Lion-O ran.

He didn’t know where he ran or why he ran. Things like that didn’t matter. They were irrelevant. They weren’t important. Running was important. That was all he knew and all he felt. He had to run.

Through the ruined streets of New Thundera City, he ran. Past smoldering remains and charred rubble, he ran. Amidst the fiery destruction and blackened bodies of his countrymen, he ran. In the sweltering heat and heavy air choked by the stench of seared flesh, he ran. And as he ran, his fears began to overtake him.

Some of the devastation escaped Lion-O. Some of it, his mind didn’t comprehend and refused to believe. Some of it was just too horrific. But the vast majority of the destruction burned its way deep into the lion’s heart and embedded itself as a festering sore. He could hear whimpering sounds. He could see some of the wounded moving. But they were too badly injured. They wouldn’t survive for more than a few hours at the most. Lion-O couldn’t stop to help them. He wanted to; his entire being screamed at him to aid his people. But he couldn’t. He knew that if he did, whatever was chasing him would catch him. And if he was caught, Thundera was lost. He’d been running from it for so long now. His conscious mind had been fighting a losing battle, and as a last resort, he was running. He, the Lord of the Thundercats, was running like a frightened cub. Though Thunderians everywhere were crying for aid, he pushed past their dying moans and continued to run.

And yet, none of this was real. In some deep corner of Lion-O’s heart, he knew it wasn’t real. It was this knowledge and this knowledge alone that kept the lion running. With every groan he heard and every pleading look he saw, Lion-O longed to stop and help. But he knew it was a dream of his subconscious. And he knew he had to run. He knew that to preserve his sanity and his life, he had to run.

This act of running was not a physical activity. It was a mental retreat. It was a dangerous game of cat and mouse within his mind, and Lion-O had the distinct impression that he was not the cat. He had to get out of this. He had to break free. His fears were beginning to overwhelm him, and he didn’t even understand what he was afraid of. It was irrational and insane, but it was happening.

"NO!"

At his cry, something seemed to happen. The dream began to blur and the images grew fuzzy, losing their poison as they lost their clarity.

"NO!" Lion-O cried out again. It took such an effort to do that, but it seemed to be working. "You will NOT take me!"

Somewhere, someone was laughing. Lion-O had won the battle, but the war for his mind continued. He would face his opponent again. And then this newfound knowledge began to fade away as Lion-O drifted slowly towards consciousness. It was not long before the lion was left with only vague images of his horrible nightmare and the sense that somewhere, someone was coming for him.

He still had to run.

"Thank Jaga!" Snarf exclaimed as Lion-O’s eyes began to flutter open. "Servalla, get over here!"

"No, I have to go," Lion-O murmured, trying to rise. "I have to escape. He’ll come for me. He’s still coming."

"Lion-O, stay there," Servalla scolded, reaching his bedside quickly and pushing him back down. "You’re not getting up for a while, I can tell you that. You might be Lord of the Thundercats, but I’m currently in charge of your health."

"He’s coming," Lion-O whispered. He could feel himself slipping again. He was falling back into the nightmare realm of unconsciousness. "Help me. Please help me! Don’t let me go!"

Snarf whimpered and shoved something into Lion-O’s hand. "I don’t know if it will help, but hold the Sword," the snarf insisted. His paws clamped down on Lion-O’s large hand, forcing him to grasp the smooth hilt. "Just hold it. Maybe it can fight whatever’s chasing you."

"The Sword," Lion-O sighed. The cold, hard metal was reassuring and his mind cleared slightly. Dark clouds of fear still hovered, always threatening and always present, but for now they were held at bay. Getting his bearings, the lion looked around. "Sickbay? What am I doing here?"

"You collapsed in the middle of a corridor," Servalla explained gently. She was taking readings, and judging from her expression, the results were not good. "Panthro and Bengali found you," the serval continued after a pause. "We brought you down here and tried to revive you. Do you remember what happened?"

Lion-O narrowed his eyes as he tried to drive his memory backwards. "No," he finally answered. "No, I don’t remember." The lion sighed and shook his head. So many things seemed to be slipping through his hands. The Thundercats needed him, Thundera needed him, his people needed him, and he was trapped by fears in his own mind. Glancing around the room, Lion-O decided to try and change the subject. "What time is it?"

"The sun’s about to set," Snarf informed him. "You’ve slept for almost eighteen hours."

Lion-O bolted upright. "Servalla! The launch! Why aren’t you—"

"LIE DOWN!"

Completely startled, Lion-O hastily obeyed.

"I swear, Thundercats make the worst patients I’ve ever been forced to tend," the healer muttered angrily. "It’s a wonder they ever recover from injuries."

"What’s going on in here?" Lynx-O poked his head in and twitched his ears. "Servalla, is Lion-O awake?"

"I’m awake, old friend," Lion-O answered with a frustrated sigh. "And I’m confused. Weren’t we launching the distraction today?"

"We were, but several things happened and plans were altered," Lynx-O explained. "We launched the distraction late last night."

Lion-O’s brow furrowed as he tried to add up all the information. "But Servalla’s still here. What if they need a healer?"

"At the time, you were the one needing the healer," Servalla retorted. "I stayed behind to watch you. Besides, if the red tigers or the panthers decide to attack, I can be of more help here."

Lion-O absently fingered the tempered blade of the Sword of Omens. "I suppose you’re right," he said eventually. "Our only healer should stay were she can be of more use. We didn’t use to have this problem. We used to have two healers and a third who was training to become one."

"Lion-O—"

"And now they’re lost. Gone. Missing. Maybe they’re drifting somewhere in space, praying that we’ll find them."

Servalla looked helplessly at Snarf. Snarf ruffled up the fur on his back and tried to get Lion-O’s attention. "Come on, Lion-O. You’ve had a rough day. Let’s say I get you back to your own bed, snarf, snarf, and then you can—"

"It was my fault," Lion-O went on as though he was the only one around. "I didn’t act soon enough. I didn’t tell them what they needed to know. By now they must be dead. I killed them. Great Jaga, I killed them!"

"Lion-O, listen to yourself." Lynx-O leaned forward and put a hand on the lion’s shoulder. "Listen to what you’re saying. Do you really believe that? Do you really believe that you killed Tygra and Pumyra? Do you even believe that they’re dead?"

"NO!" Lion-O suddenly surged upright, clutching at his head with one hand while the other hand waved the Sword of Omens wildly. "NO! GET OUT OF MY MIND!"

"LION-O!" Snarf shrieked as he ducked under the swinging Sword. "Lion-O, what’s happening to you?"

And as quickly as the fit had come, it had passed. Lion-O froze, tensed, shuddered, and then let out a long sigh. He covered his face with his hands and started to shake. "Please help me," he whispered. "I don’t know what’s happening. I can’t control it."

But before anyone could do or say anything, alarms began to blare. Mantyro’s commanding tenor blasted over the intercom, outwardly calm but inwardly trembling. "Attention Thundercats. We are under attack. Repeat, we are under attack. Red tiger and panther forces have advanced on the outskirts of New Thundera City. All Thundercats report to the control room."

Lion-O rolled himself to the edge of his bed where Servalla caught him. "Where do you think you’re going?" she demanded harshly.

"I am Lord of the Thundercats," Lion-O replied heavily. He had never felt his responsibility burden him so much before now, but it was a responsibility he had to live up to. The lion looked up and met the healer’s concerned eyes. "I must go. My place is with my people."

"Your place is to serve your people, and you can serve them best by staying here where it’s safe," Snarf pleaded off to the side. "Please, Lion-O. You’re not well. Tell him, Servalla!"

Servalla studied the Lord of the Thundercats closely, her mouth drawn into a thin line. She opened her mouth to say something, closed it, and then sighed. "You will do what you think is right, regardless of what I tell you," the healer said quietly. "Let’s go, then. But be careful. Your health is not what it should be, and I’m concerned."

Lion-O gave her a quick smile and then pushed himself completely off the bed. "Let’s go, Thundercats. We have a city to protect. By Jaga, they’re not going to take us down without a fight."

"Let’s hope they don’t takes us down at all," Snarf murmured as he followed Lion-O out the door.

Cheetara’s eyes were unfocused as she stared out of the Scabbard’s cabin. Her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap. Occasionally, she would shudder and wince as though in pain. This didn’t escape the attention of Leonari and Panthro, who rode with her, but neither one wanted to question the cheetah’s actions. She’d been surly and curt since Lion-O was found unconscious in the hall, and her temper was on a short fuse.

But after hours of silence, something had to be done. Panthro grimaced, looked at Leonari who refused to do anything, and then gathered his courage. "Cheetara?"

The cheetah jumped in surprise. Whirling on the panther, her eyes blazed and a soft snarl could be heard. "What?"

"Cheetara, what’s wrong? We’re your friends; tell us. Let us help you."

Some of the anger in the cheetah’s face died away and she cast her eyes downward. "I’m sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn’t take my failure out on you."

"Failure?" Panthro leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on Cheetara’s shoulder. "What failure?"

"Lion-O." The cheetah sighed and shook her head, closing her eyes tightly. "Lion-O. I knew something was happening to him, but I didn’t take the time to find out what. I was too concerned with—with other things. I should have said something. But I was afraid I was overreacting."

Leonari and Panthro exchanged glances. "We still don’t know what’s happening to Lion-O," Leonari eventually said. Her concern for her future mate was growing as the distance between them grew, but she couldn’t let that affect her. They were heading into battle. Steeling herself, she tried to find comfort for Cheetara. "Forewarning would have done little," the lioness reasoned. "What could we have done differently?"

"I don’t know," Cheetara murmured. She covered her face with her hands and shook her head. "I don’t know. But I’m missing something. Something’s wrong. Something’s going to happen, but I don’t know what. We’re missing something. Something’s right under our nose, and we don’t even see it."

"Does it relate to this mission?" Leonari asked.

"Yes and no," Cheetara answered. "Something’s going to happen on this mission, but…I don’t know what. Something big. Something that will change us forever. But in the grand scheme of things, this mission isn’t important. What happens won’t matter. There are a thousand ways this scenario could end, but none of them make a difference."

"I’d like to think that we affect something," Panthro grumbled.

"Oh, we do," Cheetara said quickly. "Don’t get me wrong. If this mission doesn’t happen at all, the future is much worse. But the way this mission ends doesn’t make a difference. The fact that we’re out here makes the difference. And yet…" Cheetara trailed off and looked out the windows again.

"And yet? And yet what?" Leonari prompted.

"It’s still not what we need." Cheetara growled softly. "We’re missing something. There’s some big piece of the puzzle that we don’t have, and if we don’t find it soon, we’re lost."

They sat in silence for a while, thinking about Cheetara’s words and wondering what they meant. Eventually, Leonari decided to change the subject. "Speaking of lost, is anyone getting any readings on mutant ships?" the lioness asked. "Or are they lost, too?"

Panthro leaned over a sensor board and did a few quick scans. "Nothing," he said eventually. His brow furrowed as he studied the results. "I don’t get any mutant readings."

"Hmm." Leonari leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. "I don’t like this. We’ll rendezvous with the Lunatacs in less than half an hour. We’ve already crossed the line of static buoys the Kentroans have put up around the Fire Zone. Battle will commence soon. Lepora and Wiley Kit are probably leaving orbit around Thundera. We should be picking something up from the mutants."

"Maybe they’re going to come in slowly so the Kentroans don’t see them," Cheetara offered.

"Maybe," Leonari said hesitantly.

"I’m sure they’re coming," Panthro said, more to reassure himself than anyone else. "They’ll be there. They’re just employing a bit of stealth and secrecy."

"I hope you’re right, Panthro," Leonari said with an uneasy glance at the sensor boards. "Go back to your trances, Cheetara. Maybe you’ll learn something."

The cheetah pulled a lock of stray hair behind a pointed ear. "I don’t know. Lately, what I receive just adds to the general confusion of what we don’t know. And…" Cheetara paused, unsure as to whether or not she should go on. Biting her lip, she made her decision. "And I still believe that Tygra and Pumyra play a vital role in all this," she finished quietly.

Having said that, Cheetara closed her eyes and tried to call upon her sixth sense again. She felt Panthro and Leonari exchanging hopeless looks, but she ignored them. She knew they believed Tygra and Pumyra to be gone. She couldn’t fault them for their beliefs. She’d had her doubts, and if she was honest with herself, she still had questions. But questions or not, she couldn’t deny her sixth sense. And dead or not, Tygra and Pumyra still had a role to play. An important role. What exactly this role was remained a mystery, but Cheetara had vowed to find uncover it. She had to. If she didn’t, the Thundercats would miss their window of opportunity and this war would end in defeat. And so she allowed her mind to drift into psychic space while her body was carried closer and closer to impending doom.

Jackalman hesitated outside the mutant control room for some time. In his hand, he held a small device. By all appearances, it was a simple computer transfer chip. On a ship like the Rat Star Prime, there were thousands of them. It was nothing out of the ordinary, yet Jackalman held it as though it would explode at the slightest provocation. He grimaced when he thought of what that chip contained, and he hid it from the eyes of passing mutants.

It contained treason. He’d saved his message to the Thundercats on it. All he had to do was slip it into Monkian’s communication board and send it out. The Thundercats would be warned, they would tell the Lunatacs, and they wouldn’t engage the Kentroans in battle. Rataro’s plan would be foiled. And he, Jackalman, would be a traitor to the Plun-Darr forces.

The jackal tried to quell his fear and nervousness. His plan was a simple one, and the simple ones rarely failed. But still, he hesitated. A strange feeling of foreboding and doom was nagging his mind. He didn’t understand this feeling, he didn’t like it, and it frightened him. Biting his lip, the scavenger almost turned away. Almost. But then something Alphon had said to Rataro came to him. Alphon had said something about pack. Something about alliances. How had it gone? It was better to die alone with honor than to live in a pack without honor. Something like that. And for some strange reason, this had affected Jackalman. It had touched off a nerve, and the more time he spent around these mutant wolves, the more he began to believe in what Alphon had said. Pack is forever. Through pack, you become immortal. What you add to them is carried on from generation to generation. But if the pack turns or loses its honor, your name is forever blackened.

"And why should I care if my name is blackened," Jackalman muttered bitterly to himself. "It’s not like anyone has ever cared for me." But even as he said it, his mind continued to drift to the mutant wolves. It didn’t matter what you did as long as you did it for the good of the pack. If the pack survived intact and with honor, you would live on through the pack in some small way.

Shaking his head, the jackal slowly approached the door to the control room. He didn’t understand much of this pack theory, but somewhere within himself, he accepted it. He believed it. And it had awakened instincts in him that were now commanding him to look first for the good of the pack. "And what is my pack?" he demanded of the empty hallway. "Who is my pack?"

Jackalman didn’t have an answer. He’d been short on answers since the beginning of this war. But he knew that what he was now doing was right. Even though he didn’t understand it, and even though all he had were questions, he was doing the right thing. There was a strange degree of comfort and satisfaction in that knowledge. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself mentally and emotionally, Jackalman walked slowly toward the door as it slid open at his approach.

A few of the mutants looked up as he entered, but they looked back at their boards just as quickly. As the jackal had predicted, his presence in the control room was nothing unusual and easily dismissed. So far so good. But despite this reassurance, fear began to gnaw at Jackalman’s resolve yet again. Trying to ignore the cold sweat that was collecting on his brow, the dog approached his friend Monkian.

The simian looked up at the jackal’s approach and smiled. "Hoo hoo, what’s up, Jackalman? Come to relieve me of my boredom?"

Jackalman glanced around quickly at the other mutants. No one seemed to be paying attention to him. It was now or never. "I need to use communications," the jackal hissed quietly.

Monkian blinked as he saw the determination in Jackalman’s eyes. "What’s going on? Use of communications has to be cleared with the ranking officer on duty, and that would be Cobri. He should be down the hall if you want to—"

"I can’t clear this with Cobri," Jackalman interrupted in a tense whisper. "I need to send this out discreetly."

The monkey’s brow knotted up and he studied his friend. "What exactly are you sending? And who’s getting the message?"

The jackal paused. He didn’t trust Monkian. The two were friends, yes, but he didn’t trust Monkian with this for several reasons. If Monkian went along with him, they would both be in serious trouble. If Monkian didn’t go along with him, the jackal didn’t stand a chance. "Just take a break or something," Jackalman tried. "I’ll watch the boards, and by the time you get back, I’ll be done."

The monkey scratched his head. "I don’t know about this, Jackalman. This goes against regulations and you know what a stickler Cobri is for regulations."

"Please!"

"Well…"

"Come on, just for a second! I’ll take credit for everything that happens."

Monkian sighed. "Alright, hoo. You win. You can have the boards. I’ll be back after a while." He grumbled something about canines and turned to leave.

Jackalman tried to keep the intense relief off his face as he slid into the monkey’s vacated seat.

"Oh, Jackalman?"

Jackalman whirled around, fearful that somehow, Monkian knew what he was about to do. "Yeah?"

"If the Thundercats or Lunatacs contact us, we got underway late last night as they requested," Monkian said.

Jackalman frowned. "What do you mean? If we were participating in this offensive, we’d have left this morning."

"The offensive was moved forward," Monkian explained. "They all left about midnight on Thundera." The monkey turned to leave again.

"Midnight on Thundera?! But…that would mean they’re about to attack the Kentro forces right now!"

Monkian shrugged. "So? What do we care?"

Jackalman’s mind was racing. That close to Kentro forces, it was doubtful that they would still be able to receive outside communications. The entire Fire Zone area was encircled by static buoys. And neither the Plun-Darr Moons nor Thundera would be able to help them. The forces were doomed! He’d failed before he even began. There was no way that he could prevent what was about to happen. There was no possible way that he could…

Or could he?

"You’re right. What do we care?" he said carefully to Monkian. The simian was eyeing him suspiciously. "I’ll be sure to keep our cover up. Have a nice break."

"Right," Monkian said quietly as he turned away.

As soon as the ape had left the control room, Jackalman went to work. A new idea had presented itself, but he had to work fast. Quickly pulling up a transmission composer, he typed out a message to Alphon, informing the wolf of the allied attack and the mutants’ betrayal. He plugged in coordinates, battle strategies, and a request that all possible aid be sent at once to the Fire Zone. The mutant wolves were scattered throughout space on various assignments and it was very possible that some of them were close enough to the Fire Zone to get there in time to stop the Thundercat and Lunatac forces.

When Jackalman was finished, he quickly reread his work to make certain he hadn’t forgotten anything. Satisfied, he moved to send it.

And stopped short when a strong arm seized his wrist.

"I thought sssomething was afoot."

"What’s the situation?" Lion-O demanded as he raced into the Cat’s Lair control room, followed closely by Lynx-O, Snarf, and Servalla.

Mantyro’s jaw dropped when he saw Lion-O. "You’re awake?!"

"Yes, I’m awake," Lion-O said sharply. "Now give me an update."

"Right," the red tiger hastily responded. "Well, the red tigers are making a move. They’ve taken the outskirts and captured the white tigers who were on patrol."

"We need to get some resistance out there as soon as possible," Cougrois added. "Snarfer is moving the civilians back toward the Lair, but New Thundera City is just too populated. We can’t protect them all."

"And the panthers are attacking from the south side," Mantyro continued. "If they aren’t stopped, they’ll reach the Lair in ten minutes."

"So we sent Serbino and some of his forces down there, but there aren’t enough of them," Wiley Kat finished up.

"Great Jaga," Lion-O breathed as he collapsed into a chair. Fears were overwhelming his mind again and his chronic exhaustion was starting to take its toll. "Okay, what are our options? What are we up against?"

"We’re up against the strength of the panthers and the mental tricks of the tigers," Mantyro answered. "As for options…" He trailed off and looked at Cougrois and Wiley Kat.

"We don’t have any," the cougar said bluntly. "But we have to fight. Tahee and his cheetahs are willing to join us in battle. In fact, they’re helping Snarfer with the evacuation right now. But as soon as the red tigers get close enough, they’re going to turn and fight."

"Then we’d better join them," Lion-O decided. "Mantyro, you, Wiley Kat, and Lynx-O will join Snarfer and the cheetahs. Servalla, Cougrois, and I will aid Serbino against the panthers. Snarf, you stay here and coordinate the remaining defense forces." Lion-O stopped and looked around at his fellow Thundercats. They took his orders with complete trust and confidence. What right did he have to that? What had he done to earn it? What if he was wrong? What if someone had a better idea but didn’t voice it because they were afraid? What if he led them to their deaths? What if they all died because of his stupidity? He wasn’t cut out to be a leader. He wasn’t cut out to be—

"Lion-O? Something wrong?"

Startled out of this thoughts, Lion-O glanced at Wiley Kat and watched worry and concern creep across the young Thundercat’s face. "No," the lion answered softly but firmly, speaking more to himself than to the other Thundercats. "Is this plan acceptable to everyone?"

"We are with you, Lion-O," Lynx-O said. "We are with you now and forever, even in death.

Lion-O shuddered. That wasn’t something he’d needed to hear, but it was too late now. Battle was at their doorsteps. "Then let’s go, Thundercats. Let’s restore order to Thundera. And may Jaga guide our actions against our countrymen."

It was Glacion who initiated contact between the Lunatac forces and the Thunderan squadrons. They arrived at the rendezvous point more or less together, and all that remained was to finalize the battle strategy and begin the attack.

"The time has come, Thundercats," the ice Lunatac said over communications. "Our forward scouts can get readings on the Kentro ships. We have a rough idea of their position. How do we divide our forces?"

Panthro grimaced and turned toward Leonari and Cheetara. Cheetara’s eyes were vacant and she shook her head slightly, not even turning to look at the panther. She had no idea what to do. She was still recovering from her trances. Leonari made a cutting motion with her hand and Panthro quickly disengaged communications.

"We still don’t know where the mutants are," the lioness hissed. "We can’t plan strategy without them."

"Even if we planned strategy with them, it might not do any good," Panthro returned. "The battle will play itself out and if we plan an organized retreat, odds are that the situation won’t fit the strategy."

"I agree, but I’d feel better knowing they were back there and that they had a rough idea of what we’re doing."

"They’re here," Panthro insisted. "They wouldn’t back out on us now." Before Leonari could argue further, he reestablished communications. "Our advance scouts are also getting readings on the Kentro ships," the panther informed Glacion. "It looks like they’ve established a concave line of defense. The center of their line bends backward away from us. If we go straight in, the sides will collapse and we’ll be trapped. We need to avoid the center and attack the ends."

"Agreed," Glacion nodded. "We have also reached the same conclusion. But I also believe we should send a strike force up the middle at the same time we distract the outer forces."

"Who would this strike force consist of?" Leonari asked.

"I would be in it," Glacion replied. Someone seemed to be arguing off to his right, but the ice Lunatac ignored it. "Hypnon, and TugMug would come with me. We intend to blast through the center and aid the wolves as they take out the Bi-Dimensional Gun. If successful, we will also divide the Kentro troops in half, making them easier to confuse."

"Let’s join the force," Cheetara suddenly spoke up.

Panthro and Leonari studied her closely. "You sure you feel up to it?" Panthro asked.

"No. But something is telling me that we need to get back there." Cheetara closed her eyes briefly and then nodded. "Yes, we must join their task force."

Panthro shrugged and looked at Leonari. The lioness shrugged back. "Did you hear that, Glacion?" Panthro asked. "We’ve got some Thundercats who’d like to join that strike force. Any objections?"

"The more the merrier," Glacion replied. "But we will also need capable pilots to lead the rest of the forces."

"We’ve got capable pilots," Leonari informed him. "Thundercats aren’t the only Thunderians who can lead a charge."

"Then assemble your team, Thundercats," Glacion said. "When you are ready, we will show these Kentroans what the consequences are for challenging us."

Jackalman pulled free and whirled to find Rataro, Cobri, and Monkian watching him. The dog immediately leveled a glare at Monkian who returned it evenly.

"Move farther away from the communication panel," Rataro said coldly. "We’ll ease your punishment if you obey quickly."

All the other mutants in the control room were now watching the scene intently, wondering what could possibly be going on. Jackalman flexed his fingers and then deliberately stepped back toward the communication screen. "It’s for our own good," he growled. "What you’re doing now will doom us all."

"I will judge what is for our own good," Rataro snapped. "Now step away!"

Jackalman moved his hand toward the keys that would send his message.

"MONKIAN!"

Rataro’s order caused the monkey at his side to slowly raise an energy pistol. Jackalman froze. "Monkian, what are you—"

"Just back down," the ape pleaded. "Don’t push this too far. Don’t make me do anything we’ll both regret. Just step away and—"

"Monkian, you know me! We’re friends." The canine watched the parade of emotions fly across Monkian’s face and realized just how serious his comrade was. "Come on, put that gun down. It doesn’t have to come to this."

"Have to come to what?" Monkian demanded. "Betrayal? Treachery?"

The jackal felt his emotions boil and fought to keep his temper under control. "You must know me better than that, my friend. Do you think I would betray the mutant alliance if it weren’t for our own good?"

"You’ve changed, Jackalman." The monkey’s voice was shaking and his arms were beginning to tense as he tried to hold his weapon steady. "Ever since the wolves joined us, something’s been different you," he continued. "I don’t how to describe it, hoo hoo, but you aren’t yourself. The jackal I knew on Third Earth would never do this."

"The jackal you knew was a fool!" Jackalman yelled, startling everyone in the room.

Rataro’s tailed twitched impatiently. "Enough of this," he hissed. "I won’t ask again, dog. Move away from that panel or prepare to suffer the consequences."

"WAIT!" Everyone jumped in surprise as Vultureman suddenly crashed through the doorway. "WAIT!" the vulture hollered again. "Can’t you see that Jackalman’s right? We’ve got to stop the Thundercats and Lunatacs before it’s too late."

Cobri’s eyes narrowed. "It would appear we have many traitorsss in our midst. I believe we must make examples of them."

"If there are traitors, then I’m looking at one right now," Vultureman challenged the snake. "Why are you so intent on getting us to betray the Thundercats and Lunatacs? Because Rataro will take the blame, not you. As soon as this is over, sometime in the near future we’ll have to reform the alliance to save our own skins. But the other races will never consent to ally with Rataro. They’ll demand new leadership. And you’ll step up."

Cobri’s tongue flicked out and his hood flared. "You go too far, bird," he warned, baring his long fangs as he spoke. "You speak this now to undermine my position. You seek to take my place at Rataro’s side. But your ploy will not work."

"Not another move, scavenger!" Rataro suddenly ordered. Jackalman’s finger was inches away from the button that would send his message to the wolves. The rat backed up and tried to analyze the situation. Vultureman did have a point, but so did Cobri. The two had never gotten along, and it was quite possible that both of them were overreacting. But Jackalman…that was another matter, and it needed to be dealt with now. "Monkian, remove this dog from my sight."

Monkian stepped forward but the look in Jackalman’s eyes stopped him. "You know me," the jackal whispered. "Help me."

Monkian shook his head slowly. "Move away from that panel," he pleaded. "Please, just move back."

Jackalman’s eyes narrowed. "I can’t. I have to do this."

"Then I have to do this." Monkian raised his trembling energy pistol and trained it on the jackal’s chest.

For a very long moment, nothing happened. The control room was deathly silent. Jackalman was seemingly frozen in position next to the communications panel. Monkian might have been a statue were it not for the shaking in his arms. Rataro was watching closely. Cobri’s eyes were gleaming. Vultureman was staring at the two "friends" in shock and horror.

Jackalman’s arm slowly moved toward the button. Monkian’s finger inched back on the trigger. The fur was rising along the jackal’s back and a small whimper escaped his throat. His fingers retracted into a fist and his arm slowly moved backward. Monkian sighed in relief. He knew Jackalman was a coward at heart. He’d never stand up to a threat like this. Slowly, he began to lower his weapon.

But he acted too soon. As soon as the weapon went down, a hard light came into Jackalman’s eyes, the whimper was replaced by a triumphant howl, and his fist slammed down on the key that trained the Rat Star Prime’s powerful communication transmitters on Alphon’s pirate ship and trumpeted the jackal’s message across the expanse of the galaxy.

Rataro’s cry of dismay, Cobri’s shriek of defeat, and Vultureman’s triumphant squawk combined with Jackalman’s howl and the voice of every other mutant in the control room to create a bedlam of noise. For a few brief seconds, it was chaos. And then one sound rang out above the rest: the sound of an energy weapon firing.

All eyes turned to Jackalman and Monkian.

The jackal clutched at his chest and stared at Monkian in shock. Monkian blinked rapidly and his arms started to convulse and spasm. Looking down at himself, Jackalman removed his hands and watched as glistening blood began to pool in his thick fur. A strangled cough caught in his throat and a tremor shook the jackal’s frame. Raising glazed eyes and locking them on Monkian, Jackalman moved as though to speak. But before he could utter a sound, his eyes rolled back and the canine collapsed to the floor.

Monkian dropped his weapon as though it had burned him. With labored breath, he fell to his knees and stared at the jackal in shock.

The next few moments seemed to span eternity. It was Vultureman who finally stepped forward, his expression unreadable as he gently turned Jackalman over and knelt by his side. Feeling for a pulse, the vulture closed his eyes and waited. A minute passed. Two minutes passed. Three minutes. Four. The silence in the room became a tangible entity, overwhelming and smothering the horrified mutants. Eventually, Vultureman opened his eyes and turned toward Monkian. It was as though he looked at a complete stranger. His voice, when he finally spoke, was cold and hard.

"Murderer." The vulture cradled Jackalman’s head in his lap and his face twisted as fury overcame him. "You’ve killed him, Monkian. He’s dead."

For Lion-O, stepping out of the Lair was like stepping back into a memory. Fires could be seen along the horizon, Thunderians were running to get away from the blazes, and the sounds of battle could be heard in the distance. It was the destruction of Thundera all over again.

"Lion-O, come on!" Servalla called, powering up a Hover Cat. Cougrois was already airborne astride a Thunderclaw and waiting for Lion-O to lead them.

Shaking himself away from his clinging memories, the lion tried to keep his mind on the current situation. Jumping aboard a second Thunderclaw, he rushed it through the warm-up cycles and lifted off the ground. "Okay, Thundercats!" he hollered, trying to find energy somewhere within himself. "Charge!"

He sensed more than saw the two Thundercats fly after him as he made his way toward the inferno along the southern border. His instincts had taken control, and his eyes were trained only on his target, allowing secondary senses to track everything else. He felt the Thunderclaw’s engines shift as he took it into a dive, staying low and trying to sneak up on his prey. He could hear fighting in a distance. He could hear the screams of wounded and the shouts of victors. Adrenaline rushed through his body, but for some reason, it had little affect on his system. He was still as weary and exhausted as he had been when he’d left the Lair.

"Lion-O, I’m picking up movement just below us!" Servalla radioed.

"Let’s see who it is," Lion-O answered. "If they’re refugees, they’ll need help. If they’re not…"

The lion didn’t finish the thought, but Cougrois and Servalla both knew what he meant. They were fighting other Thunderians. These weren’t a bunch of imperial humans from another region of space. These were their own countrymen, and yet they were going to shoot them down like mutants. It was a thought none of them could really accept.

The Sword of Omens at Lion-O’s side suddenly growled in warning and the Eye of Thundera flashed sharply. Lion-O whipped the Sword out and swept it before him, not having time to call on Sight Beyond Sight but wanting to be ready nonetheless. And then it happened.

It happened so quickly that he had to reconstruct it afterwards. A blast shot skyward and he found himself knocked off the Thunderclaw. He heard Servalla yelp in surprise and Cougrois grunt in pain. And then the ground rushed up to meet him. He didn’t have time to get into position and his right side and shoulder took the full force of the impact. With a groan, Lion-O rolled over and looked up. Around him, red tigers lowered their fields of invisibility and two familiar figures stepped forward.

"So nice to see you again, Lord Lion-O," Sybar sneered. Behind him, Panya grinned maliciously and pulled out a long saber.

"You don’t know what you’re doing," Lion-O hissed, trying to ignore the screaming of broken ribs in his side. His arm was completely immobile and he lay helpless as a newborn kitten.

"You’re wrong, cub," Sybar whispered, seizing Lion-O by his shoulder straps and pulled him up into a sitting position. The lion couldn’t help crying out as he felt bone shards from broken ribs tear against his lungs. "You’re very wrong," the tiger continued with a gleam in his eye. "We know exactly what we’re doing."

"Step away from him, traitor!"

Lion-O closed his eyes in relief at the sound of Cougrois’s voice. He felt himself flung back to the earth and tried to suppress a groan of pain.

"And what threat do you pose, cougar?" Panya laughed. "You are of a degenerate race spawned from the weakness of the lions and the actions of a few gullible panthers. What can you possibly do to stop us?"

Cougrois didn’t answer, but a snarl filled his throat and he removed a small rod from his belt. At his touch, the rod glowed, expanded, and grew into a battle-ax of pure energy. Panya swept her saber forward and prepared to attack.

"He doesn’t stand alone," a new voice called. Servalla leaped over the ruins of a Thunderian home with her bow cocked and ready. An arrow was drawn back to her cheek and her eyes were trained on Sybar and Panya. "If you want to destroy him, you’ll have to destroy me first."

"How touching," Sybar laughed. "A common serval aiding a noble cougar. And both trying hopelessly to free the cub that leads them."

"Say another word, traitor, and I’ll have your head for a trophy," Cougrois growled.

"Cougrois, behind you!"

Lion-O’s warning came just in time. The cougar jumped forward and whirled just as a red tiger drove his spear through the air. Cougrois’s swinging axe snapped the spear in half with a flash of energy and the red tiger wielding it stumbled back in pain. Servalla released her arrow and the entire area was suddenly filled with thick, black smoke. Lion-O stumbled to his feet, fumbling for the Sword of Omens with his left hand, and started to run. Servalla was suddenly at his side, supporting him as he ran and urging him on. Cougrois came up from the rear, swinging his ax behind at any who would try to follow.

But none of them saw the shadow that rose before them. A heavy fist connected with Servalla’s temple and she crumpled up, falling to the ground where she lay motionless. Lion-O and Cougrois skidded to a halt and as the smoke began to clear, they saw the harsh truth.

They hadn’t moved more than a foot from their original position.

"Illusions can be tricky," Sybar laughed as he caught the expressions on their faces.

"You murdering dogs!" Cougrois roared as he launched himself at the tiger. But his ax cut through thin air and Sybar disappeared. The cougar looked around in confusion, but a whip suddenly wrapped itself around his feet and he was yanked to the ground. His ax went flying and reduced itself to a simple rod.

Lion-O rushed to the cougar’s side, but his broken right arm was suddenly caught and twisted painfully behind his back. Screaming in agony, the lion smashed to the ground but lashed out with his foot at the same time. Panya fell on top of him, but she didn’t loosen her hold on his injured arm.

Cougrois roared a challenge, but two red tigers had reached him by now and were swiftly tying him up. Sybar stepped forward from the shadows where he’d taken refuge and appraised the situation. "Excellent," he said quietly with a maniacal grin. "If we are unable to take Cat’s Lair, we’ll use the cougar as leverage. And someone see if the serval still lives," he added, almost as an afterthought. "We could use her as well."

Lion-O struggled against the panther that held him, but the constant weariness that had plagued him for the last few weeks had intensified and he was weakening quickly. "This will be easier, cub, if you don’t struggle," the panther whispered in his ear. Her breath was hot and heavy like the air around him. Lion-O jerked his head away from her, but it only caused her to laugh and tighten her hold. She slipped on arm under his neck and pulled back, forcing his head upwards. The lion began choking and gasping for air as Panya’s forearm increased the pressure on his trachea.

"Now, Lion-O," Sybar said, "we will finish what we started."

The leader of the red tigers towered imperiously above the young lion and suddenly, it all fit. Lion-O understood. His dreams, his nightmares, his fears, his weariness, it was all due to this tiger. Somehow, someway, the tiger had managed to tap his mind. He didn’t understand it all, he didn’t know all the details, but he knew that Sybar was responsible. And he knew that if he didn’t do something soon, Sybar would also be responsible for his death.

"If you cared at all about Thundera," Lion-O growled between desperate gasps, "you would—"

"Thundera? What is Thundera? Thundera is insignificant compared to the larger picture. It’s my destiny to rule the stars. To ally with the Kentroans! To do away with the stupid Code of Thundera and to assert our dominance across the galaxies. We were made to rule, Lion-O. But the Thundercats never took the opportunity fate gave them. They led us to destruction." The tiger leaned closer to Lion-O and the lion could see the madness raging behind his eyes. "But this time will be different. This time, we will be successful."

"You’re insane!" Lion-O shouted.

"And you are dead," the tiger responded, taking Lion-O’s head in his hands and closing his eyes.

Lion-O was given only a moment in which to act. He could feel Sybar gathering all the power and energy he’d stolen from the lion over the past few weeks. He could feel it turning into a battering ram that would smash through his mind and destroy his consciousness. He knew that if something didn’t happen soon, he would be torn apart and destroyed from within as his fears took complete control of his body. And in that one moment, Lion-O managed to free his left arm from Panya’s strangle hold and grasp the Sword of Omens.

"Thunder—"

Panya bore down on him and twisted his broken right arm so hard that he felt the ball-joint grind out of his shoulder socket. Ignoring the pain that drove through his mind like an iron spike, Lion-O pushed on.

"Thunder—"

Sybar increased his hold on the lion’s mind, trying to get him to stop the chant that might be his only chance. Panya was reaching for his face, trying to get a hold of his jaw and clamp it shut or break it.

"Thunder—"

The Sword was granting him power now, and he needed it as Sybar released the inner demons that plagued Lion-O’s mind. Holding himself together for one more second as the world around him spiraled into madness, Lion-O finished the call.

"Thundercats—HO!!!"

Those who lived to remember the invasion of the red tigers and the renegade panthers could never remember much with any clarity. All who fought seemed to fight a different battle. Most remember the red tigers racing out of the surrounding desert. Most remember the white tigers converging on them. But after that, very little is clear. Reality seemed to distort and waver as the inter-clan battle began. However, there is one thing that almost every survivor could recall, and that was the Cat’s Signal that lit the crimson sky and turned the smoke-filled air blood red. It was a signal of desperation, demanding help from not only Thundercats but from every Thunderian. And for the most part, the signal went unanswered. No one could come to aid the Lord of the Thundercats. Everyone fought their own battle.

Everyone, that is, except one lone snarf. He had more things on his mind at that moment than he’d ever had before. When the signal flashed into the sky, he was diverting part of a white tiger squadron to pick up an incoming panther battalion while sending half the cheetahs behind red tiger lines to try and take down the illusionists that were wrecking havoc with reality. But after taking one good look at that symbol, he dropped communications and raced out the door. Snarf had seen the cat signal many times before. And many times before, he’d been forced to sit and wait at the Lair while others rushed off to Lion-O’s rescue. But this time was different. Snarf didn’t know what was different and he wasn’t even sure how he knew it was different, but deep within himself, he knew. And deep within himself, he knew that if he didn’t act fast, he would never Lion-O alive again.

That call sent out by the Eye of Thundera was like an irresistible homing signal. Not once did Snarf question the direction he ran. Not once did he pause to stare at the destruction and fires that blazed around him. It was as though he ran blind. His mind was intent on one thing and one thing only. He had to get to Lion-O.

He ran faster than he’d ever run in his life. When he felt the signal begin to fade, he increased his speed. Lion-O was dying. Somehow, he knew that. As the signal was falling, so was the Lord of the Thundercats. "Hang on!" he cried between hasty gulps of air. "Hang on, Lion-O. Snarf is coming!"

Over, under, between, and through ruined walls and homes, Snarf raced toward his life-long friend. His heart began to burn and his muscles were cramping, but Snarf paid no attention to his body. There just wasn’t time. Lion-O was dying. Snarf knew this with a certainty he’d never known before, and the knowledge pushed him to speeds he’d never thought himself capable of. Faster and faster he ran until the world was a blur and all that remained was the waning call of the Eye of Thundera. And then everything changed as Snarf skidded to a halt in fear and surprise.

"LION-O!"

Panya held Lion-O motionless while Sybar clutched the lion’s head in his hands. Sybar’s eyes were shut tight as he attacked Lion-O’s faltering mind again and again. Lion-O was screaming in horror, his eyes wide open but completely blank as his consciousness was shredded before the expertise of the red tiger. Off to the side, Cougrois was struggling vainly to free himself from binding ropes and Servalla lay motionless with a pool of blood collecting around her head. For a brief moment, Snarf was frozen. And then he instinctively leaped forward as he felt something closing in from behind. Lashing out with his tail, he caught the knee of an invisible tiger and felt the traitor go down hard. By this time, Panya had spotted the snarf and was shouting orders. But Snarf didn’t wait around long enough to be captured. Forced into action, he made a beeline for Lion-O and Sybar, not knowing what was going on but knowing it had to be stopped.

Releasing Lion-O’s arm, Panya grabbed for the snarf, but with an extra burst of speed, Snarf shot past her and rammed into Sybar, forcing the red tiger backwards and breaking his concentration. Lion-O screamed as he was released from the tiger’s mental hold, stumbled to his feet, and fainted. Snarf was at his side immediately, guarding the lion from any that might attack.

But this was an attack unlike anything Snarf had faced before. His tail turned and lashed to discourage anyone from approaching, but his enemies didn’t need to approach. Recovering from the severed contact, Sybar made it to his feet and glared at the protective snarf. "You’ll regret this day, vermin," the tiger snarled. "I swear by all the guardian spirits of the tiger clans that you will wish you’d never lived to see this day."

"Just stay away from us," Snarf threatened, swinging his tail violently. "Go back where you came from and nobody gets hurt."

"Hurt? You don’t even understand the meaning of the word. Yet," Sybar hissed.

"Go ahead, traitor," Snarf challenged. "Go ahead. Try and take me. But I serve the Lord of Thundercats. And whatever you do to me will be given back to you tenfold."

"We shall see," Sybar snarled. "We shall see."

Snarf hunched down and prepared himself for whatever Sybar was going to use on him. But he was taken by surprise when his chest began to constrict. His hand involuntarily clutched at his heart and he felt an odd rhythm. He looked at Sybar, wondering if somehow the traitor was responsible, but the tiger only stared at him with the glittering eyes of the insane. And then pain erupted in Snarf chest. He gasped and wrapped his arms around himself, feeling his heart begin to stagger and wheel. He toppled onto his side and curled into a ball as panic and confusion began to take hold. He felt Sybar pick him up and he felt the delicate brush of mental energy, but he was too frightened to realize what was happening.

"You know," Sybar whispered. "Your heart isn’t that bad. It’s actually quite healthy for your age. But the mind is a powerful thing. Convince it to believe something, and there’s no telling what can happen."

Snarf didn’t comprehend most of this speech. He was overcome by spasms of pain and the terrifying feeling of vulnerability. He was going to die with Lion-O only feet away. He wouldn’t be able to help Lion-O, and he couldn’t help himself. There was no hope for him. No hope at all. There was no defense.

"That’s right," Sybar whispered, his eyes closed as he concentrated his mental energies on the squirming snarf before him. "Lion-O is doomed. You are doomed. Your heart is failing you and it’s only a matter of time before it beats its last."

"Snarf! Don’t listen to him!" Cougrois shouted.

But he couldn’t get through to Snarf. Snarf was lost in his own world, battling demons of his own making while his heart thumped pitifully away. He could feel it going. It was struggling to go on, but he could feel the faltering rhythm begin fade. It would only be a matter of time now. Lion-O was doomed. He was doomed.

Fears began to overtake Snarf, and Sybar dropped him as the snarf shook and convulsed in terror. He saw images and visions that had plagued his dreams for years. The Thundercats were killed before his eyes. Lion-O was killed. They all turned on Snarf. They all fought each other. And it all seemed to happen at once.

"No," he whimpered pitifully. "No. No, don’t do this!"

"Snarf, you’ve got to fight it!" Cougrois yelled. He struggled valiantly against his bonds and thought he felt a rope give. But he would never make it to Snarf in time! "Snarf, come on! You can beat him!"

But Snarf couldn’t hear anything except the sound of his own voice as it screamed and cried for help. He was alone, hopelessly alone, and he was dying. His heart pounded out a furious rhythm, skipping beats and doubling up. It was a runaway train flying downhill at impossible speeds.

"Faster," Sybar whispered, urging Snarf’s mad heartbeat onward. "Faster."

And Snarf’s heart went faster. He was falling. Night was closing in and he was falling.

Faster…

All his past enemies arose and began to give chase, hacking and slicing at his helpless body as he fell further and further away.

Faster…

The other Thundercats were calling now, calling for help, calling for assistance, calling for aid. But Snarf couldn’t even answer. His pounding heart drowned out the sound of his voice. They would never find him in time.

Faster…

It was darker now. His enemies had vanished into the mists that were overtaking his mind. He couldn’t hear his friends calling anymore. All he could hear was the mad thumping of his furious heart as it devolved into roaring cacophony of sound.

Faster…

Pain constricted his chest and he curled into a ball, fighting desperately to breathe but losing the will to keep trying.

Faster…faster…faster…

Snarf went limp. A dark stain began to spread across his chest where his heart had burst. Cougrois stared in horror.

Smiling, Sybar kicked the snarf’s body out of the way and stepped towards Lion-O.