed softly. "Well, come on in. Your sister’s been moved to the corner over there next to Panthro. She’s probably awake. Tell her if she needs anything, I’m making rounds now and will be by in a minute. I can probably start her on a new anesthetic, too."

Kat nodded and set out to find his sister, but when he did find her, he almost regretted it. "Kit?" When Kat had left her, she seemed okay. Yes, she’d been sick, but she’d harbored a seed of hope. That had been a few hours ago, but still, a few hours shouldn’t change things, right? Kat quickly found out he was very wrong. "Kit?"

Wiley Kit didn’t turn at the sound of his voice. Her head was pointed in Panthro’s direction. The panther’s eyes were closed in sleep and a respirator controlled his breathing for him, but it was clear that whatever rest he was finding was anything but comfortable. He was constantly shaking and the muscles in his face knotted and twisted as he fought a lone battle against an indomitable enemy.

It took a moment for all this to sink in, but Kat understood after a while. He moved to block Kit’s view Panthro. "Don’t watch," he whispered. He placed a gentle hand on Kit’s brow and was alarmed at how warm it was. "Don’t worry, Kit. We’ll find that cure. The cure I told you about a couple hours ago."

Kit’s dull eyes turned toward his and held them in a vacant stare. "Why?" The whisper barely made it past the kitten’s lips. "Why can’t I watch—Panthro? Why can’t—I see what’s coming?"

Kat’s temper flared but he managed to hide it. "Because it isn’t coming." Kneeling beside Kit’s bed, he sought out her hands and held them. "You have to believe. If you give in this soon, we’ve lost you. Panthro’s still fighting."

"And look at him."

"Yes, look at him. Look at him if you want to." Kat stepped out of the way again. "Look at that Thundercat. That’s a Thundercat who isn’t afraid to stick it out until the end. That’s someone to look up to." He leveled a glare at his twin. "I would be proud to have someone like that call me ‘brother.’ And I would fight with that person until the end, never leaving their side ever again no matter what anyone says or what anyone tries to do. I would stay with them till the end." Kat’s eyes were beginning to sting, but he couldn’t let his emotions affect him. He had to finish. "And that person would be a worthy Thundercat. That person wouldn’t slacken her strength when the value of courage was called into question. That person wouldn’t abandon her brother." Wiley Kat was about to say more when a sniffle caught his attention. He took a good look at his sister and realized she was crying. All his anger vanished and he swept her up in a hug, trying to make his movements as gentle as possible. "Oh, Kit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I know you hurt."

"No," Kit whispered back in her wheezing gasps that would become steadily worse. "You’re right. I have—given up. I hurt so much. And looking at—Panthro, I see what could happen, and—Kat, I’m scared."

"I’m scared, too," Kat murmured. He gently lowered his sister back into her soft bed. "But promise me you’ll fight. Please? And I’ll stay right beside you the entire time."

Kit clutched his hand with feeble strength and a slight tremor rocked her body. "Stay with me, Kat. And for you, I’ll keep fighting."

Lynx-O was quietly sipping a cup of herbal tea when Snarfer wandered into the kitchen. Listening to his footsteps, Lynx-O could tell several things. First of all, Snarfer hadn’t spotted the other Thundercat. Secondly, Snarfer was in a daze and probably didn’t know where he was wandering. Or even that he was wandering. And last of all, Lynx-O could tell that even though Snarfer had been sent to bed, he hadn’t gotten any sleep. After processing all that information in the time that it would have taken someone else to simply look up at the snarf, Lynx-O decided to break him out of his reverie. "Snarfer? Is something wrong?"

Lynx-O almost smiled when he heard Snarfer jump, but he managed to hide it. Snarfer probably didn’t need an affront to his pride right now. He heard the snarf shuffle his feet across the floor and stammer for a minute. "Lynx-O, do you think they’ll come back in time?"

The old lynx had been expecting a question like that. Unfortunately, it was one he was currently asking himself and he didn’t have an answer for it. "I don’t know," he said honestly. "They weren’t sure themselves of their destination. They might not even be in the place where Bengali is going to look. There are too many variables in the equation." He paused, but decided Snarfer had a right to know how Lynx-O truly felt. "I fear they won’t come back in time."

"Can we summon them back with the Sword of Omens? Can Lion-O do that?"

"I suppose he could, Snarfer, but what would be the point? If we summon them prematurely, they may or may not decide to come. They may see it as a call to search faster for the cure and stay down in the south. If they come, we’ll have disrupted their efforts and we may not get another chance to send Thundercats down there. Tygra and Snarf won’t last much longer if they’re even still on their feet." Lynx-O paused as he listened for Snarfer’s reaction. Snarfer hadn’t taken it well when he learned that Snarf was harboring the Pain Fever. But Snarfer’s breathing remained constant and so Lynx-O continued. "Because his time is limited, Tygra knows they have to stay down there, or he’ll never get another chance at this. I don’t know if he’s told Snarf, but when the time comes, I’m sure he’ll tell Cheetara. Or Cheetara will sense it for herself. And Bengali may come back in response to the Cat’s signal, but he may decide to keep looking. Or if he’s found them and they have yet to find the cure, he may stay until they do find it. And even if they’re all together, see the summons, and decide to come back, if they don’t have a cure it won’t do us any good."

"I guess it’s a little more complex than I thought, snarfer, snarfer."

"Most things are," Lynx-O agreed.

Snarfer paused and tried to determine if Lynx-O had meant that as a slight, but eventually decided to ignore it. He had other questions on his mind. "Lynx-O, what if…what if Lion-O kills Panthro? What then?"

"He’s not killing Panthro," Lynx-O answered in a quiet voice that clearly conveyed his disapproval. "Panthro has demanded a right that Thundercats are entitled to. I can remember this right being granted before, though I can’t remember the circumstances. But it is not killing. Think of it more as an act of mercy."

"Or murder."

Lion-O’s sudden arrival startled Lynx-O. He hadn’t heard the lion come in, so intent was he on his conversation with Snarf. "Lion-O, I know how hard this must be for you, but—"

"Do you?" Lion-O’s voice was weary and haggard, but there was also an underlying current of fury that threatened to explode at the slightest provocation. "Do you have any idea what it’s like to have one of your best friends ask that you kill him? That you murder him?"

"It’s not murder, Lion-O. It’s an ancient power given through the Sword. As far back as I remember history, it has always been a part of the Thundercats. A rarely used part, true, but a part nonetheless."

"An evil part I wish I’d never heard of," Lion-O growled.

There was an awkward pause. Eventually, Lynx-O cleared his throat. "Lion-O, like it or not, it’s part of your heritage. Our heritage. And to Panthro, this is an act of kindness. He is in agony. If our fellow Thundercats fail to return, I hope you will keep your promise as Lord of the Thundercats and rescue Panthro from his ailment."

"Rescue," Lion-O snarled. "Kindness. Mercy. Murder. They’re all the same to you. You and Jaga."

"I wish the others would come back," Snarfer whimpered.

"So do I," Lion-O murmured. Lynx-O sensed the young lord glaring at him, but there was really nothing else to be said. Lynx-O knew it, Lion-O knew it, and Snarfer was beginning to know it. After another awkward pause, Lion-O mumbled something about checking the scanners. He left the room and Snarfer followed him shortly. Lynx-O was once again left to sip his herbal tea. But it had gone cold, and so had his spirit.

"Hurry, Thundercats," he whispered. "Hurry."

Bengali stole into the room and slipped behind a counter when Luna’s back was turned. Sneaking a peak, he noted that Luna was still watching Alluro and TugMug tearing apart cabinets on the far side of the room. He quickly breathed a sigh of relief. Now, he just needed to work his way more toward the center. Bengali suppressed a feral growl in his throat. If what he’d seen was true…

Bellying along the floor, the white tiger managed to work his way inward and get a little closer to his ultimate destination. There were pieces of glass and broken needles around him now, making his journey a little more hazardous. But after a few moments of agonizing patience, he made it.

"Tygra? Cheetara?"

His hoarse whisper went unheeded. The two Thundercats lay side by side, half-sprawled across a tipped-over mobile cart covered with shards of glass and who knew what else. Cheetara was twitching uncontrollably and whimpering in whatever nightmarish torment she endured. A long gash ran across her forehead and down one side of her delicate face. A deep puncture wound was still bleeding on her arm. Bengali took all this in, but Cheetara was not his primary concern. Tygra was.

Tygra lay perfectly motionless. His skin was ghastly pale, his vacant eyes were open, his pupils were dilated, but what frightened Bengali most was the blue color that seemed to be appearing on Tygra’s lips and spreading.

Working a little closer to his fellow tiger, Bengali tried to find some indication that the Thundercat was breathing. But he couldn’t detect any rise or fall of the chest. Holding his hand in front of Tygra’s face, he waited for the Thundercat to exhale. Nothing.

"No."

The white tiger shook his fellow Thundercat. He prayed for Tygra to give him some kind of a response. Anything would have satisfied Bengali. Anything. But there was nothing.

"Come on, Tygra. Please, wake up."

Tygra lay still despite Bengali’s attempts to rouse him, and to Bengali’s touch, his skin was clammy and cold.

"No."

But reality could not be denied. The blue coloration was spreading, Tygra was growing colder, and Bengali felt he knew enough of medicine to diagnose Tygra’s condition.

Dead.

The Thundercat was dead.

Since becoming a Thundercat, Bengali had accepted the fact that he was taking on a host of enemies in simply accepting the title. He’d accepted the fact that any one of these enemies would as soon kill a Thundercat as look at one. And he’d accepted the fact that his life would be far more hazardous as a Thundercat than it had been as a blacksmith on Thundera. He’d accepted the very real possibility of death. But what he hadn’t accepted, couldn’t accept, and never would accept, was the possibility that the other Thundercats might die.

The other Thundercats simply couldn’t die. Bengali wasn’t sure where this notion came from, he never consciously pondered the reasoning behind it, and yet it was part of him. It was a very real belief he maintained and strengthened in every battle he fought and with every moment of comradeship he shared. True, there had been moments when the other Thundercats appeared to be dead. They would be missing for long periods of time, they would vanish without a trace, and they would be caught in the hands of Lunatacs, mutants, or ever-living mummies. But real death? It couldn’t happen. Death could not touch his friends. No matter how dangerous the situation, certain death was not a possibility for them. But that belief had just been violated. Before his very eyes, Tygra lay dead.

"No."

Bengali backed up, not caring if he made noise in doing so. "No. This isn’t happening. It’s not real." Bengali stood up and backed away faster. "NO!" The Lunatacs jumped at the tiger’s shout, but Bengali didn’t pay attention. "HE’S ALIVE! HE’S NOT DEAD!"

"Alluro! TugMug! Seize him!" Luna ordered.

But before anyone could move, Bengali swung on the Lunatacs with a feral roar that froze them all. "YOU!" His shoulders heaved with fury and his eyes gleamed with a dangerous vengeance that rocked the Lunatacs. "You’ll pay for this," he hissed. "I don’t care if it is against the Code of Thundera. I’ll make you wish you’d never heard of the Thundercats."

Mumm-Ra’s thin patience broke about the time that Bengali caught up with the Lunatacs. In the darkness before dawn, the mummy began to draw on the Ancient Spirits of Evil. Their powers were greatest at this time of day, and Mumm-Ra simply couldn’t wait any longer. Something had gone wrong. The Lunatacs should have been out by now with Thundercats in tow.

Before doing anything else, the ancient servant of darkness created an energy barrier around himself and the bunker. The spells Mumm-Ra would have to invoke were complex and time-consuming. They would take an hour or so to complete and during that time, if any escaped from the bunker, Mumm-Ra would be so involved in his sorcery that he would be unable to stop them. The energy barrier wouldn’t stop everything and a determined Thundercat would be able to break through it, but it would serve as a deterrent and cost the Thundercats time that they probably didn’t have. It was the next best alternative to waiting for the emergence of the Lunatacs.

Delving deep within himself, Mumm-Ra began the preparations needed to accept large amounts of energy from the Ancient Spirits of Evil. Briefly touching the void of space that separated the arcane from reality, he created a vessel within himself with which to gather the energy needed. His mind was cleared of everything except the spell at hand. He became one with the earth under his feet and felt the shifting of massive plates across the molten mantle of Third Earth. Selecting a spot almost directly beneath the bunker, he began to create a disturbance in the liquid rock below the crust. Slowly, deftly, he manipulated fluid currents. At the same time, he kept careful record of how much energy he was drawing from the Ancient Spirits of Evil. When the spell neared completion, he would have to verbally call on them for power. But at the present time, he could merely sift through what they naturally allotted him on a day-to-day basis.

As the disturbance began to blossom beneath the crust of the planet, he slowly started to tease the cyclone of magma upward through solid rocks. It was a tedious process full of stops and reversals, but as Mumm-Ra continued in the spell, he gradually lost his concept of time.

When he had achieved a small plume cycling through the crust, he evaluated the distance between his magma and the bunker. If he could create enough of a disturbance, the bunker’s taboo on his powers would not be a problem. He could release his molten rock, and it would take care of the rest as it drove its way upward and into the stronghold of the second age. But to achieve that, he would need a far larger plume than he currently had. And it would have to get much closer to the surface. A quick estimate showed he’d only covered 2 percent of the distance needed. Once again relaxing himself back into the trance known only to artists of the arcane, Mumm-Ra continued to work with his plume of magma.

Jackalman loved the darkness before dawn. It fit his nature. The darkness had an element of mystery to it. It was cunning, mocking, and yet quick to vanish at the slightest hint of light. It hid endless secrets, it frightened those outside its realm, but it knew its bounds and refused to cross them. When the morning began to break, it would slink away, content in the knowledge that none could refuse its coming when again it chose to shroud the earth.

None of this consciously found its way into Jackalman’s manipulative mind, but in a sense, he understood and appreciated the subtle beauty of dawn’s darkness and its place in his character. As he stood outside Castle Plun-Darr, he paused to inhale deeply and absorb the last of the night.

"Stop day-dreaming, dog!"

A stream of thoughts, none of them pleasant, paraded through the jackal’s mind, but he turned a benign look on the reptilian behind him. "You said something, Slithe?"

"Focus, yesss? We attack with the rising of the sun, the Skycutters are nowhere near ready, and yet you stand out here with your measly excuse for a mind going who knows where."

"The Skycutters will be ready," Jackalman assured him. "There’re only a few more adjustments to be made."

"See that they are," the reptile hissed. "With so few Thundercats so short on sssleep, we have never had a better chance, yesss?"

Jackalman nodded absently, more of a conditioned response to Slithe than agreement. The darkness was beginning to give way to growing light on the eastern horizon. Slithe was right. It wouldn’t be long before they attacked. The other attacks had been more for fun. But this one, this one would be different. This attack wouldn’t end with a response from Cat’s Lair. This attack would drive those spineless felines from aerial combat, negate the defenses of their fortress, and force them into hiding. Vultureman claimed he had a foolproof way of destroying what little firepower the Thundercats had left as well as most of the Lair in the process.

So what else was new? Jackalman shook his head. But he had to admit that the chances of success this time were higher than they had ever been before. With Bengali, Tygra, Cheetara, Snarf, Panthro, and Wiley Kit either gone or sick, the Thundercats were missing more than half their strength. And those that remained to fight off the mutants were suffering from worry and sleep deprivation.

Sensing Slithe’s continual glare, Jackalman turned to finish the adjustments for the last of the Skycutters. The Thundranium cannons mounted on the Skycutters had never been this big before. Thanks to some new specifications provided by Vultureman, they’d managed to balance the weight of bigger cannons and account for kickback without compromising the Skycutters’ agility. They’d been able to do the same with the Nosediver. Jackalman allowed himself to reflect on the sheer power they would be able to unleash against the hated Thundercats and had to smile. This would be a day to remember.

"Hoo, hoo, are we ready yet?"

"Not yet. Jackalman has been lazy, yesss?"

Jackalman finished hooking up the Thundranium cannons and turned on Monkian and Slithe. "I am ready now, so I don’t know what you’re talking about. From what I can see, we’re waiting on Vultureman."

"Awwwk, don’t blame me. No one helped me move this equipment from my lab to the Flying Machine." Vultureman stumbled out of Castle Plun-Darr carrying what looked to be a box full of various colored wires. With a grumble, he placed his burden in his ship and looked expectantly at the others. "Well?"

Slithe grinned. He loved the anticipation before battle, and this battle promised to be good. "Mutants! Our time is at hand. Attack!"

As the sun rose above the horizon and blazed across the landscape, Lion-O couldn’t help but curse the light that drove a new day onward. What was it about the nature of time that made it march forward regardless of circumstances? Why couldn’t it stop and wait?

"Any sign of Bengali?"

Lion-O sighed as he turned to answer Snarfer. "Nothing yet. The scanners are one big blank."

The little snarf mumbled something and wandered to a different control panel. "He’s just gotta come back, snarfer, snarfer. He has to."

"He knows what’s at stake," Lion-O said softly, more to himself than to Snarfer. "He’ll make every attempt to return in time, with or without the information we want."

"He’ll have news of a cure, yep. I’m just sure of it."

"Let’s hope so, Snarfer."

The door to the control room slid open and Pumyra stepped hesitantly in. "Any sign of Ben?"

"We just had this conversation," Lion-O grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "There’s nothing on the scanners."

Pumyra nodded in acknowledgement. "Well, I thought you might want to know Panthro’s latest condition. Interested?"

Lion-O and Snarfer exchanged looks. The lion eventually shrugged. "Sure. What’s his prognosis?"

"Ultimately death, but for right now he’s doing a remarkable job of keeping the disease at bay. His condition has changed little from last night. If he keeps it up, he may last another 24 hours."

"Pumyra, how can you sit there and say things like that without showing any emotion?"

That almost broke the puma, but not quite. She leveled a cool stare at the Lord of the Thundercats. "I’m a healer. Though I am currently tending the only family I have, I have to put emotions behind me. And I think I’ve finally reached that point. It’s like being numb."

"I wish I could be numb," Snarfer mumbled.

"Is Panthro conscious?" Lion-O asked. "When I last saw him, he seemed to be asleep but I couldn’t tell."

"It’s hard to say," Pumyra told him. "Sometimes, I know he can hear me, but he’s lost so much muscle control that he can’t respond anymore. At other times, I think he’s finally found sleep. Not that his sleep is particularly peaceful. But at least he is resting a bit now and then."

"Well, I guess that’s good," Lion-O muttered.

"Oh, and we lost one of the Warrior Maidens about half an hour ago." Pumyra paused as she recalled the experience. "The last hour of the disease was…painful."

Lion-O massaged his temples. "I don’t think I needed to hear that."

"It might help when the time comes for Panthro," Pumyra answered softly.

"How’s Kit doing?" Snarfer asked, deciding an interruption might be beneficial.

The puma shrugged. "She’s following the course of the disease. It’s becoming harder for her to breathe, moving is extremely painful as is lying still, most senses are hyper-active, her fever is dangerously high, and she’s encountering a few bouts of delirium."

"And what about Kat?" Lion-O wondered. "How is he taking this?"

"Right now, he’s the best thing that could happen to Kit. If it weren’t for him, I think she could easily be worse off than she is. But as for Kat himself…" Pumyra trailed off, searching for words to describe the situation. "I think he’s accepted her illness. I think he realizes how serious it is and how low her chance of survival will be if the other Thundercats don’t find a cure. But even though he’s accepted this, he isn’t happy about it. He won’t show it around Kit and prying him away from her is becoming next to impossible, but when he is away, he’s not the same. Psychologically, I think Kat’s in worse health than Kit is."

"Pumyra, we have to do something about this. Psychologically, we’re all being affected."

Pumyra hesitated, unsure of her next words. "In the long run, it won’t matter much, Lion-O. The only ones left will be Bengali, Kat, and Snarfer. If Bengali gets to her in time, maybe you can add Cheetara to that list. And with only the four of them, it won’t be long before the mutants manage to wipe them out. I think psychological impacts are the least of our worries."

"But Bengali could come back with word of a cure!" Snarfer protested. "And he will. I know it!"

"If Tygra, Cheetara, and Snarf had found a cure in their first search, I bet they would have probably come back before we needed to send Bengali after them," Pumyra told him. "And since they aren’t back, they didn’t find one. And since they didn’t find one, Tygra and Snarf are now under the influence of the Pain Fever, so it will be down to Cheetara and Bengali. That assumes Bengali could even find their current location and that the Lunatacs haven’t done anything. Then you take into account just how big those jungles are, how thick they are, how many possible locations there are, how those locations might still have operational defense systems—"

"We get the picture," Lion-O said, a little more sharply than he intended.

"But there’s still hope, right?" Snarfer looked expectantly at the other two Thundercats.

There was no answer to the snarf’s question. Pumyra and Lion-O were both lost in their own thoughts. Snarfer sniffled a little and turned to the control panel, trying to hide his feelings. And as he did so, he noticed a blip on the scanners. Several blips, in fact. "Lion-O? What are those?" Snarfer transferred the image to the main monitor.

Lion-O looked up and his eyes narrowed. "Can we make a positive identification?"

Snarfer shook his head. "They’re too far away for that."

"But they’re coming from Castle Plun-Darr, and there’s four of them." Lion-O growled slightly as he studied the screen. "By Jaga, don’t they ever quit?"

"Why would they?" Pumyra asked. "They have us where they want us."

"All too true," Lion-O murmured. "Get Lynx-O up here. He’ll have to fly the Thunderstrike via Braille board."

"Now would be a good time for Bengali to come back with the Thunderclaw," Snarfer added.

"It would, but he hasn’t. Snarfer, after you find Lynx-O, get back up here and get on the scanners. Make certain that at all times we can account for all four mutants. Pumyra, I want you to stay down with the patients. The Lair may be shaken up a bit. I’ll man the Cat’s Eyes."

The others nodded at Lion-O’s instructions and hurried off to do as they were told. Lion-O called up the controls for the pivotal head on Cat’s Lair, but all the while his thoughts kept straying to sickbay. There were so many struggling with the disease. He’d been down there earlier as everyone was admitted. It had sickened him in a way he hadn’t thought was possible. And knowing that in a day or two, he would be down there with everyone else…

"Concentrate," he told himself firmly. He could hear voices outside the control room and knew Snarfer and Lynx-O would be entering shortly. He had to look like the Lord of the Thundercats for them. He had to look confident, sure, certain of the next move. All the things that he was not. Almost by itself, his glance traveled to a terminal in the corner that kept a constant watch on the southern continent, looking for any sign that a Thundercat was trying to make contact. "You’ve never let me down before," the lion whispered, thinking of all the times that Tygra, Cheetara, Bengali, and Snarf had come through for him in the clutch. "Don’t fail me now!"

I’ve failed them! The thought kept screaming through Bengali’s mind as he raged against the Lunatacs. I’ve failed them all!

Translating his rage and despair into raw energy, the Thundercat shrugged off the effects of a direct hit from TugMug’s gravity carbine and hurled the Lunatac across the room and into a wall. TugMug sank to the floor with a woozy grin on his face.

Bengali swung around to face the only Lunatac still standing. Alluro backed up, aware that his psyche club was having almost no effect on the Thundercat. "Come on, Bengali. It’s hopeless." The Lunatac’s voice shook with what could have only been fear, but he kept trying to bring the Thundercat down. "You can’t save them. This was all a set up. There is no cure here."

"Then you’ll die with them!" the tiger roared. He leaped for Alluro’s throat, and Alluro had just enough presence of mind to throw all attempts at psychic manipulation to the wind and run for it. But Bengali was faster. Seizing the tall psychic by the neck, the tiger launched him hard into a counter near Tygra and Cheetara.

After this, Bengali seemed to slump as he felt the adrenaline drain from his body. Behind him, he could hear Amok moaning slightly. Luna and Amok had been the first to go down. The Hammer of Thundera had taken them out with a blast that had surprised even Bengali.

Looking around, the Thundercat surveyed the damage. Now what? Cheetara and Snarf were still alive, but both were suffering from the Pain Fever. He supposed he ought to try and find the cure. But where should he look?

Dragging his feet across the floor, wearier than he had ever been in his life with both physical exhaustion and mental anguish, he started to wander the lab. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he figured he’d know it when he found it. Or when he didn’t find it.

His steps carried him back toward Cheetara and Tygra, wondering if they had maybe found the cure and then the Lunatacs had interrupted their find. A spasm of anger shook him when he turned the corner and discovered that Alluro had landed on top of Tygra. With a snarl, Bengali pulled the hypnotist off the tiger and kicked him across the floor. Trying to quell his rage, he turned back and suddenly stopped. Had he just seen what he thought he’d seen?

Hardly daring to hope lest his hopes be killed, he dropped to the side of his fellow Thundercats. A thin stream of clear liquid was trailing from Tygra’s lips and the Thundercat’s chest was quivering slightly. Bengali seized Tygra’s shoulders and pulled the Thundercat into a sitting position and as he did so, he shook something loose inside. Tygra stiffened suddenly and one, long, shuddering breath was pulled into the tiger. His eyes opened in horror, he clutched his chest, and instantly doubled over in a fit of coughing.

Bengali couldn’t have been happier. In his sudden euphoria, he realized that, like the idiot he could be, he hadn’t even thought to check for a heartbeat. Tygra had still been alive when the white tiger found him. Whacking Tygra with a hard thump across the back, he helped his fellow tiger into a position to aid his breathing and continued pounding his back as the other Thundercat heaved, rasped, shook, and coughed. It was the most beautiful series of sounds that Bengali had ever heard.

"Okay, I need everyone to form up behind me," Vultureman squawked over the radio.

"Instead of wasting our time with something doomed to failure, why don’t we just attack?" Jackalman demanded.

"Awwk, this will work! The Cat’s Eyes will be destroyed and if we do it right, we’ll be able to catch the vehicles, too. There’ll be nothing to stop us."

"One chance, yesss?" Slithe hissed. Below Vultureman’s awkward flying contraption, Slithe’s Nosediver took up a position slightly behind him. Jackalman and Monkian maneuvered their Skycutters into position and waited. All four hovered just outside the range of the Cat’s Eyes. So far, there had been no response from the Thundercats. The Lair stood quiet in the early morning.

"Hoo, hoo, looks like no one’s home," Monkian commented.

"Oh, they’re there, all right," Vultureman said. "My scanners, awwk, are picking them up now. But we need them to send out their vehicles."

"Allow me," Jackalman said, itching for some action. His Skycutter broke formation and raced directly at the Cat’s Lair, pulling up just before impact and unleashing a powerful stream from his Thundranium cannon at the Lair. When he rejoined the others seconds later, they could hear him laughing over the radio. "Nyah-ha-ha-ha-ha, that should get them out."

"The Thunderstrike is powering up," Vultureman announced. "But, awwk, no one’s on it. Wimps."

"So what’s the plan?" Monkian asked.

"On my signal, I want you to fire your most, awwk, powerful weapons at my ship."

It took a moment for the other mutants to comprehend Vultureman’s orders. "Hoo, you want us to what?"

"Trust me on this. Those Thundercats, awwk, are in for the surprise of their lives."

"Lion-O, we can’t take another blast like that in sickbay. It’s knocking our respirators for a loop!"

Lion-O quickly activated the intercom as he silently begged the mutants to get just a little closer to the Lair. "Sorry, Pumyra. Jackalman’s move was a little unexpected and they’ve upgraded their Thundranium cannons."

"Can’t we retaliate? Draw their fire away from the Lair somehow?"

"We’re working on it," the lion assured her. Shutting off the intercom, he glanced over at Lynx-O. "Ready?"

"There’s something wrong, Lion-O. It’s the way they’re positioned. I don’t like it." Lynx-O’s brow furrowed in concern. "It’s almost as if they want us to come out and fight them."

"We can’t just sit here, snarfer. We’ve gotta do something."

"Agreed," Lion-O said. "If it is a trap, we’re walking into it with our eyes open. And we need to give Pumyra a break down there."

Lynx-O sighed but didn’t argue. He still had a nagging feeling that the last thing they wanted to do was to send the Thunderstrike out to battle, but Lion-O was right. It had to be done. "Raise the paw," Lynx-O instructed.

"Paw is up," Snarfer reported.

"Thunderstrike away," the lynx announced.

"See if you can get the mutants closer to the Lair. They’re too far for the Cat’s Eyes to engage them."

Lynx-O’s hands flew across the Braille Board. "One minute, Lion-O. Keep the sensor readings coming, Snarfer." Lynx-O suddenly stopped. "Snarfer, are you sure that’s their position."

"Of course," Snarfer replied indignantly. "I know how these sensors work."

"What’s wrong?" Lion-O asked.

"Why is Vultureman taking up a position in front of the others? He’s in their line of fire."

Lion-O looked at the sensor read outs and saw Lynx-O was right. "Odd. And they haven’t changed position since the Thunderstrike left the hanger."

"They’re almost in the Thunderstrike’s range," Snarfer informed them. "Now the mutants are…what the!?" On the Lair’s scanners, Slithe, Jackalman, and Monkian suddenly opened fire and continued to fire on Vultureman’s vessel. "What are they doing?"

From inside what he affectionately called "The Flying Machine," Vultureman carefully modulated the shields to absorb the mutants’ attacks. He readied his new front gun and channeled the shields to send the building energy into the gun’s power cells. It didn’t take long for the weapon to become fully charged. With a sneer that twisted his beak, the vulture hit the switch that set the gun loose.

The combined power of two Skycutters, one Nosediver, and Vultureman’s own ship shot out of the gun, blew the Thunderstrike apart, and slammed into the Lair. The vulture’s ship was sent flying from for the force of the attack. Recovering quickly, Vultureman looked back to Cat’s Lair and saw a smoldering wreck. A light of triumph lit up his eyes.

"It worked! Awwk, it actually worked!"

Lynx-O screamed as the sudden destruction of the Thunderstrike sent current back through the Braille board and shorted the circuits. He was flung backward from the shock and hit the back wall of the control room. Snarfer and Lion-O both leaped to help him, but matters quickly forced them to look after their own lives. The front wall of the control room exploded and Snarfer and Lion-O were sent flying amid the debris while a wave of Thundranium hit the entire Lair.

Down in sickbay, Pumyra found herself dodging pieces of falling ceiling and trying desperately to round up enough batteries to power the respirators. Kat shielded his sister from most of the debris, but wound up with a nasty bump on his own head. Panthro was awakened from his nightmarish rest only to discover that the nightmare simply continued. And he hurt so much already. Every muscle ached, every bone screamed, every layer of every tissue of every square inch of his body cried out in agony, and then there were the falling chunks of ceiling. Dimly wondering just how bad this situation could get, he closed his eyes and prayed for death.

Mumm-Ra didn’t notice the sun as it started to climb higher above the trees. He didn’t feel its rays when they hit his kneeling form. He was frozen in concentration and all his thoughts were far below the surface of the earth.

His plume of magma was steadily growing, but it was too slow. At least, too slow for Mumm-Ra. There had to be a way to speed the process. He was only halfway to his destination and it didn’t seem big enough. He could feel tremors starting as the crust below the bunker started to weaken, but nothing would happen until his magma was much closer to the surface. And if the past hour was any indication, it would take another hour for that to happen.

Where were the Lunatacs? Or the Thundercats? He momentarily allowed his thoughts to drift, but as they neared the bunker he was once again stopped by an invisible wall of technology, technology that still blocked his influence even after years of decay. The mummy hated not knowing what was going on. In the pyramid, he had only to look into his cauldron to instantly know what was transpiring around the world. But here, he was blocked.

If the Lunatacs had been victorious, why weren’t they out yet? Did Bengali delay them? If the Thundercats won, where were they? Did they all fall victim to some automated defense system? Mumm-Ra shook his head, scolding himself for allowing his mind to wander. The spell was still at work and he should have been overseeing it. But what if the Thundercats stormed out of the bunker and took him by surprise? Or near the completion of the spell? He would be weak, then, and unable to stop them from escaping with the cure. The more he thought about it, the worse the situation became.

He resolved to stop thinking and start acting. Thinking could block instinctive reactions, and when working with complex spells, sometimes reactions were what saved sorcerers from fatal mistakes. The ground trembled again as Mumm-Ra began drawing more power from the Ancient Spirits of Evil and forcing a larger disturbance in the mantel. Maybe today would be his day. The day that evil triumphed. Despite his concentration, Mumm-Ra smiled as he worked. Perhaps this day would herald the end of the Thundercats.

By the end of his coughing fit, Tygra had filled a small bowl with the clear liquid that Bengali had seen earlier. With shuddering breaths, the Thundercat set the bowl down and relaxed against a counter. Bengali hovered near, ready to assist Tygra with anything the Thundercat needed. "You okay?"

Tygra nodded weakly. "What happened?"

Bengali took a minute to look around the lab. "I kind of got here near the end of the action, so I’m not sure. I found Snarf outside—"

"Snarf!" Tygra lurched unsteadily to his feet.

"Whoa, you’re not going anywhere," Bengali told him. "From what Pumyra said, you’re due to come down with the Pain Fever any minute now, so just sit tight. I’ll handle everything."

"That’s just it. I had the Pain Fever." Tygra looked down at himself. "But now…" He suddenly reached down and yanked something out of the back of his thigh. "Ah, this would explain it."

"What would explain it?"

Tygra held out the hypodermic needle that had been sticking out of his thigh moments before. "It would actually explain a lot of things. Somehow, this got stuck in my leg. I guess I fell into that cart, or something. I don’t remember. But on that cart is the cure. Several vials of it at least. I was just lucky one of the needles happened to jab me when it did."

"We found the cure?" Bengali was breathless with excitement.

Tygra nodded. "And just like the scrolls said, it’s deadly if given when someone is unconscious. It requires conscious breathing because all the excess fluid the nerve cells have been accumulating gets dumped into the lungs for some reason. The scrolls weren’t clear on why that happens, but they said it happens. I was just beginning the disease, so I guess I didn’t really need to be awake." Tygra suddenly looked up at Bengali. "And when did you get here?"

"Long story," the white tiger answered. "And when I found you, I mistook you for dead. You did need to be awake. But I, uh, threw Alluro this direction and he landed on you, so maybe he shook something loose."

"And that’s my next question. What happened to the Lunatacs and what’s wrong with Cheetara?"

"Don’t know what happened to Cheetara. The Lunatacs, um, had an attitude problem. I corrected it."

"Corrected it?" Bengali nodded a response. "Don’t ever become a therapist," Tygra murmured. He swayed slightly on his feet and coughed again. "What’s Snarf’s condition?"

"He was unconscious when I last saw him. I’ll go out and bring him in. In the meantime, sit." Bengali gave Tygra a solid glare. "You’re going to fall over and who knows what strange chemicals you’ll land on next."

Tygra nodded in surrender and sank back to the floor. He checked Cheetara’s gashes once down and started bandaging her arm. Bengali shook his head and left to fetch Snarf.

Finding Snarf shaking and whimpering but still unconscious, he carried him back into the lab and found Tygra back up and moving Cheetara onto a counter. "What did I just tell you about being up?"

"I believe you told me that I was going to fall into some nasty chemicals," Tygra responded. "To prevent such an accident, I have cleared the area of nasty chemicals."

"I was thinking more that you shouldn’t be up and exerting yourself so soon" Bengali told him, but he didn’t pursue the argument further. He set Snarf down on the counter next to Cheetara. "Now what?"

For an answer, Tygra began shaking Cheetara gently. "Cheetara? Cheetara, can you hear me?" He waited for a moment. "Come on, you were stirring earlier."

Cheetara emitted a low groan and slowly opened her eyes. Her face was twisted in pain, but she tried to put it aside. "Tygra?" Her gaze strayed to Bengali’s anxious face and her expression changed to confusion. "Bengali? What are you dong here?"

"You know, he never has told me," Tygra answered with a curious glance toward the white tiger. He shook his head and turned back to Cheetara. "But right now, what would you say if I told you I could get rid of that pain of yours?"

"The cure?"

Tygra nodded.

Cheetara laid back and sighed. "I hurt so much. Please, do anything."

At her words, Bengali visibly stiffened. Tygra gave him another questioning look but decided to ignore it for the moment. He would press the white tiger for answers later. "Okay, girl, when I give you this shot, you’re going to feel like you can’t breathe, but I need you to keep breathing and cough up whatever gets into your lungs. Think you can handle that?"

Cheetara nodded slightly with a tight grimace. "Anything. Just give me some relief."

"As a warning, this is going to be an unpleasant sensation," Tygra warned. "Take it from personal experience." The tiger slid a hypodermic needle into the cheetah’s arm and waited for the solution to take effect. "It’s fairly quick, based on the scrolls. Oh, and it leaves a nasty little after-taste in your mouth." To emphasize his last point, Tygra smacked his lips together with a grimace. Cheetara managed a short laugh before she suddenly started to gasp and choke. Pulling her up into a sitting position, Tygra moved behind her to aid her cough should it prove necessary. "Bengali, grab a bowl!"

Grabbing a spare bowl sitting on a nearby table, the white tiger shoved it under Cheetara’s mouth. The cheetah seized it as she hunched over and started to cough up the excess fluid being emptied into her lungs. Tygra pounded her back to loosen the fluid, constantly talking and giving the cheetah encouragement. And during the middle of all this, Snarf awoke.

"Same for Snarf?" Bengali asked Tygra.

"Same," the tiger responded. He continued to slap Cheetara’s back as she trembled and heaved, demanding air that just wasn’t coming.

"Okay, Snarf," Bengali said, turning to the whimpering snarf who was in obvious pain. "How do I put this? We’re going to make you feel a whole lot better in a really nasty way. Sound okay to you?"

Snarf lay shaking in agony, but he managed to get out an answer. "Bengali, I don’t—care what you do to me. Just get rid of this pain, snarf, snarf."

"Right." Bengali stopped a minute to think about what that said for Panthro, but decided not to dwell on it. "Okay, then here we go. You’re going to feel short of breath, but keep breathing and just cough everything up. Got it?"

Snarf nodded as Bengali gave him the injection. Sliding an arm under the snarf’s back, he helped Snarf into a sitting condition and the hacking coughs began.

While Snarf shook and shuddered with the force of his heaving diaphragm, Cheetara’s spasms slowly subsided. With an exhausted sigh, she relaxed back into Tygra’s arms. "How do you feel?" the tiger asked softly.

"My lungs are a little sore," Cheetara whispered. "But I feel so much better than I did."

"Tell me about it," Tygra agreed, gently stroking her hair. In the background, they could hear Snarf’s coughs and Bengali’s rough voice of encouragement. "We were lucky. Somehow I ended up landing on a cart that happened to be loaded with the cure. A hypodermic lodged in my leg."

Cheetara pushed herself back into a sitting position with Tygra’s aid and eased herself off the counter. "That disease takes quite a bit out of you," she commented. Her hand strayed to her head and found a bandage there.

"Don’t bother it," Tygra warned. "You had a nasty cut on your forehead, and a pretty deep wound on your arm. Want to tell me how that happened?"

"Fighting Alluro while he was trying to give me the Pain Fever." The cheetah shuddered. "I thought we were all goners then. How did Bengali get here?"

"That’s what I’d like to know," Tygra answered, turning to the white tiger.

Snarf was beginning to relax and his coughs were becoming infrequent. Bengali gave the snarf one final thump on the back and looked up at the other two Thundercats. "What?"

"What are you doing here?" Cheetara asked, leaning against the counter as she tried to stand on her wobbly legs.

Bengali suddenly froze. "What time is it?"

Tygra scratched his head. "I don’t know how long I was unconscious. Probably about mid-morning. Why?"

"How long will it take you to find a pretty large amount of the cure?"

For an answer, Tygra moved the tipped-over cart and pulled a tile out of the floor. Beneath the tile was a hole in the ground, and in the hole lay a large box. Managing to get the box out, Tygra pulled the lid off. Vials of the cure crowded the inside. Tygra glanced up at the three Thundercats watching him. "Probably not too long."

"Wow," Snarf whispered, coughing up a little bit more fluid as he did so.

"Had the Lunatacs gotten any information about this bunker, they would have know the cure wasn’t in plain sight," Tygra informed them. "A little research would have told them it was down here."

Bengali nodded as he took all this in. "Okay, we have to get out of here and we have to move fast. We need to be in communication range with the Lair by afternoon."

"What’s the rush?" Cheetara asked.

But before Bengali could answer, Luna and Amok suddenly groaned in unison. Amok staggered to his feet and plopped the fallen Luna back onto his head. "All right, Thundercats," Luna growled. "I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you’re not going anywhere."

Almost in response to Luna’s voice, Alluro suddenly shook his head and stood up, eyeing his surroundings. "Bengali, I think that last attack was a little uncalled for. I believe a rematch is in order."

"Rowr, we don’t have time for this," the white tiger hissed to Cheetara and Tygra. "We have to get out of here!"

Tygra stepped forward to try and reason with the Lunatacs. "Luna, I think we’re all after the same thing. There’s no reason why we can’t share it. There’s more than enough to go around."

"And what would be the good of that?" Luna demanded. Beside her, TugMug suddenly stirred and struggled to his feet.

"Troubles just seem to multiply today," Cheetara muttered. Her staff was out and she was poised to attack if it proved necessary.

Bengali quickly evaluated their options. Cheetara, Tygra, and Snarf were all weak from their bout with the Pain Fever. The Lunatacs all looked a little woozy, but they had their full strength. The Thundercats needed to get news of a cure back to the Lair as soon as possible. And Mumm-Ra was probably still guarding the perimeter. What was the next move?

But he didn’t have to answer his question, as something else answered it for him. The bunker floor suddenly lurched beneath their feet, throwing everyone to the ground. "What’s going on?" Alluro demanded, not really expecting an answer. But much to his surprise, he got one. In the center of the lab, the floor suddenly took on a reddish glow and began to steam and bubble. Another earthquake shot through the foundation and the floor began to tear apart. Out of the center of the floor, a geyser of lava suddenly sprang into the air.