Having lost all interest in the briefing, Mandora glanced around the conference room in search of something interesting. She had to admit that Orbital Outpost 375A was well engineered for a remote sensor station. Control had certainly outdone itself. Space was efficiently used, angles and corners were designed to reduce echoes and still project sound, the computer systems were top-of-the-line, and the generators were efficient and quiet. Unfortunately for Mandora, this was proving to be more of a harm than a help. There was nothing to focus her mind on other than the droning voice of the speaker as he briefed them on the recent military activities of the mutants. Resigning herself to boredom and a very long afternoon, Mandora began to listen to Chaser Parkay again.

"And you’ve all seen the reports on Plun-Darr’s recent surge in industry," Parkay was saying. "Weapons production is up 500% from last year. Metalworking has also skyrocketed and military outposts are increasing exponentially. They’ve made no secret about this. In fact, that’s one of our main problems. They’ve made no secrets about any of their military ventures. But what they have made a secret about is their purpose. We have no idea why they’re doing this."

"No ideas at all?" a young voice piped up from the back of the conference room. Mandora identified the voice as belonging to Chaser Reytona, a new Evil Chaser with only three weeks of outpost duty under her belt. And it showed.

"Our scouts have been unable to give us any kind of information in that area," Parkay responded patiently. "If you will review the report of Chaser Mandora, you will see that all we have are figures. Let’s look over those figures, again."

Let’s not, Mandora pleaded, but this meeting was not under her control and she was doomed to endure the very thorough oration of Chaser Parkay.

"Within the last two and a half weeks, 127 mutant Star Carriers, each capable of transporting 15 Skycutters and 20 Nosedivers, have been launched into deep space. Our scanners have been unable to determine their ultimate destination. Last week, 1,780 long-range Mutate Interceptors were deployed. We tracked them as far as our scans would allow us. They followed the path taken by the Star Carriers. So far, neither group has returned. No communication, coded or open, has been sent back to Plun-Darr. Around Plun-Darr itself, spy and deep space tracking satellites are going up by the dozens every hour. Plun-Darr’s colonies are being evacuated and turned into military outposts. Over 65,000 mutants have been drafted into the armed services in the last few months. And a message from Control Headquarters received this morning informs us that the mutant wolf packs, normally mercenaries and traders having nothing to do with other mutants, have gathered around Plun-Darr and are donating ships, supplies, and soldiers to Rataro’s government."

Through all this, Mandora sat deep in thought. The numbers and facts were old news to her. She’d been instrumental in putting this packet of information together, but it was still overwhelming. In her tens years as Evil Chaser, she’d never seen an arms buildup as big as the one now underway by the mutants. Which was all the more reason to act quickly. While they sat in this meeting discussing the facts surrounding a dangerous situation, the situation became worse. In Mandora’s mind, there was only one clear option. They would have to suspend the sovereign government on Plun-Darr and institute temporary Control rule until they could determine what it was the mutants were up to.

"What about the mutants’ enemies?" It was Chaser Reytona again. "What about the Thunderan Republic and the Lunatac Imperial? Do they have any information we could use?" Didn’t you read the report!? Mandora wondered in astonishment. How naïve could these troopers be?

"Unfortunately, no. We know as much as they do. They have aided us in determining the quantitative information concerning the mutant’s recent military buildup, but they are at a loss as to the reasoning behind the buildup. Thundera reports that there has been no mutant activity in Thundera space for the past two months and the Lunatacs have received no transmissions from the mutants for the same amount of time. Both states are highly agitated over the situation and beginning to stockpile their own weapons and armies."

"Exactly where are the mutants going with their armies?" That was Chaser Miles. A descent cop, but he thought too much before acting. "We know they go beyond the range of our scanners, but surely we have some information on the sector of the universe they’re traveling to. And what areas do they pass on the way?"

"A good question," Parkay responded. "Chaser Mandora, I am not as familiar with the information as you are. Perhaps you would care to answer that question?"

FINALLY!!! Mandora sighed in relief. Maybe now I can convince you all to end this pointless discussion and decide on some action. Careful not to show her boredom and frustration with this meeting that should have never even taken place, the Evil Chaser stood and addressed those gathered.

"The flight paths of the mutants take them directly between Thundera and the Third Earth outpost. Tygra and Pumyra, my contacts on Third Earth, have informed me that they attempted communication with the passing mutant ships, but received no answer. The mutants made no threatening moves of any kind and merely proceeded on their way. The Thundera colony on the planet Pride, which has been under substantial mutant attack since it was first founded, has now experienced two months of unprecedented peace. The mutants have completely withdrawn from that sector. I believe I included a map of mutant activity in my report, for those of you who actually read it." Mandora paused to glare at the assembly. There were more than a few who were fidgeting in their seats at her words. Shaking her head and inwardly demanding where Control managed to find these people, she continued. "We can basically draw a straight line from the planet of Plun-Darr, through the space between Thundera and Third Earth, below Control headquarters, past Deep Outpost 156C, the last sensor outpost, and then approximately 75 light-years beyond that into the Nebula Zone. After the mutant ships pass the Nebula Zone, we lose track of them. The ionized gases in the zone play havoc with our scanners." Mandora stopped her narration and chose her next few words with care before proceeding. "It is obvious, given the reputation and the history of the mutants, that they are planning something big. Never before have they amassed a fleet the size of the one they now possess. Never before have they completely withdrawn from skirmishes and avoided their enemies as they have done recently. To my mind, it is clear what we must do. We must recommend to Control Headquarters that the mutant government be suspended on grounds of the Interstellar Conspiracy and Mobilization Agreement 3.027. I move this meeting adjourn and reconvene in the control room to send off our recommendation."

Mandora waited for the reaction, not entirely sure what it would be. She was respected among the junior officers, but some of them considered her outdated and old-fashioned. They thought she was too reactionary, to put it in polite terms. But they hadn’t lived in the universe following Thundera’s destruction. She had. She’d completed her chaser training when news came that the wars between Plun-Darr and Thundera had resulted in catastrophe and the planet of Thundera was no more. The mutants ran unchecked through the galaxy until a remnant of the Thundercats, led by the young Lord Lion-O, arose from the obscure planet of Third Earth and once again staked their claim on Thundera, which had mysteriously reformed through means Mandora had trouble accepting. But how the planet reformed wasn’t important; what was important was that it had reformed and the mutants were forced to scale back their raids and marauding because of Thundera’s renewed influence in the area. These younger chasers had no idea what it was like when the mutants ran free. Most of them hadn’t served more than five years and had only known a region where the Thundercats aided the Evil Chasers. They didn’t remember the terror and anarchy that reigned when the mutants were allowed to roam at will.

Chaser Parkay hesitantly cleared his throat. "That action seems a bit hasty, Chaser Mandora. We have yet to analyze all the facts and—"

"What’s to analyze?" Mandora demanded, struggling to control her frustration and impatience. "The mutants are untrustworthy. They have never been known for peace. What could they possibly be up to if not war of some kind?"

There was an uncomfortable silence in the conference room and Mandora was acutely aware that the gathered chasers were not meeting her gaze. Cowards, she thought scornfully. She was about to say something to that effect when a chaser from the control room burst into the meeting.

"Chaser Parkay!" the officer huffed, clearly upset about something.

"Report, Chaser Bate," Parkay said. His tone of voice indicated that this interruption had better be important.

"Communication received from Control Headquarters, sir," Bate replied quickly. "It’s a priority one distress call."

"A what?!" Mandora exclaimed.

"Signal the other outposts in the area," Parkay ordered. The meeting was breaking up even as he spoke; officers rushed out of the room to their various emergency stations. "What is the nature of the disaster?"

"Unknown, sir. The message was too garbled. We’re attempting to reestablish communication, but there’s been no response."

Parkay and Mandora were out of the conference room by now, both heading to the control center with Bate in tow. "Tell me everything," Parkay commanded, keeping his voice calm but not slowing his hurried stride.

"The message broke over all other channels and was coded for Control receivers only. The only thing we could get out of it was something about attack."

Mandora bit her lip as they neared the control room. A priority one distress call was not something to be taken lightly. It was only sent in dire emergencies, and in the history of Control, Headquarters had never had to use it.

Entering the control room, they stumbled onto an activity center of mass confusion. People were shouting and orders were flying everywhere. Mandora cringed at the display and once again wished that she was out on her patrol rather than briefing various outposts of the mutant situation.

"ATTENTION!" Parkay bellowed. The room instantly quieted. Parkay surveyed the scene and assumed command without a break in stride. "I want that tape played back, I want other outposts contacted, and I want communication reestablished with Headquarters. Now!"

There were a number of "yes sir’s" in answer to his orders and before long, the control room was busy again, but without the chaos. The main viewing screen flickered and the original communication was soon up and running.

Visual was there, but it was scratchy and looked like it was patched together. Mandora thought she could make out Chaser Cutler, a good officer and a long-time friend. He was talking quickly, trying to get his message out, but the audio was difficult to understand.

"Calling—outposts and—under attack—more than—alert sectors and put—from beyond—rumors were true—" and then the screen stopped.

"That’s all, sir," an officer informed Parkay and Mandora. "Communications were cut off at that point."

"Any luck regaining a contact?" Parkay asked.

"None, sir."

"Sir? None of the other outposts are responding, either," another chaser piped up.

"What about resident patrol chasers?" Mandora asked. "I know of at least four chasers who were scheduled to be making patrols in the area of Headquarters this week."

"Nothing there, either," was the report. "The entire area is blank. We’re not getting anything out of it."

"A communications block?" Mandora mused.

"Negative," someone answered. "We’ve just established a sensor link with the area."

"What’s the situation, then?" Parkay demanded.

There was a small hesitation on the part of the officer in charge of sensor logs, and then she responded. "It’s gone, sir. Headquarters is gone."

"Gone?"

The chaser responded with a fearful nod. "Gone. It’s been blown apart. The only thing left is debris. Scrap metal."

"By the Law," Mandora breathed in astonishment.

"That’s not possible," Parkay snapped. "I want a diagnostic run on those sensors and I want answers. Now!"

Those around jumped to fulfill his orders, but a new alarm started to blare. "Now what?" Mandora asked. She was still in shock over the announcement of Headquarters’ destruction. She knew a lot of the chasers serving in Headquarters and news of their deaths hit harder than she would like to admit.

"57 heavily armored cruisers of unknown origin just dropped out of hyperspace half a light-year from here," someone announced.

"Battle stations!" Parkay ordered. "Hail them and demand the reasons for their intrusion into a forbidden fly zone. Send out boarding interceptors."

"Sir? Contact with unknown cruisers has been established. We’ve got audio only."

Parkay gripped the edge of a railing and his eyes narrowed in anger. "Attention commander of unknown fleet. You have violated a no fly zone and entered a region of Control space. You will drop your shields and submit to a search of your ship."

Parkay and the rest of the control room waited in silence for the reply. It wasn’t long in coming.

"If you know what is good for you, it is you who will drop your shields," a voice on the other end of the transmission laughed.

"State your name and purpose," Mandora demanded.

"You will not be around long enough to find that information useful. But we are in a good mood today. Let’s just say the reports you received about the empire beyond the Nebula Zone were correct. And having fulfilled that last request, I bid you adieu. Prepare for annihilation." And communications was abruptly severed.

"Man the defensive weapons," Parkay commanded quickly. "And send out a distress call."

"We can’t," Mandora suddenly hissed. "Look!"

On the main viewing screen, they watched as tiny ships emerged from the cruisers and began dropping static buoys around the station. "Blast," Parkay murmured. "If this happened at Headquarters, no wonder we didn’t receive their message clearly. Our own communications will never make it through that. We don’t have enough power."

"We’ll have to send out a communications probe with a recorded message in it," Mandora decided. "And it will have to be small enough that they don’t see it."

"Right," Parkay agreed. He flipped an intercom switch. "Docking bay, this is the control room. Launch a communications probe without thrusters but with cloaking technology. Record the following message: This is Orbital Outpost 375A. We are under attack. Control Headquarters has been destroyed. If you can access files…" Parkay looked questioningly at Mandora.

"Files 4967 under directory Unknown Interstellar States," Mandora supplied.

Parkay nodded. "If you can access those, they will tell you of the foe we face. Aid is needed. Transmission ends." Parkay waited a moment.

"Message is recorded," the docking bay finally responded. "Further instructions?"

"Code it for the Hook Mountain communications tower on Third Earth," Mandora instructed. "It’s closest to our position."

"Coded and launch is underway," docking bay replied.

No sooner had the officer in the hanger said this, but the outpost was suddenly shaken. "They’re firing on us," an officer needlessly supplied.

"Return fire," Parkay growled. "Mandora, I could use your experience on the neutron guns."

Mandora nodded and quickly made her way over to fire control.

"Sir, the hanger’s been destroyed!" someone shouted. The outpost shook again.

"Was the communications probe launched?" Parkay demanded.

"Unknown sir. Sensors have been disrupted."

"Targeting scanners are gone, too," Mandora announced.

"Continue to fire," Parkay instructed. "There’re enough of them out there that we should hit something."

At that point, what Parkay had already realized drilled its way into Mandora’s head, too. There were too many ships for a single outpost to take on. They were doomed. As if to confirm her sudden thoughts, a console on the far side of the control exploded in a blast of flame and smoke. Mandora tried to ignore it and concentrate on charging the neutron guns. But she couldn’t block out the screams of the dying and the wounded. The station shook again under enemy fire and yet another control panel exploded.

"Leak in the reactor core!" someone shouted. Smoke had filled the control room and Mandora couldn’t see beyond her weapons panel.

"Status?" Parkay asked.

"Critical. Core breach in thirty seconds."

Mandora could think of better ways to die. As she continued to pump and fire the neutron guns, her mind took a curious vacation and her body went into automatic. With death imminent, she seemed to detach. She was no longer within herself, but watching from a distant. She saw her own control panel short out and she saw her body fly through the air and land in a heap. But she made no move to get up. She was no longer that person. She felt pain as if from a great distance, but it wasn’t important. Not anymore. Someone yelled something about five seconds, and then she felt searing flame tear its way through her body. Somewhere within her mind, she realized the reactor had gone critical and the station was exploding. The pain increased and she felt her body engulfed in fire. Her last thoughts were of the communications probe. She could only hope they had launched it in time and that the Thundercats would get it. If the rumors of the empire beyond the Nebula Zone were true, this entire sector was in grave danger. With those thoughts racing through her mind, darkness began to engulf her. Abandoning her dying body, Mandora reached out and embraced oblivion.