Cheetara gritted her teeth as she prepared to swing herself out of bed. The throbbing in her broken leg indicated that it was time for another pain reliever, but there was no one around to give her one. Besides, Cheetara had been aching to get out of bed, and now seemed to be as good a time as any. She clutched the mattress tightly with her hands and slowly elevated her injured leg. With great caution and more than a few winces, she moved it off the bed and held it over the floor. Her other leg felt around below her, trying to determine how far off the ground she was. With agonizing patience, she began to push her upper body to the edge of the bed.

"Cheetara! What in Jaga’s name do you think you’re doing?!"

The sudden voice almost cost the cheetah her concentration, but she held together for a few more seconds as her good leg found the floor. "I’m getting up," she grunted between clenched teeth.

"I gathered that much," Panthro grumbled. He quickly limped to her side and, despite his better judgement, helped the cheetah into a standing position. "The question is why."

"I refuse to lie helpless while others do my work for me," she replied, drawing herself up as straight as she could. "I’m able to get around and—"

She was stopped by Panthro’s laughter. "Cheetara, I’m barely able to get around, and I don’t have a shattered femur. But if you think you can do it, take a step. Go on, I dare you."

The panther moved back and Cheetara was left to teeter on her own. She swayed back and forth on her good leg until finally mustering the courage to allow her injured let to touch the floor. Having done that, she tried to shift her weight and—

"ARGH!" Cheetara collapsed with a cry of agony. Panther was immediately next to her and lifted her back into bed.

"What did I just tell you?" he asked. "Give it some time. It’s still very swollen and tender." The panther gently propped the cheetah’s leg up so the swelling could drain out. "In case you’re interested, we should land in a couple hours," he added.

"Have we gotten a hold of Thundera yet?" the cheetah hissed, trying to ignore the shooting pain in her leg.

"Oh, that’s right. I haven’t told you. Yes, we did." Panthro paused and looked around. "It’s time for your pain killer, isn’t it?"

Cheetara glanced suspiciously at the panther. "And what did we learn from our contact with Thundera? Why weren’t they answering us earlier? Is everything okay?"

"Now where do these dogs keep that stuff," Panthro muttered to himself as he started pawing through vials of medication.

"Panthro!"

He was facing away from the cheetah, but Cheetara could clearly see the muscles in his back tense. "Please don’t ask me, Cheetara. You don’t want to know."

Panthro’s whispered words sent shivers up and down the cheetah’s spine. "What don’t I want to know?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

The answer was long in coming, but Panthro eventually sighed. "The red tigers and the panthers attacked. Not everyone survived."

The finality in the panther’s tone could not be missed, but Cheetara was unable to stop herself. "Tell me, Panthro." The panther stiffened, but the cheetah pushed on. "Tell me what happened."

There was an uneasy silence for a moment, but then Panthro seemed to droop. "Servalla is unconscious," he began, his voice low and emotionless as though the less he put into the report the easier it would be to receive. "She has a bad concussion. They don’t know when she’ll wake. Wiley Kat…they don’t know if he’ll wake. Panya slit his throat wide open. They think they got to him in time, but his condition is still critical. Lion-O was mentally attacked by Sybar. He’s withdrawn into his own mind and they can’t get him to come out. Snarf…" Panthro trailed off and shook his head.

"Snarf?" the cheetah prodded.

"Snarf died defending Lion-O."

Cheetara was stunned. Her aching leg was forgotten as she pushed herself up on her elbow. "Snarf’s dead?"

"They wouldn’t say how he died. I gathered it was some kind of mental attack, but Mantyro didn’t want to go detail." Panthro shuddered and turned back to look at Cheetara. "Leonari. Snarf. Tygra. Pumyra. Possibly Wiley Kat. How many more is this empire going to claim while we sit helpless?"

Cheetara looked away, unable to meet the panther’s eyes. She kept telling herself that she had to distance her emotions. She had to stay strong. She had to remember the old mutant wars when they would lose friends and comrades every week and yet still manage to go on. But somehow, this was different. For four years on Third Earth, she’d lived with her closest friends and gone through things she’d never gone through before. She’d thought she lived with the only ones to have survived Thundera’s destruction. And the bonds of friendship and family that had been forged during those lonely years out of necessity as well as camaraderie now made it impossible to simply move on. They’d all grown so close. They’d grown too close for warriors. "I…I don’t know what to say, Panthro," the cheetah whispered.

"Neither do I," Panthro murmured. "Sometimes, there are no words." He shook his head. "I found the pain killer."

"Thank you," she said quietly, not really listening. "Poor Lion-O. To lose both Snarf and Leonari in one day…"

"I don’t know that he truly understands what’s going on," Panthro whispered. "I don’t know that any of us do." He took Cheetara’s arm and quickly gave her an injection. "It should start working in a few minutes," he added.

Cheetara nodded absently. "Wake me when we reach Thundera. I think I need some more rest."

Panthro squeezed her shoulder briefly. "Sure thing. If you need to talk, Cheetara, just let me know. I’m not Tygra, but maybe I can substitute for him in some small way." After a moment of hesitation, the panther turned and limped out of the room.

Cheetara sighed and closed her eyes. Once again, she set her health aside and tried to reach out into the psychic void. Tygra needed to know what was happening at home. He needed to know how much he was missed. She’d been analyzing what she’d received from him, and Tygra had reached a frightening level of insecurity. It terrified her, but Cheetara had decided that Tygra was suicidal. If she could get him to hold on to life and hope for just a little longer, maybe they could find him. They needed help more than ever, and if Tygra and Pumyra could be brought back, it was worth any sacrifice to Cheetara’s health and mind. Without another thought, she cast herself into the void of the psychic realm.

Lost in nightmares, Snarfer shivered and cried out. He’d gone to seek rest but had found only pain. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Snarf. He saw Lion-O. He saw Wiley Kat, Leonari, Tygra, and Pumyra. All of them hurt and dying. Dead, some of them. Gone. Gone forever.

And then he woke. For a moment, he was at a complete loss. The soft overhead lights were a puzzle until he realized he was in sickbay. Sitting up in one of the hard waiting chairs where he’d fallen asleep, Snarfer looked around. Sickbay had been reserved for the most severe cases and someone should always be nearby. This time it was Tahee. The head of the cheetah clans glanced up and caught Snarfer’s wandering gaze. "You okay?" he asked.

Snarfer nodded. "Yeah, snarfer, I’m fine. Just dozed off for a minute." The snarf rubbed his eyes and yawned. "I think I’ll go to my room."

"If you need something to do, we can always use help here," Tahee offered. "It might take your mind off—"

"I said I’ll go to my room," Snarfer interrupted, cutting the cheetah off before he could say anything about…about Snarf. "I need a good night’s sleep."

Tahee sighed. "Okay, Snarfer. Do you want someone to wake you when the ocelots and wolves land?"

Snarfer thought for a minute. "Yeah, that would be good. When do they land?"

"Within the hour."

"Oh. Well, maybe I’ll just be in the control room, then."

Tahee looked as though he were about to say something, but Snarfer dashed out of the room before he was given the chance. Snarfer couldn’t bear the thought of holding an extended conversation of any kind. It reminded him too much of his uncle, and that wasn’t something he’d come to terms with yet.

The control room was empty, normally a rare thing but everyone was either recovering from the battle or trying to ready the Lair for a possible second attack. An auxiliary control room had been rigged for both sickbay and the morgue. The remaining Thundercats could monitor activities from there.

Snarfer sniffed and moved to one of the control panels. His vision was blurred, so he really didn’t know which panel and he really didn’t care, either. Absently, he started typing commands. After a while, he realized he’d pulled up a log of the past week’s communication activities. Wiping his eyes, Snarfer started to read through them, more to pass the time than for any other reason. He was surprised by how much activity had been logged by Wiley Kat, and out of curiosity, he pulled up one of Kat’s files. "Oh yeah," he whispered. "Those weird codes coming off Kentro static buoys."

It was the first time Snarfer had actually seen the strings of numbers and letters that the wolves had pulled from Kentro static, but something about them struck him as familiar. Puzzled and forgetting about his uncle for the first time that day, Snarfer pulled up another file of the mysterious codes. "There must a pattern to this, snarfer," he murmured. He searched through some of Wiley Kat’s notes and read a few of the translation attempts, but none of them struck him as right. He knew that code, but he couldn’t place it.

"Kat never searched the general computer archives," Snarfer observed to himself. "He only searched military records. Maybe these codes aren’t related to military. Maybe they relate to something else." Going off this hunch, Snarfer programmed the computer to begin a search through its vast memory banks and expanded the search parameters to include all non-military information. The computer paused, informed him that the search would take several hours to complete, and then buried itself in its programming. Snarfer sat back and watched, wondering how long he could keep this distraction going.

"What are you up to?"

Snarfer turned and saw Mantyro enter the control room. "Just looking at some stuff Kat was playing with, yup. Nothing much. You?"

The tiger’s face took on a puzzled expression. "To tell you the truth, I’m not sure why I came in here. I—I forgot. I had a reason, but…" Mantyro shrugged helplessly. "Maybe I should…go lie down."

Snarfer frowned. "Are you feeling alright? You look kind of…I mean, not to be rude or anything, but—"

Snarfer would have stumbled on like that for quite a while had he not been interrupted by an alert. Glancing toward the front of the control room, he quickly spied what was going on. Unfortunately, Mantyro did, too. "Ocelots," the tiger snarled dangerously.

The snarf glanced curiously at Mantyro. "Tygra and Bengali don’t feel that way about ocelots."

"Tygra is dead and Bengali isn’t here."

Something broke within Snarfer. His uncle’s death had destroyed any hope Snarfer still had, and he couldn’t say he believed Tygra and Pumyra to be alive anymore. But to hear it from someone else, particularly someone he knew shouldn’t believe that way… "What is wrong with you!?" the snarf demanded. Without realizing what he was doing, Snarfer’s tail had elevated him to eye-level with Mantyro and he found himself staring the tiger down. "Hasn’t there been enough death? Don’t even start saying Tygra’s dead. You’re one of the few who still believes he’s alive! When did that change, snarfer, snarfer?"

There was a moment of confusion on Mantyro’s face. "You mean he’s not…there isn’t…" The tiger shook his head and seemed to see the snarf for the first time. "Snarfer? What’s going on?"

Snarfer lowered himself to the floor and backed away slightly. "That’s what I want to know."

Mantyro shuddered and looked around the control room. "So the ocelots are landing. Well, I guess we’d better get this over with." There was a slight growl in his voice, but it was completely different from the previous hated-filled snarl. The tiger moved to the door and stopped. "Coming, Snarfer?"

"I—I’ll be along in a minute. I’m waiting for the computer to finish," Snarfer stammered. Mantyro nodded and left the room. "Boy, something’s not right. Uncle Snarf, I sure wish you were around to figure it out." Snarfer stopped and realized what he had just said. A sob crept into his throat and his head drooped. "Uncle, where are you when I need you?"

"Lion-O?"

The lion squeezed his eyes shut and clutched his head.

"Lion-O? The others are landing. We must meet. We must know exactly what has happened to everyone."

"Please," Lion-O whispered, curling into a protective ball. "Please, just go away."

Lynx-O frowned and he could hear Cougrois shifting his weight back and forth in worry and frustration. "The past twenty-four hours have been difficult, Lion-O," Lynx-O tried again. "They have been difficult for all of us, but especially for you. We understand that. The weight of Thundera rests on your shoulders, and to lose the two who matter most to you…" Lynx-O trailed off as he realized just how much Lion-O had lost in such a short time. And Sybar’s demons were still shadows in the young lion’s mind. "You must try to recover," the lynx continued. "You must come with us. Come and greet your friends. They need you as much as you need them."

"I’ve failed Thundera, Lynx-O," Lion-O murmured, refusing to move. "I’ve failed my people. I’ve failed the Thundercats. I’ve failed those I cared for. What good am I to anyone anymore? No. Leave me. Please leave me."

Lynx-O hesitated and then reached out and placed his hand on Lion-O’s shoulder. "We need you, Lion-O," he said quietly. "Please come with us."

But the lion stiffened under his touch and refused to answer. With a sigh, Lynx-O straightened and turned to go.

"I don’t understand," Cougrois growled. "What are we—"

"He needs time," the lynx explained quietly, drawing the cougar away from the lion’s bedside. "And we’ll give him time, though I hope he doesn’t need as much as I fear he needs." As the door slid shut behind the two, Lynx-O’s sharp ears caught the sound of a sob from Lion-O’s room, but he didn’t turn around. It would only drive home the feelings of weakness and vulnerability that haunted the lion.

"So what now?" Cougrois asked. "Where do we go from here?"

"Forward," Lynx-O said, though he wasn’t sure what that entailed. It was just the appropriate answer to give the cougar. "We move forward. We greet the ocelots, welcome them back to Thundera, and relate our individual battles. Perhaps something can be found. Perhaps we can begin to unravel this tangle."

"Or perhaps we’ll realize what a hopeless situation this is and give up," Cougrois muttered.

He hadn’t meant for Lynx-O to hear that last comment, but the lynx’s amazing hearing had picked it up anyway. With a sigh, the blind Thundercat turned to the cougar. "The situation is never hopeless, Cougrois," he gently chided. "There will always be opportunity. It is just a matter of finding that opportunity."

"How can you still believe in hope? Snarf and Leonari are dead, Pumyra and Tygra are missing, Wiley Kit and Lepora are gone for at least a year, Wiley Kat is in critical condition in sickbay, Servalla is unconscious with a serious concussion, Lion-O has turned completely inward, Cheetara won’t be able to walk on her own for several months, Bengali’s right lung is barely functioning, Panthro’s crippled, we’ve severed our alliance with the mutants, we’re fighting a civil war against two of the most powerful clans on Thundera, we’ve suffered heavy casualties from the last attack—"

Lynx-O held up his hand and stopped the cougar from continuing. "Said like that, yes. The situation is hopeless," Lynx-O said. "But you have failed to list our assets."

"And those are?"

Lynx-O paused and tried to think of some. "We broke Sybar’s hold on Lion-O’s mind," he finally answered. "He can’t spy on us anymore. Panthro, Cheetara, Snoedaro, and Bengali are still alive. They’re coming back to us. We’re still alive. The red tigers didn’t take over the Lair."

"Those aren’t assets," Cougrois said bitterly. "Those are situations that didn’t take a turn for the worst."

Lynx-O didn’t have an answer to that. As much as he hated to admit it, the cougar was right. The surviving Thundercats had very little hope left. But to know that was one thing; to say it was another. "We must always hope for the best," Lynx-O whispered. It was a weak response and he knew it. But it was the only thing he could offer.

Cougrois snorted derisively, but didn’t say anything as he caught the sound of approaching footsteps. Before long, Tahee came into view. The cougar turned to the lynx. "It’s—"

"I know who it is," Lynx-O interrupted rather brusquely. "I heard him long before you did."

"Greetings, Thundercats," Tahee said as walked up. "Are you going to alert Lord Lion-O of the landing ships?"

"You figure it out," Cougrois snapped. "We’re walking the wrong way. What does that mean, cheetah?"

"Cougrois, hush," Lynx-O snapped. He turned to the leader of the cheetah clans. "Lord Lion-O will not be joining us to meet the others. He is resting."

Lynx-O could hear Tahee’s face form itself into a frown. "Is that wise? Surely he will want to hear—"

"You already know there’s a problem," Cougrois accused, despite Lynx-O’s warning glance. "Why don’t you just get to the point?"

Tahee studied the cougar for a moment before allowing a small smile to creep across his face. "You are a true cougar. No patience and blunt to a fault. Very well, young Thundercat. Let me see if I can explain myself. I have a vague idea that Lion-O still suffers from his mind bout with Sybar. I am well aware of that tiger’s mental prowess and I fear for Lion-O’s psychological health. I am curious as to what his current condition is. Once I understand these situations more fully, I can finish my explanation and ‘get to the point’ as you put it."

"Better," Cougrois said with a smirk toward Lynx-O. Lynx-O shrugged and the cougar wondered just how many things the lynx’s ears picked up. With a shake of his head, he turned back to Tahee. "Currently, Lion-O is resting. I don’t know any more than that."

The cheetah burst out laughing. "You had me fooled, Thundercat Cougrois. I thought you had no diplomatic skills, but you have managed to tell me little more than what Lynx-O has already said."

"You can’t spend a year on Third Earth without some of Pumyra rubbing off on you," the cougar answered, sobering a little. "She and Tygra are pretty good diplomats."

"They certainly were," the cheetah agreed, emphasizing the past tense. Cougrois chose not to respond. After a moment of uneasy silence, Tahee moved the subject back to Lion-O. "So is the Lord of the Thundercats allowed visitors?"

"No," Lynx-O said shortly, starting down the hall again.

"Will he be calling any council meetings?" Tahee asked, keeping pace with the old lynx.

"That will be for him to decide."

"Can he decide?"

Lynx-O stopped and turned on Tahee. "What is your game, cheetah?" Lynx-O asked, a hard edge creeping in to his voice. "What do you hope to learn?"

Tahee glanced up and down the hallways and then pulled both Cougrois and Lynx-O to the side. "I need to know Lion-O’s full condition and I need to know soon. If Thundera is leaderless, it could prove fatal. We are fighting two wars and have just lost our mutant allies. We are not succeeding on either front, and we are losing Thundercats. If Lion-O cannot lead, someone else will have to take his place."

"Who? You?"

Tahee glared at Cougrois. "If you had been more observant, you would realize that I do not desire such a position. I work behind the scenes, Thundercat Cougrois. My methods are useless if I am thrust into the spotlight. But someone will have to step up and take the helm if Lion-O does not, and that someone will have to be forced there soon."

"There are provisions within the Code of Thundera that outline what—"

"You don’t understand!" Tahee hissed at the lynx. "We can’t have a temporary Thundercat commander such as Jaga became when Claudus was blinded. We need a clear transition of power. The people of Thundera need someone to look up to. If they can not find it within the structure of the Thundercats, they will look to Sybar and the red tigers. And that will be the end of not only the Thundercats, but ultimately the end of Thundera itself."

Panthro scowled at the medical brace on his leg and gave it an irritated and painful shake. "I still say I can walk out under my own power," the Thundercat growled.

"I watched you limp in here," Cheetara murmured, recovering from psychic trances but faking general grogginess to cover up her efforts. "When you didn’t think anyone was looking, you were practically crawling toward your bed."

"I was not!"

The cheetah smiled slightly. "It’s accelerating the healing process, Panthro. At least wear it so you can regain your full strength soon. We’ll need all the strength we can get."

Panthro glared at her and eventually sighed. "Fine. I’ll wear it, but I wear it under protest." He moved his leg experimentally and continued to growl.

"Are we at Thundera already?" Cheetah asked.

"Yes, we just landed," Panthro muttered, still upset with the brace on his leg. "We dropped off the Lunatacs about an hour ago. You were asleep for it, I take it?"

Cheetara hesitated before answering. "Yes," she finally said. "I was asleep." Her psychic headache throbbed a little as guilt swept over her, but she couldn’t tell Panthro about her trances. He wouldn’t understand and they’d only get into another fight. She knew Tygra was alive, and she knew he needed help. But Panthro didn’t share that view and was firmly convinced that Cheetara shouldn’t either.

"And I thought I was slow," a tired voice observed from sickbay’s door.

"Snoedaro!"

The snow leopard gave a weary smile. "I thought Cheetara might need a little assistance getting out. Tahee and Serbino are already moving Bengali to the infirmary. Nice brace, Panthro."

The panther snarled. "And what’s that supposed to mean?"

Snoedaro blinked. "Nothing. Just that…that…"

"Ignore him," Cheetara said. "He can’t get over the fact that he still has to heal."

"You two go ahead and smirk," Panthro snapped. "I’m heading into the Lair. I need to talk with Lion-O. There are things I should probably tell him in person that he didn’t hear over our last communication. I just hope he’s recovered enough to listen to me."

On that sobering note, Panthro left the other two Thundercats. Snoedaro sighed and ran a hand through his thick mane. "I’d been trying to forget that part. Did he tell you about Snarf?"

"He did," the cheetah answered quietly.

"Cheetara, you’ve been a Thundercat far longer than I have. What do we do next?"

"I don’t know," she whispered. "I don’t think we’ve ever come up against something like this. We need more help and we need—"

"You felines better get outside," Alphon’s voice suddenly growled over the intercoms. "The tigers and ocelots are about to start yet another civil war."

"I knew this would happen," Cheetara hissed. She tried to push herself to a sitting position, but she was too weak to go any farther. "Snoedaro, I—"

"That’s why I’m here," the snow leopard interrupted. He gathered her up in his arms, careful not to move her broken leg too much. "It was actually Alphon who asked me to carry you. He didn’t trust Panthro to do it without further injuring you both."

"Well, we’d better get out there and see what’s going on," the cheetah instructed, uncomfortable with her vulnerability. "If there’s one thing we don’t need, it’s more wars."

The snow leopard nodded his agreement and the two made their way to the entrance of the wolf command ship. Blinking against the setting sun, they stepped outside and stopped cold. Lynx-O and Cougrois were doing their best to restrain a raging Mantyro who seemed intent on strangling both Stealon and Rociyro.

"That’s not good," Cheetara whispered as she watched Stealon jump out of the way. Panthro was limping over to the group, but the enraged Mantyro looked like he would get to his prey before Panthro could get close enough to help.

"Have you gone mad?!" Lynx-O demanded as he tried to pull the younger tiger away from the ocelots. "Mantyro, what’s wrong with you?"

"Those murdering traitors!" the tiger roared. "They killed everyone! They can’t be allowed to live!" With a surge of strength, he threw off the lynx and cougar. Cougrois seized Mantyro’s ankle and the tiger went sprawling, but just as quickly, he was up again and leaping at his quarry. A quick lunge would take him to Stealon’s throat and after that—

"Hold it right there!" Panthro roared as he tackled the tiger, ignoring the stabs of pain that shot through his leg as he did so. "I don’t know what this is about, Mantyro, but it’s going to stop right here."

For their part, the ocelots had been very quiet during Mantyro’s tantrum. Stealon now stepped forward and eyed the tiger warily. "It appears there are still hard feelings to work out."

"Perhaps we were wrong in coming back," Rociyro murmured. "Old hatreds can never truly vanish. They just die down for a while."

"Ho, Stealon," Cheetara called from Snoedaro’s arms as he stepped out of the wolf ship. "I’m sorry we couldn’t meet again under better circumstances."

"As am I, Cheetara," Stealon answered, remembering the cunning cheetah he’d met on Lotari. Her message to him had saved not only Tygra and Bengali but all Thundercats and Lotarians alike. There was no telling how far Celotta would have gone in her mad quest for vengeance. "It is good to see you again."

"Mantyro?" Snoedaro called, his attention focused on his friend. "What’s wrong?"

"That’s what I’d like to know," Panthro growled, tightening his grip on the young red tiger whose struggles were increasing. "As if we don’t have enough problems and enough death already, you’re trying to make it worse," he snarled at the angry Thundercat.

Alphon poked his head out of the ship and studied the gathering Thunderians and Lotarians. "If there will be nothing else, I will be on my way. There are mutants to be hunted."

"Hold a moment," Lynx-O said. "We all know the mutants must be punished, but now is not the time. Kentro poses a far greater threat. If it is pack you worry about it, the mutants have already been expelled. They are no longer with the pack."

Alphon’s eyes narrowed. "You speak shrewdly, old cat, but you speak of things you can never comprehend. Traitors to the pack, no matter how distant they lie, will always be a danger."

"But would you abandon the rest of the pack to seek these traitors out?" the lynx asked. "The Thunderians and Lunatacs need your help. If you seek the mutants, you leave us to deal with Kentro alone. Are we not still pack with you?"

"The greater danger lies with the mutants," Alphon insisted, though he sounded less sure of himself.

"Does it?" Lynx-O asked calmly.

The wolf glowered at the lynx, but a shout prevented him from answering. Everyone turned toward the Lair and saw Snarfer racing toward them. "Hey!" he hollered. "Hey! We’ve got an incoming ship and it won’t communicate. Plus with all our rewiring in Cat’s Lair, somehow the circuits are crossed up and the weapons don’t work."

"WHAT?!" Panthro roared. "What have you done to my Lair?"

"Can we talk about this later?" Cougrois asked, pointing at a black dot in the sky that seemed to be growing. "I can see the ship and it’s coming in fast."

"Snarfer, what kind is it?" Cheetara asked.

"Um…actually, I didn’t find that out. See, I was running this program and—"

"Never mind," Snoedaro interrupted him. "Cheetara, can I—"

"Put me down," the cheetah instructed. "If this is a trap, they’ll need everyone who isn’t injured."

"Mutants!" Rociyro and Stealon swung around as an ocelot came racing out of one of the ships. "Mutants! That ship is from Plun-Darr."

"That ship will not be around much longer," Alphon snarled as he started back into his ship.

"Alphon, wait!" Cheetara’s face was taut with concentration as she watched the incoming vessel. "It’s…it’s not a danger. Their intentions are peaceful. No…his intentions are peaceful. There is only one passenger."

"How can you possibly—"

Alphon was interrupted as the vessel abruptly dove to the ground and screamed toward the assortment of ships parked outside the Lair. "Take cover!" someone hollered. Cheetara tried to curl into a ball, but her injured leg violently protested. A sonic shock wave sent the cheetah rolling. She though she heard the sound of energy weapons, but she wasn’t sure. Everything seemed to be happening at once and piercing agony was shooting its way up her thigh.

And then it was over. Sprawled on the ground, Cheetara groaned and lifted her head. The mutant had landed behind Alphon’s command vessel, using the shock wave to get behind the guns that had been tracking its movements. Snoedaro and Cougrois were already racing toward the ship along with Alphon, Rociyro, and Stealon. The five surrounded the small vessel quickly and pulled out an assortment of weapons. The ship powered down and settled on its landing struts.

Cheetara watched Snoedaro look around and then advance on the ship with his ice lance fully expanded. In one quick motion, the snow leopard had pulled the side door open and leaped back, ready to fend off any attack. For a long time, or at least what felt like a long time, nothing happened. And then a figure appeared. Swaying slightly from the effects of such an extreme landing, a mutant staggered out of the ship and put his hands up.

"Vultureman?!" Cougrois hissed. "What do you want, buzzard?"

"After what your race has pulled, you have a lot of nerve coming here," Alphon snarled viciously, moving behind the bird and knocking him forward with the butt of his laser cannon.

Vultureman stumbled and fell, rolling to a halt at Snoedaro’s feet. The snow leopard instantly had the tip of his lance at the mutant’s throat, a thin layer of ice slowly forming where his lance came to rest. "Nice an easy, mutant," the leopard warned, his voice cold and deadly. "Stand up and explain yourself."

Scrambling backward and rubbing his neck, Vultureman obediently stood and raised his hands again. "I don’t—awwk—mean any harm. I just want to talk."

"Talk? The last time we talked with the mutants, they assured us that they would be at the Fire Zone to provide a retreat," Cougrois snarled, wrenching the vulture’s arms behind his back with one hand while the other shoved his energy ax against the vulture’s throat.

"That wasn’t me," Vultureman protested, his eyes going wide as sparks jumped from the ax onto his skin. "That was Cobri and Rataro!"

"Prove it," Alphon roared, ramming the barrel of his energy laser into the bird’s stomach.

"Pardon the interruption, but perhaps the three of you would like to take a look at this," Stealon interrupted. While Vultureman had been slammed around, he and Rociyro had entered the bird’s ship. Together, they’d dragged out a body. A very familiar body.

"Jackalman?" Snoedaro glanced suspiciously at Vultureman. "Is he—"

"Dead?" Vultureman interrupted. "Give your self a point, snow leopard. He is very dead. Monkian shot him."

Cougrois frowned. "But he and Monkian were best friends. Why would Monkian—"

"On Rataro’s order," the vulture snapped, pushing the ax away from his throat and trying to get into a better position.

"Jackalman was the one to send us the message," Alphon murmured. "Did…did Monkian shoot him because of that? Is that why he died?"

"Yes, that’s why Monkian shot him," Vultureman answered, a strange look coming over his face. If Cougrois hadn’t known better, he’d have said it was sorrow. Maybe even regret. "And I got there too late to stop it," Vultureman went on. "I—I didn’t know what to do after that—awwk. So I grabbed Jackalman, sabotaged the Rat Star Prime, and took a shuttle. I couldn’t stay with the mutants after what had happened. I’d supported the jackal."

"So you came here?" Cougrois shook his head. "And just what did you hope to accomplish here?"

"I didn’t come here," Vultureman sneered. "I came to Alphon. I thought—I thought they could take care of Jackalman’s body." The vulture’s eyes glistened and he looked away hurriedly. "Jackalman would have wanted it that way. He admired the wolves. Maybe he admired them too much."

By now, almost everyone who could had gathered around the mutant’s ship. Mantyro had been sedated and Panthro had limped over, carrying Cheetara. Lynx-O and Snarfer were also there, as were most of the ocelots. Even Tahee and Serbino had come back out of the Lair to see what was happening. It was Lynx-O who spoke next. "That doesn’t answer all of our questions, though. What are you doing here? You could have easily sent Jackalman’s body to the wolves in a capsule."

"I don’t know," the vulture said honestly. "I asked myself that on the way. And I still don’t have any answers. Don’t worry, though. I intend to leave as soon as possible."

"Where will you go?" Panthro asked, still highly suspicious.

"Does it matter? Anywhere away from this sector. And you would be wise to follow me, Thundercat. Awwk—it won’t be long before Kentro overruns your defensive lines and decimates Cat’s Lair itself. You’ll have nothing left if you wait much longer."

"Thundercats never give up," Cheetara hissed at the mutant. "We will win or we will die trying."

"Then I wish you a happy early demise," the vulture said. "May it be as painless as possible. Now if I could borrow a few tools, I’ll make some minor repairs to this ship and be on my way."

"No, we’ll have someone else work on that ship of yours and you’re going to tell us what you can about the mutants," Alphon growled. "You may have useful information."

Vultureman blinked. "I am not a spy."

"What do you owe the mutants?" Panthro demanded. "It’s not as if they’ve ever done anything for you."

"And you have?"

"Easy," Lynx-O soothed, sensing the situation was beginning to get out of hand. "It’s been a long 48 hours for all of us. The sun will set soon. Why don’t we all turn in for the night and settle things in the morning."

"If you could, Stealon, you may want to keep your ocelots in the ships for now," Tahee cautioned. "They will be safer with your advanced sensor systems to scout for red tigers, and the Lair really can’t support any more refugees right now. It already has the cheetahs, white tigers, and most of New Thundera City."

"Understood," Stealon said with a quick nod. "We have been used to living in ships for quite some time. It will be nothing new."

"Wait a minute," Vultureman protested. "Even if I can’t make those repairs, I want to get out of here as soon as I can. I haven’t agreed to stay the night."

"Likewise," Alphon growled.

"No one’s making you stay," Panthro told the wolf. "But I agree with Lynx-O. If we really want to sort things out, we should get some descent rest on a stationary object and think about it in the morning. And as for you," he continued, turning to Vultureman, "think of yourself as a prisoner of war. You’re not going anywhere until tomorrow."

"You do realize, cat, that Thundera is not stationary. It moves through space," Alphon said with a slight smile.

Panthro sighed. "Thank you, Alphon. I’ve misjudged you. I’m sorry."

"Since when did I become a prisoner of war," Vultureman demanded.

"Since the mutants betrayed us," the alpha male growled, his mood abruptly changing. "And if you want to challenge that verdict, you may do so. But I warn you that I have never lost a challenge. And very few of my opponents have left a challenge alive."

Vultureman paled and backed away from the wolf, but Cheetara had endured too many threats and deaths for one day. "That’s enough," the cheetah growled. "I want to go to bed. Vultureman can sleep in a detention cell, the wolves and ocelots can remain in their ships for the time being, and the rest of us will just have to find room somewhere."

"It’s a plan," Panthro said before anyone else could say anything. "Cougrois and Snoedaro? Escort our mutant friend to the prison block. I’ll see the rest of you in the morning."

"Panthro?" Cougrois interrupted. "The prison block has become an orphanage for the moment. It will take some rearranging to get everyone out of there."

"Vultureman could just sleep outside," Snoedaro suggested. "And if he tries to leave, it wouldn’t be too hard to blast the ship out of the sky." The snow leopard glanced at the mutant as he said this, a veiled threat darkening his gray eyes. The vulture gulped.

"Fine, Vultureman stays outside," Panthro agreed. "Now the rest of us should get some rest. We’ve got a lot to talk about tomorrow."

Another sunset had come, much to Snarfer’s dismay. Out of sheer habit, Snarfer found himself watching this sunset from a balcony high up in the Lair. In front of Cat’s Lair, wolves wandered in and out of their large transport. Ocelots could be seen traveling between their ships. Behind him in the Lair, there were various noises of heavy things being moved in an effort to accommodate more wounded that had just traveled in from outside the city limits. Everyone around him had something to do and something to focus on. Everyone except him.

"Wait a minute," Snarfer whispered. "Those strange codes. I was working on them, but the computers hadn’t finished and…" The snarf stopped and took off for the control room, desperate to do something that would take his mind off Uncle Osbert. "Maybe I’ll find something useful," he murmured as he dashed through the empty halls of the Lair. With everyone either busy, asleep, in sickbay, or down in the morgue, Snarfer had the control level all to himself. The emptiness of the normally busy hallways only amplified the emptiness within his heart.

Eyes beginning to blur, Snarfer skidded into the control room and tried to catch his breath. The room was deathly silent as though it, too, mourned the lost Thundercats. Snarfer was barely able to see the communications panel, but he managed to pull up the computer’s search anyway. It took several eye rubbings for him to see the results, and even after that, it was a few more minutes before Snarfer’s mind cleared enough to interpret anything. But when he did start to examine the computer’s findings, shivers began to course up and down his spine.

"I don’t believe it," he whispered, staring at the screen with wide eyes. "It can’t be. It just can’t be. Who could have sent something like that?"

There was no one to answer him, but he had a fairly good idea of what the answer would be. "Still," he murmured, "I should check it. I mean, snarfer, what do I know about his playing strategy. And he’s dead, after all. Dead. They’re all dead. All dead. Dead…"

Snarfer’s mind wandered away from the control room and back to the events of the previous day. He was once again there as the illusions were dropped around Snarf’s body. He saw the terrified eyes staring skyward. He saw the stiffening corpse with the red stain on the chest. He saw Sybar’s maniacal grin and the horror that filled the faces of those around him.

"NO!" Snarfer screamed, jerking himself out of his memories. "I won’t. I won’t. I won’t let it control me!"

Crouching into a quivering bundle of fur, Snarfer tried to focus his mind again. He had to tell someone about his discovery. Someone who would understand it. Someone who would be able to interpret it better than he could.

"Cheetara and Snoedaro," Snarfer whispered. "I’ve got to tell them. They’ll know what to do. They’ll know what this means. They’ll know how to tell the others. And they both believe he’s alive anyway."

Mind finally made up, Snarfer scampered out of the control room and headed toward sickbay. He didn’t know exactly where to find Cheetara and Snoedaro. The Lair had been turned upside-down in the rush to accommodate everyone who needed the use of its technology. But sickbay was as good a place as any to start looking.

It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t possible. She should have been dead. No one should have survived what she’d endured. At the very least, she should have gone insane. She shouldn’t be able to evaluate her condition. She should be a raving lunatic.

But she wasn’t. Her mind was horribly, painfully clear. Her body was agonizingly alive, though clearly injured and still in the recovery process. And perhaps the worst burden to bear was the fact that she could remember, in frightening detail, everything that had transpired the day before.

Pumyra felt tears slipping out the corners of her eyes and tried to quell the shame that rose like a black plume to devour her soul. She should be beyond tears. What good were they anyway? But she couldn’t help herself. The stupid, bitter tears continued to run down her cheeks and the salt from their flow burned painfully against her injured skin. More tears welled up in her eyes and she furiously berated herself. She couldn’t let the slave drivers see her cry. It was a sign of weakness and they would only use it against her. But what hadn’t they used against her? Why should this matter so much? Why should anything matter? Did anything matter?

She was jerked out of her thoughts when she felt someone’s hand brush her cheek. Her first instinct was to recoil out of fear, but the touch was gentle and kind. A brief moment of peace in a world of hate. Hesitantly, afraid to destroy what little serenity she’d found, the puma opened her eyes.

"I’m sorry," Tygra whispered, gingerly wiping her face again. His eyes glistened with tears of his own, and the haunted look of hopelessness within those amber orbs tore at Pumyra’s heart. "I’m so very sorry, my friend."

The tiger was lying on a medical cot set next to hers. The skin of his face was bruised and burned, and his mane was disheveled and matted with dried blood. He was a stark contrast to the white room with its sterile counters and spotless equipment. Looking around, the puma was amazed with the sanitary medical facilities. She hadn’t seen such things since…since her capture. When had that happened? How long had she been here? With a shock, Pumyra realized she didn’t know. She had no idea how long she’d been here.

"Where?" Pumyra murmured, trying to change the questions in her mind from those with no answers to those that could be solved. She took the tiger’s cool hand in hers and held it against her burned face. "Where are we?"

Tygra shook his head slowly. "I don’t know. Still at SPT, I think. And…we’re still alive. I know that much."

His voice was filled with longing and sorrow, clearly wishing fervently for death. In another time and another place, Pumyra would have been frozen in shock. But now she wished for the same blessing he desired. She hoped vainly for death to descend upon her and close her eyes to the torment and abuse she’d had to endure. But such wishes seemed to be in vain. The humans refused to let them die.

"What do they want with us?" the puma hissed, closing her eyes and shivering at the sound of her voice. It was broken and scared, like the voice of a lonely traveler who has lost all hope of ever reaching the journey’s end.

"They’re using us to measure our clans," Tygra said quietly. "I was awakened first. I overheard some of their talk. They use us to decide whether or not to enslave our clans. If we can be broken, our clans can be broken. If we can’t, they will eliminate our kind."

"But why us?" Pumyra demanded. "Why were we chosen?"

"We’re both leaders in our society," the tiger answered. "And we were easy prey. We had no way of anticipating their attack and we were cut off from help. They took us and then destroyed everything they could. They hoped to convince our friends that we died. They hoped there would be no rescue attempt."

"Do you think they succeeded?"

"Partially," Tygra murmured. "Most of them believe us to be dead. But not all."

Something in the tiger’s voice caught Pumyra’s attention. Opening her eyes again, she studied the former Thundercat and tried to read his emotions. He was looking at the ceiling and his eyes glittered with an inner fire. "How do you know?" she asked. "How can you be so certain?"

Tygra didn’t answer, but his hand moved to her shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. The gesture was strangely reassuring, and without knowing why, Pumyra felt comforted. She sighed and rested her head on his outstretched arm, finding solace in the knowledge that he shared her plight and would not leave her alone.

"Thank you, my friend," she whispered. "Without you—"

"Without you, I would already be dead," Tygra interrupted. "Remember that no matter what happens, we’ll always have each other."

Though he didn’t know it, Tygra’s words struck a chord and Pumyra closed her eyes to hide the buildup of more tears. "He said that to me once when…when we were stranded on the island." Her brow furrowed and she cursed quietly, trying to call to mind the image of a certain white tiger and failing miserably. "I can’t picture him in my mind. I can’t see him anymore."

Tygra bit his lip. "I didn’t mean to—"

"Can you?" Pumyra opened her eyes and looked at the tiger with a frightening intensity. "Can you see any of them?"

Tygra was at a loss for words. He couldn’t tell her about Cheetara. That was his own secret and if he let it out, he’d lose it to the slave drivers. It was his only link with the outside world and his only defense against madness. He couldn’t let it go. He knew it was selfish, but Cheetara’s presence was his and his alone.

"Silence!"

Neither slave had heard the clinic door open and both jumped. Tygra immediately retracted his hand, fearful that if the slave drivers knew how much they depended upon one another for support that they would be denied even that.

A human doctor stalked toward the two slaves and eyed them disdainfully. "Greeb?" There was an answering grunt from the hallway. "They can be moved. The neural stimulators have stabilized their systems."

Tygra frowned. He wasn’t so certain that he could be safely moved, but he wasn’t allowed to say anything because Greeb entered the room and glared at the two slaves. His appearance drove all thoughts from the tiger’s mind until all that remained were the emotions of blind fear and pulsing hatred. "What will they require?" Greeb’s voice was a reluctant growl as though he regretted giving the slaves any thought whatsoever.

"Nothing," the doctor answered shortly. "The stimulators will shut down in a week or so and their bodies will absorb the remains. By that time, they should be able to support their own systems."

"And what of work?" Greeb asked.

"They can work tomorrow. They will be tired, weary, and stiff, but they will survive."

Pumyra couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Did Greeb and this human doctor actually expect her to be able to work in the morning? She lacked the strength to sit up. How could she possibly work?

"Good," Greeb was saying. "Prepare them for transport and then you will be rid of their filth."

The doctor nodded respectfully and moved to the two slaves. Pumyra squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists. She was not ready to return to the monotony of slave life. She would never be ready to return. But that’s where she was heading. She felt the doctor messing with her hated collar, and she felt the click that signaled manual sleep. With a forlorn sigh, Pumyra felt herself shoved into a nightmare of blackness. She could only hope that somehow she would stay in that blackness. A nightmare of her own creation was better than the waking nightmare in which she was forced to live.