Chapter 1

A small vessel climbed rapidly through the Thunderan sky, thrusters blazing. Inertial compensators within the craft absorbed the intense g-forces, allowing the cabin occupants to enjoy the ride without discomfort. It leveled off uneventfully ten miles above the surface of the planet, it’s course set. After a moment, the young Lion Clan pilot unstrapped himself and left the cockpit to see to his passengers.

Jaga, the newly appointed Lord Defender of Thundera, was leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, the sheathed Sword of Omens on his lap. Absently, he stroked the great red jewel in it’s haft. His expression was serene, relaxed.

“We’ll be arriving in Pantera in about four hours,” the pilot said. Jaga’s mind, attuned to the powerful sensory capabilities of the Sword, could sense the youth’s anxiousness to please, his almost comical elation at playing chauffer to the star of Lord Claudis’ court and his beautiful travelling companion.

“Thank you, pilot” Chetnya said. She was Cheetah Clan, an exotic beauty composed of sleek lines and supple curves. Her clothing was chosen to be tasteful while still maximizing the impact of her figure. Jaga knew she carried two stillettos and a palm-sized laser pistol at all times, concealed on her person like serpents in the trees of Eden.

“Is there, um, anything I can get for you?” the pilot asked.

“Thank you, no,” Jaga said quietly. “And that was a fine take-off, by the way.”

The lad’s face broke into a wide smile. “Thank you, m’lord,” he said. “I’ll just get some coffee and head back up front. Enjoy your flight.”

When the boy was gone, Chetnya turned to him and whispered, “Why the compliment?”

“Because he wanted one so badly,“ Jaga said. “It was the simplest way to get rid of him.”

“Ass,” she said with a smirk.

Jaga smiled. “It wasn’t mine he was interested in, I assure you.”

Chetnya was quiet for a time, flipping idly through her magazine. Finally she said, “What about you?”

“I’m not interested in his ass, either,” he said amiably, then rolled to face the wall.

*****************

The jet set down at the Pantera spaceport, and as he looked around at the structure, Jaga found himself thinking again of his people, the Thundercats, and how much they had accomplished. The terminal was crafted from a living forest, the mulit-storied buildings spanning three or four trees at a time. An intricate network of skyways interconnected the structures, with stairways providing access to every level from the ground to the upper reaches. Everywhere there were Thundercats, hastening to and from the other vessels on the pad, lost in their private lives, their private concerns.

Jaga had heard of Pantera, had seen pictures, but the spectacle of it awed him. He spun slowly as he walked, taking it in.

“Stop that,” Chetnya said. “You’re behaving like a tourist.”

“You mean to say this doesn’t affect you at all?” Jaga chided.

“I’ve seen it before,” Chetnya replied, her tone disapproving. “It’s pretty enough, but it’s a strategic nightmare. Enemies can come at you from any direction, shoot at you through the floor, or simply light your tree on fire.”

“Then why do the panthers prefer it?” Jaga asked.

“They think it makes them impossible to corner,” she said as they started up the stairs to the first skyway. “It also means they never have anything solid to put their backs against, but they feel that if they are good enough, it shouldn’t matter.”

At the top of the walk, they looked around for the restaurant they were to meet their liason at. “Are they?” Jaga asked.

“For the most part, yes,” Chetnya said grudingly, then pointed to a building two trees away.

“I admit I’m not much of a diplomat,” Jaga said as they walked. “But isn’t it customary for the liason officer to meet the arrivals at the pad?”

“That was for your benefit,” Chetnya said. She seemed oblivious to the stares she drew from the passing males, although Jaga knew this was not the case. Everything was observed, everything noted. “A little breach of protocol, just to let you know who’s in charge.”

Jaga nodded, then moved ahead of Chetnya to get the door.

They entered the restaraunt and looked around. There were dozens of burly male panthers, all clad in the traditional spike-strap-shorts outfit they called armor. Relying on speed and the innate toughness of it's wearer, the costume was designed for freedom of movement and to prevent grappling attacks. Jaga, in his chainmail baldric, felt somewhat overdressed.

No one came forward to meet them except the waiter, so the pair took a table and menus. Chetnya only glanced at hers before her eyes lit up in delight.

"Emperor scorpion, please," she said with an almost childish enthusiasm. Jaga shook his head at the waiter, still looking for a name that resembled food he'd eaten before. The waiter bowed and moved off to fetch Chetnya's order.

He was back in a suprisingly short time, setting a small salad, a glass of wine and a covered dish in front of the cheetah.. Jaga ordered something he suspected of being a sandwhich, and something he hoped was a stout, as Chetnya began on her salad.

The waiter left, and Jaga opened his mouth to ask Chetnya a few questions on panther customs, when he heard a clinking sound and saw the cover of the dish move a good inch to his right. Chetnya set her salad aside with only a few nibbles taken, then pulled the larger platter in front of her. "I haven't had one of these in years," she enthused.

She took the lid off the platter to reveal an eight-inch long, thick bodied black arachnid in a high state of agitation. The scorpion spun rapidly around and jabbed it's stinging tale at them menacingly. Beside it was a small dish of melted butter.

"Sonuvabitch," Jaga blurted and yanked his hands off the table.

Chetnya grinned and spoke, never taking her eyes off the venomous animal. "Well what did you expect?"

"I thought it was a drink."

Chetnya clucked her tounge gently. "You really are quite young," she said. "You haven't seen much of Thundera. Among Panther and Cheetah Clans, this little one is a prized delicacy." To the scorpion she added, "Aren't you, precious? And so feisty, too! It's almost a shame to do it, but..."

She reached over the scorpion, which swiveled around to track her hand. As it did, she brought her other hand around and snatched it from the plate by it's stinger.

Instantly the scorpion reached upward, trying to latch onto her fingers with it's powerful pincers. Chetnya reached out with the index and second fingers of her free hand and drove her own half-inch long claws into it's exposed underside. With a flick of the impaling digits, she tore it's head out.

In a series of rapid movements the cheetah stripped the spasming legs and claws away, dipped the torso into the dish of melted butter and bit off half with a loud crunch. She closed her eyes in obvious relish, the crack of fracturing chitin only slightly muffled by her lips as she chewed.

Jaga stared at her. It was just then that his own order arrived, a covered dish with a curious scrabbling sound coming from within.

"Are you Jaga?" he heard from beside him. He turned in his seat to find a panther standing there, arms folded across his massive chest.

Saved! The puma thought. "Yes, I am he. This is my compan-" Then he noticed the low rumble from the Sword at his side.

It was a fraction of a second's warning, but it was enough. The panther's arms unfolded to reveal a palm-size laser pistol, but Jaga lunged forward before he could bring it to bear, seizing the panther's wrist in his left hand. With the right hand he grabbed the back to the panther's head and, spinning to gain momentum, slammed the Thundercat's face into the table.

Jaga stripped the laser from his opponent's limp grasp as the panther fell. Chetnya, now on her feet, fired a pencil-thin beam of light across the room and through the chest of another as he aimed at them.

Now the crowd was on it's feet, stampeding for the door. Chetnya knocked the table onto it's side and they ducked behind it, putting the solid mass of wood between themselves and further attack. As they carefully watched, the crowd began to thin.

Another panther broke through the ranks of the patrons and ran towards them. Chetnya raised her pistol to fire when Jaga restrained her, laying a hand over the weapon.

"It's alright," he said. "He's not one of them."

"How do you know?" she hissed angrily. Still, she returned her weapon to it's hiding place before standing up with him.

"Praise Humanity!" the panther exclaimed as he reached them, two more trailing behind. Jaga noticed they wore rank insignias on their shoulder straps. "I'd feared we were too late."

"You nearly were," Chetnya snapped. "What is the meaning of this?! Is this how Panther Clan greets an emmissary of our Lord Claudis?".

"Forgive me, m'lady," he said with a bow. I am Jepthah, a seargent in the command of Lord Gideon. My unit was dispatched to meet you at the landing pad, but we were waylaid by a nationalist militia group. I suspected it was a delaying tactic, and I see now that I was correct."

Jaga nodded. Every clan had it's nationalists, those Thundercats who felt they would be better off if they forswore the other clans and isolated themselves. It made Jaga uncomfortable to think that his new post as Lord Defender of Thundera had set him up as a target to every isolationist crack-pot on the planet he was supposed to protect.

Jepthah looked past Jaga to his soldier. The warrior had rolled the prone Thundercat onto his back, revealing a mass of swollen tissue and fragmented bone. The soldier felt the other's neck and shook his head. Chetnya's victim was also dead, shot neatly through the heart.

Jepthah issued the restaraunt owner a scrip good for any repair costs, then said to the couple, "We can leave whenever you like. If you'd like to finish your meal, we can wait."

Jaga looked back at their table. The wait staff had set it upright, spread a fresh cloth on top of it and begun to clean up. He saw a young Wildcat girl resting her knee on a towel, soaking up butter, while she scraped Chetnya's half-eaten arachnid back onto the plate with a fork.

He spied his own platter, tipped over and empty. Apparently his entree had made good it's escape in all the confusion.

Turning back he said, "I'm not really hungry anymore. Let's go."

*************

Although the living space of Pantera was in the trees, the panthers had a well-maintained network of roads on the forest floor. Soon the companions and their escorts were loaded into ground cars and making their way towards their meeting with Gideon, Weaponmaster of Panther Clan, at his stronghold outside the city.

In the backseat of the second car, Jaga noticed Chetnya's sidelong glances, the peculiar expression on her face. "What?" he said.

She was quiet a moment, looking out the window at the passing trees. Finally, she said, "I've never seen anybody move that fast before."

Jaga arched his brows. "A cheetah complementing my speed? Now that's a high honor."

She turned to face him. "Don't play games with me," she said softly. "My people have the fastest neurological response of any Thundercat race, and I am fast even by their standards. But I never knew you'd moved until I felt the impact of that panther's head on the table."

"I saw the footage from Tigris, but it was a satellite view, I couldn't see any details. I heard the accounts from Claudis and the guards, but I just couldn't credit it. One puma, with only a sword, cutting a mutant assault force to shreds...how was I supposed to believe that? But then today..."

She stammered to a stop, then went back to looking out the window. Jaga waited, but nothing else came, and finally he turned his attention to his own window.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.