Melissa: Luna's drying her hair right now, so I took the opportunity to borrow Amok.

Amok: Raagh.

Melissa: Yes, Mr Eloquence himself!  Now, introduce the nice story and I'll give you some candy.

Amok: Grr, read story or Amok pound.

Melissa: Isn't he great, folks?  Let's give him a hand.  And a 'Snickers'.

 

I Think, Therefore I Am

 

                Luna scowled at the security monitors.  One of these days she'd find Tug-Mug's secret workshop, then she'd shut him down.  While the rotund Lunatac's weekly betting pools were mildly entertaining, things like his still and self-publishing operations were not.

 

                Mystan had tried and failed to shut down Tug-Mug's moonshining operation, though the telekinetic aided and abetted the graviton with his little magazine, aptly titled The Lunie Bin.

 

                The Lunie Bin not only covered the month's various bets and winners, but also every blackmailable detail about the crew's lives.  At least Tug-Mug had a sense of humour about it; if someone submitted an article about something stupid Tug-Mug had done, he'd run it.

 

                It wasn't that Luna was made to look ridiculous most issues that really annoyed her, but The Lunie Bin posed a bit of a tactical threat as well.  If their enemies somehow got their paws on an issue, the Lunatacs would never be taken seriously again.

 

                Luna yawned and decided that if he had any sense, Tug-Mug would be asleep by now.  She and Amok were today's ( tomorrow's? ) so-late-it's-early shift.  Amok was twiddling his thumbs, and missing most of the time.  Luna took a long slurp of coffee before picking up Tug-Mug's latest literary offering.

 

                The cover had a picture of Chilla, seething mad and about to spit ice at the person taking her photo.  In the bottom-left corner it read: Chilla's Mystery Lover Revealed!  In the bottom-right was the table of contents: Betting Pools - page 2, Cover story - page 4, Top Ten List - page 7, Candid Photos - page 8, Guest Column: Stuff We Found In Knave's Sock Drawer - page 13, Various Battles - page 14, The Latest Gossip From Cat's Lair - page 19, Guest Column: Skytomb Is Boring - page 21, Red-Eye's Secret Roast Berbil Stew Recipe - page 23, Personals - page 24.

 

                There didn't seem to be anything about her.  That was good.  Just in case, she flipped to the candid shots.  Just one.  Not bad.

 

* * *

 

                "I didn't know you drank coffee, 'Karis."

 

                Psikaris favoured her twin with a tired smile.  "I've got the morning shift and I was silly enough to pull an all-nighter.  Leave me to my misery.  Is that the latest issue of Lunie Bin?"

 

                "Yup."  Psychro flipped open the newsletter/tabloid.  "Oh, great.  I made page ten."

 

                "Anything about me?"

 

                Psychro scanned over a few columns.  "Hey, the Top Ten this month is ironic ways for Snarfer to die.  Number ten: Get backed over with the Thundertank..."

 

                "Psychro."  The Lunatac woman gave him a disapproving look.  "If I'm in there, I've got a right to know.  Hand it over."  After some protests and grumbling, Psikaris eventually just snatched the paper away.  "The 'Chilla's Mystery Lover' series, no one collected, poor Chilla...  'What Alluro Does When He Thinks No One's Looking', heh, I cleaned up on that one..."

 

                The male hybrid looked up from where he was making toast.  "Eh?"

 

                "He sings," chuckled Psikaris.  "I've caught him doing it a couple times.  Pretty good, too.  Hypnotist voice-training, I guess.  Hmm, 'Guess What The Mystery Ingredient In Roast Berbil Stew Is', I don't think I want to know...  'Next Month's Pool: When Will Mystan Admit To Having A Crush On Psikaris'!?"  Psikaris waved the paper at her brother.  "Psychro, what is this!?"

 

                "More rumours and gossip by Tug-Mug, don't worry," said Psychro placatingly from behind his toast.

 

                "But... but Mystan's so... apathetic."

 

                "You know Tug-Mug, anything for a laugh.  He's probably got a camera set up just to catch poor old Mysty's reaction."

 

                "My reaction to what?  And stop calling me 'Mysty'."  The telekinetic chose that moment to walk in.  Then noting the magazine in Psikaris' hand said, "Ah.  Tug-Mug's latest literary masterpiece.  I wrote the column on Thundercat gossip.  I swear those cats can be almost as ridiculous as this crowd."

 

                "I guess you had nothing to do with the betting pools, eh?" smirked Psychro.

 

                "Betting pools?  Why would I have dealings with that which I've tried to shut down?" Mystan asked huffily.  Suddenly suspicious, he took the paper from Psikaris' hands.  "WHAT!?  When I get my hands on Tug-Mug, I'll..."

 

                >click!<

 

                The three Lunatacs jumped at the sudden flash.  Tug-Mug stood smugly in the doorway, holding a camera.  "Page one," he chortled before fleeing down the hall laughing, Mystan hot on his wheels.

 

                Psychro chuckled.  "So much for apathetic."  Then, "Look, 'Karis, I'm not on duty this morning.  I'll take your shift so you can at least get some sleep.  I'll even get you to pay me back if you feel bad about it.  Just what were you working on, anyway?"

 

                "A way to get out of monitoring duty, what else?"

 

* * *

 

                "Good morning, Psikaris."

 

                "Afternoon, Asimov," the ice/psi woman corrected.  "It's the afternoon."

 

                "But you just woke up."

 

                Psikaris, not knowing where else to direct her look, directed it at the computer console.  "That's true, but despite what my brother thinks, the sun does not rise and set around me."

 

                "Yes, Psikaris."

 

                Asimov still had a few bugs in him.  Well, 'it'.  Psikaris gave it a male voice and thus thought of Asimov as 'him'.  Asimov was a computer program, designed for monitoring duty so that the Lunatacs themselves didn't have to do nearly so much of the dull work.

 

                And he could learn on his own, without Psikaris to program in new commands.  If the Thundercats or Mutants devised a new ship, he would recognize it on his own.  His name Psikaris chose as a joke.  There had been a human once, even before her time, who had devised the Three Laws of Robotics: The robot will not harm a human or allow one to come to harm.  A robot will obey any human unless the orders disagree with Law One.  The robot will not let itself come to harm, unless this goes against Laws One and Two.

 

                Well, substitute 'human' for 'Lunatac' and there was Asimov.  Just because he was designed to monitor didn't mean he couldn't teach himself to take over Skytomb.  And Skytomb was temperamental enough without a mind to guide it.

 

* * *

 

                After a few misgivings, Luna had agreed to allow Asimov full reign of the monitoring stations.  However, for the first week he would work with the crew, rather than work on his own.

 

                Part of this was so that Luna could use Asimov to help her find Tug-Mug's secret workshop.  She had already explained what she wanted; if the rotund Lunatac went into any room other than the ones Luna highlighted on a map of the Skytomb, Asimov was to tell her.

 

                "We'll see if he tries anything tonight," Luna said to Amok.

 

 

                What Luna didn't know was that Tug-Mug was actually a couple steps ahead of her.  Until now, he merely put a repeating video of an empty hall in the corridor that held the secret door to his workshop.  As luck would have it, he was the first on night-watch the week of Asimov's trial run, and told the program to ignore that particular hall.  Luna had even less chance of finding it now than she did before.

 

                Also fortunate for Tug-Mug was that Psikaris' lab was on the list of places that he could go without alerting Luna.  As far as Luna knew, he was helping the hybrid woman design a new vehicle or something.

 

                Of course, at this hour of night, the lab would be deserted, and the only thing Tug-Mug would be working on would be trouble.  He flicked on the lights.  "Hello, Aseemov.  No need to tell Loona I'm here."

 

                "It is not required I tell her," replied the disembodied voice.

 

                "Good.  Now, I've got a leettle job for you, sometheeng right up your alley..."

 

* * *

 

                Luna let loose a scream of annoyance.  The latest issue of Lunie Bin was out, and unlike the previous month there were a lot of candid shots of her looking like an idiot.  She and Amok caught up to the rotund Lunatac in the control room.  "Tug-Mug!" she hollered, waving the magazine, "Where did you get these pictures!?  There's no way you could have done all of this."

 

                "Well, I do have help, you know," Tug-Mug huffed.  "Meestan is a regular contreebutor, Psychro and Knave sometimes submit stuff, and thee Top Ten Leest thees month was by Psikarees."

 

                "Eeeeeyah, I'll get you one day, Tug-Mug, and when I find your little printing press, Amok will make you wear it!" promised Luna, urging her steed out the door.

 

* * *

 

                The Lunatac princess was up late, still glaring at the magazine.  She was sitting at her desk ( okay, so she was sitting on a pillow on her desk ) with the publication in front of her.  She flipped through, then stopped and checked back.

 

                "Wake up, Amok!" she ordered, thwacking him with her riding crop.  "We've got somewhere to go."

 

* * *

 

                "What ees eet, Psikarees?"

 

                The hybrid woman leaned back against a table in her lab, scowling at Tug-Mug.  Suddenly, the door clanged shut behind him.  "We were hoping you could tell us," said Luna from behind him.

 

                Tug-Mug turned slowly.  "Er, Loona, what a... surprise."

 

                Luna sat on Amok, twirling her riding crop.  Mystan also stood nearby.  "Oh, it's not me you should be worried about."

 

                A cold blue hand grabbed the rotund Lunatac's shoulder and spun him around.  "You horror-movie reject!" hissed Psikaris, bending down to his eye-level.  "You messed up my invention!"

 

                "No, no, Psikarees, I merely focused hees eenterests," said Tug-Mug quickly, aware that the room temperature had dropped a few degrees.

 

                "'Focused his interests'!?" she snapped, releasing him and turning to face a computer screen.  Hitting a few keys, she called up Asimov's program.  "You've turned him into a twenty-four hour secret agent!"

 

                "We figured out your little scheme when I realized that most of the photos could only be taken from the security cameras," said Luna.

 

                "So just tell heem not to do eet any more.  That's how he was programmed before."

 

                "But he was still... young then, Tug-Mug.  Impressionable.  It's been a month.  Your stupid tabloid programming is too ingrained now!  He's useless now except for taking embarrassing candid shots.  We've been near-defenceless for the last month!" finished Psikaris, slamming her fist on the console.  "There's no way I can remove your meddling without destroying him."

 

                "Asimov was useful while he lasted," said Luna, "But he's going to have to be shut off."

 

                "No!"  Then, composing herself, Psikaris continued, "You don't understand, Luna.  He's almost sentient.  I've come so close.  If I can pull this off, Luna, this will be the first time the Lunatacs create true artificial intelligence."

 

                "You're hysterical, Psikaris," said Luna.

 

                "I won't let you shut him off!.."

 

                "Perhaps I may make a suggestion?" Mystan's soft voice cut through the argument.  "I have an idea of how Asimov and his new hobby can be put to good and even profitable use."

 

* * *

 

                The Thundertank pulled up short at the figure in the road waving them to stop.  "What the?.." asked Panthro as he recognized the man.

 

                "It's Knave," said Tygra, equally surprised.  "What's he doing this side of Darkside?"

 

                "Well, ask him."

 

                The tiger made a face at Panthro before jumping up to sit on the hood of the Thundertank.  Knave ran a bit closer, but kept his distance as Tygra readied his bola whip.  "Help me," rasped the ice cheetah.  "I can't outrun him any more.  He..."

 

                "The Thundercats will not help you, you meddlesome halfbreed!"  Laserfire strafed the ground, and Knave collapsed.  Alluro landed his jetpack between the surprised cats and the ice cheetah.  "We'll be out of your way in a minute, Thundercats," said the hypnotist over his shoulder.

 

                "What's this all about, Alluro?" demanded Tygra.

 

                "Lunatac business," snapped Alluro.  "Keep your furry noses out of it."  Then advancing on Knave, "I'm taking you back to Skytomb, twerp.  Won't Luna be glad to see you?"

                In a blur of orange, Tygra jumped in front of Alluro.  Behind him, Panthro had also exited the Thundertank.  "We won't let you take him, Lunatac."

 

                Alluro was taken aback.  "What?  You protect this mongrel?"  He drew his psyche club.  "Get out of my way, Thundercats.  I'm taking the halfbreed, and there's nothing you can do."

 

                The psychic attack was focused on Tygra, but the spillover was enough to befuddle Panthro.  "That halfbreed," said Panthro, struggling for every word, "Is half Thunderan."  The nunchucks lashed out, shattering the psyche crystal.

 

                "No!"  Alluro activated his jetpack and took to the air.  "If you're so determined to keep the worthless halfbreed, Thundercats, you might as well.  I hope he causes you as much bother as he's caused us."  With a final sneer over his shoulder, Alluro flew back in the direction of Darkside.

 

                "What was that all about?" asked Panthro.

 

                "Who can understand the Lunatacs?  I sure don't," said Tygra, crouching by Knave.  "Help me with him, Panthro.  He needs immediate medical attention."

 

* * *

 

                "Mission accomplished," chuckled Alluro, landing in Skytomb's hangar.  "I had to sacrifice my psyche club, but I've become rather the master at repairing it."

 

                "Hiss, I still don't see why Amok had to beat him up beforehand," rasped Chilla.  "I suppose you're happy about this."

 

                "Me?  Happy that your poor, dear, half-brother is injured and in the hands of enemies?  You wound me, Chilla."

 

                "Enough, Alluro," snapped Luna.  "And we had to make this look right.  Besides, poor, hurt, half-Thunderan Knave should excite their sympathy.  He'll be in good hands."

 

                "Unless the Thundercats realize what a jerk he is."

 

                "I heard that, Alluro."

 

* * *

 

                Knave opened his eyes and tried to spit ice at Tygra, who was tending him.  As it was, he was too weak to cause any damage.  "Cool it, as Chilla would say."

                "She... would... not," Knave protested weakly.

 

                "Lie still," ordered Tygra.  "You were severely injured and exhausted when we brought you here."

 

                The ice cheetah looked frightened for a second.  "Alluro?.."

 

                "We scared him off."

 

                Knave closed his eyes and forced himself to relax.  The Thundercats were so disgustingly nice.  He'd be cared for and healed, if he could keep from going crazy.  The door opened, footsteps entered, and Knave opened his eyes when he recognized the voice of the Lord of the Thundercats.  "How is the... he?"

 

                Knave almost laughed.  So, Lion-O was as disgusted by the ice Lunatac/cheetah Thunderan's heritage as Knave was himself.  "Much... better... than I was," he rasped.

 

                "Can you talk?"

 

                "A... little."

 

                "Leave him alone, Lion-O," said Tygra.  "There was a nasty gash across his chest, he was covered in bruises, strafed by a laser, and if the laser didn't get him, he'd have collapsed from exhaustion anyhow.  When he's well enough to talk, I'll tell you."

 

* * *

 

                Tygra apparently didn't think Knave was okay until a few days later.  Knave was taken up to the Thundercats' council room for questioning.  The basics were dealt with quickly, and fortunately it either wasn't important or the cats already knew it.  His name was Knave; he was twenty-seven; he was from the Second Moon of Plundarr; he'd worked for Luna for eight months; yes, there were three others in the ship he came on.

 

                "Why was Alluro after you?" asked Lion-O.

 

                Knave shrugged, then winced.  His bruises were covered by his fur, and the only evidence of his injuries were the bandages around his chest.  "Alluro's always hated me.  The others eventually sided with him.  They think with... what I am, I'm a tactical risk."

 

                There was an uncomfortable silence, then the issue was raised.  "How did you get to be... what you are?" asked Panthro.

 

                "My father was an ice Lunatac," explained Knave.  "He had a cheetah slave..." he trailed off deliberately.  Let the cats' imaginations fill in the sordid details.

 

                More silence.  "What happened to the cheetah?" asked Tygra.

 

                "Father killed her after I was born.  He would have killed me too, but my sister saved me."  Knave didn't have to fake the hatred in his voice for his father, nor the admiration for his sister.

 

                "Another hybrid?"

 

                "No.  My sister is pure ice Lunatac."

 

                "But the question is now, what do we do with you now?" asked Lion-O.

 

                "I don't know," said Knave, putting his elbows on the table and his face in his hands.  "The Lunatacs will kill as soon as look at me, the Mutants aren't too fond of me, you won't want me here..."

 

                "You can stay for a while," said Cheetara, touching his arm lightly.  Knave recoiled slightly, but the woman assumed it was because of his injuries.  "At least until your wounds heal."

 

                "Thank you," Knave said, looking up and managing a smile.  "But I'm a... a halfbreed."

 

                "Thundercats accept everyone, no matter what their background," said Lion-O, again in his element.

 

* * *

 

                "It's been a week, Luna!  We must get him out of there!"

 

                For what felt like the hundredth time that night-watch, Luna replied, "He's fine, Chilla.  And stop pacing.  You're making me nuts."

 

                Chilla settled into her usual chair in Skytomb's control room and tried not to fidget.  "This stupid plan of yours better work, Mystan."

 

                The vampire Lunatac smiled in self-mocking humour.  "I would say my plans never go wrong, but we all know better than that, now don't we?"

 

* * *

 

                Despite Chilla's worry, Knave was doing quite well.  The Thundercats didn't fully trust him, of course, and kept a constant eye on him, but he did nothing wrong.  He even helped Panthro and Tygra with some general repairs on the Lair.  Nothing important, but it made him seem helpful and kept him from getting bored.

 

                "I was basically a mechanic on the Moons," the ice cheetah explained to Tygra.  "I would have been a warrior, but they wouldn't have me."

 

                "Ah, yes, that reminds me," said the tiger, who disappeared for a few minutes to find something.  He returned with a data card.  "You were carrying this when we found you.  What is it?"

 

                "Skytomb's security program.  I knew they were going to throw me out, so I removed the program to make my escape easier."  Knave cringed with remembered pain.  "Amok had me for a few minutes.  I thought I got away until Alluro caught up with me."

 

                "What does it do?"

 

                Knave shrugged, a gesture no longer painful.  "Controls the security cameras.  Automatically tells us when something happens.  Cuts own on the need for guard duty."  An idea occurred to him.  "I might be able to install it in the Lair.  I mean, if you'll allow it and it's compatible and all."

 

                "Hmm," said Tygra.  "Panthro and I will check it over first."

 

* * *

 

                Mystan looked up from his monitoring station.  "It's time."

 

                "Finally," hissed Chilla.

 

                Luna snapped her riding crop in the air.  "Set a course for Cat's Lair!"

 

* * *

 

                "Lion-O!  Tygra!  Everyone!" WilyKat called from the Lair's control room.  "Skytomb's headed this way!"

 

                "Skytomb?" asked Panthro, running in.  "Not just the Lunattacker?"

 

                "No, the whole thing!  Look!"  The fortress was now in visual range.

 

                "What are those crazy Lunatacs doing?" demanded Lion-O.

 

                "They're after me," gasped Knave, backed up against the wall.  "I should just give myself up.  Cat's Lair will never stand up to Skytomb."

 

                "We're not handing you over without a fight," insisted Lion-O.  "Call them, WilyKit."  Kit hit a few buttons and Luna appeared on the screen.

 

                She sat on Amok, as usual, looking bored.  Behind her were Alluro and the other psychic Lunatac, engaged in various tasks.  "Hand over the halfbreed, Thundercats.  We had hoped his injuries killed him, but apparently not."

 

                "He is Thunderan, and we won't let him go!" said Lion-O, predictably.

 

                "Fah.  He is Lunatac and belongs to us to do with as we please," replied Luna with equal predicability.

 

                "Even kill him?"

 

                "Especially kill him."  The Lunatac princess gestured.  "Alluro, come talk some sense into these cats."

 

                The hypnotist smiled.  "Come on, Thundercats.  We outnumber and outgun you.  Give us the mongrel and we will leave you in peace... oh, Hells.  Luna, they've switched the sound off."

 

                The Thundercats didn't answer until Alluro stopped talking.  "Try that a second time, Luna, and we'll just turn off the sound again," said Lion-O.

 

                "Fine.  Mystan, charge the moon-cannons."

 

                "Wait, Luna," said Lion-O, beginning to lose patience with the tiny woman.  "A fire-fight of that size will severely damage both our bases.  If it's a fight you want..."

 

                "We'll be outside, Thundercat," Luna snapped.  The connection switched off.

 

                "You heard her, Thundercats," Lion-O stated, drawing the Sword of Omens.  "Prepare yourselves."

 

                "Wait!"  Knave ran over to the lion.  "I'll fight, too.  I owe it to you for saving and protecting me.  I know the Lunatacs, their strengths, their weaknesses."  He smiled, showing sharp teeth.  "And I owe Alluro a little payback."

 

                "That's settled then," said Lion-O.  "Thundercats, HOOOOO!"

 

* * *

 

                The Thundercats stood in a loose line in front of the drawbridge of Cat's Lair.  The Lunatacs, minus Red-Eye and Psikaris, stood in front of the currently grounded Skytomb.  Luna screamed when she saw Knave with the Thundercats.  "Aaaaii!  Knave, you deserve your name!"

 

                "They've shown me more kindness in one week than I've had from the Lunatacs in eight months," retorted the ice cheetah.

 

                "Let me kill him, Luna," Alluro hissed.  "I'll bring you his hide for a rug if you'll just let me..."

 

                The princess smiled graciously.  "He's all yours."  With no further preamble, the battle was engaged.

 

                Chilla's first impulse was to run to Knave.  She knew he and Alluro hated each other, and would be fighting for keeps.  Unfortunately, Tygra and his nasty fireball-throwing whip were rather occupying her attention.

 

                The tall, blue skinned Lunatac grinned at Panthro.  The Thundercats had dealt with this one, apparently mere weeks after he arrived on Third Earth.  "Psychro," said Panthro.

 

                The Lunatac bowed.  "That's what they call me when they don't call me 'hey, you'.  I've heard you're the strongest Thundercat."  He assumed a fighting stance.  "I may not be the strongest Lunatac, but I'm curious to see if I can beat you hand-to-hand."

 

                Wilies Kit and Kat were mildly confused.  The gray-skinned Lunatac Knave had identified as Mystan simply watched them with curious yellow eyes as they approached on their spaceboards.  "Well, I guess if he wants to make it easy on us..." started Kat.

 

                "We should go easy on him.  He doesn't look like a fighter, anyway," finished Kit, pulling a sleep-gas pellet from her belt.  She tossed it, watched it fall towards the robed man, and was almost too surprised to dodge when it came back at her.  "Oh, yeah," she muttered.  "Tygra said one of the psychics was a telekinetic."

 

                "Hold steell, you meeserable woman!" hollered Tug-Mug, trying to get a bead on Cheetara with his gravity carbine.

 

                "Don't shoot where she is, shoot where she's going!" shouted Chilla nearby.

 

                "You do eet then, eef you're so smart."

 

                "I'm busy," Chilla snapped, ducking a fireball and countering with one of her own.

                "You Lunatacs are barbarians," said Lion-O, shooting a bolt of energy from the sword.

 

                Amok jumped over it.  "You're one to talk, primitive," replied Luna.

 

                "We don't turn on our own," the lion retorted.

 

                "He isn't our own!" shrieked Luna.  "He's a mongrel.  A halfbreed.  Death is better than he deserves for the taint in his Lunatac blood!"

 

                Alluro smiled with far more malice than was strictly necessary as he drew his psyche club.  "As far as anyone knows," he said, "You've turned traitor and killing you will do us all a favour."

 

                "I don't need to justify myself to you, you delusional troll," Knave replied.  "And if you think you're any sort of match for me..."

 

                "Oh, but I am."  Alluro twirled the psyche club around once before dislodging the crystal above the ice cheetah.  "You've never been a match for me, Knave.  You're pathetic.  All your death will do is free up a room at Skytomb.  You might as well just give up now."

 

                Knave swiped a clawed hand at the psyche crystal, but it was half-hearted and he missed.  "Go... jump... off of... Skytomb,.. freak."

 

                The hypnotist just laughed.  "I could get you to do that now, but that would be such bother.  So much more than you're worth..."

 

                "Release him or I'll freeze your arm and shatter it."

 

                Alluro jumped at the rasping female voice behind him.  "Ah-h, Chilla.  Just trying to keep up appearances, you know."  Nevertheless, the psyche crystal obediently floated back to attach to the psyche club.

 

                The ice Lunatac shook Knave gently by the shoulders to help him out of the trance.  Knave blinked a few times to clear away the residual effects.  "Chilla?" he asked.  Then embracing her, "Chilla!  Oh, sister, I've missed you!"

 

                Cheetara looked over.  "Sister?" she repeated, then louder, "Thundercats!  We've been had!"

 

                "Back to Skytomb!" ordered Luna, mildly disappointed.  The Lunatacs actually had the upper hand, for once.  Tygra and both of the Thunderkittens were down for the count, while only Tug-Mug seemed in any sort of trouble.

 

                "This isn't over, Lunatac," said Lion-O, posing.

                "Stuff a sock in it."

 

* * *

 

                The Thundercats did figure out what that 'monitoring program' actually was, but it took them two-and-a-half weeks.  In that time, the Lunatacs were pretty much helpless, spending most of their time laughing.  The last picture sent from Cat's Lair was of Tygra sticking out his tongue and holding a sign: Dear Lunies, Take your 'monitoring program' and stick it.  Sincerely, the Thundercats.  Rumour had it that Tug-Mug had that as a poster in his room.

 

                And Psikaris didn't complain when the Thundercats wiped the data card with the Asimov program on it.  Luna let her make a copy of her wayward baby, on the promise that she'd never let him into Skytomb's main computer again.

 

                All in all, thought Luna, it had been a good month-and-a-half.  Even if she never did find Tug-Mug's stupid workshop.

 

 

The End.

 

Luna: Ah-h-h, Amok, there you are.

Melissa: Hi, Luna.  I just borrowed him for the story.

Luna: I suppose that's all right, then. [Luna and Amok leave.]

Melissa: Sure, make me do the hyping.  Next issue: Big Changes.

 

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