13

Cheetara spent an uncomfortable and restless night in the Plundaarian prison cell. She had slept for a few brief periods, but kept awakening to check on Snarf, and she became more and more worried. He was in bad shape, not conscious most of the time, and when he was he moaned in pain or talked in delirium. She could do little for him but to cleanse the few open wounds with a piece of her uniform and keep the cool cloth on his forehead. They had been given no food, although they had the water from the faucet; she did not know where this water came from, but though it tasted strongly of minerals, it seemed all right.

The next morning found her sleeping exhausted on the floor next to her small companion, and the Snarf unconscious again, quiet instead of mumbling in his unsteady dreams.

When Cheetara did not wake when the two Mutant reptiles, the female from the other day, and a gray-toned male opened the door, the male kicked her viscously in the side.

With a surprised grunt, Cheetara's eyes flew open and she raised herself blearily up to look at the floor with eyes that could barely see. She was tired.

The male kicked her again, sending the groggy cheetah over to sprawl on her back. "Get up, you worthless Thunderian!" the male bellowed, and reached down to grab her.

And now she was mad. Cheetara growled when he reached for him, grabbing his hand and pitching him on the floor. Now it was his turn to be surprised as he hit the floor face first with a yelp of pain as his snout hit.

Cheetara was on her feet in a minute, to face the woman, but she already had her weapon out, something she had dug up in the prison's storage room, something they had not had to use in a long time. She fired the hand-held pistol.

When a red beam lanced out to strike Cheetara's chest, she staggered backwards, shook her head, and got up, ready to grab Snarf and make a run for it with her speed, but she couldn't. She couldn't make her limbs move at the speed she wanted, and although she was straining to make her top speed, it was as if she were moving through water. She felt sluggish. Th-Thundranium?" she asked, the one shot at high intensity having been enough to make her have to use the ancient sink for support, and to make her feel nauseous.

"We Mutants are not as dumb as you miserable cats make us out to be," Lizdi snarled. "We came prepared."

The gray male groaned and stood up, then snarled angrily and grabbed Cheetara, slamming her into the wall. She let out a sharp outcry as her head struck, and again when he twisted her arm up behind her back. Then she growled and fought to free herself, but the Thundranium had weakened her and she could do little against the strong Mutant. "Get your scaly hands off me, Reptilian!"

"Shut up, you feline bitch," he growled back. "You're gonna pay for dumping me on the ground."

"That's enough, Graydon," the female said. "Jackala wants her in for interrogation."

"I know that!" the gray reptile snapped back." Then he narrowed his eyes at Cheetara, turning back to her. "Afterwards you're mine." He yanked her from the wall and dragged her out the door, not letting go of her arm and the collar of her clothing. Lizdi followed along behind with the Thundranium pistol in case of trouble.

Once Cheetara had recovered a little from the Thundranium blast, she tried, but another blast sent her reeling. She was not able to give any trouble the rest of the way.

Jackala turned out to be a small, petite-looking jackal Mutant, a female, with one pale blue eye that rolled aimlessly around in its socket, and a darker, piercing green one that glared hatefully at whomever she looked at. She narrowed her eyes at the cat as she was brought in; she had been waiting for her for ten minutes. Her good eye looked her over with the cruel intent of a tomcat toying with a mouse. "Strap her in," she said with a feminine, but harsh voice. It was a little high, but powerful, and not at all pleasant.

Cheetara was too drained and sick to put up much of a fight as Graydon and Lizdi strapped her into a metal chair with heavy leather straps, then retreated to a dark corner of the dim room, the same ugly brick as the rest of the prison that she could see. She returned the glare of the jackal, then looked about the room.

There were the two lizards, the jackal, and two others, simians that looked like they might be identical twins, in the other corner. She looked up above the metal chair to see a face mask of some sort clipped to a metal frame. She quashed the urge to bite her lip and returned her gaze to the jackal.

Jackala, emotionless except maybe for contempt, gave the cheetah a minute to take in her surroundings. The room was small, and the Mutants were there for intimidation. It was working, but Cheetara refused to show any fear.

The jackal seemed amused and a little impressed. "Not many would show your stolidity in a situation like this," she said in a low tone to Cheetara, who remained silent. Then she leaned forward and hissed, "I want to know why you're here on Plundaar, you and your pathetic excuse for a hairball, who, I might add, is of a species that doesn't exist anymore."

Cheetara narrowed her eyes and spit in the jackal's face. "Suck fiirken!" she snarled, referring to a Plundaarian beast of burden that was covered with slimy, foul smelling, bristly hairs. Cheetara's Plundaarian love had taught her the fine art of insulting in Plundaarian. Cheetara had gotten such a kick out if it.

Jackala said nothing, only slowly recoiled with a look of hateful disgust on her face, then suddenly lashed out, swiping her slim claws across Cheetara's face, leaving four thin, bloody trails across Cheetara's face. She let out a quickly surpressed grunt as the jackal wiped her face.

But she cried out sharply as something thick hit her across the chest, and she opened her eyes to see the little jackal holding a thick rubber cord, and had jut struck her with it. "I could beat the truth out of you, Thunderian, but Graydon over there wants that privilege, and I have better things to do than to waste my time with a piece of Thunderian trash. So I am just going to scan your mind and turn you over to him." She nodded curtly to the two simians, who came forward as one. The one-eyed jackal stepped back only to observe, flicking her eye to a green-lighted screen that was blank at the moment.

One of the monkeys secured Cheetara's head with a band of leather, tightly enough to the back of chair for it to hurt from the pressure of the band, while the other played with the face mask, which Cheetara could now see was made for the head, not the face. It was fitted onto her and cinched tight, and she felt a breeze on the back of her neck, as one of the simian twins had slid open a small panel on the thin metal back of the chair.

Cheetara growled lightly as the simian brought something down attached to a wire from above. "What are you doing back there, you filthy ape?" she demanded.

"Hoo, hoo, shut up, Thunderian. Who are you to talk to a Mutant like that?"

Cheetara blinked. She had heard hatred, aggressiveness, even courage from a simian Mutant, but never that kind of arrogance. She wondered what kind of shape her home world, the New Thundera that jackal she had first seen here had mentioned was in. Was her race so degraded as to be looked down on by a Plundaarian?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a thin, sharp pain at the base of her skull, close to the ear, and she yelped. "What the hell!" A needle! A needle was being slipped into the muscle on the side of the neck! "What the hell are you doing?!" she demanded.

The jackal sighed. "Silence her, Monkran."

"Hoo, hoo, you got it." One of them left the room for a minute while the other finished sliding the needle in. It had only hurt for a moment as it penetrated skin and muscle, but it had entered the brain, in the precise location that the helmet ensured. A brain had no nerves in it, thus she felt no pain.

Monkran came back with some cloth, forced her mouth open to stuff it in, then tied it around her mouth, careful not to move or dislodge the contraption. Cheetara made a muffled sound of anger. "Hoo. There."

Jackala nodded and looked at the display, which was flashing coded numbers across the screen. She would run it through the computer when it was finished.

The whole thing took little more than ten minutes, and when it was done, the device, but not the gag, was removed. "Take her back to her cell," Jackala said with a malicious smile. "After you're done playing with her." She turned and left the room, carrying a small computer chip that held the data on it form Cheetara's mind.

Lizardon grinned and moved around in front of Cheetara, taking the rubber cord from the wall. "Jackala wants you alive, for now," he said. Cheetara glared up at him. "But she said anything else is fine with her." Still Cheetara said nothing, and the other Mutants in the room remained, eager to watch the spectacle.

Lizardon brought his muscular arm back, fully intending to beat the living hell out of the Thunderian woman, but he saw her torn uniform leg, torn to past the knee to make a compress for Snarf's injuries, and a lewd smile crossed his face. "No. I have a much better idea." He set the rubber cord down.

***

"Are you all right, Pumyra?" Lynx-O asked, his face showing concern as he heard his friend's footfalls enter the room.

"Yes." Her voice sounded strained, but in control. She sighed and sat down. "I'm all right. When...when did Jaga do this?" she asked, her brown eyes looking at Lynx-O intently. "I mean why did none of this show in any records? Why didn't they figure out what caused Thundera's destruction?"

"I don't know, Pumyra. The Sword of Plundaar holds many magical qualities. Perhaps it did not want to be found, it took months of researching to figure it out. Cheetara helped me, with her gift, although she did not know exactly what I had been researching. I will tell when it is the right time to do so." Lynx-O sighed. As for when, it was 13, Day 47."

Pumyra frowned. "Is it the Chasm?" She asked, referring to the great fiery pit where Jaga did indeed hurl the accursed sword.

Lynx-O nodded and sighed. "Yes. And that caused the chain reaction that ultimately destroyed our home world."

Pumyra nodded. Thirteen, Day 47? But that would be this year! Pumyra remembered the date on the paper they had found. Three days from now, she thought. Only three! She bit her lip and thought furiously while Lynx-O consulted book after book.

Part 12

Part 14

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