"Anything yet, Kat?"

"Specifically, what are you looking for?"

Lion-O slumped into a seat with his seemingly perpetual weariness and tapped the Sword of Omens absently against the Claw Shield. "I don’t know, really," he finally confessed. "Signs of a red tiger attack. Signs of white tiger reinforcements. Signs of Snarfer or Mantyro. Signs of Thundercats coming back from the Fire Zone. Signs of Tygra and Pumyra returning from their long AWOL trip. Anything like that."

Wiley Kat smiled half-heartedly and turned back to his sensor station. "Well, I’m not getting any life form readings moving in from the mountains, so no tigers are coming, red or white. And Snarf is the only snarf to have come out of the mountains recently. Snarfer is still missing. I assume Mantyro is with him, wherever that is. As far as space goes, I haven’t been able to establish contact with the Command Scabbard since you called and told them about Sybar. And I’d rather not talk about Tygra and Pumyra, if it’s okay with you."

Lion-O sighed and looked away. "Sorry. I was out of line with that one," he apologized. "I just feel that if I treat it like a joke, it won’t be real. That Tygra and Pumyra will call any minute now and explain this whole thing is just faulty communication." Lion-O shook his head and was silent for a moment, lost in thought. Eventually, he blinked his eyes rapidly and tried to focus on the current situation once again. "So we still don’t have contact with the Command Scabbard. That’s not good. We’ve been out of contact with them for almost eight hours. We should have heard what they were doing one way or another."

"You can always order them back," Kat pointed out.

"I could," Lion-O agreed. "But I won’t. They know the situation in the Fire Zone better than I do. If they need to stay and fight with the mutants and Lunatacs, I won’t interfere. But we could sure use some help, I won’t deny that. And we still should have heard something."

"Want me to call them?"

Lion-O pursed his lips. "We probably haven’t heard anything for a good reason. They might be in the middle of a battle. We’d only be interrupting. On the other hand, this could be a sign that they’re in some sort of trouble. They might need repairs or they might…" Lion-O stopped himself before he went further. "Let’s give them another hour," he finally decided. "If the red tigers operate on schedule, we have a little time before they attack."

Behind the two Thundercats, the doors to the control room slid open and Snarf wandered in. "The white tigers have taken up positions around the Lair and around New Thundera City, snarf," he reported. "They’ve got infrared detection units set up all over the place, so we should be able to spot any red tigers coming our way."

"Good work, Snarf," Lion-O said. "And now may I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

The lion took a deep breath and rounded on Snarf with flaming eyes. "WHAT IN JAGA’S NAME DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING IN TIGER TERRITORY?!

Snarf backed up hastily in surprise and fear. "I was helping Mantyro and Snarfer, snarf, snarf," he whimpered.

"You were supposed to be here," Lion-O growled. His exhaustion had made him testy, and he relentlessly proceeded to take his anger out on Snarf. "We searched everywhere for you. You had us worried sick."

"I’m a grown snarf," Snarf replied indignantly. "I can take care of myself."

"You could have been killed!" Lion-O went on. "It’s insane! Serbino told us you never checked in with the white tigers. You followed Mantyro to the red tiger camp and never let on that you were there. You were alone in the mountains and no one knew where you were. And in hostile territory, no less. At your age, Snarf, it isn’t safe to be…" Lion-O was suddenly stopped by the look on Snarf’s face.

"Say that again," the snarf hissed coldly.

In the background, Wiley Kat cleared his throat hesitantly. "I think I’ll go check on Bengali. It’s his first day back from the hospital and he shouldn’t strain himself."

Lion-O nodded absently, not really hearing what Kat had said and not really hearing him leave the room. "Say what again?" he asked Snarf.

"What you just said. You were saying something about my age." Snarf’s eyes glittered with a fiery anger that Lion-O had rarely seen, and it disturbed him.

"I didn’t mean anything by—"

"Oh yes you did," Snarf snarled, bearing his teeth and lashing his tail from side to side. "Half the time, you and the other Thundercats don’t even know I’m around anymore. And when you do notice me, you’re always telling me to go finish my nap or to go read a book. I know I’ve never been much of a warrior, Lion-O, but I’ve always been a Thundercat, snarf. And I’ve always done my duty as a Thundercat. Until now."

Lion-O was speechless. During the past few years, the lion had seen the signs of age growing on Snarf. He’d forget some of his chores, he’d tire easily, and arthritis had set in. Lion-O had spoken to Tygra and Panthro about it and they’d all agreed that Snarf might be getting a little too old for active duty. But they also agreed that asking him to ease off would hurt his feelings. So Lion-O had been trying to do so discreetly. But it now appeared that Snarf was on to them. "Listen, Snarf. I didn’t send Lynx-O out on Mantyro’s mission for the same reasons that I didn’t send you out."

"And yet Lynx-O is millions of miles away in a Scabbard fighting the Kentroans," Snarf shot back. "Why? Because you still trust him. But you don’t trust me anymore."

"It’s not about trust," Lion-O argued. "It’s about…" Once again, he was forced to stop. He was only lying to himself it he said it wasn’t about trust. It had everything to do with trust. He didn’t trust Snarf to carry out routine tasks anymore. And he certainly didn’t trust him enough to send him on dangerous missions.

"What is it about, Lion-O?" Snarf demanded, perching imperiously on his tail and hints of victory gleaming in his eyes.

"I’m only trying to do what’s best for you," Lion-O replied, taking a different approach. "You’ve done your duty for Thundera. Why not rest for a while? Let someone else carry the burden."

"A burden is better borne with friends," Snarf answered. "Your father said that to me, Lion-O. When I first met you and was entrusted with your care, I asked King Claudus what I could possibly offer the Thundercats, snarf. And he told me that even if I wasn’t a mentalist like Tygra or a speedster like Cheetara or a muscle-bound mechanic like Panthro, I was still part of a team. And just having me there made things easier for everyone. The more the merrier."

"Too many cooks spoil the brew, Snarf," Lion-O quipped, but he immediately regretted his words at the look on Snarf’s face. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that."

"No, you shouldn’t have," Snarf agreed.

An uneasy silence ensued while Lion-O cast about vainly for words. Snarf had a point. Lion-O didn’t think twice about sending Lynx-O out on dangerous missions. Why should Snarf be any different? "What do you want me to do?" Lion-O finally asked.

"Treat me like a member of the team," Snarf told him immediately. "You don’t have to send me out with a loaded energy weapon, but don’t hide me away in my room, either. Let me have my old chores back. Let me take shifts during the night in the control room. Tell me when there’s a clan meeting going on. Wake me for the Thundercat council. Stop asking Snarfer to keep me occupied. And don’t give me that look of surprise! I can tell when Snarfer is sincere and when he isn’t." Snarf’s tail thumped the floor in irritation. "You’ve treated me like a dying dog who’s outlived his usefulness. Well I’m not useless yet. And I don’t intend to be treated like I’m useless."

Up until that point, Lion-O hadn’t realized just how far he’d gone in excluding Snarf from Thundercat activities. He’d only taken the whole process a step at a time and each step seemed small, but looking back, it built itself into a mountain that Snarf couldn’t help but notice. And while Snarf was old and was becoming a little more forgetful, he wasn’t so old that he couldn’t function. "You’re right," the lion said quietly. "You’re right, Snarf, and I apologize. I didn’t know how far we’d gone. You have every right to be mad at me and every right to want things to change."

"Well," Snarf huffed. "That’s much better, snarf, snarf."

"Forgive me?"

Snarf’s eyes softened. "I can never stay mad at you, Lion-O," he answered. "But try not to get me mad in the first place and we won’t have to go through this again."

"It’s a deal," Lion-O said with a smile. He stretched out his arm to take Snarf’s paw in a handshake, but before he could do so, alarms started blaring all over the control room.

"What’s going on?!" Snarf shrieked.

Lion-O was at the boards and punching in commands as quickly as his tired body would allow. "It’s from the outer boundaries of New Thundera City," he reported. "About fifty figures on infrared but not on camera are coming in from the desert."

The doors to the control room slid open to admit both Wiley Kat and Bengali. "What’s going on?" they asked as one.

"Red tigers," Lion-O answered grimly. "Are the white tigers in position?"

"They are," Bengali confirmed.

"How would you know?" Snarf asked suspiciously.

"I’ve been monitoring their movements."

"You’re supposed to be resting," Lion-O scolded.

"I won’t be resting if the red tigers break through," the white tiger retorted. "I thought it was best to be prepared. And my ribs are fine so stop worrying about me."

"Lion-O? They’ve stopped," Kat announced.

The Lord of the Thundercats stopped and checked the sensor screens. "Probably getting into position," he mused. "Do they know we can see them?"

"Nope," Snarf answered. "The white tigers made sure of that. They want the advantage in this battle and figured that taking the red tigers by surprise was a good way to do that."

"There are more figures coming in from the desert," Bengali observed. "But they’re not moving on New Thundera City yet. They’re just waiting."

"We probably have another six hours, then," Lion-O figured. "Wiley Kat, call the other Thundercats out in the Fire Zone. Tell them what’s going on. If they head back now, how long will it take them to reach Thundera?"

"Approximately twenty-three hours from the Fire Zone," Kat replied as he reached for the communication panel. But the panel beat him as it suddenly chirped with noise and static.

"Lynx-O to Lair, come in!"

"Lair here, what’s up Lynx-O?" Kat hastily answered.

"I’m afraid we have some good news and some bad news," the old lynx told them.

"Good news first," Lion-O instructed.

"Well, the remaining Thundercat force is fourteen hours away from Thundera. We’ll be home soon and able to help with the tiger problem."

"Sorry, Lynx-O, but that doesn’t qualify as good news," Lion-O said glumly. "We’re about six hours away from an assault."

"Oh." Lynx-O didn’t say anything else as he pondered this turn of events.

"So what’s the bad news?" Snarf asked. "And what’s this about the ‘remaining’ Thundercat force?"

"Well, I guess this now qualifies as the worse-than-bad news. We lost."

"Oh." Lion-O looked at the Thundercats surrounding him. "That’s it?"

"That and the casualty count. I’d ask Servalla to supply you with numbers but…"

The other Thundercats waited for the lynx to continue, but he didn’t. "But what?" Bengali finally blurted out.

"That’s the rest of the news," Lynx-O answered hesitantly. "We lost contact with Servalla’s Scabbard. We haven’t been able to raise her."

"What happened?" Snarf demanded. "I though you were all going to stay together."

"We were," Lynx-O said. "But she and Leonari went into the Fire Zone to look for Cougrois’s Dagger and the rest of his scouting party. Panthro and Cheetara stayed to make sure they got out. The rest of us retreated."

"Where are Leonari, Cougrois, Panthro, and Cheetara now?" Lion-O asked dangerously.

It took Lynx-O a while to answer, but he did eventually. "I’m sorry, Lion-O. We don’t know. I wish I could say they’re okay, but…we assume the worst."

Rataro reclined in his command seat as the Rat Star Prime screamed through hyperspace on its way back to Plun-Darr. In perfect formation, the vanguard of Plun-Darr surrounded the mutant flagship but for all its form and décor, the fleet was decidedly downcast. Protocol was followed merely out of habit. Rataro couldn’t remember morale being this low in years. A hiss to his side drew his attention and the rat discovered his second-in-command standing at his elbow.

"A word with you, if you please," Cobri requested.

Rataro nodded and pushed himself out of the command seat. "Mousqua, you are in charge until I return," he instructed to the rodent currently navigating. The mouse snapped smartly to attention, but weariness was heavy in his black eyes. Rataro resolved to somehow boost spirits, but for the life of him, he couldn’t see how. "Let’s go," he told Cobri.

Of all the mutants, Cobri was the only one who didn’t seem depressed by the continuing string of defeats. Maybe that was because the snake didn’t show his emotions whether they were positive or negative. Rataro had always found it difficult to determine Cobri’s mood, but he was now finding it more difficult than ever. As he followed the cobra into a private conference room, he could have sworn the snake was happy. But what in the name of the ancient mutants did he have to be happy about?

Cobri waited for Rataro to seat himself before saying anything. As soon as Rataro had found himself a reasonably comfortable chair, the cobra’s hood flared open and his gold-rimmed eyes sparkled. "Our recent defeat has given me an idea," he announced.

Leave it to Cobri to start right away. No small talk with this reptile, that was certain. "And what is this idea?" Rataro obediently asked.

"If you will recall our most recent lost, the Thundercats, the wolvesss, and the Lunatacs all aided us. Yet we were still unable to prevail. The Kentro forces overwhelmed usss and forced us to retreat."

"I know all this," Rataro interrupted angrily. "What’s your point?"

"Patience," the snake hissed. "Recall to mind the reports on losses for both sidesss. The Kentro forces lost more than they have ever lost before. We lossst less. But think about how many the Thundercats, wolves, and Lunatacsss lost."

"I haven’t seen the figures yet," Rataro grumbled. That wasn’t entirely true. Vultureman had handed him the reports earlier; he just hadn’t been in the mood to look at them. But that wasn’t something he was going to admit to Cobri.

Cobri’s tongue flicked out briefly, as though considering whether or not to go on. He made his decision quickly and pressed forward. "Then I will sssumarize for you. The Lunatacsss lost far more than we did, and we had more ships there. The wolves, as usual, bore the brunt of the attack and lost many scout shipsss. But what I find interesting are the Thundercat losses. From what we can tell right now, they lost almost two battalions and five Thundercatsss."

"Five Thundercats?" Rataro gasped. That was something he hadn’t heard. From simply participating in the battle, he’d sensed that other members of the alliance were taking more hits than the mutants, but he had no idea that the Thundercats themselves were taking so many risks. "You mean actual Thundercats and not just Thunderians? Are you certain?"

"Nothing is ever certain in war, Rataro," Cobri answered. "But it is with thisss uncertainty that we plan our next move."

"And that would be?"

Through half-lidded eyes, Cobri sized up his commanding officer. "I’ve studied the Thundercatsss. Their current lord will come up with a plan and ask for our help. Being the faithful alliesss that we are, we will agree. The Lunatacsss and wolves will also agree. But when the time comes to attack, we will not be there. There will have been a miscommunication somewhere down the line and we will be late."

Several thoughts were running through Rataro’s mind, but he couldn’t seem to latch on to any thought in particular. "Just what is this going to accomplish, Cobri?" he finally asked.

"Under current circumstancesss, we do not control the alliance. The Thundercatsss do because the Lunatacsss trust them more than they trust us. However, when Kentro decimates and destroys the Thundercat and Lunatac forces because we aren’t there to aid, the Lunatacsss will no longer trust the Thunderians to lead successful plans. The Thundercats, with reduced forcesss, will be no match for us and we will take over their population. Then we will lead the alliance and after this war is ended, we will finally control Thundera and the Sword of Omens will be oursss."

It took a while, but eventually a smile crept over Rataro’s face. "You are devious, conniving, and completely without honor," the rat said. "That’s why I like you. But we must chose the perfect moment for this plan. It must be a major battle but something we can miss with legitimate reasons."

"We will get our chance," Cobri assured Rataro. "We have only to wait."

"And the Thundercats will finally be ours!"

When he heard the clanging of a pickaxe stop behind him, Tygra whirled around suspiciously. He’d been on his guard all day and it was beginning to tire him, but the tiger was a firm believer in the use of caution. He wasn’t about to let Slithe get the jump on him.

But the reptilian didn’t even seem to know Tygra was there. He’d collapsed into a heap on the floor and his labored breathing indicated he was exhausted. Not knowing what else to do, Tygra laid down his own mining shovel and hesitantly approached the mutant.

"You okay?"

His quiet whisper echoed through the mineshafts, and Tygra winced as he envisioned a flock of slave drivers descending upon them and demanding to know why they were talking and not working. But for once, luck was with the tiger. His question went unheeded by his human captors. In fact, he and Slithe seemed to be the only living things in this stretch of tunnel. And Slithe was barely living at that.

Swallowing the fear that made him sick with shame, Tygra decided to try again. "Reptile, are you alright?"

This time, Tygra was awarded an answer in the form of a low moan. Well, that was progress of a sort. Tygra wondered why he was taking such an interest in Slithe, but decided he was probably better off not knowing. The less he thought right now, the less trouble he could get himself into.

"Do you need anything?"

"Freedom," Slithe murmured. His voice was thick and slow, as though responding from a deep trance. "We all need freedom."

"Maybe we’d better get you to the slave clinic," Tygra suggested, still wondering why he was so concerned about Slithe.

The mutant shook his head slowly. "No, they’d tell me to finish the work first." Some clarity was finding its way back into his voice and Tygra noticed the glazed look in his eyes was gone. Slithe gingerly sat up and leaned against a tunnel wall. "I just need some rest, that’s all."

Tygra nodded absently. He could certainly understand that. After an awkward moment, the tiger turned around, picked up his shovel, and prepared to go back to work.

"Cat?"

The tiger stopped and looked back at Slithe. "Yes?"

"I gave you far too much credit when I was battling you years ago."

Tygra stared at the mutant, blinked, and put down his shovel. "What?"

"I respected you as one of my more intelligent enemies," Slithe continued. "But watching you and the female here, I don’t understand why. The two of you are so ignorant it’s painful."

Feeling his blood beginning to boil, Tygra tried to get a firm grip on his weary emotions. "Ignorant about what?"

"Slavery, you idiot. What else?"

"Listen, reptile. It wasn’t my habit to study corrupted institutions that brought about the suffering of innocents. I considered slavery to be one of them. And since the Code of Thundera expressly forbids the—"

"Don’t give me any of your lies about superior morals, cat!" Slithe hissed. "Did anyone ever tell you that your stupid Code is probably your biggest handicap?"

"I believe you mentioned it in several brief conversations," Tygra growled. "Is there a point to this?"

"You won’t last another few weeks at the rate you’re going. You’re setting a quota you won’t be able to meet for much longer. You’ll be punished for that and your output will drop even more. Eventually, they’ll start up on new forms of punishment and abuse, you’ll forget your origins, you’ll forget your goals, and you’ll become useless to us."

Tygra’s eyes narrowed. "I’m not here to be useful to you, reptile."

"But as long as you’re here, you might as well help out," Slithe shot back. "Stop mining so fast. Drop back. You and the puma have been whipped every morning since you first arrived. Don’t tell me you can’t feel that."

He’d been trying to forget it, but Slithe had a point. The throbbing pain in Tygra’s back was growing worse and he feared it had become infected. "So I’m hurting," the tiger snarled. "What does that matter to you?"

"It doesn’t," Slithe hissed. "If you were to die tomorrow, I would be the last to mourn. Some forgotten part of me might even cheer. But I would mourn the lost opportunity."

"Lost opportunity?"

Slithe’s tail swished back and forth across the rocky ground. "You really don’t understand, do you? Listen, tiger. The wolf, the hypnotist, the cold one, and I have been here longer than we care to remember. That’s one of the problems, yesss. We can’t remember. You and the puma still remember the world we came from. You won’t for much longer, but currently, you harbor far more hope than we do. The hypnotist doesn’t believe you can make a difference. The wolf no longer cares. The cold one is clinging to the outside chance that you can get us out of here like her life depended on it. In a way, it does. Don’t you understand yet? You’ve added to our assets, yesss. All four of us hate the two of you and I’m sure the feeling is mutual. But we hate the Kentroans even more and in a sense, we don’t even remember why we hate you. I don’t remember what happened on that planet with the Wollows and the Warrior Maidens. I couldn’t hold on to that memory for long. I know we fought, but I don’t remember the events. You do. And that’s where the opportunity comes in, yesss. You still remember freedom. You still yearn to get back to it. We long for freedom in a purely academic sense, knowing it to be better than our current life but not remembering why."

Tygra stared at the reptilian, not knowing what to make of this speech and not totally comprehending it, either. "I don’t understand," he finally confessed. "You can’t remember the outside world? Surely you remember your home planet."

Slithe’s eyes lost their focus and for a moment, the mining caves were completely silent. Eventually, the mutant sighed and shook his head. "I remember enough to understand their slave breaking tactics. My father used to break slaves for the royalty. I helped him until I enlisted in the army. I remember that much and I remember the tactics we used on your species as well as other species, but I don’t remember much more. In a vague sense, I remember my comrades, yesss. Worthless, all of them. But I remember them. I must. If I lose the past, I lose myself."

"How can you forget?" Tygra demanded, uneasy with this suddenly talkative mutant. The Slithe he’d known was nothing like this desperate, weary reptile sitting before him, and it frightened him. "How can you possibly forget four years of war between your kind and mine on a lonely planet in its third age?

"How could I possibly remember? I recall the events, but I recall them as if I learned them from a history book. I don’t remember them happening to me. I don’t remember the feelings associated with them. It’s like I was never there." Slithe shrugged and gave Tygra something close to a sympathetic look. "I’m afraid you’ll know what I mean all too soon. There’s no way I can explain it to you. If you’d had slavery on your planet, maybe then you would see, yesss. Causing the slave to forget the past is one of the most important steps in training. But I wouldn’t expect you to know that."

"Why is the past so important?" Tygra wondered. "I guess if you forget freedom, then maybe you would submit. But even animals raised in captivity have an inkling as to what freedom is."

"That’s because animals in captivity have a past, you idiot."

Tygra bristled. "So do you."

"Yesss, but mine is fading." Slithe stretched and lumbered wearily to his feet. "It’s like—well, let’s try it this way. I want to cast an image on that wall over there. What do I need?"

The tiger raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Well, you need a projector, I guess. And an image to begin with."

"You need a source, yesss?"

"Sure."

"And you need something on which to cast your image, yesss?"

"You already said you had the wall."

Slithe rumbled deep within his chest. "Forget that part," he growled. "To cast an image, you need a source and an end point. Together, they allow for an image, yesss?"

Tygra nodded.

"We’re the same way," Slithe continued. "We are that image. To exist, we need a future, or an endpoint. Our goals determine much of who we are. They provide a backing for us to appear on. But even more of this image, or ourselves, is determined by what we’ve been. Take out the wall or take out the future and what do you have? The image disappears, but as soon as a new future is found, the image returns. It’s easy to remove the wall. Beat a slave enough and you remove his future. But a new future can be found to take its place. Take out the projector, or the past, and no matter how many opportunities you give that slave, he is nothing. He has no source to fall back on. He is completely at your mercy, yesss."

Tygra digested that for a while. "I understand that part," he said at length. "But what I don’t understand is how you go about removing this hypothetical projector."

The reptile gave a hollow laugh that echoed hauntingly throughout the mineshafts. "You will, feline. Rest assured that you will."

With that, Slithe returned to hammering away at rocks on his side of the tunnel. The dim glow of torches lining the walls flickered and danced, almost keeping rhythm with the pickaxe. Tygra eventually turned back to his own work, but stopped and looked at the mutant again. "You know, reptile, I think I’ve underestimated you all these years."

Slithe grunted. "I know you have. And I have overestimated you."

Tygra managed half a smile. "Nice to know some things haven’t changed," he murmured. But deep inside, he was more concerned than ever before. For Slithe to open up like he did, these Kentroans must be capable of mind twisting that even the mutants couldn’t match. With a growing knot in his throat, Tygra resolved to have a long talk with Pumyra in the near future about their budding escape plan.

Panthro gradually woke in the midst of groggy confusion. For a moment, he lay completely still, trying to get a feel for where he was. Beneath him was what felt like a wrestling mat. The air surrounding him had the stale taste of ozone to it. Still in a contained atmosphere, the panther decided. He strained his ears to try and catch a familiar sound that would explain what he was doing on a wrestling mat and why his head hurt as much as it did. Did Bengali finally learn that throw move he’d been trying to teach him? No, Bengali was back on Thundera. Panthro was…

Panthro suddenly realized he had no idea where he was. He couldn’t even remember where he’d been to begin with. Or could he? The Fire Zone, he told himself. I was in the Fire Zone. Yes, that felt right. He must have been in the Fire Zone. And he’d been doing…what had he been doing? Oh yes, he’d been fighting Kentroans. He’d been fighting the Kentroans with the mutants and the Lunatacs. And then…what had happened after that? The Kentroans had brought out a powerful weapon, Cougrois had been yelling for retreat, they ignited some hyperspace bombs, and then…

"Hyperspace bombs," he mumbled. "What a stupid idea."

"It worked," a raspy voice said beside him. "And as stupid as it was, feline, there was a small amount of genius in it."

Panthro opened his eyes and instantly regretted it. "Could someone turn down the light?" he growled.

"Sorry." The voice beside him moved and then Panthro sensed the light dimming in intensity. "Forgot that the five of you had been in the dark until we found you. How are you feeling?"

Panthro opened his eyes again and froze. "Alphon?"

The wolf gave him a grin, revealing gleaming fangs. "The one and only. And you must be Panthro?"

Panthro nodded in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? This is my ship, cat. I command here."

"Your ship? But the Command Scabbard…" Panthro trailed off in confusion. He pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around. "Where am I?"

"And you consider yourselves the best of your species," Alphon snorted. "I already told you. You’re on my ship."

"But how did I get here? What happened? Where’s the Scabbard?"

Alphon raised a bushy brow and flipped his ears back. "This is not an interrogation, panther," he said softly. "And if it was, I would be asking the questions, not you. Your answers will come in time, but only when I decide you are ready for them. You and your friends have gotten us into enough trouble with your garbled transmission."

Panthro’s headache was beginning to subside, but it was quickly being replaced with bewilderment. "What transmission? What’s happening? Where’s Cheetara?"

"I believe I just went through this. I will give you answers in time. For now, I am the one asking the questions. What were you doing sending a coded transmission while in hyperspace and in the midst of Kentro forces?"

Panthro blinked. "Transmission? Look, Alphon. I don’t know where you dogs—"

"WOLVES!" Alphon snarled viciously, baring more teeth than Panthro could count.

"Okay, wolves," the panther hastily amended. "Touchy. Anyway, I don’t know where you wolves get your equipment, but we weren’t in any condition to send out a signal. It couldn’t have been us. Your readings are wrong."

A dangerous gleam had entered the eyes of the alpha male, but Panthro seemed to be spoiling for a fight. He didn’t trust the mutants in general and he really didn’t trust the wolves. The panther had never been fond of mercenaries, and to the Thundercats, the wolves were pure profit-seekers from their cunning minds to their stone-cold hearts. There was no room for honor, loyalty, or any of the other values that made up a respectable being. They were conniving, vicious, and backstabbing at best. More than one Thunderan transport had been lost to pack of raiding pirates proudly touting the banner of the wolves.

"Listen, panther," Alphon growled softly, his deep voice seeming to gather power as his ears flattened against his head. "Mutant technology is far superior to your own. You know that and I know that. Let’s not fool around. We intercepted a Thunderan transmission but when we attempted to decode it, there was nothing but gibberish. So we traced it and found you and your friends. Moreover, we found you all unconscious drifting in hyperspace and blasting away your Thunderan transmission for all the surrounding Kentro ships to hear. You’re lucky they haven’t keyed their equipment to register Thunderan signals, or you would all be dead."

"But we couldn’t have been transmitting," Panthro protested. "I don’t remember a thing from the time the hyperspace bombs went off. I was knocked unconscious then. I couldn’t have sent anything. And I suspect the others experienced the same thing. The shock wave from the bombs would have knocked us all unconscious. And by the way, what condition were our ships in?"

"There was nothing worth the effort of saving," Alphon answered curtly. "The ships were destroyed. We are diverting from our original course to take the five of you home."

"Please accept my heart-felt gratitude," Panthro sneered. "You’re certainly making this a pleasant trip. And did it occur to you that if our ships were in such damaged condition, they couldn’t have transmitted anyway?"

"The transmission did not come directly from your ships. We suspect it was from a communications probe you jettisoned."

Panthro stared at Alphon in disbelief. "Didn’t you even look at our flight logs? Our computer reports? Anything? It goes against all Thundercat operating procedure to take a communications probe on a mission of war. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could easily be turned into a trap once the enemy learned how to program it. There was no communications probe."

It was Alphon’s turn to be confused. "No communications probe?"

Panthro smirked. "None."

For a long time, nothing happened. Alphon merely stared at the panther, who in turn stared right back. Eventually, the wolf looked away. "We must have missed a ship…but your ships were the only Thunderan ships in the area. In both hyper and real space."

Panthro frowned. That wasn’t the response he’d expected from an arrogant space pirate. "Let me listen to the transmission," he finally said. "Maybe I can tell where it’s coming from."

"It’s not a verbal transmission," Alphon said, almost to himself. "It’s a coordinate transfer. But they’re coordinates I’ve never seen before. They make no sense and our computers have been working on them since we first received them."

"We’ll try to help," Panthro promised. "If it’s a Thunderan code, chances are, we’ll understand it. It kind of goes along with being Thunderan." The panther leaned back and closed his eyes briefly. "So what’s a Bi-Dimensional Gun?"

"I believe you should be resting," the wolf growled absently, his thoughts still concentrating on the Thunderan transmission.

"I can’t rest until I know what that thing was that took us out," the panther answered.

"You were taken out by hyperspace bombs."

Panthro opened his eyes and glared at the space pirate. "Okay, how about what inadvertently took us out?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on the wolf’s face and he turned toward the panther. "Very well, Thundercat. I admire your persistence. A Bi-Dimensional Gun warps reality by merging hyperspace into real space and real space into hyperspace. But at the same time, it keeps the two dimensions separate. It can only be fired once, and from what we’ve been able to gather, it takes an enormous amount of energy and time to create the weapon. But anything caught in its blast is destroyed."

"So, when those Bi-Dimensional Guns came out of the Fire Zone, only two of them were really a threat. They’d already fired one."

"Correct."

"And now, they have one left."

"Do you want to take care of that one for us?" Alphon demanded incredulously.

"No, but if we could get rid of it, we could retake the Fire Zone."

The wolf rubbed his brow and shook his head. "You are in no condition to be plotting strategies, cat. Get some rest," he ordered. The pirate stood and headed for the exit to Panthro’s room, but as the door slid open at his approach, he turned back to the Thundercat. "You are free to move about my ship, but do not interfere with my wolves," Alphon warned. "Your friends are all in this hallway. I suggest you allow them to rest. They have all regained consciousness, but they are all exhausted. When you have had a chance to rest and recuperate, we will review this Thunderan transmission you claim cannot have been from you. In a few hours, we will be able to contact Thundera and tell them your whereabouts."

"You haven’t told them where we are?" Panthro demanded.

"We are surrounded by Kentro cruisers in real space. The only reason we have not been discovered is because we have stayed in hyperspace and they are regrouping. A transmission from us at this time would be our doom."

"Oh." It was Panthro’s turn to look away. "Sorry. I guess I jumped the gun."

"I guess you did," Alphon sneered. The wolf turned to leave, hesitated, and then turned back to Panthro. "You stayed and waited for your teammates. Why? The mutants and Lunatacs were retreating."

"Because we’re not mutants and Lunatacs," Panthro growled. "Unlike them, Thunderians stick together. And as Thundercats, we all have an especially close friendship to look after. To leave three Thundercats in uncertain circumstances would have been tantamount to the betrayal of our very natures. We couldn’t do it."

A strange look stole into the wolf’s eyes and he nodded. "It is as I was beginning to suspect. You are not wolves, and yet you have pack. Perhaps we have underestimated you, Thundercat Panthro."

Panthro was frozen in shock. That was the last thing he’d expected from the alpha male. Maybe the Thundercats had completely misunderstood these mutants that really weren’t mutants. He cast vainly about for a reply, but his mind seemed to have taken a vacation and his eyelids were growing heavy.

"Get some rest," Alphon advised. "I will have someone wake you and your friends when we contact Thundera. Until then, recover your strength. There is still a war to fight."

The gag was too tight, the ropes were too tight, and the ground was too rocky. Snarfer squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of something else to complain about. Oh yeah, it was still cold. He could complain about that. And Mantyro was unusually surly. In Snarfer’s mind, all tigers were far too serious. Even Bengali could get downright ugly when something upset him. But Mantyro’s current mood beat out even Tygra’s bad days. And for Snarfer, who’d heard withdrawal stories of the Keystone and Silky’s fruit, that said a lot.

As he’d been doing for hours upon hours now, Snarfer started squirming against the ropes that held him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew how futile his efforts were and how little he was accomplishing, but the instinct for survival drove him on. He would be free. He just didn’t know how he would achieve this lofty goal.

The sun was momentarily blocked as someone stood over Snarfer and bent down to examine him. The tiger turned the little snarf over and Snarf immediately growled. Sybar’s eyes widened in amusement, but other than that, there was no reaction from the leader of the red tigers. Shoving Snarfer back to his original position, Sybar turned his attention to Mantyro. "Last chance, my friend. Join me. Be the tiger that Tygra was meant to be. Take your place at my side."

Mantyro’s green eyes flared and a hoarse snarl rose from his throat. Working against the gag, he managed to spit in Sybar’s direction.

"I see." Sybar rose from his crouch, studied the two prisoners, and began talking quietly, more to himself than to his prisoners. "Well, I suppose that the two of you will have to be destroyed. The snarf is an inferior creature. He has no place on Thundera. The tiger has been fooled by the lies of the lions. He is of no use to us." Sybar began to pace slowly, still musing to himself. "We could destroy you them now, but I think a more influential move would be to destroy you before all of captured New Thundera. They would understand our determination and news of our takeover would travel to the furthest reaches of this planet."

Mantyro snarled louder and viciously whipped his head back and forth, trying to loosen his gag. Sybar watched with detached interest and eventually moved toward the Thundercat. "I will allow you to speak," he announced. "What you have to say could be interesting."

The gag finally out of his mouth, Mantyro swallowed several times and tried to moisten his lips. "I would offer my thanks, but any gratitude I owe you is swallowed up by the atrocities you have already committed."

Snarfer moaned inwardly. Mantyro is given a chance to talk us out of here and this is how he starts out, the snarf wailed to himself. The future was looking anything but bright.

"Atrocities I have committed?" Sybar sounded puzzled. "I don’t understand. What atrocities?"

"Rising against the Thundercats during a war, murdering kinsmen like my sister, detaining two Thundercats and threatening to murder them, depriving Thundera of useful resources while we send barely-trained civilians out to die—"

"And what is your point?" Sybar interrupted. "None of this would have happened if a tiger had been leading Thundera. We would not be in this war. We have no responsibility to any of the casualties. This is a lion’s war, not a tiger’s. Should we make it a tiger’s war, we will win or we will solve for peace. It is inevitable. We are destined to rule Thundera."

"At the rate you’re going, you’ll have Thundera but you’ll have it as a smoldering pile of ash!" Mantyro roared. "There will be nothing left to rule!"

"That’s where you’re wrong, traitor," Sybar hissed. "To a lion, that may be the path Thundera is taking. But if you remember anything about being a tiger, you will remember that we are capable of changing the course of history. We can get out of this war, restore peace on Thundera, eliminate the weaker species, and prosperously rule as is our right and duty."

"You are truly insane," Mantyro breathed. "If you think you’ll ever be able to defeat the Eye of Thundera, think again, Sybar. The Sword of Omens will cut you down like a blade of grass."

"And you shall perish as an insect under my heel," Sybar growled. "I was offering you a final chance, Mantyro. But the inferiors have somehow leached onto your mind and drained you of any pride you once had in your clan. When next we meet, it will be to thrust your own blade into your chest."

This said, Sybar forced the gag back into Mantyro’s mouth and walked away. Hopes dashed once again, Snarfer began chewing on his gag and pushing against his ropes. Since Mantyro wasn’t going to get them out of this, it would have to be up to the snarf. Leave a snarf to do the dirty work, Snarfer thought to himself.

And then something happened. It happened so suddenly and so unexpectedly that Snarfer was sure he was imagining things. But it happened. The ropes binding his hands disappeared. Hesitantly, Snarfer brought his hands around to his face and studied his wrists. He pulled the gag out of his mouth in amazement and shook his head. "Mantyro, I’m free."

Mantyro mumbled something incomprehensible and Snarfer hurriedly removed the tiger’s gag. "Of course you’re free," Mantyro hissed. "Now get me free and let’s get out of here."

"But don’t you want to hear how I got free?"

"I know how you got free. Now shut up and cut these ropes!"

Miffed and disappointed, Snarfer nonetheless went to work on Mantyro’s bonds after freeing his own feet. In a matter of minutes, the tiger was loose. Once free, Mantyro seized Snarfer and dragged him behind a convenient tent. Scanning the surrounding territory, he tried to find the best way out. But Snarfer had other ideas.

"So how do you know how I got free? You weren’t even looking in my direction."

"Shhh. Keep it down," Mantyro warned.

"But how do you know? And do you know how? I mean, snarfer, the ropes just vanished."

"They were never there," the tiger answered curtly. He continued to scour the area and finally made a decision. "Okay, we’re going due north. It will be the long way out of here, but south of us is pure desert. There’s no cover. We’re going to have to find a different route to New Thundera City."

"What do you mean the ropes were never there?" Snarfer demanded.

"Will you shut up?"

"Sorry," Snarfer whispered. "What do you mean they were never there?"

"They were my own illusion. If I concentrate on one small thing, I can make a very convincing illusion for quite a while. Even to other tigers if they don’t pay too much attention. Up until last night, you were bound by real ropes. They removed our bonds to move us and when the guards came to replace the ropes, I gave them the illusion that your bonds were back on."

"But why not do it to your ropes?" Snarfer asked. "Why mine?"

"They’d be expecting something like that from me. But because they consider snarfs an inferior species, they weren’t expecting me to do it for you. Now quit talking and start moving!"

"Tigers," Snarfer grumbled. "They’re just too serious." But he followed Mantyro cautiously as the tiger led the way through the assortment of tents that accompanied Sybar’s main force.

"Wait here," Mantyro whispered at one point. He quickly sneaked in and out of one of the tents, returning with something in hand.

"You risked your neck to get that?!"

Mantyro looked down at his scimitar and lovingly stroked the blade. "It was my father’s gift to me before he died," the tiger murmured. "I promised never to part with it. I’ve kept it through two mutant wars and the destruction of Thundera. I’m not about to lose it now."

Snarfer rolled his eyes. "If you’re not serious, you’re sentimental, snarfer. Blast all tigers. Let’s get going!"

Mantyro smiled. "I believe that earlier, I was the one telling you to get going."

Snarfer scowled. "I don’t care who tells who what. I just want out of this place and I want my own bed back at Cat’s Lair."

"Understandable," the tiger sighed. "Okay, follow me."

"Not so fast!"

Both Mantyro and Snarfer froze as a harsh voice called out to them. "Looks like we blew it," Snarfer whispered.

"Maybe," Mantyro muttered. He was intently studying the path before him and slowly twisting the hilt of his scimitar.

"You two have a lot of nerve," a voice from behind them said.

Snarfer turned and saw three large red tigers advancing on them. "Come on, guys," he whimpered. "We were just touring you wonderful camp, snarfer. Yep. You’ve got a real nice setup. But we’d like to get home before dark and—"

"Oh, we’ll send you home alright," one of the tigers laughed. "In a box."

Snarfer felt the fur rising across his shoulders, but he realized just how hopeless a fight would be. And yet what choice did they have?

"When I give the word, jump on my back."

Snarfer started and looked at Mantyro. The whispered instructions had been so low, Snarfer wondered if he’d imagined them. But one look at Mantyro’s determined face pushed all doubts aside. "Got it," he hissed.

An imperceptible nod from Mantyro was all the response he got. The tiger was pulling something from his scimitar and was still watching the path before them, as though trying to memorize every twist and turn. Snarfer looked back at the advancing tigers and saw them producing ropes and shackles. "Come on, give us a break," Snarfer pleaded. "We’ll be good, we promise. After all, we can’t be half as bad as you are."

"Shut your mouth, vermin," one of the tigers snarled.

"Vermin?! I’m no rat, I’m a snarf!" Snarfer protested indignantly.

"NOW!"

Snarfer reacted almost instantly to Mantyro’s command. As Snarf leaped onto the tiger’s back, the Thundercat threw five explosive marbles into the air. Amid the explosions, a thick, white cloud spread out over everything. And Mantyro started to run.

"Where are we going?" Snarfer coughed. "I can’t see a thing, snarfer, snarfer."

"I can," Mantyro wheezed. "I’m giving myself an illusion of the camp."

"You’re what?"

"Quit squirming back there!" the tiger hissed. "And hold on. We’re coming out of the smoke."

Snarfer tightened his hold around Mantyro’s neck and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the Thundercat shift position and move to all fours. The tiger was running in earnest, knowing their only chance at escape lay in raw speed. But he was tired from exposure and lack of food, and while Snarfer was certainly not as heavy as a full-grown Thunderian, he was still an extra burden on the weakened tiger.

The unmistakable whine of laser pistols suddenly erupted from behind the two refugees and a sharp cry from Snarfer indicated that some of the tigers were good shots. "Snarfer? You okay?"

Snarfer moaned through clenched teeth, but he didn’t loosen his chokehold on Mantyro’s neck. "I’ll live," he hissed. "Keep going, snarfer."

Mantyro nodded. There was nothing he could do for Snarfer until they escaped, and they wouldn’t escape unless he kept going. "If you can reach it, Snarfer, slide the crossbars of my scimitar down and pull out the black pellet."

Snarfer’s side was aching where a laser blast had grazed him, but he started to move around and reach carefully for Mantyro’s scimitar. Grasping the hilt, he seized the crossbars, but they wouldn’t budge. "I can’t get them to move!"

Mantyro suddenly slid to the right and a boulder exploded behind them. "Keep pulling, they’ll move. You just need pressure on them for an extended period of time." With an extra burst of speed, Mantyro started pulling away from pursuit, but he couldn’t dodge the laser bolts for long and he was tiring fast.

Wrapping his prehensile tail around Mantyro’s waist, Snarfer ignored the searing pain in his side, grabbed the scimitar’s crossbars with both hands, and pulled. For a moment, nothing happened. And then with a soft click, the crossbars slid backwards as easily as a hot knife through butter. Spying the hidden pocket, Snarfer dumped the black pellet out into his paw. "Got it. Now what?"

"Open your mouth and throw it behind you."

"Open my mouth and throw it behind me!? What kind of a trick is that? Snarfer, snarfer, if I were you and you were me and I told you to toss this—"

"DO IT!!!"

There was absolutely no arguing with that tone. Startled into obedience, Snarfer hastily turned his body sideways, lobbed the pellet behind him, opened his mouth, and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long.