Breaking the Code

Part One: Loyalty

Chapter 1

It started with a dream.

A nightmare really, the same that had denied peaceful sleep for some time now. Always the same, it would start in a place of nothingness, lit by the light of ten small flames, the souls of friends and loved ones. Two stood apart from the others, separated by a great distance both in this world and in reality. One of those lights burned brightly, while the other seemed each day to be a little less strong, as though the soul behind it was slowly dying, much like one closer to home, whom illness was slowly claiming for its own.

Then, into this place would roll the mists, thick and impenetrable. Slowly, as if drawn up by an unseen hand, a figure would rise from its grey heart. Swirling clouds would part as this indistinct form advanced, its face shrouded in the folds of a mist-made cloak. There was no escaping it, for there was nowhere to run. A cruel laugh would echo in the empty spaces and then a hand would extend, seeking contact with the mind it had invaded. It had yet to reach its goal, but every night it would come a little closer, reaching for her with skeletal fingers, and all she could do was to scream...

"Cheetara, wake up!"

The voice cut through the murk, putting the darkness to flight. Sleep and its attendant fears were banished for another night. She opened her eyes and saw Lion-O's concerned face above her, felt his strong hand on her shoulder and offered up silent thanks for her deliverance.

"Are you all right?" he said. "You were screaming."

"Was I?" she said, freeing herself from sweat-sodden sheets to sit up. "Sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No, I was up anyway. Just doing the rounds." He gazed at her for a moment, on the verge of saying something, but hesitant through uncertainty. "Can I get you anything?" he said at last. "Hot drink? Something to eat?"

"At this time of night?"

Her drawn curtains and the harsh glow of the electric light shining through her open door told her that dawn was still someway off. Given her dreams, however, being awake was preferable to sleep, so she relented. Clearly pleased, Lion-O sprang from her bedside and hurried away. A few minutes later, he was back, bearing a steaming mug and a plate.

"Candy fruit tea, just as you like it," he said, offering the mug to her.

She took it, letting its warmth seep into her hands to drive out the chill of night. Lion-O took the plate and sat down on the bed beside her. For a moment or two, he picked idly at the lump of fruitcake he had brought up with him, then, with a heavy sigh, he pushed it aside.

Cheetara regarded him kindly, sensing that more than her troubled sleep had brought him here this night. Troubles had been weighing on him heavily of late, and it was not just confined to the continued Mutant attacks on the outlying regions of Thundera.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked.

His tight expression told of his yearning to confide, but instead he shook his head. "No, not really. If the Lord of the Thundercats can't help himself, then no one can."

"You know that's not true," she said, setting down her mug and patting his hand. "Whatever it is that's troubling you, Lion-O, please tell me."

He looked away and stared down at the floor. "Many things trouble me, Cheetara. I wish I had a magic wand to make them all disappear."

"You do. It's called the Sword of Omens."

"So I do," he said, returning her smile. "I'm all right, really. What were you dreaming about?"

"Weird things," she said, shivering. "Just so horrible. I'd rather not talk about it."

"That makes two of us," he said. "Although Snarf always says that if you can tell someone, the dreams lose their power."

She sank back onto the softly yielding pillows and closed her eyes. She felt so tired these days, so listless, and it wasn't just down to her disturbed nights. But how much to tell him? The repetitiveness of the dream meant that it was probably a warning, but presenting itself in such veiled terms made its interpretation extremely difficult. That there was trouble ahead for her and her friends was clear enough. But then that could be anything from Mutant attacks to confrontations with ghouls and demons. The hazy figure certainly suggested the latter. The other possibility was that it was symptomatic of some last flowering of her sixth sense. If so, she welcomed it.

Her decision to be rid of it had been a conscious, if difficult, one. Greater control over her abilities had given her the choice of listening to it or ignoring it. Under the circumstances, the latter course had seemed the most prudent. Amongst the returning peoples to Thundera were those who would not take kindly to her psychic abilities. After all, cheetahs weren't meant to have such powers. They ran, and that was all they were supposed to do. Having a 'sixth sense', as she delicately termed it, was to invite unwanted speculation as to its origin and, given the skeleton rattling around in her family history, that was to be avoided at all costs. And so she had suppressed it. Months of pushing it to the back of her mind had finally reduced its presence to a murmur. Her friends had stopped asking if she experienced any warnings from it and no one was any the wiser that she had ever had a sixth sense. She missed it, but it had to be this way. There was no saying what would happen if certain people ever found out.

Acutely aware that Lion-O was still looking at her, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. "I'm probably just run-down, that's all," she said. "Maybe I need a change, something like that."

Lion-O's eyes widened in surprise. "What? You mean, like not be here?"

She nodded. "It's been a while since I've been to Third Earth. Perhaps I could--"

"No, you can't," he interrupted her. "You're needed here. There's still so much to be done."

"I'm sure you could manage without me for a while."

"No, we need you here. We would all miss you. Me, especially."

An awkward silence fell between them. He held her gaze, his eyes pouring into hers with unspoken desire. She knew what he craved. She also knew that just as many barriers stood between them now as ever. It was something never destined to happen. She hoped that he understood that, yet as his head tilted towards hers, she knew he would never accept it. His lips sought hers, but at the last moment she moved out of his reach.

"Cheetara, I--"

"No, Lion-O," she said, putting her finger to his lips to silence his protests.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"Because I won't... and because you are married."

He drew back sharply, as though her words had burned him to the core. His mood noticeably changed and resentment oozed from every pore.

"Well, you are."

"Yes, I know," he muttered. "Don't keep reminding me."

"Someone has to," she said. "You've been married four weeks now, but I've yet to see you with Liodella voluntarily. Look at you now. Night duty again? You can't keep avoiding her."

Lion-O frowned. "I'm not avoiding her. It's just that... well, she's not exactly the person I thought I would be spending the rest of my life with. I can't help it. I feel awkward around her."

"And I'm sure that Liodella feels the same. That's the nature of arranged marriages, Lion-O. You have to make the effort to get to know your mate and make your union work. You never know, you might find that you come to love her." While she had been speaking, she noticed a slight change in his manner, enough to cause a worm of concern to niggle at her insides. "That's all it is, isn't it?"

He hesitated, a fraction too long to make his answer convincing. "Yes, of course it is. I'm all right. Don't worry so," he said, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

Before she could press him further, a shadow fell across the door and a be-robed figure appeared, silhouetted against the light of the corridor. Slim, sandy-maned and barely into her nineteenth year, she was not perhaps the most beautiful lioness that Thundera had ever produced. But what she lacked in looks, she made up for in her noble breeding. As a suitable mate for the Lord of Thundera, she was considered ideal, at least by those who had arranged the match. The same could not be said for its unwilling participants. It was a curse on both of them, and never more surely did it show on Liodella's face than now as she stared at the scene before her, with an expression torn somewhere between shock and embarrassment.

Lion-O quickly withdrew his hand and shot her a look of annoyance. "What is it, Liodella?" he said.

"I thought I heard someone cry out in the night," she said. "I was on my own and didn't know--"

"Cheetara had a bad dream," Lion-O said tersely. "She's fine now. Go back to bed."

"And will you be coming, my lord?"

"Later perhaps. My watch isn't over."

"I see," she said. "Well, good night. I hope you sleep better now, Cheetara." Turning in the direction of her bedroom, she went on her way without another word.

"I'd better go," Lion-O sighed, getting to his feet.

"Yes, I think you should," Cheetara said. "If you like, I'll take over guard-duty if you want to..."

"Spend some time with my wife? No, but thanks anyway, Cheetara. I'll see you in the morning." With that, he made for the door and disappeared out into the corridor, noticeably heading in the opposite direction to that which Liodella had taken.

The door closed and once again darkness reigned in the little chamber. Too dark, Cheetara thought. She shut her eyes only to find that the terrors of night lingered still on the fringes of her mind. As a kitten, when her father had been away and there had been no one to drive away the demons, there had been only one way to cope. Now, as she dived beneath the sheets, pulling them well up over her head, the thought struck her that, although she was no longer a kitten, there were still no comforting arms to hold her and soothe away her fears. At least, if there were, they were a very long way away on a distant blue-green planet called Third Earth.

***************

In the annals of the planet of Thundera, there is an oft-told legend that speaks of a time when the very gods themselves descended from the eternal stars to wage their eternal battle of good against evil. In that struggle, the people of Thundera answered the call of the god of light and fought at his side. One champion emerged above all others and he it was who was crowned as the leader of an elite group of warriors, the Thundercats, so called because heaven and earth shook when they charged into battle. In their jealousy, the gods of destruction tried to destroy this champion. His life was saved only when a warrior with magical powers placed herself before him and bore the brunt of their fury. So terrible was their attack that all of her rosettes, save for a thin line running down the centre of her back, were seared from her body. From that day on, jaguars were plain of fur, except for females born with this mystical heritage and who bore those few markings in memory of this revered ancestor.

So was marked the current leader of their people. But such tales and legends were far from the mind of the Lady Jageena on this night. Staring out at the bright glow of dawn on the distant horizon, she muttered words more befitting the denizens of the streets below. He was late, damn him. She turned from the window and directed her gaze over to the bed, where her lover was nestled amongst the sheets.

"How much longer?" she demanded.

"Patience, my lady," he said, not bothering to open his eyes. "He'll be there. Tell me when he is."

Muttering under her breath, she looked again out of the window. Morning was at hand and the stars were already fading into the light of a new day. All, except one. This one seemed to be drawing strength from the sun to increase its own luminosity, which it used to wink at the sleepy planet below. It was the signal she had been waiting for.

"Saturnus!" she yelled. "He's here."

She heard his long sigh as he disentangled himself from the sheets and wandered over to where she stood. As they watched, the star blinked three times, then disappeared.

"It is done, then," she said.

"Happy now?" he asked, pulling her into his arms.

"Oh, definitely." He smiled and lowered his head towards hers, seeking her lips with his. She moved her head away, just enough to make him stop, and gazed into his eyes. "So what happens now?"

"We make love until the maid comes?"

"That's not what I meant."

"In that case, in answer to your question, things should start to move quickly now. I told him to make contact either today or tomorrow."

"Excellent," she purred. She allowed him to nuzzle her neck for a moment, then pulled away from his embrace. "You should go," she said.

"Is it that time already?"

She smiled to herself. "I'm afraid so, my love. The Divine Mistress of Jaguars must maintain an air of propriety. It would be considered indelicate, shall we say, for the Leader of the House of Lions to be found in my bed come the morning."

He gave a snort of laughter and retraced his steps to the bed to retrieve his carelessly discarded clothing. "And since when did you care about what people think?"

"I don't. But I thought you did," she said, reclining on the bed to afford him a good view of what he was leaving. Her slim figure was cloaked in pale yellow fur that faded flatteringly around her contours to a creamy-white. Her once raven mane was now streaked with white, not unflatteringly, she thought. She could still pass for thirty, even if her true age was a little older than that. Not that anyone would dare to invite her wrath by suggesting otherwise. The Divine Mistress's curse had been known to kill through fear alone. Thunderians were still very much a superstitious people, quick to note ominous portends and fearful of otherworldly matters. No wonder then that Thundera's most precious artefact was called the Sword of Omens. In an uncertain world, people had to turn to someone for advice and guidance. For leadership, that was the Lord of Thundera. Where matters needing a psychic understanding were concerned, her opinion was sought about business deals, mates and offspring. After all, legends were said to contain a grain of truth. They had their uses.

But not where Saturnus was concerned. Too sensible a lion to give credence to mere fairytales, he nonetheless supported them as far as it suited his own interests. And right now, Jageena knew that those interests needed her help.

"The uncle of the Lord of Thundera must be above reproach," he said in reply to her question.

"And you think it might work against you if the good people of Thundera found out you were sleeping with the Divine Mistress?" She gave a sharp laugh. "Think what they'd say if they knew you were screwing your nephew's new wife. How is dear Liodella, by the way? Pregnant yet?" Saturnus shot her a sideways glance and returned to his dressing with ill-temper. "You know, I did hear a rumour," she said, idly tracing circles on the rumpled sheets, "that Lion-O has yet to bed his good lady. How will you explain your bastard cub then?"

"A problem, granted," Saturnus said. "But not insurmountable. I have a few ideas to drive him into her arms yet. If not, I'll have to make other arrangements."

Jageena yawned lazily and stretched out on the mattress. "I don't know how you're going to get away with it," she said.

The bed moved slightly as he knelt on it and crawled on top of her. "As long as we keep our little secret, my lady, who is to know?"

There was something about the way his fingers played across her neck that warned her she might have gone too far. She could control him to a certain extent, but there were limits. With a lion like Saturnus it was never wise to push her luck.

"Well, I won't tell, of that you can be certain," she said. "If it was ever discovered that I manipulated the results of your nephew's compatibility tests in your favour, my whole House would be discredited. But what about Liodella?"

"What about her?" Saturnus grunted. "She does what I say. Once her usefulness is at an end, I'll get rid of her."

The menace that had entered his voice turned Jageena's insides to ice-water. His words held a promise and a warning. She sat up and, feeling suddenly vulnerable, pulled a sheet about her shoulders. She watched as he finished dressing and tilted her head back to receive his kiss of farewell.

"When will I see you again?" she asked.

"Soon," he replied. "In the meantime, I have something you might find interesting." From under the cloak he had draped over a chair he drew out a flat folder. "Bedtime reading, my love," he said, tossing it onto the bed. "Now I must be away. Farewell, for now."

She waited until he had left the chamber before examining the contents of the folder. In the half-light, she could just about make out the words and, with each turned page, her violet eyes grew ever darker.

"That little witch!" she hissed, hurling it across the room. She stormed over to the window and stood, silently fuming as she regarded the massive bulk of Cat's Lair. "Well might you hide behind your precious Lord and your Thundercat friends, Cheetara. But now your secret is discovered, it will be your death!"

***************

Lion-O entered the darkened room quietly to avoid startling the slumbering figure under the muddle of sheets. The sun had been up a while and yet this normally early riser slept on, oblivious to the activity in the rest of the Lair. In the old days, this would never have happened. But much had changed since then and none of it, so it seemed, for the better. For now, Lion-O made his way to the bed and carefully sat down on it. Then, softly, he called the sleeper's name.

"Snarf? Are you all right?"

As sleep was banished, his breathing changed, from wheezing regularity to a coarse rattle that ended in a racking cough. Lion-O helped the little creature to sit up and plumped up the pillows behind him.

"Morning," he said. "How are you feeling?"

Snarf managed a wan smile and rubbed his bleary eyes. "Just fine, Lion-O. Did I oversleep?"

Lion-O shrugged. "A little, but it doesn't matter. It's been a quiet morning." He shifted his attention to safer ground and held out the steaming mug he had brought with him. "Hot lemon juice for you. Pumyra tells me it should help your chest."

Snarf took it from him and cautiously sipped the liquid. "Not too bad at all, snarf, snarf. Is she back on Thundera then?"

"No. I spoke to her this morning over the communicator. Actually, I was hoping to get Tygra, but he was out or busy, Pumyra wasn't sure."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

Snarf sighed. "Lion-O, don't be tiresome. Why did you want to talk to Tygra?"

"There's something I have to ask him."

"An important something?"

"About the past, that's all. Nothing, really."

"You're lying to me and that's not nice. Brrr, I'm not such a silly old Snarf that I don't know a big fat fib when I see one."

Lion-O couldn't help smiling. "Am I that obvious?" he said.

"Transparent. And I think I can guess what this is all about."

"Can you?" Lion-O said, giving him a nervous glance.

"This is about Liodella, isn't it?" Snarf said. "She's a really nice girl, Lion-O. But you're making her unhappy. She told me that you won't even sleep in the same bed as her." Snarf leant across and patted his knee. "Come now, you can tell old Snarf. There's not much I haven't heard. What's worrying you? It's not a 'mechanical' problem, is it?"

"Snarf!!"

"Weeow, I know cubs can be embarrassed about anything like that."

"If you haven't noticed, I'm far from being a cub. Everything's all right in that department."

Snarf sniffed a little sadly. "Well, then, I don't know what to say. But if you feel happier talking to Tygra rather than poor old Snarf, don't mind me. All I want, all I've ever wanted, is to see you happy, Lion-O. You're all grown-up now, Lord of the Thundercats, Lord of Thundera and you've got a lovely mate. I could die a happy snarf knowing that your first cub was on the way."

Lion-O went to say something, then stopped himself. A world without Snarf was too empty to contemplate. Of all the terrible things that could happen, losing Snarf to this illness had to be the worst. "Don't die, Snarf," he said in a small voice.

"Now, now, Lion-O," said Snarf, reaching out and taking his hand. "No one lives forever. Except Mumm-ra and who wants to be like him?"

"You say that I'm lord of this and lord of that, yet I can't help you. Why?"

"Because I'm an old Snarf."

"Not that old. You're not even three hundred years old yet."

"I've had a good life. You shouldn't upset yourself like this."

"But if you die, Snarf, I'll be all alone," Lion-O said, bowing his head and looking away. "I hoped that here on Thundera we could recreate the past. I never knew I would have to give up so much to do that. I feel as though I've lost everything, even my friends. Panthro is always busy, I haven't seen Tygra for ages and I've fallen out with Bengali. Even Cheetara wants to get away."

"Does she? When did she say that?"

"Last night."

Snarf purred to himself and gave a pained cough. "You have to let her go, Lion-O," he said.

"I'm not holding her here."

"Are you sure? I seem to remember a cub who told me once that he intended to marry a certain cheetah Thundercat and he wouldn't take no for an answer. You know who that was?"

Lion-O sighed and nodded. "Yes, it was me. But it was never going to happen. Never will."

"So let her go, for both of your sakes."

"It's hard, Snarf," Lion-O said after a moment's hesitation. "I can't lose any more friends."

Before he could reply, there was a knock at the door. It opened slightly at Snarf's call and a young Thundercat named Jagaro looked in.

"Your presence is requested in the Control Room, my lord," he said. "We've had a rather unusual message from Plun-darr."

Lion-O groaned. "Can't possibly be good then. I'll see you later, Snarf."

As he moved to the door, Snarf called after him. "Lion-O, think about what I said. And if you do need to talk to someone about the past, there's always Jaga."

Lion-O paused in the doorway and drummed his fingers absently against the frame. It had been at least a year since Jaga had appeared to him. In some ways, he missed the unexpected appearances of the old Thundercat and, while he had always known that one day Jaga would leave him to manage on his own, he still felt the loss keenly. Especially now, when it felt like his world was coming crashing down. Perhaps that was why Jaga had stopped appearing. Had he given him up as a lost cause? Now, more than ever, he needed to know. He had to make contact.

"Yes, perhaps I will ask him," Lion-O said finally. Before going on his way, he managed a smile for his old friend and made a silent resolution that if Jaga wouldn't come to him, he would seek him out on his own terms.

Continued

Continued

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