10

Time, constant for all that had been hurled into a different realm of it, passed. Cheetara and Snarf had passed two days on their alien Plundaar, alien not just because it was the home world of their sworn enemies, but because the residents were so far from what Cheetara and Snarf were used to. Now that they had spent some time lurking in the shadows, and observing, they noticed much different than the fact that they were on the average a lot smaller than the ones they knew. As they looked at the jackals, they noticed that they were bigger in relation to the other Mutant species. They were no longer the scavengers and the weaklings of the mutant world. They did not rule it, but they no longer groveled at the mightier feet of the Reptilians and the Monkians.

As they watched, they saw the opposite had happened with the avian species of the planet, but though they may have been scrawnier than Vultureman ever was, their technical talk baffled Cheetara at times, and she was pretty adept with a machine. Not as good as Panthro, but she knew her way enough around mechanics.

She and Snarf made their way through what must have been the lowest of the Mutant citizenry, for as they went on, the buildings became bigger, and the boards across doors and windows became scarce, then disappeared. Dwellings began to take on a severe look, mostly they were made of metal, with sharp angles, and strong technological hints about them. Looking at one as she and her small companion sat huddled underneath in the cargo hold of a transport, much like Lynx-O and the others, Cheetara thought that there were some high tech gadgets in there that Panthro would love to get his hands on. She was peeking through a slit from the slightly open cargo door.

"This is humiliating," Snarf complained. "We've been here two days, stowing away with a bunch of Mutant luggage!" He wrinkled his nose. "Mutants sure didn't change their smell any, snarf, snarf."

"I know," Cheetara said wearily. It had been a trying two days, but she was trying to make it somewhere they could hop a spacecraft, stow away if they had to. "But I don't see any other way. I have the terrible feeling we are trapped in time, and that won't be fixed with a spacecraft. But we need to get off of Plundaar. We can't possibly take the time to figure out how to get home when we have to keep running for our lives."

"I know, I know."

"And I don't dare go into a trance. We can not risk one of us having to spend days recovering for anything." She paused. "You or me."

The pair sat huddled in the cramped space, Snarf wedged between two large crates, Cheetara crouched on a trunk, her back bumping against the roof of the cargo hold every time the hovering transport hit an air pocket or made a sharp stop or turn. They remained grimly silent.

When they felt the vehicle stop, Cheetara was ready to run if needed. She looked out, saw no one, and urged Snarf out. Running was not necessary now, and Cheetara would not exhaust herself doing it unless she had to. She and Snarf only slunk away from the transport before it disgorged its motley Mutant load.

"Great Jaga!" Cheetara breathed in startled awe, as she and Snarf came out from behind the building they had skulked around to keep out of sight. They were on a high hill overlooking the main city, where the transport had been heading. Cheetara had seen that main city before, and it had looked nothing like this.

The two refugees looked down on a city, a large city that sprawled out across what used to be uninhabitable jungles and forests. In the dim orange light, the sliver colored edifices shone a bloody red, giving the whole place an almost surreal look that made Cheetara dizzy for a fraction of a second as she stared. What she remembered from that unpleasant ordeal with the young wolf soldier was a large city, yes, though not as large as this. FUrthermore, it has looked more to her then like a series of seedy shops and dwellings and bars, which was what it was. There was the center of the whole town, a fortress not unlike Castle Plundaar, where the Plundaarian high council lived and worked. Plundaar was ruled by eight Mutants who acted together as king to the rest of the planet. Not that they could ever work together long enough to effect any kind of order, at the time.

What confronted Cheetara and Snarf now were spires and towers and skyscrapers, all made of the glaring metal that reflected, deepened, and intensified the light from the sky and the red sun. She saw nothing there she would classify as "seedy", and the gargoyle-shaped fortress was gone; in its place was the biggest building she had ever seen, even in Cloudon on Thundera. It was shaped like a tower of metal building blocks, and had a high stone wall around it. It looked sturdier than Castle Plundaar ever was, and Cheetara had no doubt that it was laden with electronic alarms and complicated computer systems, all designed to keep assassins out. She imagined hundreds of workers in the building maintaining these systems, and imagined the hundreds more that must clean and the place and polish the outside, which Cheetara was sure must be done.

"Wow..." Snarf was as much surprised as Cheetara. "Let's get a closer look."

"Right." The Thunderian travelers crept closer to the city, closer until they were at the edge, looking up at the buildings. Mutants walked everywhere, mean, brutal-looking as always, but with a hard confidence that Cheetara couldn't explain.

"They walk like the lords of the galaxy," Snarf said in a low tone.

Cheetara's eyes widened a bit and a chill of unease crept down her spine. That was it. That was the reason it had taken such a hard look to realize they were so much smaller. S-S-Slithe and Jackalman and the other all walked with a slump, or hunched shoulders, used to skulking, and used to the defeat and the hard labor of trying to win a battle they were destined to lose. But these people walked upright, proud - no, it wasn't pride, but something darker, and bigger. This was the arrogance of a species that owned the galaxy, and knew it A species that had defeated any that got in their way, and the realization of this made Cheetara shudder. "Great Jaga, that jackal never said what became of the Thunderians."

In their awe and shock, the pair never even saw the Reptillian that snuck up behind them. They did not see the ax-handle whose shadow fell behind the pair thanks to the rising sun. They did not see that ax handle descend sharply on Cheetara's skull.

"SNAAAARF!" Snarf wailed as Cheetara let out a short yelp and collapsed unconscious to the ground. The small animal turned, but was far too slow to react to the reflexes of the lizard as he swung sideways, clipping the Snarf on the side of the head and sending him sprawling next to Cheetara.

Scalan laughed. "Pathetic. Maybe Thunderians were once the heroes of the galaxy, but now they are just laughable." He shook his head and went to the nearest com and called the authorities. He would receive a reward for this.

***

"Ohhhhh, boy..."

Cheetara woke to find she had one whopper of a headache, and slowly opened her eyes. There was no glare of lights to hurt her head, and for that she was grateful. What she was not grateful for was the hard, cold cement she felt underneath her, or the weight and chill of the heavy manacles that bound her hands within a foot of each other. She also was not grateful for the bolt of pain that flashed across her head, giving the image of lightning across her eyes when she tried to sit up. With a groan she lay back down, closed her eyes, and waited for it to subside.

After a few long moments, she tried once again, very slowly pushing herself to a sitting position and opening her eyes once more.

It was not pitch black; there was the smallest amount of light coming in from a barely lit hallway beyond the bars of the small cell she was in. She looked around. No window, the cell was barely long enough for her to lie down in, and she knew that had Tygra or Lion-O been in there he would not be able to lie straight. There was a torn mattress on one side, and an ancient looking toilet with an equally old-looking metal sink alongside it. A prison then. A Plundaarian prison.

She felt a rush of fear as she realized this, knowing of only a very few people who had gotten out of Plundaarian prisons alive. She had heard stories of Thunderians caught on Plundaar in the later years as the wars started up again right before Thundera's destruction. They had not come back. Plundaar had become more hostile for her kind in the end, and she knew even then she had been lucky to get out alive the first time. Would she be so fortunate now? "Snarf?" she called softly, hissing at the throb in her head as she spoke. "Are you there?" Nothing. She feared for him, knowing that here Snarfs were considered even lower than felines. She feared for her safety.

But she feared for his life.

Part 9

Part 11

Table of Contents
ThunderCat Stories Page
Main Page