Breaking the Code

Prologue

Time: The Future

A sizeable crowd was starting to gather in the hall of Cat's Lair. A mixed collection of Thunderians, Snarfs and Third Earthers, they variously chatted amongst themselves, pointed, gaped in awe or, as in the case of one couple, a cheetah female and tiger male, kissed passionately, regardless of the milling throng around them. Just another typical crowd, thought the young puma, who watched them from the top of the stairs. Even so, this was the point at which butterflies always invaded her stomach. With a deep breath, she forced them down, made sure that she looked immaculate and descended the stairs. The sharp tap of her heels on the polished floor brought silence to the group and they turned as one to gaze upon the newcomer. The familiar rush of exhilaration immediately quelled any nervousness she felt. This was the part of her job she loved the best. For the short time they were in her care, she was the centre of their world.

"Hello and welcome, one and all, to Cat's Lair, Third Earth," she began, beaming at them. "My name is Pumanda and I will be your guide on your visit here today to this magnificent building. We have just celebrated two hundred years of Thunderian-Third Earth co-operation, so as you can imagine this building is very special to all of us, because of the important role it has played in that history. If I might just take this opportunity to remind you, please do not touch or handle anything. This is especially important when we go up to the Control Room. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask." She paused, seeing a hand shoot up from the crowd. "Yes?"

The owner of the hand, a panther cub who was pushed to the front by his proud father, smiled shyly when Pumanda looked his way. "Are there any Thundercats living here now?" he asked.

"Not any more," she said. "This building, along with the neighbouring Tower of Omens, which we hope you will also visit during your stay on Third Earth, is now under the care of the Department of Antiquities and is a national monument, dedicated to the preservation of historical data. But I will explain all this as we progress."

Another hand shot up. "S'cuse me, Miss," said a middle-aged lynx. "Can we take photos in here?"

"Certainly. Anyone else before we begin?" That seemed to be all for now, so she continued. "We'll start here, in the great hall of Cat's Lair. First, I'm going to give you a short history of this building and the Thunderians who have lived in it." The crowd fell into an expectant and attentive silence. "The building that you see here today has been much altered and, from what we can gather, much repaired over the course of its history--"

"You can say that again," came a voice from the crowd.

Pumanda gave a withering glance in its general direction. There was always one, the heckler who thought he knew better and wanted to impress his friends. She had learnt that the best way to deal with such people was to simply ignore them. "As I said, it has been repaired and altered," she continued, "but the basic structure remains much as it was originally conceived by the then Lord, Lion-O, who--"

"No, he didn't!" came the same voice.

"Hey, buddy, shut up!" someone grumbled. "Let the guide speak."

"But that's not--"

"All right, people," said Pumanda, holding up her hands for calm. "I understand that this is a particularly sensitive area of Thunderian history for some people. All I can do is present the facts. I cast nor offer any opinions. Okay?" No one objected to that, not even the dissenting voice, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Occasionally the subject sparked hot tempers and angry words. But her job was to inform and educate, not to start a debate on revisionist views of history.

"As I was saying," she went on, "this was the basic design built with the aid of Third Earthers. Why is it here, I hear you ask? Well, after the Great Thunderian Catastrophe, when our home planet was destroyed, Lord Jaga the Wise, along with a group of five Thundercats and a Snarf, brought the young Lord Lion-O to this world. During the journey here, Lord Jaga died, and so the Lordship of the Thundercats and Thundera naturally fell to Lion-O as the son of former Lord, Claudus. His time here, we know, was difficult, especially since a group of Mutants had followed his ship. Add to that a local trouble-maker and Lunatacs and you can understand the need for a fortress such as this."

"I'll say," muttered the discordant voice.

"Anyway," said Pumanda, hastily moving on, "after the return to Thundera, a presence was maintained here on Third Earth, although it became the retreat of undesirable elements, until the first Protector was appointed. You can see his picture on the wall over there." The crowd turned to gaze at the first in a long line of portraits. "Protector Bengali was appointed by Lord Cyan in the first year of his reign and a small colony was established here, which developed into the city of Felis that we know today. As the settlement grew, it was decided that larger premises were needed and the Protectors moved out of Cat's Lair some twenty years ago into the new administration block across the main square. The decision was taken to turn this magnificent building into a national archive and museum for the benefit of all Thunderians and Third Earthers." Deep breath, Pumanda thought, time to move on. "Now if you would like to follow me, we will make our way up to our next stop, the Control Room at the very top of Cat's Lair. For those of you who feel unable to manage the stairs, there is a lift for your convenience."

The majority of the crowd drifted after her, while a few elderly Thunderians and several snarfs piled into the lift. A few minutes later, the gathering had reassembled upstairs.

"Welcome to the Control Room of Cat's Lair," Pumanda said. "From here, we can run the entire building, from communications to life support and weaponry. Our researchers still have their work cut out trying to decipher the data stored in the memory banks, particularly that relating to the Lair's early history. This is a task made all the harder because the First Protector encoded much of the material and we have had considerable difficulties in trying to recover this data. Of course, it would make our understanding of life in the Lair under the difficult conditions that existed in its initial phase much more complete, but unless we get a breakthrough, this valuable data may well be lost to us forever."

"Why would the First Protector have done that?" asked an aged lion.

Pumanda smiled. "That's a question we get asked a lot," she said. "I'm going to let the First Protector answer that, for he left us this explanation." She moved to the control board and flicked a switch. The massive monitor hummed and blinked into life. An image of a bearded Protector Bengali appeared, his face set with a solemn expression.

"In future generations," began the recording, "Thunderians will ask 'what happened', 'who were these Thundercats' and most importantly, 'why did it happen'. At least I hope they will. It would be a tragedy if we lost our inquiring minds. However, the answers to these questions must not be at the expense of those souls still alive in this mortal realm. The dead can bear slander easier than the living. So, with this in mind, we, the remaining Thundercats who made Third Earth our home all those years ago, have decided that the information contained in these data banks must be forever sealed for the good of all. Let history make of us what it will, and condemn or praise us by measure, for although it grieves us to hear our friends so defamed, at least we will always know the truth..."

The recording came to an end and the screen froze. Pumanda turned back to her flock and looked at them expectantly, waiting for the usual flurry of questions.

"It was a cover-up," said a jaguar female. "Wasn't that treason?"

"Well, perhaps treason is putting it a little too strongly. Certainly, it was misguided, although the Protector was old by this time, so we attribute his actions to mental incompetence."

"There was nothing wrong with Bengali's mental state when he made that decision, no sir!" The crowd was suddenly thrust apart by an elderly and clearly indignant snarf who came marching to the front. "In fact, Miss, if you don't mind me saying so, everything you've said so far has been total eyewash!"

Pumanda pursed her lips as she took in this little creature with his walking stick and glasses perched on the end of his nose. So this was the troublemaker. She sighed and adopted her best diplomatic manner. "Now, sir, I can understand that--"

"That's the trouble," he said. "You don't understand anything." He waved his stick at the frozen image on the monitor. "I'm sorry, Bengali, but I've come to the conclusion that we were wrong."

"Grandpops, please! Now isn't the time or place!" said a younger snarf, who had appeared at his elbow, looking highly embarrassed. "Gee, I'm real sorry about this, everyone."

"Don't apologise for me, Osfred," said his elder. "All I've heard so far are half-truths and inaccuracies. If these go unchallenged as fact, then where does it leave the rest of us?"

"Excuse me, sir," Pumanda said, trying to interrupt his flow. Around him the crowd was starting to grow restless and a few voices were murmuring agreement with his sentiments. "If you would like to take this up with the Director--"

"The trouble is that no one remembers," he went on, ignoring her. "Mumm-ra has been demoted to local villain and what's a few Mutants and Lunatacs nowadays?"

"What's your point?" a lynx female demanded of him. "Who are you, anyway?"

A gleam came into his eye. "I'm Snarfer, nephew of Snarf, who was nursemaid to Lion-O. I lived here, I knew this place when it was full of life and laughter and happy memories. I was here when that dream fell apart and I lived to see my friends die as outcasts. That's how I know."

"You knew them?" asked the cheetah female, who had been earlier kissing her mate.

Snarfer regarded her kindly over the top of his glasses and smiled. "We were friends, my dear, snarfer, snarfer. Whether people want to admit it or not, Thundera owes much to them."

Pumanda cleared her throat and intervened. "Yes, well, let's not get into this. We have a tour to complete. Come on now people, let's keep moving."

"Only if you give credit where credit's due and say that Tygra was the architect of this place and not Lion-O as you keep saying."

A muffled gasp went up and Pumanda cast anxious eyes over the crowd. "Please, sir," she whispered to Snarfer. "This is a sensitive subject for many people. Can we discuss this later?"

But he held his ground. "Do these Thunderians and Third Earthers want the truth or a fiction made up because the truth is 'sensitive'?"

"Well, I'd like the truth for a change," said one old panther. "I always knew there was more to this place than met the eye. What was it really like here in the early days, Mr Snarfer?"

"You really want to know?" he said. As the crowd nodded and murmured their approval, he hoisted himself up onto one of the chairs and gave a satisfied sigh. "Not as comfy as they used to be," he said. "Still, can't complain after all these years. Anyway, as you know, snarfs live a long time. Why, my old uncle, Osb-- Snarf, lived for over three hundred years. I was but a youngster of fifty when I first came across the Thundercats here on Third Earth. Even so, no one is better qualified to tell you exactly what happened here all those years ago. Well, is everyone comfortable?" he said, gazing round at the group, who were sitting themselves down on the floor in anticipation of his tale. "Then I'll begin. My story starts two years after that Ever-Living Servant of Evil, Mumm-ra, was trapped in the Book of Omens and the re-settlement of Thundera began in earnest..."

Did you like that? Are you intrigued?

If so, please read on.

But be warned. This is not for the faint-hearted or squeamish. This is Thundera, warts and all. Expect nasty people, nasty situations and nasty things happening to the main characters.

Okay with that?

Then follow me to Chapter One as we start 'Breaking the Code'...

THUNDERCATS, characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of © Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. and Ted Wolf. All rights reserved. Stories, characters and incidents mentioned in this work are entirely fictional. Characters, names, etc. are used without permission and the above story has no official endorsement. This is a work of fan fiction, for entertainment purposes only and certainly not for profit. No infringement of rights is intended nor any harm meant by its creation and existence. If this work brings a little happiness into this dreary old world, then so much the better. May you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Thundercats Forever! Ho!

Continued

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