Chapter Eight: Last Hope
Things were no less tense back on Plundarr. Wraith sat alone in the royal chambers, while Slicer was out patrolling the perimeter. The Sword of Plundarr pulsed softly in her hands, as though it were comfortable in the hand of to its rightful owner. Just outside her chamber, she could hear a heated argument taking place. It was the General, Klith, and the rat noble, Otarin that were having words.
The reptilian woman sighed and ran her hands along the Sword of Plundarr, trying to figure out what she should do. Although she had been coached time and time again at what she was to do, now that it was happening it was nothing like how she had expected it to be. Her first act as Warrior Queen Wraith had been to order that the news of her ascension be broadcasted all over the planet, but whether or not anyone had listened or obeyed it was still unknown to her. She hoped things would settle soon—for soon she had to go to the Divine Forge and stop the comet, along with the other sword-bearers. And then it struck her... no one knew about the comet!
She quickly gripped the Sword, which hissed eagerly in response to her alarm, and dashed out of the chamber, interrupting the argument outside. Klith’s scales were at an impossible angle from his body, and Otarin was up in his face, incisors bared. The two of them looked at her uneasily as she entered, still unsure of how they felt about the Warrior Queen. “I have grave news of vast importance,” she said as regally as possible.
Klith leaned away from the object of his hatred and turned to her. “Yes?” he said, omitting the usual “majesty” that went along with addressing the holder of the Sword of Plundarr.
She frowned, but ignored it for the time being. “There is a giant comet heading for our world. It will destroy us all,” she informed them. Before any of the others around her could scoff, she produced a small folder from her robes and extended it to them. “Here is proof.”
Klith snatched the papers and looked over them. His scales pressed flat against his body instantly.
Wraith noted his reaction and pressed forth. “I know you do not think much of me, but this is not a time to be arguing over the throne. It is time to unite and face a common problem. Can I trust you, Klith? Do you believe in me?”
Klith looked at the pictures in horror. He was no scientist, but the pictures clearly detailed what was going to happen if the comet hit Plundarr. The Moons would not shield them this time. He looked over at the pale female, and stared into her crystal eyes. Whatever he saw within them somehow convinced him. “Yes,” he said grudgingly. “I will distribute the news and keep order personally, Warrior Queen,” he said determinedly. He then bowed, turned, and marched off.
Otarin watched him go with disgusted eyes, and then turned to Wraith. “Whatever pheromones you used on him won’t work on me, you sickly bitch,” he hissed, drawing a wicked knife from his robes. Unlike Klith, who he imagined was secretly happy that the reptilian upstart had managed to convince the Sword of Plundarr to work for her, he had no intention of letting a scaly reptile—and a female, no less—take that which his own clan had rightfully ruled for centuries. He saw how she had unwisely left herself alone, and the rat was determined to extinguish her in that opportunity. Clenching the blade, Otarin sprang forward and drove the knife toward her heart, shouting, “Long live the Rodent Empire!”
Immediately reacting to its holder’s danger, the Sword of Plundarr hissed. However, it was not the Sword that saved her. Before she could even take hold of it, Otarin was blown backwards as a hole erupted from his midsection, splattering the halls and Wraith with blood. The Warrior Queen whirled, and saw Slicer perched impossibly on the wall, a humongous smoking plasma rifle in his hands. The black rat gulped for air, and tried to patch the charred hole in his body with his hands, but to no avail. He passed out from shock a moment later, and breathed his last a moment after that.
Paying little attention to the treacherous rat, Slicer merely nodded to his charge and disappeared into the shadows. Wraith herself shuddered and returned to the royal chambers. The delicate reptile did not enjoy being covered in blood, and as such, headed for the bathroom to cleanse herself of it. As she washed off her scales, she decided to wash the Sword off as well… but when she leaned to pick it up, she noticed that the blood that was on it was slowly absorbing into the blade. She made a face, and turned back to herself. So much for keeping the Blade clean, she mused.
When she finished cleaning, she studied her reflection in the mirror, and touched the glass with one hand. “May the old gods help me,” she said softly.
* * *
Soon Jhahood was visible in civilian telescopes of the Ice Moon. At first, no one though much of it, until a retired astronomer wrote a starling article for the press, detailing what the sudden appearance and size of the comet meant. It was only a matter of hours before the five Moons of Plundarr degenerated into screaming masses, all eyes focused on the Third Moon, waiting for the Royalty to confirm what the press had informed them of.
Back on Thundera, the Thundercats and their people waited in silent resolve. The Thundercats had done their duty and informed their people with heavy hearts that life as they knew it was quite possibly going to be destroyed again. The coming destruction was like a terrible flashback. Would they lose their planet again? If they did, was there a chance it would reform again?
In their dark and sinister hideaway, Mumm-Ra and Torlei continued to diligently steer the comet with fresh energies, renewed by the Ancient Sprits of Evil, who were desperate to finish the job of eliminating their hated foes before the prophecy could be fulfilled. The malignant spirits kept the information on the prophecy to themselves, however. There was no reason to distract their ever-living servants from their task.
And through all of this, Goroth Nug Jhahood pushed forward.
* * *
WilyKit sighed and tapped at the scanning button on Cat’s Lair’s control panel for what had to have been the thousandth time that hour. She had come back from speaking with Lion-O hours ago. It made her feel proud that he’d commended her for forging an alliance with the Lunatacs in the hopes of finding some way to thwart the deadly comet headed toward them, but in light of what they were facing, the flash of pride was nothing compared to the growing sense of doom. Their time was running out, and Lion-O’s speech to the people of Thundera had a terrible draining effect on all of them, especially Lion-O himself. The Thundercat Lord had locked himself in the Sword chamber shortly after giving it, leaving Tygra and Panthro to answer the onslaught of questions from the press. He didn’t say what he was doing, but WilyKit thought that perhaps he was trying to seek out Jaga, or simply to find some sort of moment of peace or rest in the vain hope that inspiration would strike him with a workable plan.
As she sat in the empty control room, she found herself envying the others. They were all keeping busy. Tygra and Panthro were speaking with the citizens. Snarf was doing the same in the Valley of the Snarfs. WilyKat and Bengali were out calming a riot that had broken out in a more distant sector. The rest of them were working with Lynx-O to process what information he could gather on the mammoth comet over the Braille board in the hopes of finding some structural weakness or angle they could exploit.
And she was… waiting. Waiting for an answer. Waiting to hear about Cheetara. And more than she liked to admit, she was waiting to see that Lunatac’s face again. “Oh Jaga, you need to get out of here, WilyKit,” she grumbled, sipping at her warm and flat candyfruit soda.
She almost jumped out of her skin when the alarm for an incoming transmission sounded, and she answered it in a flash. “Cat’s Lair!” she answered, rush and hope clear on both in her voice and on her face, which started to for a smile when she saw the face on the other end. “Ambassador Darkail,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Glad to hear back from you.”
“My apologies for taking so long, Lady WilyKit,” he replied warmly, and—was it just her, or was it a bit more familiar than last time? “But,” he continued, “we had a bit of a crisis come up here.”
“Is Cheetara all right?” WilyKit questioned, her tone slipping back to business, her concern for the cheetah pushing aside any more frivolous thoughts.
Darkail nodded. “She’s fine. She’s still resting, but it’s been asked that she join us on an unplanned trip to Plundarr.”
“Why?” WilyKit asked, baffled.
“It’s a long story,” the Hunter informed her. “But to keep it short, a Plundarrian representative, the Nautilus Councilman Tiberon, arrived here unexpectedly and asked Queen Selene to take the MoonSaber and go to Draco. He said it was part of some prophecy that spoke of how to stop the comet. Since Cheetara and the Queen’s husband Psiarik shared the same dream, we thought it would be significant if she went as well.”
WilyKit frowned as she took in the Lunatac’s words. “But she’s not even conscious. Is she up to it?”
“Our healer assures us that she is.”
“Well that’s good,” WilyKit said, relaxing somewhat. “But we should meet her at least, and show our support. I have to speak with Lion-O about this. Draco… what are the coordinates for that?”
Darkail shifted slightly. “That’s another disturbing coincidence we discovered—the very same coordinates where the comet is projected to impact.”
The female Thundercat’s eyes widened in shock. “Great Jaga!”
“To say the least,” Darkail murmured in reply. Before he could say anything else, WilyKit saw him turn sharply and frown as someone out of the monitor’s range entered the room. She heard him ask the individual for clearance, and heard Queen Selene’s name, as well as Lion-O’s, mentioned, and a strange look crossed the green-haired Lunatac’s features. WilyKit was about to interrupt and ask what was going on when a distinguished-looking squidman—if such a thing were possible—stepped in next to Darkail on the other end.
“Thundercat WilyKit,” Tiberon addressed her.
WilyKit blinked, and then put her surprise aside to answer the mutant. “Yes, and I am speaking to Councilman Tiberon of Plundarr, I presume?”
The Nautilus nodded. “I must speak with your Lord immediately.”
The unspoken thought that it was a matter of life or death entered the Thundercat’s mind directly after he spoke the words. “All right,” she answered, somewhat unsettled by the strange mutant. “I’ll go and find him. Please hold.”
She set the transmission onto a holding frequency and hurried to the sword chamber. After several knocks, and a shout that it was important, Lion-O emerged, looking more haggard than she’d ever seen the vibrant lion look. She quickly explained the nature of the call in the control room to him, and after picking up the Sword of Omens and the claw shield, he followed her back to the console. She took the call off hold and stood with Lion-O as he addressed the Nautilus.
“I am Lion-O, Lord of the Thundercats,” he greeted him. “I hear you wish to speak with me?”
Tiberon’s head formed a nod. “You already know of Jhahood, the Planet Killer.”
“The comet,” Lion-O affirmed. “Yes, we’re aware of it.”
“My people know of a way to stop it. For ages we’ve held a prophecy that has foretold of it. ‘In the Darkest hour, a Pale savior will rise from the wastelands, unite the Blades, and push back the darkness,’” he repeated, reciting the same ancient words he’d spoken to Selene earlier. “Our pale savior has arrived, in the form of Wraith, the new Warrior Queen of Plundarr.”
“Ratar-O’s successor?” WilyKit guessed. Ever since the news of the comet had broken, she’d paid little attention to mutant politics, and she had not heard of young Roderan’s brief appointment to the throne.
“She is the new and rightful holder of the Sword of Plundarr,” the Nautilus corrected her. “And she, along with the Lunar Queen and the MoonSaber, and the Thunderian Lord and bearer of the mystic Sword of Omens, all must lend a hand in stopping Jhahood in the holy land of Draco.”
“Holy land,” snorted WilyKit, “not to Thunderians, it isn’t.”
“Eons ago our people were one and the same,” Tiberon stated. There was no condescension audible in his voice, only statement of fact.
WilyKit frowned, but held her tongue further, while Lion-O spoke. “How can we stop it by going there?”
“There is no time to explain, Lord Lion-O. Trust in me and take your blade to the Divine Forge. Ambassador Darkail can give you the coordinates. I will explain the rest when you arrive.” With that, Tiberon bowed and left the room as abruptly as he’d entered, not unlike how he had done when he spoke with Selene.
“He was weird,” WilyKit noted as the squidman left. “But what he said wasn’t unexpected I guess,” she said, glancing at Darkail. Lion-O raised an eyebrow and turned to the younger Thundercat, waiting for her to elaborate further. She eyed the silent Hunter for a moment, and when he said nothing, she continued. “Ambassador Darkail told me that Selene wanted Cheetara to leave with her for Draco.”
“The ship is being fueled as we speak,” Darkail supplemented.
Lion-O nodded decisively. “Then we will do the same. If there’s any chance at all this can save our worlds, then we must take it. We haven’t got many options left.” He paused and added an afterthought. “Cheetara will be all right for the trip, won’t she?” WilyKit had told him about her condition earlier.
WilyKit smiled and put her hand on his shoulder before Darkail could answer. “Their healer says that she’ll be fine.”
“Good,” Lion-O said, brightening for a moment before he slipped back into a more businesslike tone. “Then let’s get this trip underway. WilyKit, I want you to come with me, and I want you to find Panthro and bring him back here. If a pilot is going to take us to Plundarr, then I want it to be him.”
“Right away,” WilyKit agreed. She sat at the console and looked up at Darkail, whose eyes were on her as well. “It looks like this is goodbye for now, Ambassador. Thanks for all your help.”
“Thank you for yours,” he replied with a smile. “I’ll be seeing you on Plundarr.”
The communication went dead, and as she keyed in the frequency to hail Panthro, she realized that with his last statement she was doubly glad to be included on the mission.
* * *
Cheetara was awakened by a sudden jolt. She gasped in the dimly lit, unfamiliar room, and tensed until she got her bearings. When she saw the unusually warm face of a blue-haired Psi Lunatac standing above her, she relaxed, as the memory of her last conscious action of going into a trance, came back to her. “I’m sorry to wake you,” the Psi man said before she could react. “But we haven’t much time to get you moving, and General Frostor has ordered you out of the facility and onto the outbound ship, now that we’re certain you’re out of danger.”
“All right,” the stunned cheetah replied as the healer helped her out of bed. “What happened? And who are you?”
“My name is Altheus. I’m the healer assigned to your case. You collapsed from psychic exhaustion, but with enough rest you should be fine. After all, you’ve been through it before,” he added with a knowing smile.
She leaned on the Psi as they made their way through the hallway. “How did you know that?” she asked, but somehow she knew the answer already, almost like she remembered. “You were in my mind,” she guessed.
Altheus nodded. “Please don’t misunderstand. I make it a point not to read the private thoughts of my patients unless it’s absolutely necessary… but in the case of a psychic trauma, there is no other way to find out what has been damaged without probing, and inadvertently…”
“Reading my thoughts,” Cheetara finished.
The Psi nodded again. “I respect your confidentiality. I won’t speak a word of them to anyone.”
Cheetara smiled knowingly. She still felt a bit of his presence in her, and it enabled her for the time being to have a sense of him as well. “Yes, I know that.” As they rounded a corner, an armed officer greeted them and escorted them down the hall and out to a ship. “Where is this ship going? Back to Thundera? What about the conference? And the comet?”
“Not to Thundera,” the guard replied gruffly. “To Plundarr. Queen Selene and the MoonSaber have been asked to go to the Draco region by some mutant squid noble. She’s taking her husband, Ambassador Darkail, and a couple others—yourself included—with her.”
“What? Why me?” gasped the surprised Thundercat. She couldn’t believe that the Lunar Queen would order her transported without her consent.
“His highness Psiarik asked that you go, Cheetara,” Altheus interrupted. “This trip has to do with your shared vision, and the comet. They believe they know of a way to stop it, and they assumed you would want to be there as well, but with you unconscious, they had to make the decision for you. Of course, if you don’t feel up to it, I’m sure it can be arranged for you to stay behind.”
Cheetara exhaled slowly as she took in the turn of events. The news that there might be a way to stop the comet was promising, and they were right in assuming she would want to be there. “No, I’ll go,” she said determinedly. “But do I have time to call Cat’s Lair first?”
“You can call them from the ship,” the guardsman answered, and pointed to a sleek space vessel decorated with the royal crescent moon signal of the Lunatacs that was in the process of being fueled up. The door was open, and it was clear that it was being prepped for a quick takeoff.
Altheus and the guard escorted the Thundercat to the door. Will you be all right, or do you want me to stay with you? The healer’s concerned voice broke into her thoughts.
Cheetara blinked, his mind speech catching her off guard. Few Thunderians were telepathic in such a
way, and she was not used to communicating that way. She realized that he was speaking directly so
as to avoid embarrassing her if she found the question offensive. No,
she replied mentally, smiling warmly back at him. That’s
not necessary. I’ll be all right…but
thank you.
“Here you are then,” the healer spoke aloud. “Take care not to overdo your powers, and sleep on the way there if you can. You will need all the rest you can get.”
“I will,” Cheetara assured him, and climbed onto the ship.
* * *
Slythe, grumpily following Jackalman through the halls of his manor, was highly irritated when one of his guards approached. “What is it, yesss?” he growled at him. “I’m rather busy!”
The reptilian guard flicked his tail and met his master’s gaze nervously. “Sir! The concubine has escaped her quarters, and we are unable to locate her.”
Slythe’s scowl deepened, and his scales began to rise along with his temper. “What?” The guard shifted uncomfortably, and repeated what he had said. Slythe cursed. He had a feeling that the two females had teamed up. Females were always doing bizarre things like that… and then they wondered why the men of Plundarr didn’t want them in power. “Find them! Check Ratrelle’s transport!” he barked, taking a swing at his subordinate. The guard ducked and dashed off to fulfill his orders.
Jackalman was almost dancing in place. “Come on, Slythe!”
“Shove it, Jackalman!” rasped the angry reptile.
Not far away, in the shadowy grounds of Slythe’s manor, Bazungy and Ratrelle reached the rat’s ship, previously set up for her by Jackalman, moments after they had set out for it. Ratrelle was gasping for breath. Gods, the reptilians can move, she thought. Rats were fast, but they were not built for endurance—they were made for sprinting. But knowing what was at stake, Ratrelle ignored her discomfort. Once at the ship, she entered the codes she had been given for it and boarded. When she turned to see if Bazungy was coming aboard, she noticed the assassin was already heading away. “Where are you going?” called Ratrelle, more out of curiosity than concern.
Bazungy turned and smiled sadly. “I’ve ended the lives of so many,” she said simply, “and this comet will soon end everyone’s life. I am going to retire. Good luck, Ratrelle.” With that, the assassin bolted across the airfield and into the bordering forest, melding with the darkness.
Ratrelle looked after her for a moment, and then sealed off her ship. She lifted off just as the guards poured onto the airfield, also leaving her old life behind her once and for all.
“Slythe’s gonna be pissed,” noted one of the more dimwitted guards as they watched Ratrelle’s ship vanish into the night. His fellow guards nodded at the statement, and watched as Jackalman’s ship, which had been parked on the other side of the building, also sped away from the manor.
* * *
“You’re not going!”
“Aurora....”
Aurora’s face was twisted with anger and fear. Frostor had come in, and upon seeing that RedEye was fine, informed him that he was to escort Queen Selene to the rocks of Draco in an hour. Without pausing to ask whether or not he would agree, the general had turned and left.
“RedEye, you’re in no condition to go flying around in mutant air space,” she scolded, putting both of her hands on his chest, keeping him from going through the door.
He looked at her, torn. Frostor’s words had seemed like more of an order than an askance, and given the seriousness of the task, he didn’t think he should think of the request as optional. Yet he hated to leave Aurora alone... What if the swords didn’t work, and the comet destroyed everything anyway? He would want to spend his last moments with her.
Tears brimmed in her eyes. “Please... don’t leave me,” she begged.
Alluro and Chilla stood outside the room, uncomfortable with the situation. Displays of emotion made Chilla uneasy to begin with, and Alluro was fairly sure that the quiet and private-minded RedEye did not like having witnesses to scenes like this. They wondered how it would turn out. They both knew that RedEye was an excellent navigator. Selene would be the safest if he were the pilot. But some things went beyond orders and royalty.
“Aurora... I have to,” RedEye said, trying to think of a way to explain it to her. She made a choking noise, as if she were trying to hold back a sob. It was killing him to have to tell her that he was going. But if there was chance that the swords would work, he was up for it.
“Don’t leave me alone,” she argued softly, desperation clear in her voice.
His heart was breaking for her. He knew that she had been burned in the past. This whole situation was probably like some unpleasant flashback to those days.
“Look, why don’t you be his co-pilot?” Chilla offered suddenly, stepping into the room. She didn’t want to interrupt whatever was going on, but she had heard enough. Alluro tried to shush her, but the damage was already done. Aurora brightened slightly, looking up at her to-be mate.
RedEye sighed and set his mouth in a grim line, glaring at Chilla. “I don’t want you to be in any danger,” he began.
He was cut off. “Danger? There’s a giant comet heading for Plundarr!” she raged, pointing an accusing finger at him.
He held up his hands defensively, at a loss. She did have a point. “All right,” RedEye conceded, far from pleased with the development.
Aurora threw her arms around his waist and squeezed briefly. “Thank you,” she said quietly. Resigned, RedEye patted her on the head, and they turned to leave.
“Good luck,” Alluro offered from where he stood.
RedEye nodded, grasping Alluro’s hand. “It was nice knowing you,” he looked at Chilla, “both of you. Goodbye.”
With that, the two darklings hurried out of the med lab, and towards the airfield.
Alluro and Chilla watched them leave in silence.
* * *
Tiberon, grateful that he now did not have to waste precious time going to Thundera, navigated his own craft towards the rocks of Draco, toward the divine forge. Things were coming together quickly now. There was very little room for error. He hoped that the Sword bearers would arrive early, so that he could explain the ceremony to them. The more at ease they were with the situation, the better.
He thought back to his meeting with the Lunar Queen. Her husband had impressed him. Most psychics were not talented enough to pick up on the Chaos Blade’s thoughts, especially non-Nautilus ones. Psiarik was indeed powerful, although he used very little of his abilities, as most of the shattered races did. As he thought of his Blade, it grew hot against his skin and whispered to him... its thoughts were more like pictures than words, coalescing in his mind.
It showed him that the assassin, Bazungy, had not killed Ratrelle. He had assumed that it would happen, and quickly dismissed the vision, slightly irritated. It was really of no consequence now. He realized that Jhahood’s appearance must’ve been unnerving even the mighty Blade, for it to show him something so trivial.
The Nautilus landed his craft on the water and submerged it, and after securing it under an underwater overhang, he opened a line to Wraith.
She picked up quickly. “Tiberon!” she said, her voice filled with relief.
“Wraith... how are things since I left?”
She paused, gathering her thoughts. Things seemed busy in the background, and he could make out various reptilians bustling about. “The reptilian clan has grudgingly accepted me,” she said, trying to sound suspicious, but failing, the joy in her voice to apparent. “For the moment, only the rat clan openly opposes me. Right now everyone’s concerned with Jhahood.”
Tiberon nodded. It was all as Conchlian had predicted.
“Leave for the Divine Forge as soon as you can,” he told her. “May the old gods speed your passage.”
Wraith nodded to him, and smiled warmly, ending the transmission. Tiberon swam up to the surface and climbed up on the rocks, surveying the scene. It was as it had been for eons. Around one of the supposedly dead volcanoes of Draco were 4 jagged outcroppings of rock, all of them tilted over the mouth of the volcano. The crashing surf was almost deafening, but Tiberon took it all in, glad to be so near to the sea again. It had been a long time.
The Nautilus enjoyed the moment, and waited for the others to arrive.
* * *
“Could you give me those coordinates again, Lion-O?” Panthro called from the cockpit. They had taken off moments after the Nautilus had communicated with them. Lion-O handed the panther the data pad with the coordinates, and he plugged it into the computer. The big Thundercat frowned. “There’s hardly anything there, except for a bunch of rocks,” he noted. He paused for a moment and then raised an eyebrow. “Wait a minute… isn’t that where the comet is going to impact?”
Lion-O nodded, but said nothing, already drifting back into his own thoughts.
The panther shrugged and continued on, doing his best not think about Lion-O’s doomsday speech from earlier in the week. He just hoped that they could stop it all in time.
Sitting beside Lion-O, WilyKit eyed the Lord with concern, but said nothing. She thought it was likely he would perk up once he saw Cheetara, but for now he was going to remain sullen. And strangely, amidst all the chaos, she still found herself eager to meet Ambassador Darkail. Although she would never admit it, she found the suave Lunatac highly attractive. She made a mental note to, if they all lived through this ordeal, start volunteering for diplomatic missions more often.
* * *
“I don’t recall asking her to come along,” Frostor growled in disapproval, glancing at Aurora. He had nothing against the darkling woman, but he also knew nothing of her piloting abilities and knew full well how unneeded civilians could jeopardize a serious mission. Since when had his words held so little weight, anyway? Probably since Luna had arrived, a small voice taunted in the back of his mind. He shook the annoying thought from his head, and waited for RedEye’s explanation.
“She’s my co-pilot,” the darkling said simply, giving him a helpless shrug. The two dark dwellers entered the transport, and began prepping the ship for flight. Frostor was not impressed with the reasoning, but decided that in the grand scheme of things it wasn’t important enough to argue at this point, not when time was limited.
A few moments later, Selene, Darkail, Luna, Cheetara, and Psiarik walked onto the airfield together, also heading for the ship. Selene held the MoonSaber, clutching it absently. As they reached the transport, Frostor stepped aside and let them on, except for Luna.
“Are you sure you insist on going?” he asked, praying that a little bit of sense might enter her mind. She smirked at him, and instantly he knew better.
“Quite sure,” Luna replied haughtily. “Come on, Amok,” she said, urging her mount up the entry ramp. Frostor only sighed and left the transport. He couldn’t say he hadn’t tried. He wished in retrospect that he was going himself, but he knew that with the leaders on the mission, it was up to him as head of the military to maintain order on the Moons in their absence—and in the chance they did not return. While some with more ruthless ambitions for the throne might have hoped the opposite, he was not like that. He had raised Selene ever since the disasters from Thundera’s explosion had left her an orphan, and she was in many ways like a daughter to him.
Once everyone was aboard the engines of the transport, a royal ship called Bentusi, roared to life. The ship blasted into the air and quickly grew to a mere speck on the horizon. The Bentusi, an archaic word for speed, lived up to its name. Designed for speed and not combat, the Bentusi had no weapons. Frostor prayed they would not run into any trouble.
He also prayed that everything would turn out all right. Allowing himself a few moments of peace, the governor general sighed and headed for his chambers, which were swarming with press. Now was the time to deal with something he had long been dreading. It was time to confirm the people’s suspicions.
* * *
Back in their quarters in the royal palace, Alluro and Chilla sat quietly together on their couch, unable to think of much to say. What could one say when the end of life as one knew it was about to expire? They both knew it was futile to evacuate. All of the royal ships were in use, and at this point no civilian transports would be available. Already the comet was only days from impacting the ice moon. Many constellations were no longer visible from the moons, and it was suspected to eclipse the sun hours before it plowed through Lixuvekh.
They both jumped when the private communicator in their room went off.
“Who could that be?” Chilla growled, glaring at the offending piece of equipment.
Alluro shrugged and answered the call. A very familiar and unpleasant face filled the screen. “TugMug?” Alluro said, more than a little surprised.
“Alluro,” greeted the graviton. The Psi could hear chaos in the background, but it was muffled, so he assumed it was outside.
“It’s been a long time,” he noted coolly. “What is it?”
“What the hell is going on?” demanded TugMug, pressing his face even closer to the screen. It was clear that he was incredibly agitated. “Is all this comet shit true?”
Alluro nodded grimly. “Yes.”
“Shit,” cursed the swarthy Lunatac. Chilla peeked over Alluro’s shoulder, her morbid curiosity getting the better of her. TugMug snorted, when he saw her, but said nothing. She reciprocated. It was well known that she despised the other Lunatac with a vengeance, and the feeling was mutual.
“Don’t try to leave the moon, Tug Mug,” Alluro warned his old comrade. “It’s not worth the trouble. You wouldn’t make it.”
“What do you mean?”
“All civilian flights are booked, fuel is almost unavailable, and personal ships are too small and light to get past the comet’s gravitational pull. Do you want to risk getting pulled into the comet’s tail?” As he spoke, Alluro could swear the graviton looked concerned about something. “What’s on your mind, TugMug?” he probed. If nothing else, he hoped he could manipulate the situation to at least give Chilla and himself a laugh. Gods knew they needed one.
“I’m just worried about Gravitina,” he said grudgingly, not looking at Alluro. “She hasn’t come back from the grocery store yet...”
Chilla, now standing to the side of the communicator, and out of Tug Mug’s view, covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. Gravitina? She had heard TugMug had taken a mate some time ago, but hearing it from him was another story. She could only imagine the sort of woman he would attract.
Alluro stifled a smile of his own, and schooled a look of concern. “How long ago did she leave?”
Tug Mug shrugged, a somewhat guilty look on his face. “I don’t know. When I woke up, she had left me note.” The graviton stifled a yawn. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Alluro was almost afraid to ask, but he did anyway. “No? Why not?” Both Chilla and Alluro steeled themselves for the answer.
“The twins were up all night screaming,” he muttered, giving something off screen a murderous look. Chilla was floored, and could barely keep quiet. First a wife, and now children? It was just too much for her.
“Twins?” Alluro pressed, an amused lilt sneaking into his voice. “Since when?”
“Since a week ago,” Tug Mug said, pride evident in his voice. “A boy and a girl.”
“Congratulations,” Alluro said evenly. He knew that if he tried to put any emotion in his voice at all, he would lose it. Suddenly, there was a door slam in the background of TugMug’s area, followed by a strange female voice that held the same accent his did.
“Tuggy-Wuggy! I’m home!”
Chilla could stand it no longer. She let out a loud peal of laughter, holding her sides. The sides of Alluro’s mouth began to turn up at the sight of his mate’s merriment.
TugMug flinched, annoyed at the reaction, and turned away for a moment before he returned his attention back to the screen. “I’ve got to go,” he said irately, trying to see Chilla from her position off camera. “Thanks for the info.” With that, TugMug ended the communication.
As soon as his face disappeared, Alluro collapsed into a fit of laughter as well. “Tuggy-Wuggy!” gasped Chilla, tears streaming down her face. Alluro fell back onto the couch, laughing even harder. Chilla stumbled toward him, and he pulled her into his arms, the awkwardness of the fall making them only laugh more. When the laughter died down, their faces were mere inches apart. It was then that Alluro realized that if the world truly was ending, he was just where he wanted to be. That thought in mind, the hypnotist closed the space between them by drawing Chilla into a deep kiss.
For the moment, Jhahood was all but forgotten.
* * *
Wraith waded through the crowd of reptilians that now occupied the throne room, and silently wished Slicer was around. Whenever he was near her, he allowed her a wide berth, and an undeniable sense of security. Trying her best to see over the heads of the much taller male mutants, she finally spotted Klith and approached him. He made a sad attempt to bow, but she waved it off and motioned him a less crowded area of the royal chambers.
“Yes, Wraith?” he said. Klith wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to get used to calling a female “majesty”. Along the lines of females, he was a bit worried. Bazungy had not come back the night before, and she had yet to communicate with him.
“I need to leave soon, for the rocks of Draco,” she informed him.
He looked at her sideways. “Majesty,” he finally said, “that’s where the comet is going to impact.”
Wraith nodded, silently pleased that he had used her proper title. “Yes. I must take the Sword of Plundarr and participate in a ceremony that will stop the comet.”
Klith took in the information, nodding slowly. Before he could question her further, she continued.
“I am leaving you in charge while I am gone,” she said evenly. “Can I trust you?”
Klith favored her with a toothy smile. “Yes,” he said simply.
Wraith regarded him with her piercing blue eyes for a moment, and then a small smile graced her features. “Good. Prepare a transport. I want to leave as soon as possible.”
Wraith turned and exited the room, heading for her private quarters. Klith watched her leave, and then went about with his orders.
* * *
As they sped through space, Selene gazed out the window of the Bentusi, the MoonSaber clutched in her hand. It glowed softly in the dim cabin, but she paid it little attention, as her thoughts were elsewhere. The Queen was still unsure what exactly was going on. To her seemed as though one moment she was talking with Ambassador Ssysra, and the next, she was off to Plundarr to save the Moons. How she longed, in retrospect, for the comparatively simple task of ridding the Moons of the mutant presence.
Sensing her uneasy train of thought, Psiarik put a hand on her shoulder. She turned from the window, and offered her a smile, which she returned. She scooted over a bit, and they both gazed out the window together, staring into the vastness of space.
Luna watched the pair silently. Although she refused to show it, the thought of the comet was terrifying to her. She hoped that Amok was doing all right, seeing as his capacity for thought was minimal. She knew he might only barely grasp the situation, and she also knew that in some cases, that could be more frightening than having all the details. But then again, ignorance in this case might truly be a blessing. From what she could tell he seemed fine, but he wasn’t the most articulate Lunatac she knew, and even she had to admit, an empath she wasn’t.
The old Lunar woman cast a sidelong glance at Cheetara, who was keeping largely to herself. She was no fan of the Thundercat, and she did her best to establish the fact. She noticed that Cheetara was also looking out one the ship’s windows, although her eyes were largely unfocused. Luna sniffed to herself… she was probably conjuring more visions to frighten them with. She most certainly didn’t trust her.
Only Darkail remained relatively detached from the goings-on in the ship. He sat silently in his seat, thinking. He thought of his home, and how he might never see it again. He thought of the distant jungles of Serilune where he was born, and wondered if even the reclusive Hunters knew how near the end was if this mission failed. And oddly, he thought of the one bright spot of the mission, the lovely face of the Thunderian he spoke with. What was it that drew him to her?
RedEye’s voice came over the intercom, snapping everyone out of their thoughts. “We’re approaching Plundarr airspace. Everybody strap in,” he warned. The passengers complied. “Here goes nothing,” RedEye said to Aurora after he released the intercom. Aurora smiled at him, and adjusted the stabilizers slightly. At that he smirked. She was always trying to one up him.
RedEye keyed the hailing frequency on the radio to contact the mutants. “This is the Lunatac vessel Bentusi, requesting permission to enter Plundarrian airspace,” he said evenly. “I repeat, this is the Bentusi, over.”
There was radio silence for a few moments, and then it crackled to life. “This is Control Tower,” cawed a grating voice. “What is your business, Bentusi?”
“Queen Selene’s presence was requested on the Isles of Draco.”
“Confirmed. Please send your, caaww, codes!”
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