Five years had passed since I first learned about Mumm-Ra. During that time, I had grown up a lot and so had the other children in Cat's Lair. There had been new additions too; Lynxari now had a healthy three-year-old daughter called Sylvia, while Lata and Sita were the older sisters of Tigreta's baby son, Tigon. I spent most of my later childhood with Ocelotra's son, Hunter, who was closest to my own age. We did all the things normal kids do, but we both knew our status as Thundercats meant we must one day defend our planet so we also devoted plenty of time to weapons practice.
Hunter's chosen weapon was a quarterstaff, similar to the one Cheetara used to carry but without the telescopic properties. Instead, it was hollow inside and you could pour powders into in and use it as a blowpipe - if you could breathe out hard enough. Wilykit liked this aspect of it; she said it reminded her of the "bag of tricks" she and her brother used to use for weaponry. I, meanwhile, had my chakram and, under Pumar's expert tutelage, I was becoming quite proficient at throwing it.
Shortly after I turned fourteen, a chain of events began that would change my life forever. It all started on the afternoon I came home from school to find all the adult Thundercats grouped silently round a live tv news broadcast. I glanced at the screen. A female Thunderian in her late twenties (a Lion like myself, by the look of her) was talking into a microphone, the words Breaking News on the bottom of the screen.
"Experts say the Thundranium was released at the height of the afternoon rush hour," she was saying. "As yet, we have no way of knowing the extent of the damage . . ."
My mind blanked her out as I realised the implications. Thundranium, I recalled, was a substance that was deadly poisonous to Thunderians. It weakens our race if they touch it or inhale its fumes and, in the worst cases, it has been known to kill. A few rare individuals develop an immunity, but, for most Thunderians, exposure to this stuff can leave them weak and dizzy at the very least. "Mother?" I ventured, turning to where she was sitting next to my father. "What's going on?"
She turned round, a concerned expression etched on her attractive face. "Storm, thank goodness you're here," she said. "Someone's released a load of Thundranium in the Subway."
"Thundranium?" I echoed. "But who would do that? And how?"
"We're wondering the same thing," Leopardo said. "For one thing, whoever it was would need to get it onto the planet without being detected . . ." I knew exactly what he meant; for obvious reasons, there had long been an embargo on Thundranium. Spacecraft found to be carrying it would be turned back before they entered New Thundera's atmosphere and made to jettison their deadly cargo in the vaccuum of space.
Anyway, the screen showed a scene of complete chaos. Thunderians who had managed to avoid the worst of the Thundranium were racing to get clear before the fumes overcame them. In their eyes, I saw a look of blind panic, their minds focussed solely on their own immediate danger, completely oblivious to all else. It was as if something had possessed them, something that made them want nothing except to escape the scene before it was too late. There was no sound except the newscaster's voice describing what had happened, but I could hear the shouts and screams in my mind.
"This is serious," my father said, turning off the viewscreen and turning to look at us all. "The crisis we discussed five years ago may be coming to light."
"You mean that was the work of Mutants?" I asked from where I was sitting between my mother and Katron. The latter was a male mixed-breed Thunderian, the son of a Panther father and a Cheetah mother; his skin was grey like a pure Panther's and his hair was light brown with black spots. Unlike pure Cheetahs, however, he lacked the distinctive facial markings and, even though he was an exceptional athlete, he had never acquired Superspeed . . .
Anyway, he was the one who spoke next. "I fear it may be so, young Storm," he said. "The evil is rising again and it's up to us to stop it."
As he spoke, I glanced at my father. The Sword of Omens was by his side as usual and I felt a surge of power just looking at the blade that I too would, one day, wield as Lord of the Thundercats. From what I'd been told, it was an ancient blade, forged long before the destruction of Old Thundera and carried by every serving Lord of the Thundercats ever since. But it was more than just a badge of office, it symbolised who the Thundercats were. It (or rather the Eye of Thundera in its hilt) had the power to know when a Thundercat was in trouble. It could even be used to summon the Thundercats in an emergency, but, in this time of relative peace, it had not been used for that purpose for many years.
"I bet the Sword could stop it, Father," I said. Then, I frowned as a disturbing thought occurred to me. "But what if the Mutants try to take it and use it for evil?" I felt a shiver go up my spine.
"Not to worry, young Thundercat."
Everyone turned as Wilykit hobbled into the room, leaning heavily on her stick. Walking had become a considerable trial for her in the last few years and she seldom ventured out of Cats' Lair anymore. When she did travel, she always rode in a special buggy designed by Leopardo, our chief technician. But, like most elders, what she lacked in physical strength she made up for with her wisdom and her powerful presence. It was hard for me to believe she had once been an energetic young girl . . .
"Storm," she said, crossing the room and resting her wizzened hand on my shoulder, "that will never happen. The Mutants tried to take the Sword before, only to fail. Then, their leaders ended up in Wayout Back. I don't know who their current leaders are, but I doubt they'll try anything like that again."
"H - how can you be sure?" I asked, still doubtful. Wilykit was the only Thundercat old enough to remember the war between the Thundercats and the Mutants, but it had ended over eighty years ago. And eighty years is a long time - at least it seemed so to my fourteen-year-old mind - plenty of time for memories to get distorted.
"I know so. The Eye of Thundera can sense the motive of anyone who tries to wield the Sword - and it will never respond to an evil command."
I exchanged glances with my father, who nodded. He looked as though he was about to say something, but, before he could, the intercom rang. My father hurried across the room and pressed the button to answer it. A male human in a Galactic Police uniform appeared on the viewscreen.
"Lord Feleo, there's big trouble over on Third Earth!" he said in a desperate rush that was clearly trying to sound professional. "Mutants and Lunatacs are attacking!"
We all exchanged fearful glances as we absorbed his words. If the Mutants and Lunatacs were indeed attacking Third Earth, there was no telling how much damage they could cause. For one thing, it was said there was still some Thundercat equipment on the planet, left behind after the defeat of Mumm-Ra eight decades earlier. With the threat of him removed, the Thundercats had stopped sending patrols down to the planet and concentrated on building up a civilisation on New Thundera. But, Wilykit had told me, a lot of equipment was still on Third Earth and, if it still worked . . .
"Mutants and Lunatacs?" asked my father. "Where did they strike first?"
"The Bolkin Village - at least half the Bolkins have been taken captive . . ." The human paused and I growled in silent rage at the news. I'd never seen a Bolkin in the flesh, but Wilykit had told me a little about them so I knew roughly what they looked liked - sheeplike beings that grew to about the height of a six-to-eight-year-old Thunderian. They were a simple folk and did not, as rule, like fighting. They wouldn't stand a chance if what the human had said was true.
"What do you want us to do?" my father went on. "I don't know if you've heard, but we've got a crisis on New Thundera right now."
"Oh? And what crisis is that?"
It was Ocelotra who replied. "I don't know how it happened, but someone released Thundranium into the subway . . ." She paused and smoothed down her purple tunic. "So the Thundercats will need to stay here until . . ."
She got no further before Wilykit cut her off. "Until when, Ocelotra?" she asked with a forcefulness that belied her years. "It could take weeks, even months to find out who's responsible - the Third Earthlings need us now!"
Ocelotra stared at the older Thundercat. "Our people need us too, Wilykit," she argued. "Doesn't the Code of Thundera compell us to help our fellow Thunderians?"
I could sense an argument brewing and shivered in anticipation as the two female Thundercats locked eyes, the younger fiery with passion, the elder tenacious with age. Ocelotra had always had a stubborn streak; Leopardo and Tigreta, who were her age-mates, said she had been this way ever since she was a little girl. Even now, she was not the kind to give way in an argument. But Wilykit could be very forceful herself when she wanted to be . . .
"Pah!" she spat. "You young whippersnappers don't know what it was like when I was young! Every waking hour was spent watching out for the Mutants and, if they regain their old power . . ."
She did not need to complete her sentence; we could all tell from her tone of voice that things would be bad if that came about. Even Ocelotra appeared dumbstruck. She shrugged her shoulders and turned to my father. "Lord Feleo, what should we do?"
Every head in the room turned towards my father, all us hoping he would know what to do.
Presently, my father spoke, his voice radiating compassion and power as it always did. "All right - this is what we must do," he said to us. "Lady Amber and I will leave for Third Earth first thing in the morning. As for the rest of you, I will need four able-bodied adults to accompany us . . ." He paused for a moment before announcing the names of those who would go on this mission and I waited with baited breath, hoping my name would be called. True, he had said "adults", but I was sure I was close enough to adulthood. "Pumar, Ocelotra, Fangelo and Lynxari. All of you are excused to make preparations."
As the four Thundercats whose names had been called left, he turned back to the rest of us. "Those of you who will not be going to Third Earth must help with the relief operation," he explained. "Ocelotra is right - we have a duty to help our people."
Tigreta crossed her arms. "The question is, who released that Thundranium? Not to mention, why?"
"I bet I know why," I piped up, unable to keep silent any longer. "It was someone working for the Mutants! They wanted to distract us so they could do their dirty work on Third Earth!"
"That's quite possible, Storm," my father admitted. "And I will be asking the Galactic Police to look into it."
"And us?" I asked, gesturing round at my fellow Thundercats.
"You must stay here, all of you. The people need their rulers at a time like this."
But my mind was already made up. I was not going to sit idly on New Thundera while my parents fought our old enemies. Instead, I was going to stow away on the Feliner III and go to Third Earth. I didn't know how yet - for one thing, I'd have to run the gauntlet of Snarf Emala - but I was going to do it. And, if I could talk Hunter into coming along too, so much the better.
Later that evening, however, I was playing cards with Hunter as I waited for the chance to broach the subject of stowing away, when a scream suddenly echoed through Cats' Lair. Lata, Sita and Sylvia, who were playing with their dolls nearby, looked up with a start as Tigreta hurried across to comfort her six-month-old son, Tigon. The latter had been woken by the scream and had chosen to voice his displeasure by doing some shrieking of his own.
"Lord Feleo! Lady Amber!" It was Lynxari's voice. "Everyone! Come quick!"
"What's going on?" Tigreta asked as we raced out into the corridor to find the Lynx Thunderian in a state of near hysteria. This was rare for Lynxari; she was normally a very calm young woman, no longer as inclined to tease as she had been when she and Lynxon were younger. So, clearly, something must be seriously wrong . . .
Lynxari was on her hands and knees, trying to mop up something that had been spilt from a tray. I vaguely recalled that she had offered to bring Wilykit her evening drink and my heart skipped a beat. Could something have happened to the oldest of our team of Thundercats? Was the last remaining link to Lion-O's time . . .?
Before I could complete the thought, my mother was at Lynxari's side, with the latter's husband close behind. Lynxari's husband was not a Thundercat and since, by tradition, only Thundercats were allowed to live in Cats' Lair, he lived in a nearby lodge instead. But he was a regular visitor and we all got on well with him. His name was Blaze and he was a Serval; although Thundercats had, again by tradition, tried to keep their bloodlines pure, intermarriage between difference races was common on New Thundera. So much so that some said there was hardly a Thunderian alive who didn't have some mixed blood . . . Anyway, Blaze gently helped his wife to her feet and asked her what had happened.
"Blaze, thank Jaga you're here!" Lynxari said, relieved but still close to tears. "It's Wilykit - she's . . ."
Before Lynxari could complete her sentence, Snarf Emala came running up, the Chain of Loyalty clasped in her paw. "Snarf! Look at this!" she told us urgently, holding the Chain up for all to see.
I had seen this Chain many times before. It was one of the ancient Treasures of Thundera, a gold chain with images of all the current Thundercats imprinted on it. Each image took up one disc; my father, as Lord of the Thundercats, had his directly to the right of the Thundercat Insignia in the centre, with that representing my mother on the other side. My disc was to the right of my father's. It was said that, if the Chain was ever broken, the Thundercats would start fighting among themselves until they were wiped out. However, it looked intact to me . . .
"Why don't you use the eyes the gods gave you, snarf snarf!" retorted Snarf Emala when I pointed this out. "Look!" She pointed to one of the discs with her paw.
I looked. It was Wilykit's disc, but the image of an elderly female Thunderian that was emblazoned on it was faded, barely visible. I could still make out a faint outline, but nothing in the way of detail. And that made realise what must be happening, what must have caused Lynxari's reactions. For, whenever a Thundercat's life came to an end, his or her image would vanish from the Chain . . .