ThunderCats

Bio-Booster Armor Guyver

Eye of the Storm

Episode Nine

"We really have to get going," Bengali said as Pumyra held Darin. Snarf stood before the pair, looking upward expectantly.

"Just a minute," she replied before facing Snarf again. "Now..."

"Pumyra," Bengali began, managing to resist tugging at the collar of the white shirt he wore. It fit him well, yet Bengali was not familiar with formal wear, the black slacks and coat felt wrong to him. "Hey. Think who you're talking to."

"Snarrf, exactly!" Snarf said with an indignant note. "If I could diaper Lion-O's bottom, I can handle Darin. No sweat."

"I know," she said as she knelt down to hand their son to their king's former nursemaid. She wore a dress of eye-catching red with slits that ended at her hips and whose flaps neared her calves. It had no sleeves, and emphasized her bust with a hollow at the top of her clevage which ended in a ring about her neck. A pair of pumps the same shade adorned her feet with heels nearly three inches high and kept on them with straps of leather.

She had never looked more stunning, in Bengali's expert opinion. The style, like his own, was all Third Earth, but the effect was something which Thundera could have done with.

"I know all about how a new mother feels," Snarf said with a healthy dose of sympathy. "Lady Leona had trouble letting Lion-O out of her sight when he was a cub. But, don't you fret!" Snarf exclaimed. "You're a doctor, but I'm a nursemaid. If they wear diapers and cry, Ol' Snarf can handle 'em."

Lion-O had decided to wear his traditional black outfit for the festivities. The fact that he owned no apparrel originating from Third Earth had helped the decision immensely. He had never been one for fancy dress, and the others would wear styles seen on Third Earth for the benifit of the locals who would be attending, and had helped build New Thundera Colony.

Despite his usual nature, Lion-O felt as though a metric truckload of butterflies had decided that his stomach would make for prime real estate and had taken up residence. He could not recall ever feeling so nervous about anything. Even the moments leading up to his first night with Cheetara hadn't given him a case of nerves such as this. He stood before the towering reactor, a massive conglomeration of crystal, tritanium, lead, and right angles that left him baffled at how it could pump so much power from thundrillium ore.

Here I'm supposed to be king, he thought, and I couldn't explain how this thing works on a bet. Lion-O was far from used to feeling inadequate, and as such the crushing weight of it felt overbearing.

"You seem as though you could use some advice," Jaga said as he appeared next to Lion-O on the catwalk which wound about the underground chamber.

"Oh, just a lot."

"Your father," Jaga began, "was just as nervous at his coronation as you are now."

"Really?" The image he'd always held of the father he barely knew, strong and wise and completely unafraid, clashed against Jaga's statement.

"What I said to you about Grune so long ago also is true of Claudis. He was a man just as you are. As Third Earthers would say, he put his pants on one leg at a time just as anyone else."

"After he put them on, he made decisions that affected billions."

"No one ever said the reponsibilites of the throne were easy. You feel unprepared, inadequate even."

"You mean..."

"That Claudis did, as well. Lion-O, no one is ever prepared for the rigors of being king."

"I think about my father," Lion-O said, gripping the catwalk's railing, "and I picture a man who had all the answers, who always knew what to do. I see that, and I keep thinking I'll never measure up."

"Just as many sons have before you," Jaga replied with a light laugh. "That, Lion-O, is one of the burdens of being the son of a great man. The thought of having to fill shoes that will always seem too large. It did not help that Claudis could not spend as much time with you as he wished."

"I remember a little of mother, and of private teachers, but all I really had back then was Snarf."

"I am sorry we could not be there for you," Jaga's spirit said, "but there was no choice. It was not long after Grune's final betrayal when we found that Thundera's days had become numbered."

"What happened, exactly?" Lion-O asked as he turned to face his mentor. "All I really remember was that everyone looked scared and then we had to leave."

"You were not told," Jaga began, "because you were too young to understand, and no one wished to put you through such trauma. But, if you wish to know, I will tell you."

"Please." It was something Lion-O had always wanted to know, yet had never before been given the chance to ask.

"Our seismologists had been tracking more frequent, and increasingly violent, periods of tectonic activity along the faultlines of Thundera, and noted that they were spreading to areas which had been stable for millinnea. To make a long story short, they discovered that the heat energy of the planet's core was falling dramatically."

"How could that destroy a planet?"

"Think of a planet's core as its heart. When it fails, the planet dies. When Thundera's core became cold and solid, it could no longer keep the planet together. Thundera was then crushed inward by its own gravity and, when the fragments of the crust collided within the dead core, the force of the impact shattered them outward. As such, Thundera imploded and was no more."

Lion-O kept silent through Jaga's explanation, unable to shake a very unusual feeling regarding the other. Jaga, he felt, was not telling all he knew. Lion-O finally pushed it away. It was ludicrous.

"Organizing a planet-wide evacuation was a logistical nightmare, and required every resource the Nobility had to call upon. Even worse, we discovered too late that our seismologists' predictions had been wrong."

"What?"

"Thundera began to fully collapse on itself two months before predicted. It was a miracle that as many ships managed to escape as they did."

"Oh." It was all he could say after hearing something so horrible as this.

"You cannot know everything, Lion-O, no mortal can."

"Not even my father could."

"Precisely. However, you do not have to. The ThunderCats are not your teachers any longer. They are now your advisors. Their eyes are your eyes, their ears are your ears. Trust them, for not even the mightiest of Thunderian monarchs ever stood alone." With that, Jaga faded away as he always did, his cape wrapped about him and the etherial blue light closing in on itself.

"I was wondering where you'd gotten off to," Cheetara's voice said from behind some minutes later. Lion-O turned about and found yet another thing to occupy his attention. Her lithe form was clad in a black dress which left her arms and shoulders bare and hugged her torso snugly. The dress itself, shimmering black like the top, flowed gracefully down to her ankles, the left side open and exposing a length of leg as she walked.

"Whoa..."

"I take it you like what you see?" she asked as she spun about slowly. The back, he saw, took a daring V-plunge to nearly the base of her spine.

"You look... stunning! I... I'm starting to feel a little underdressed here!"

"This old thing? One thing I'll say about Tabbots," she said as she came nearer, "they're greedy little hogs, but they know fabrics and jewelry almost as well as Snarf. Trust me, that's saying something."

"Is it that silk stuff?"

"Oh, yes," she replied as she stopped within easy reach, "and I almost wish we'd had it on Thundera. The things you can do with this could blow your mind."

"I'll believe it," he said. Here was something else he knew he'd have to get squared away. Lion-O steadied himself, summoning the courage and maturity to say what had been going through his mind for months. "The ceremony doesn't start for a few more hours, and it just doesn't get any more private than in here."

"Lion-O?" Cheetara's expression became puzzled. Normally, such words would be prelude to passionate lovemaking, yet his tone indicated far more serious matters. So far, so good.

"I've been thinking lately," he said before turning to lean back against the cold metal railing, "about a lot of things, and I think it's time I grew the rest of the way up."

"Yes?"

"I'm not just Lord of the ThunderCats anymore. I'm King of Thundera as well. I know my father held both titles for years, and he wasn't the first."

"He only held on to both because he wanted you to inherit them both from him. When he was blinded, he had to pass it to Jaga."

"I know. I also know that both titles come with their own sets of responsibilities. My father may have found a way to balance them, but I'm not him. As leader, I have to be out in the field. As king, my safety is paramount to the other ThunderCats. I don't need to be a genius to see how many headaches that'll cause."

"What are you getting at?" Lion-O looked into her eyes, and saw that she already knew, or had a very solid idea at least. It was one of the many aspects of her that he found so appealing.

"If I'm to be fully effective in either role, I'll have to dedicate myself to one or the other completely. That's why, tomorrow or the next day, I'll talk to Tygra about him taking a step up in the world."

"Are you absolutely certain about this?"

"I am, Cheetara, and I didn't come to this decision easily. Tygra can handle the role, I know it. He did just fine when he had to step in while I was on the mend, remember?"

Cheetara looked at him and found herself amazed at how much of a man he had become. She'd never let on, yet she had known that he'd enjoyed being able to satisfy his adventureous nature. It had been the kitten in him, curious and full of energy, which had said "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" and sent him barrelling headlong into whatever danger he encountered. To hear the gravity in his voice, the determination which said that was done and behind him, proved that he was now fully a man. A king rather than an impetuous prince.

"You realize," she said, tracing her fingers up the hard muscles of his arm before gently clasping his shoulder, "that Tygra will have to undergo the Annointment Trials before he can assume that role?"

"I thought as much, but I'm confident he can do it."

"You also know, then, that he can decline your offer?"

"I thought about that, too," Lion-O said as his hand appeared over hers, "and I know there's a chance he will. Tygra's not afraid of duty, but power is something he's not comfortable with. If he refuses, then I have to ask..."

"Me. I know. I wouldn't be the first woman in that role, either." Even so, she dearly hoped Tygra would accept. It would be good for him to come out of his shell, cast off his natural shyness a little. Also, the final test in this case was one she did not look forward to in the slightest.

"He's gonna have a rougher time of it than I did," Lion-O said. "He'll have even more ThunderCats to test him."

"Not to mention you. Don't get that look, you know it's true. You may be a king, but you're still a ThunderCat and the Code is very clear when it comes to the Annointment Trials."

"I just don't know how I can test him..."

"Then I'll tell you." Lion-O froze at that, stunned at the surety of her words. "The Code is clear on this, too. The final test, no matter how many a ThunderCat has to endure, is always one of two. The first, which was yours, is to defeat your deadliest enemy barehanded and alone."

"Since Mumm-Ra is persona non grata right now, that's not an option for Tygra." Lion-O's face took on a surprised, and somewhat horrified, cast as realization dawned on him.

"So, for Tygra, it will be the second. He'll have to defeat his king in the same manner." Cheetara watched as several emotions raced through his eyes before he closed them with a resigned sigh through clenched teeth.

"You know I don't like it, but I see the necessity of it. Besides, in a way it makes sense." He opened his eyes again and stared into hers. "Either defeat your worst enemy, or best the one who bested all of the other ThunderCats before you. Both are fitting final exams, if you look at it in that light."

To think, Cheetara mused as a smile appeared on her lips, that almost two years ago you would never have said that. Welcome to adulthood, Lion-O. Glad to have you. "Now, something tells me," she began as she reluctantly broke contact and backed away a step, "that there's more here."

"I'm not surprised," Lion-O said, a light dancing in his eyes. "Once that whole issue is settled, nothing will stand in the way."

"Of what?" He's going to... she thought, uncharacteristically giddy inside.

"Of me finally making an honest woman out of you. That is," he added, suddenly uncertain, "if you'll..." She leaned in and kissed him, more deeply than she had since construction of their new home had begun and broke off with not a little reluctance.

"In summation," she said, slightly breathless, "that means yes." She backed away once more, the heeled shoes she wore echoing with each step. "Don't get too exited," she chided lovingly, "you're due to be coronated in just over two hours."

"Don't take this the wrong way," Lion-O looked up and down her body, "but you're making that just a little difficult right now."

"So, I'll see you at the ceremony," she replied with a wink. "We can catch up on the rest afterward." As Cheetara walked away, she couldn't control the beaming smile any longer and let it loose with the feelings in her heart.

It had taken three days since he had rescued Maria to tell the story from the beginning, with all of the questions and tangents he'd been led down on explaining how he could have been alive during Second Earth, his discovery of the Guyver, the existence of Guyver One, and all of the madness of their days among the Mutant Army to slog through. Lisker had adamantly refused to answer any questions regarding Kronos, claiming this was due to them being irrelevant to his being in Watershed. Mainly, he was certain that they would not want to know about the terrible connection between zoanoids and humans. When he had revealed details of Second Earth, the faces of Maria, Natalie, Benjamin, Gil, and Dendel had been rapt with attention. Revealing his knowledge of history and his one-time life as a soldier had explained a few things to the latter two about his weapons designs. That, in turn, had led to explanations of why he could not develop the advanced weaponry he'd had at his disposal while in the Marine Corps.

With Solange having Verona as her puppet, the sight which had greeted them the morning after the rescue had borne little surprise. They had stood on the rooftop of Dendel's home, all staring at the plume of smoke which had twisted up from the site of their former home. Maria had leaned against him, tears streaming down her face. Natalie, still clad in the fur one-piece she had worn, could not look at it for very long. The place he and Maria had called home for so long had been destroyed. A fit of anger, or pique? Lisker found he didn't care. New places to live could always be found, new spots to call home.

As such, he had found himself sharing a still-vacant shop with Maria and Natalie. All of the clothes Maria had taken had been sized for them, leaving the former Warrior Maiden with only the one-piece fur outfit she'd had on her back on coming to Watershed. Lisker, to his embarrassment, had given no thought to it until Natalie had come to breakfast stark naked.

She had been genuinely confused as to how her state of ultimate undress had caused such consternation. She had simply said that her clothes were dirty, and had been placed with those which needed cleaning. Natalie hadn't even bothered covering herself as they explained that such cavalier attitudes about showing off the goods would not go over well in Watershed, and Maria had volunteered on the spot to make more outfits for the human woman to wear. Natalie, having been accustomed to hides and furs, had felt uncomfortable in the cotton pants and shirt which had adorned her body by lunchtime, and Lisker had been amazed at just how fast Maria had been able to make the outfit.

These memories played in the theatre of his mind as he sat atop the roof of said shop, a two-floor affair like Dendel's, in a wooden chair which had been found in a storage closet. The cleanup of dust and cobwebs was nearly done, the foodstuffs they'd taken from the old farmhouse stored in the cellar, and the closets holding clothes in the upper living quarters, but it still didn't feel like home yet.

"Where are they?" Maria asked from the chair to his right. She sat between Natalie and himself, the former staring out at the spreading gold and violet in the sky. Several moments after she'd spoken, the roof hatch opened to reveal Gil as he climbed the access ladder. A tin pail was in his hand, the tips of several corked brown bottles peeking above the rim. Dendel followed behind soon after with Benjamin taking up the rear.

"I have to say," Gil said as he closed the hatch before moving to take a seat in the chair left out for him. The six of them sat in a semicircle, the large pail between them. "After what's happened and hearing your fantastic story, we could all use some of this." The mayor of Watershed plucked a bottle free and handed the chilled glass to Lisker. He uncorked it as the rest partook, and the medley of malts teased his nose unlike any beer he'd ever sniffed.

"You brew this yourself, Gil?" He saw Maria eyeing hers quizzically, Natalie sniffing the open bottle as though unsure if it was poison or not.

"Benjamin does, actually," he replied.

"Careful," the large man drawled, "it's got some kick." Lisker took a pull, the different flavors and the earthy undertone of the malt dancing across his tongue before hitting his stomach like dynamite.

"You're not kidding!" Lisker thought it was twenty to thirty percent alcohol. It was, however, the single best beer he'd ever tasted.

"Been aged a right good piece," Ben said before uncorking his own and downing half the bottle and emitting a supersonic belch, "t' mellow it some."

"Are you sure it's safe?" Natalie asked.

"My pappy always said a good brew is like a good wife. They both get better with age."

"Sounds like an interesting guy," Lisker said. Natalie took another sniff, shrugged her shoulders, and sipped.

"Hmm... Not bad!"

"Why thankya... might wanna ease up some, Miss Maria." Lisker looked to his right to find Maria busily chugging.

"This is great!" she enthused once the noticably emptier bottle left her lips. "I've wondered what men saw in beer."

In vino veritas, Lisker thought. "Well, thanks for the brew, Ben, but it's time we got started."

"Sure. I'll leave the batch here, just bring the pail back when ya can."

"It seems," Lisker began, "that the Warrior Maidens could become a new enemy."

"Solange," Natalie said, picking up the line of discussion, "has used garra lily extract to place Verona under her influence. Lisker, your arrival here gave her the excuse she had been looking for to make her hold unbreakable. I believe she manipulated Verona into kidnapping Maria and assigning myself to watch her in an attempt to eliminate me. I've been known to ask questions of Verona, so perhaps Solange saw me as a potential threat."

"This garra lily crap," Lisker said once Natalie finished, "how does it work?"

"The extract affects the mind, enslaving it and the body. Those who take the extract believe they can think on some higher level, yet their heads become clouded with more uses. It's been banned in the Wood since before the days of my mother's mother."

Sounds kinda like heroin, Lisker thought, or a dozen other forms of brainsoap from Second Earth. "When did you think it was this flower dope?"

"I had no clue, until Solange told me in the Maze. I do know that Verona's behaviour had become drastically stranger once the message of your abilities arrived. In truth, I hadn't seen much reason to question her ability to reign until then."

"She upped the dosage."

"Solange's words exactly."

"Sounds like something pushers used to do," Lisker mused, "they'd give out small hits of whatever drug they were selling, just enough to get them hooked before upping the price." Lisker had explained earlier, on first hearing of the extract, about the illicit narcotics trades on Second Earth. "Natalie, did you notice any strange wounds on Verona? Her arms, maybe?"

"Now that you mention it, I have!" The tone of dawning comprehension grew with each word. "Just after winter ended, and we stopped wearing our heavy furs, I saw several spots on her arms. She had told me that they came from the types of furs she had worn. I had written it off at the time, some people's skin can break out while wearing particular pelts."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, some unusual marks up her arms. I have no idea what they mean, aside from age. Verona is not a young woman any longer."

Track marks... "Thanks, Natalie. It all makes sense now."

"Mind cluein' the rest of us in?" Benjamin asked.

"It's simple, if you know what to look for and know what it is. Natalie, those marks you saw on Verona's arms were called skinpops, the others track marks."

"What does that mean?" Maria asked before gulping more of the insanely good beer.

"From what I've gathered of garra lily extract, it seems to be similar to another extract of a Second Earth flower, poppies. As such, this crap is remarkably similar to heroin. Especially in regards to how addictive it is. Strap in, because this logic train is about to go into overdrive.

"Natalie, you said that Verona's behavior didn't get really weird until the letter about me arrived. That was, what, the start of winter?"

"The end of autumn, but the timing is almost right."

"Good enough," Lisker continued, feeling a little like his boyhood hero, Sherlock Holmes. "One last thing to clear up. Can the garra lily stuff be taken by mouth?"

"In the ancient days, I was told, it always was."

"Okay. Here's the scenario. Solange had outside help, of the type which not only knows about Second Earth narcotics, but also how best to administer them and where to find stored supplies. Solange, the way I see it, is in league with the Clutch."

"How so?" They all asked. Lisker took another pull of the outrageously good beer before responding.

"Those marks you saw on Verona's arms come from constant injections into her veins. Solange was, at first, maybe spiking her drinks with the extract before deciding she should just shoot it into Verona's bloodstream directly." Natalie nearly dropped her bottle, her face a mask of outraged horror.

"I had no idea she'd go so far!" the younger human shrieked.

"In the Wood," Gil said, "blood is considered sacred. It is, to put it simply, the essence of life, and any tampering with it is forbidden. Even in battle, the blood of slain enemies is left to water the soil and nourish the Wood."

"Oh." Lisker shook his head at that. "Getting back on track," he said forcefully, after which Natalie retook her seat, "drugs like this are far more effective when introduced directly into the blood than if snorted, smoked, or taken by mouth. That's how Solange set the hook so deeply." It was, from Lisker's standpoint, exceedingly simple and all the more insidious for it.

"If that's so, then how did Solange get Verona to submit to this?" Dendel, who had finished nursing his beer, asked. "For that matter, how did it get in her blood to begin with?"

"I was getting to that. Have any of you ever seen a hypodermic needle?" Their expressions showed negative. "Thought so. Anyway, the instrument's a hollow needle sticking out from a cylinder with a plunger at the end. These needles can be inserted into the body's blood vessels to either take blood out, or put something else in. My guess is that Solange witheld the extract for a day or two once she'd gotten Verona hooked, and let withdrawal do the rest." Silence reigned after Lisker finished speaking. He took another pull, though the beer had lost some of its appeal.

"Solange had contact with someone who has access to ancient medical tools," Gil said. "If that person was a representative of the Clutch, then who knows what other relics of Second Earth they can lay hands to?"

"How d'we know they're part of it all?" Benjamin asked.

"A deal of some kind," Maria said, though her words were slightly slurred. Her bottle was drained, and a dreamy look was in her eyes. "Makes sense. How else could they have hidden in the trees without the Warrior Maidens giving them the boot?"

"Verona did say that a portion of the Wood was to be off-limits," Natalie said, her face a study in impotent anger. "I wondered why she'd do something so strange, so I checked on it. That's when the Trollog caught me, and you came to my aid." She looked at Lisker as she said the last.

"And that ties it all up," Gil said. "Solange made the deal in a bid to replace Verona." His grip on the bottle whitened his knuckles and Lisker hoped the man wouldn't break it in his hand. "Because of that bitch, they kidnapped my son and nearly strangled my town!"

"The Clutch is a bigger problem than Solange," Lisker said. "If they've got Second Earth tech, then the muskets might not be enough." It was with that ominous thought that they rose from the seats and made their way down to the empty storefront below the living areas. Gil, Dendel, and Benjamin each left for their respective homes, leaving him with Natalie and a somewhat drunk Maria.

"Why'sh my head shpinny?" she slurred, listing left and right as she failed to walk in a straight line.

"You had a bit too much," he replied and couldn't help the chuckle. Lisker had never imagined what Maria would be like drunk, yet was unsurprised that it had taken only one bottle of Benjamin's nuclear micro-brew to do it. His head was feeling a bit lighter after one, and Lisker was not only bigger but had far more experience with the sauce.

"Ahm nah drunk," she said before stumbling into Lisker's arms. "Ahm I?"

"I'd say you're loaded."

"Y'know shumthin'?" Maria asked as he hoisted her in his arms. "Ah luv ya, Lishker." She aimed for his lips, missed, and planted one on his chin instead.

"Come on, lush," Lisker chortled, "you've gotta sleep it off." He turned at the sound of the door opening to find Natalie making her exit.

"I think... I'd really like to be alone now."

"Had to be rough, talking about this."

"It was." Lisker couldn't have missed the strain in her voice, and he understood it. He said nothing as the door closed behind her.

Poor kid, he thought as he made his way to the small bedchamber he shared with Maria, the latter giggling in his arms. Natalie was strong, of that he was certain, but she was still young and afraid even if she would never admit to it. She had a lot to work through.

Maria was snoring even before he set her onto the mattress.

Panthro looked at the charred remains of the ThunderTank, and wanted once again to wring Safari Joe's neck. She was totalled, that was for sure, and very little was salvageable. HoverCat One was in better shape, a goodly amount of its parts could be used to build a replacement, but the tank was a lost cause all the way around. He'd have to build a new one from scratch. He reviewed the inventory of components aboard the Gelnika and allowed a small smile. It was fitting, really, that Safari Joe's ship would be used to build a new ThunderTank before anything else.

The dark blue hide pants fit him snugly, the legs tucked into black boots and a loose white button-up adorning his massive torso. Panthro had checked and re-checked his appearance, which even he had to say was most uncharacteristic. Panthro tried to tell himself he wasn't avoiding Cheetara, though he had been ever since their blow-up over her relationship with Lion-O. There would be no avoiding her at the coronation, and he was beginning to wonder just how long it would take her to cool down. After their arguement, Panthro had begun to feel ashamed once the anger faded.

The indistinct shadow fell across his right side, and he closed his eyes in resignation. Tygra. It had to be.

"I know, the big moment isn't getting any farther away," he said, "but you know me. If you want a job done right, you gotta..."

"Avoid me like plague?" Cheetara's voice startled him. Panthro spun about to find her standing in the doorway to the main garage of the Depot (and he knew some called it the Junkyard behind his back) with a neutral expression on her face.

"Oh. Uh..." Panthro shook his head. Now was his chance to set things as right as he could between them. Cheetara had been his friend far too long for him not to man up now. "Hey, can we talk a minute?"

"I'm right here."

Not the best of replies, but I'll take it, Panthro thought. If she was coming to him, maybe it was a chance to rebuild bridges that had been unintentionally burned.

"Look, I didn't mean for things to go like they did," he said. "I just wanted to know exactly how you felt about Lion-O, you know how tender his heart can be. I knew," and at this his shoulders slumped slightly, "that you'd get a little defensive, and I thought I could handle it." Panthro looked up at her, and noticed her face hadn't melted a bit. "I ignored the big 'Minefield Ahead' sign you gave me, and a big one blew up in my face." Panthro kept his eyes firmly on hers, and thought he saw a trace of softening. "After all the ass-chewings I've given, I'm man enough to know when I need one."

"What was it Jaga used to say," she began as she slowly entered the garage, "about that? 'Challenge your preconceptions, or they'll challenge you,' that's it. Looks like we both owe an apology." She sifted through some schematics regarding Second Earth vehicles he'd received from Turmagar's underground stockpile before continuing. "I know how much of a stickler you can be for tradition. Don't look at me like that, the thought of Lion-O possibly courting Willa nearly made you apoplectic. I also knew you'd want to get me alone, to make sure of my intentions." Cheetara heaved a sigh. "I was hearing what I expected you to say, not listening to your words. I own just as much of this as you do, Panthro."

"Aw, c'mon..."

"No. We both went off half-cocked."

"I apologize."

"So do I." Cheetara smiled openly at him.

"I was hoping this hadn't wrecked our friendship."

"You know it'll take more than one blow-up to do that. Two, three on the outside." Her face assumed the expression of sprightly amusement she rarely showed, eyes closed and a jaunty half-smile on her lips. Panthro recalled having seen it more often before the loss of Cougrix than afterward. "So, what do you call these things?" she asked after looking at the sheafs of paper in her hand.

"Turmagar said they're motorcycles," Panthro replied as he drew nearer and Cheetara examined the sheets.

"They look rather dangerous, what with only having two wheels."

"Some of them were almost as fast as you, if you can believe it."

"Scratch what I said earlier, they're extremely dangerous," she replied with astonishment. "Strange names, though. Yamaha, Kawasaki, Honda..."

"Those are from Sho's homeland. Real crotch-rockets, those. My favorite's at the rear." He watched as Cheetara passed by specs and names he'd memorized. Indian. Triumph. Moto Guzzi. BMW. Then...

"Harley-Davidson?" she asked. She looked more intently at the paper. "For some reason, I can see the appeal of this one."

"Really speaks to you, doesn't it?"

"You're planning to make one." she stated baldly.

"With some major improvements," Panthro replied, somewhat defensively. "Those things would be death-traps otherwise!" He laughed out loud at that. "Come on, we've got a king to coronate."

Laheela stared down at herself as she stood in the foyer of the new Cat's Lair, which was presently filling with people as the hour of Lion-O's coronation drew near. The dress she wore was of sky-blue fabric which shimmered slightly in the overhead lighting. It fit her curves without overly exaggerating them. The top reached to her shoulders and down to her wrists, while the lower portion slanted at a diagonal from her left thigh to her right knee. It was, by several longshots, far better than what she had worn as a concubine and on multiple levels. She had no aversion to intrinsically feminine apparrel, but she found the utlilitarian aspects of her uniform preferable to the more showy outfits the other women wore. She even liked the short-heeled half-boots on her feet.

Laheela then gazed at the other groupings, and sighed inwardly. Sho, in his formal cloak and all-blue one-piece, stood beside Myrlha. A gold bracelet, which the human had made for her in the forge, rested on her wrist as the two spoke softly to each other. Bengali and Pumyra, joined and with a cub, stood comfortably side by side. Kyranna and Torr, likewise but childless, did likewise. Wherever she looked, it seemed as though she was the only one alone.

"I see I'm not the only wallflower here." Tygra's voice caused her to jump slightly as she turned to face him in his black outfit, which she had learned was called a tuxedo. It fit his frame exceedingly well and lent him an elegant air she had never seen in the other Tyger before.

"Just... having trouble mingling," she said lamely as he stood at her side.

"Is there a reason why? We're all friends here."

"I know. It's just... I can't explain it. I want to blend in, but I just can't."

"I don't see a logical basis for that." Tygra sidled closer.

"Maybe... Oh, there isn't one." Laheela shook herself. "I just... I feel like I don't deserve to. I know that sounds weird, maybe even pathetic..."

"No, it doesn't sound pathetic." Tygra's voice carried a tone of sympathy and encouragement, so subtle she nearly missed it. "No one can expect you to recover from what you went through all at once."

"It's not that... well... some of it is. But..." Laheela wrestled with herself to go on, to get it out in the open. "It's the dreams."

"If you want to talk, I'm here." Laheela took comfort in that, much to her surprise. Tygra gave no promise of succor, no saccharine promises of everything being all right. Just offering his ear for her to fill.

"A lot of times," she began as they moved to a quieter corner of the foyer, "they would be about what Primor did to me, or the Kaldians who sold me to him. But... they're worse now."

Tygra kept silent, and Laheela found she could take strength from the aura of his presence.

"It's always the same one. I walk into Primor's quarters, dressed in that riduculous whatever-the-hell he had me wear all the time, but he's not there. I'm relieved, because I think maybe he had something come up, but when I turn around the door's gone. Everything goes black around me, silent. I can't even hear myself breathing.

"Then, there's this light, like I'm on stage, shining right in my eyes and that's when I feel them. They get closer and closer until they're standing in the light with me." At this point, Laheela had to stop and compose herself. She looked guiltily about to see if she'd attracted anyone's attention and found she hadn't. "All my handlers were other slaves, Primor didn't trust his own men to keep their mitts to themselves with me. He kept rotating them in and out of the pens to keep us from making any kind of plot against him, but sometimes they never made it back there. Some of them he'd end up selling off or handing to the captains under him. A lot of them... A lot of them I never saw again."

Tygra still said nothing, which alone prompted her to look up to his face. She saw no revulsion, no disgust. Only concern and compassion were etched into his features. He kept a close, yet still repectful, distance between them across which she could nearly feel his warm presence.

"Anyway, they're all staring at me, all of them stone silent. They don't move, they don't blink, they just stare and stare and stare. I want to go to them, to do... to say something but I just can't make myself do it. After a while, I try to back away, but I don't get anywhere, they stay just a meter or so in front of me. That's when I start to hear something. I can't make it out at first, it's kind of a low buzz, but it becomes the word 'Why' repeated over and over."

"Why are you alive," Tygra replied, breaking his silence, "when we're not?"

"That's it," she said, stunned that he'd picked it up so quickly. "It gets so deep in my head that I start asking myself that. They all deserved to live, so why was it just me who made it?"

"It's a natural reaction," Tygra explained gently as his curled finger came under her chin and guided her face back to his. "Once the horror of your situation was over and things looked to be improving, you began to think about the people who died back then and feel guilty over them. Laheela, their deaths were tragic, even cruel and needless, but they weren't your fault. Besides, you had rather a large part in rescuing the others who lived. Also, in avenging those who didn't."

"I know." She could say nothing more on the matter for the moment, but was grateful to Tygra for bringing her to say as much as she did. Laheela looked over to Sho as he and Myrlha shared a laugh over a joke she hadn't heard. "I like talking to you, Tygra."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Look at him, would you?" Tygra, puzzled, gazed about until he found the human.

"What about him?"

"You might find this funny, but when I look at Sho, I see a man not so different from Lisker." The confused grimace which creased Tygra's face nearly made her chortle, which in itself made her more comfortable with him.

"Of course," he replied, "but you might not want to say that to Sho's face."

"It's not an insult, Tygra." Laheela then explained about Lisker's reaction to their countrymen being beaten without mercy, at how he had claimed it to be so they could work faster. Then, how Lisker had begun keeping watches over them while they toiled. Finally, about the Wollo he'd protected that first time.

"I still don't see your comparison," Tygra said with a shake of his head.

"Sho has a good heart," Laheela began, "but it's out in the open for everyone to see. Maria, the Wollo woman, somehow found the same kind of goodness in Lisker and coaxed it out of its hiding place. Mostly, those two are as different as night and day, but they have that same light inside them."

"I see." Tygra's face became contemplative. "Humans have always been something of a mystery to me. Sho and Lisker have only deepened it."

"One day, we might just crack it," Laheela said as the chime sounded.

The assembled crowd which had greeted Lion-O's eyes on setting foot outside the new Cat's Lair sent a shock throughout his nerves. The Lair itself was different, lower to the ground and reminiscent of the ancient structure of First Earth which had been called the Sphynx. It sat, low and aggressive, as if in watch over the entirety of New Thundera Colony. All the systems were in place and had been checked ad nauseum.

"Lion-O," Cheetara said, her voice being picked up by the subtle microphones set about the central portion of the courtyard and relayed by speakers. "This day, you take the mantle of King of Thundera."

"This day," Lion-O replied in accordance to the ancient ceremony, "I accept." Cheetara turned to Bengali, who held a gold crown atop a red velvet pillow, and retrieved it before facing him again. Lion-O bowed his head for her to place the ringlet of gold and rubies atop his head. Panthro and Tygra approached from the rear, each bearing the sapphire cape and placing it on his shoulders.

"Today, I stand before you as king," Lion-O began, "and my first command is thus. Hit the switch!" At that, Tygra engaged the remote which channeled the power of the reactor to the city.

The result was immediate. Lights flickered into life in all corners of New Thundera Colony. Cheers rose up in a crashing wave from those below as the lights came on, a massive bonfire was set alight in the center of the former campsite.

"People of New Thundera Colony," Lion-O began, "let's celebrate!" The cheers echoed into the sky from the gathered people, and Lion-O smiled.

The party had been in full swing for over an hour when Cheetara and Lion-O found themselves meandering the streets among the other revellers, her arm in his and the noise of celebration nearly deafening. The people of the colony weren't merely celebrating the construction; they were celebrating being together as a people again. More were out there, scattered among the stars, and she knew that they would find their way home. Somehow.

The people who actually took notice of them bowed respectfully, even reverently as they walked past. Lion-O spoke with quite a few of them, which resulted in more than a little stammering and rather a lot of "Your Highnesses" and "M'lords". Cheetara wanted to chuckle at the consternation he was valiantly trying to hide.

"You'd best get used to it," she said as they continued their walk.

"I'm trying," Lion-O replied. "Just didn't think it would be so... so strange."

"You're a king, now... Whoops!" They stopped just before they could run into the nervous woman who had stepped in front of them.

"I... I'm so sorry!" she nearly squeaked. With a mortified hand over her mouth, the tawny woman bowed.

"It's fine," Lion-O said gently. Cheetara noticed the red of her waist-length hair, and the brownish coloration of skin that the plain blue dress showed from the knee down. A mix of Lion and Jaguar clans, most likely.

"I... I wasn't wearing my glasses... Can't see a thing without them."

"What's your name?" Cheetara asked after the woman managed to put the specticals on.

"Oh..."

"Hey, Felina!" shouted a brassy voice from the right. "Whatcha doin' staring at... Oh!" The newcomer was pureblooded Lion, and seemed the exact polar opposite of the now-named Felina. Red hair fell to the shoulders of the bottlegreen shirt which was tucked into a pair of black denim pants and twin braided bangs framed the sides of her sprightly face. "It's an honor, Majesty!" Some of the brass faded from her voice, but those eyes still brimmed with confidence.

"Likewise," Lion-O said with a laugh. "I didn't mean to startle the two of you."

"I'm Purrsia," the Lioness said with a broad smile. "My starstruck friend over here is Felina. LOVE that dress, by the way!"

"Thank you," Cheetara replied with a grin of her own. I could get to like this one, she thought idly.

"By the by," Purrsia began, "there's a bar openin' up soon, a Bolkin set the place up and hired us on as help. That's him, over there." she pointed to one of the streetside stands where said Bolkin was handing out squat glasses of a thick amber liquid. "Bundan's dishin' out samples of the house special. Says he got the recepie from a guy way up north. Benjamin, I think the name was. Either way, it'll knock your socks off!"

"PURRSIA!" Felina sqwawked. "Have you lost your mind?! You... you can't talk to the king that way!"

"It's fine, really," Lion-O said. "Pleasure to meet the both of you."

"C'mon, Miss Stick-in-the-Mud, let's live a little!" The seemingly mismatched pair walked into the crowds, and Lion-O's eyes followed them.

"What is it?"

"I've just got the strangest feeling that I know those two from somewhere," he replied, clearly bewildered.

"Hmmm... That's funny, so do I." They looked at each other for a moment before laughing it off.

"Probably just seen them around during construction," Lion-O said.

"I'll bet that's it. Uh-oh, take a look." Lion-O followed her line of sight just as WilyKit finished knocking back a tumbler of the booze. A high blush had colored her face, that one clearly hadn't been the first. Or second. Likely not even third.

"Maybe you should warn her about hitting the sauce so hard."

"Sometimes," Lion-O replied with mock gravity, "experience is the best teacher."

The party had stretched long into the night and was still going strong as the dark began to fade. Sho, whose head was buzzing pleasantly, stood atop the observation platform at the top of the new Cat's Lair and looked out over the glowing colony. The sight reminded him of home, so far away and so far in the past. The noise of the crowd was a dull roar reminiscent of the ocean on an otherwise silent day.

Sho looked down at the glass in his hand before shrugging his shoulders and tossing back the rest of the candyfruit wine. Its flavor was heavy, nearly oppressive, and Sho had drank the one offered by Salvador out of politeness. If it came down to a choice between drinking candyfruit wine and drinking lukewarm piss, Sho would have to put some serious thought into it. At the very least, it showed how low his alcohol tolerance was. Two glasses had him riding quite high indeed, but enough was enough.

"Not drunk are you?"

"Just put the brakes on," he replied as Myrlha's arms encircled him from behind. Sho ran his hands up them, warmth not connected to the booze rushing through him.

"Y'know, it's really weird," Sho said. "I never would've thought so much good could come from all that evil."

"Triumph sometimes comes from tragedy. When we were slaves, none of us would've imagined being brought together as a race once again. That we'd have a home, or that anyone would ever stand up for us." Myrlha's arms squeezed tighter, her voice now tickling his ear. "I never thought I'd fall in love with someone who wasn't Thunderian, but along you came." A kiss, long and sweet, fell upon Sho's cheek.

"Still having a hard time believing I actually had a hand in this. That I helped build something instead of destroying it. That... that... That I can maybe make a life here."

"Both of us can." They remained together in companionable silence for a while, looking out over the city lights. "It's a new start for everyone."

"I'm headed for bed. Coming?"

"Not yet, but I think you can fix that."

"Myrlha!" Sho cried as she released him. Turning about, he saw the smile of good humor on her face and the look in her eye he had come to know well. "Have you always been so insatiable?"

"Are you complaining?"

"Not a bit. Race ya."

WilyKit found herself knelt in supplication, the dread anticipation and knowledge of the inevitable nature brewing a curious mixture of revulsion and relief.

It was coming. Faster and faster. It was racing toward her in the manner of a comet, coming without pause or delay and leaving her helpless to escape its grip.

And then it was upon her, leaving her in a moment of great catharsis and WilyKit let go, surrendered to a force greater than herself, a thing over which she would never have control. Muscles tightened, the feeling swelled to a mighty crecendo, and then faded as it passed to leave her in a nowhere realm of profound silence.

The silence was shortly shattered by the sound of three cannon blasts and a voice which drove a white-hot spike of pain through her head.

"Hey, sis!" WilyKat said from the other side of the door. "You okay? Didn't fall in, didja?"

WilyKit helplessly groped for the toilet's handle and flushed it on the fourth try before raising her head to glare at the sealed bathroom door with bloodshot eyes.

"Go... away..." she croaked miserably as the hangover banged drums in her brain.

"Hey, I tried to warn you!"

"Ugghhhh... That's it," she said, "I'm not going near that shit again... OH...!"

The morning after, WilyKit was coming to learn, could be a real bitch.

The true reason for the Clutch's seige of Watershed is revealed when a defector from the marauder band is seized just beyond the town's walls. On learning of the new developments within the mysterious group of bandits, Lisker is faced with the choice to either pursue and annihilate them and their new commander, or to liberate hundreds of enslaved and wounded people from their former employer. Stay tuned for the next episode of Eye of the Storm.