"Tygra had a what?"

"A heart attack," Pumyra repeated patiently.

Lion-O stared at her, open-mouthed, still not believing what he was hearing. "But he's not much older than me," he said. "How can he have had a heart attack?"

"Firstly, people can have heart attacks at any age," said Pumyra. "Secondly, the male line of Tygra's family have a history of heart disease. All the same…" She trailed off, letting her gaze travel to her sleeping patient. "I have my doubts," she went on. "Why now? He sailed through his last medical. I can't help feeling that his condition is in some way connected to the appearance of our 'guest'."

"Which reminds me," said Lion-O, glancing about the infirmary, "where is she?"

"Gone to get something to eat. I couldn't keep her here forever. She said she felt all right, although she did have a scare about the same time Tygra had his attack. But she seems to be holding her own, so I let her go. Snarf will look after her."

"And Tygra?"

"He's stable, for now."

"Look after him, Pumyra," Lion-O said. "If we're going to find a way out of this mess, we'll need him."

As he finished speaking, the internal communicator began to sound. Leaving Pumyra to tend to her patient, Lion-O went to the wall panel and opened the channel.

"We've got trouble," came Panthro's voice. "The internal sensors have just picked up another of those energy surges."

"Can you pinpoint where?" Lion-O asked.

At that moment, the lights dimmed. The room went dark and in the eerie stillness came the sound of the Lair's main generators slowly winding down. Then, after what seemed like a lifetime, the back-up generators came online. The infirmary lights flickered back on and monitors came to life as what power was available was diverted to essential systems.

"I think that answers my question," said Lion-O. "Pumyra, stay here. I'll go and investigate." She began to protest, but he silenced her. "Look after Tygra. If we've got visitors, I can deal with them." His hand went to the Sword of Omens. "No one cuts the power in our own home and gets away with it!"

With the power output at minimum, he had to open the infirmary door using the manual control. Outside, the silence was as brooding as the gloom that hung over the dimly lit corridor. Lion-O made his way along cautiously, hugging the wall and listening intently for any sound that might betray the presence of the intruders. A little further along, he found what he was waiting for. Just around the corner, someone was breathing, heavily too. He paused, then pounced, Sword raised, only to come face to face with an equally battle-ready Bengali. He checked himself in time and pulled the Sword up and away from a potentially fatal clash.

"What's happened?" Bengali whispered.

"We've got company," Lion-O said. "They've disabled the power, so we've no way of knowing where they are."

"That's a comforting thought. Where's the others, or is it just us?"

"Panthro's upstairs, Pumyra's in the infirmary with Tygra and I have no idea where the kittens are. Saying that, I thought Cheetara was with you?"

"She was. She said she was going to lie down."

"So she could be anywhere," Lion-O muttered. As he finished speaking, a terrified scream came from one of the rooms up ahead. "I think we've just found her," he said, breaking into a run. "Come on!"

The door of the Council Room was already open and showed signs of having been forced. Lion-O skated in with Bengali hard on his heels and had to brake abruptly when he took in the scene. Cheetara was cowering in the corner of the room, crying pitifully. Towering above her was a massive reptilian, broad in the back and powerfully endowed. Accompanying him were a band of scrawny Mutants and amongst their number, Lion-O could make out the familiar features of Vultureman. Suddenly aware of their presence, the reptilian turned and revealed himself as Slithe. His bloodshot eyes narrowed as he stared at them, as though he was taking their measure.

"What are you doing here, Mutant?" Lion-O cried, levelling the Sword at him. "How dare you!"

Slithe's lip curled in dislike. "Put your toy away, boy," he sneered.

"Toy?!" At his call, the Sword immediately extended. The Eye of Thundera shone in its setting and readied itself for a fight. "Think again, Slithe!"

From the crowd, Vultureman skittered over to the stunned reptilian and muttered something in his ear. Whatever it was caused Slithe's expression to slowly change to a toothy grin.

"I like it, yesss!" he growled, turning his attention back to Lion-O. "That weapon, cub, is impressive. I want it!"

"Oh, you do, do you?" said Bengali. "Well, you'll have to come and get it, if you can!"

Slithe's eyes glittered in the darkness. "Oh, I can, runt, believe me. I can and I will!"

His confidence was unnerving enough to make Lion-O falter. In his moment of hesitation, something hard cracked against the back of his skull. Stunned, he stumbled and fell. The Sword flew from his hand and span across the polished floor towards Slithe, who stopped it with his foot.

"Interesting," he murmured, picking up the growling weapon for a closer inspection. "This I shall keep as a souvenir of our visit."

From his position on the floor, Lion-O tried to get up. But his mind was in such a whirl he could offer little resistance when a foot pressed firmly down between his shoulder blades and kept him where he was. Turning his head as much as he was allowed, he could make out the grim features of the ape who had crept up behind him and currently held Bengali prisoner, pinning his arms tightly to his sides. Now would be a good time to turn the tables, he thought, especially with Slithe and Vultureman distracted and in the midst of a heated argument. Not that his options were particularly plentiful. Trying to put aside his frustration, he turned his attention instead to the warring Mutants in the hope of learning something of what they intended.

"And I say we need it!" Slithe was insisting. "You saw the power it has. It'll put Mumm-ra in his place once and for all, yesss!"

"But it cannot leave this world," Vultureman shot back. "Awk, if we bring it back with us, the consequences could be appalling. Two identical atoms cannot exist in the same place at the same time. Don't be a fool, Slithe!"

"Watch your mouth, bird-brain. You keep to your gadgets and leave the thinking to me."

"Then heaven help us all!" Vultureman squawked. "You dragged me along on this crazy mission because you needed help getting the girl, not steal this fancy piece of metalwork."

"The girl? Ah, yes, her." Slithe gave a throaty chuckle and something flashed in his hand. A second later, a knife had embedded itself in the wall, inches from Cheetara's head. Slithe hissed in displeasure at missing his target. "To hell with the little whore! Let them have her. As for you, Vultureman, you can either stay here or come with us. What's it to be?" Vultureman glared at him for a minute, then relented. "Good," murmured Slithe. "Let's go."

"Not with the Sword you don't!" Lion-O growled.

Before he could even make an attempt to get up, the ape behind him brought his foot down on his kidneys, then threw Bengali on top of him. Beneath a muddle of arms and legs, Lion-O squirmed and struggled to free himself. The Mutants were lost to his sight as a brilliant light shone out, whitewashing all it touched. With lights dancing before his eyes, Lion-O called to the Sword. The glow died and the chamber was empty. Still he waited, hand extended, and still nothing came.

"Did what I think just happened happen?" said Bengali.

"It certainly did," Lion-O snarled, wincing at the pain from his back as he sat up. "We've lost the Sword of Omens!"

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

She stood, arms tightly folded, trying to ignore the feeling that she was being assessed like a prize heifer on market day. The ancient animated corpse circled her slowly, considering her from every angle, with what looked like veiled amusement on his face.

"Interesting," said Mumm-ra when he finally came to a stop in front of her. "So, my dear, you are the changeling. Is this world so very strange to you?"

The understatement of the year, Cheetara thought. Very strange was Panthro willingly going to Mumm-ra. Downright bizarre was the notion that this Ever-Living bundle of rags and decay would ever help them, a rag-tag collection of escapee slaves and would-be Thundercats.

At her continued silence, Mumm-ra chuckled. "As I imagined," he said. "Things are different in your world."

"Slightly," she said, not wanting to give too much away. Panthro might trust him, but she never would. Mumm-ra could make his own plans for the domination of Third Earth without any help from her.

Her reply, however, seemed to satisfy his curiosity and he shuffled back to his cauldron. Inviting them both to join him, he cast his hand wide across its bubbling surface. A scene played out, of Mutants in Cat's Lair, of Lion-O and Bengali knocked to the ground, of the Sword of Omens being taken by Slithe into a glowing, pulsating circle of light.

"What is that weapon?" Mumm-ra asked, looking over at her.

She held his unwavering gaze. To tell him would be to condemn them all. Once he knew, he would never stop until he possessed the Sword and all its powers. There was enough suffering on one world without inflicting it on another.

"It's just a sword," she said. "Ceremonial, mostly."

A thin smile came to Mumm-ra's lips. "You don't trust me, do you?" he said. "You fear my motives. But why? Your hesitation makes me assume the worst. Are we mortal enemies in your world?"

"We aren't friends," she said carefully. "The Mumm-ra I know would never help anyone."

What was left of his eyebrows twitched. "Necessity makes for the most unlikely bedfellows," he said. "I defend my world against all usurpers. Those accursed Mutants have dared to challenge me and so I will destroy them with the help of Panthro and his friends. Whatever prejudice you have, changeling, must be put aside. If you are to return to your home, then you must help us… before you have nothing left to go home to."

"What d'you mean?"

"I have glimpsed your world," he said. "The events you have witnessed here happened not ten minutes ago."

"Slithe has the Sword?" she said. "But…?"

"The Sword?" said Panthro, quick to catch her slight emphasis. "If this is a weapon to be used against us, you've gotta tell us."

"It can't. Only the Lord of the Thundercats can use the Sword of Omens."

"Ah, the Sword of Omens," said Mumm-ra. "Now we're getting somewhere. And this Sword, what are its powers?"

She faltered, not knowing what to tell him. To divulge such information to someone who had the potential to be their greatest enemy did not sit well with her conscience or her gut feeling about his true intentions. Well may he offer the hand of friendship, but she was willing to bet that once he had got what he wanted, the tables would soon turn.

"The Sword cannot be used for evil," she said, giving Mumm-ra a pointed look. "The Mutants cannot use it against us."

"But this Lord of the Thundercats character might," said Panthro. "Who is this guy anyway?"

"In my world, it's Lion-O, but I haven't seen him here, so…" The panther's sudden roar of laughter drowned out the rest of her words. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, he's here all right," said Panthro. "And a more obsequious little turncoat you couldn't hope to find in the whole of Thundera."

"Are we talking about Lion-O?" Cheetara said. "I don't understand."

"The Mutant practice, I believe," Mumm-ra said, "is to take promising cubs and indoctrinate them against their own people. After all, who better to understand the enemy than the enemy himself?"

"He didn't need much convincing," Panthro said with a snort of contempt. "He's got the moral fibre of a jelly fish. He'll do whatever Slithe tells him."

"Including using the Sword of Omens against his own. Even," Mumm-ra added thoughtfully, "against me. I cannot permit that to happen. The choice is clear. Take the Sword from Slithe… and kill the boy."

"No!" Cheetara said. "I just told you, the Sword cannot be used for evil."

"You also said that only Lion-O can use it. And as he is on the enemy's side, I am not prepared to take that chance."

"What if you're wrong about him? The Lion-O I know is kind and compassionate and--"

"In another world," Panthro finished for her. "You forget, this isn't your Lion-O. I'll do what you say, Mumm-ra."

So saying, he gave a curt bow and turned to leave. Cheetara watched him go, wanting to run after him to stop him, but she could feel Mumm-ra's gaze upon her, almost holding her where she was. She turned back to him and faced him with defiance.

He grinned back at her, his eyes agleam with that otherworldly glow she knew all too well. "When this is over, we must talk, you and I," he said.

"Don't doubt it," she retorted. "I know you and know what you are!"

"Then you know the inevitable outcome. While the rabble is useful to me, they live. But if you turn them against me, changeling…"

"Yes, I think I get the picture."

"Good," he smirked. "Then we understand each other." He waved a dismissive hand. "Well, go. Your hot-tempered friend will no doubt need your help."

Self-control was restored so suddenly that she was unprepared for just how heavy her limbs seemed to have become. Under their weight, she staggered and ended up in an undignified heap at Mumm-ra's feet. The mummy gave a snort of half-satisfaction, half-contempt at this display. She glared up at him, feeling the heat of rage and humiliation burning her cheeks. But Mumm-ra had already lost interest. His point made, he was making his way back to his sarcophagus and his unnatural sleep, leaving Cheetara alone to contemplate what the future would hold. Nothing pleasant, she was sure of that. And the only person who could stop it was about to be executed at Mumm-ra's command.

Panthro was almost to the end of the dank corridor by the time Cheetara caught up with him. At first, he refused to acknowledge her presence and it was only when she hurried round in front of him and stood in his way that he finally stopped.

"What?" he growled at her.

"You can't kill Lion-O. I won't let you."

"Oh, really? And how are you gonna stop me?" he said, shrugging her aside and setting off again.

"By making you listen to reason," she said, falling in step at his side. "Panthro, please, hear me out." He grumbled something that sounded discouraging, but she pressed on with her case regardless. "You would agree that we're basically the same people, right? It's just our experiences that differ. Well, what if I could get through to Lion-O? He could help you in your struggle against the Mutants, especially if we could find the Sword of Omens that belongs here."

A nerve in Panthro's jaw started to twitch with irritation. "Don't waste my time," he muttered. "You don't know him. He's nothing but a Mutant-serving traitor."

"And how is that any worse than serving an ever-living demon?"

"Listen, sister," he snapped, suddenly turning on her. "We aren't living some cosy idyll here. This is life and death to us. We have to take what we can, where we can. If you don't like it, then tough."

"You're right, I don't like it," she said. "But as I'm here, I'll have to put up with it. Will you at least let me talk to him? If you're going to Castle Plun-darr anyway, what's the harm in letting me try?"

He took a moment to consider, in which she felt his confrontational mood dissolve and something more positive take its place. Finally, he sighed and rubbed a hand over his smooth scalp. "You're a real pain in the backside, d'you know that?"

"I pride myself on it," she said, grinning.

"You're wasting your time, but…"

"But you think I might have a chance. He's only young, Panthro. People of tender years can change more readily than those of us more set in our ways."

"Young?" he grunted. "Well, his mind might be, I guess."

It was the way he said it as much as the words he used that made her soul start to sink. Surely the same accident could not have happened in this world too? "How old is he?" she asked.

"Too old," said Panthro. "That at least I can't blame him for. There's a cave on this blasted planet, you see, does something with time. Makes you age, things like that. Well, when we got here, Lion-O was a cub. Slithe said it was about time he earned his keep. Said he wasn't going to keep feeding a useless mouth forever. So he stuck him in that cave and now he's an adult with a child's mind. Slithe's made the most of that. He's trained him well."

"There's still hope," Cheetara said. "I won't give up without trying."

Panthro studied her, seeing, she hoped, the determination on her face. It was less than she felt in her heart, however. If Slithe had been as thorough as Panthro claimed, then the imprint he had left on Lion-O's young mind might be hard to shake.

"Very well," he said at last. "You can try. But understand this, at the first sign of trouble, I'm outta there. There's too much at stake to be fooling around with some overgrown cub. You wanna stay, well, you can do it on your own."

She nodded, grudgingly. She was sure he meant it, that was the depressing part.

"Well, you coming then?" he said, setting off towards the dull glow that came from the opening at the end of corridor. "You won't save the world standing around here all day."

"But whose world am I saving?" she murmured to his departing back view. "Yours maybe, but what about mine?"

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

From the expression on Pumyra's face, Tygra could tell that he was in trouble. She took one look at the papers scattered across his bed and her brow immediately furrowed with displeasure.

"You're determined to kill yourself, aren't you?" she said, picking up one of the sheets and studying it. "Well, found anything useful to get us out of this mess?"

She smiled in spite of herself and Tygra found himself returning the gesture. When it came to the well being of her patients, Pumyra was as solicitous as Snarf was about Lion-O. Despite her concerns for his health, however, other matters had since become more important. When Tygra had finally awoken, he had been as much surprised about his condition as the others. More worrying, however, were the events that had taken place while he had been unconscious. That the Lair had been invaded and disabled was bad enough, but the theft of the Sword of Omens was devastating. It was not a question of if the loss would be discovered by the evil elements on Third Earth, but when. And Mumm-ra was long overdue to come calling.

With that in mind, Tygra had persuaded the kittens to bring him his paperwork from his lab. For the last hour, he had studied every last readout, computer analysis and theoretical treatise he could lay his hands on. For all his work, however, he was no nearer to a solution. Accessing parallel universes was never going to be easy, he knew. Less so now with the dull ache from his chest and the tempting call of sleep hovering at the back of his mind.

"Not yet," he said in answer to Pumyra's question. "I don't seem to be getting anywhere with it at the moment."

"Then you should rest," she said.

"I can rest when I'm dead."

"Which won't be too long away if you carry on like this." She pursed her lips and shook her head. "Tygra, you can't do this to yourself. Your condition is…"

"Bad, I know," he said. "Pumyra, I have to do this. At the end of the day, I'm just one Thundercat."

"You're a friend."

"That too. But if we can't find a way out of this, then we'll all be dead."

"You don't know that," she said stubbornly. "The situation isn't hopeless. We have our skills. We have the Lair, and Bengali is making a duplicate Sword of Omens."

"And what happens if Lion-O has to use it?"

She did not answer him. She did not need to. He knew as well as she did. Discovery, defeat, annihilation. Never had the end seemed so close, so certain.

"We'll manage," she said, keeping her tear-filled eyes averted. "We have to, otherwise…" She stopped what she was about to say and moved away from his bedside. He watched her as she tried to find something to take her mind away from the torment of her thoughts.

"Otherwise what?" he prompted.

He saw her shoulders heave upwards and guessed at the depth of breath she must have taken. Whatever it was she had to say demanded a careful steadying of her nerves. "There's been talk," she said. "About our situation. Whether it wouldn't be better to… to leave Third Earth. Lion-O won't hear of it, but…" She turned back to him, letting him see the strain on her face and the tears that had left wet streaks down her cheeks. "Tygra, what are we going to do? If we stay, we'll die. If we leave, others will die. And then there's you. I can't help you."

"That's not your fault."

"No, it's hers," she said bitterly. "And there's not a thing I can do about it."

The only useful thing to come out of the encounter with the intruders was the revelation that identical atoms could not share the same dimension. An interesting fact, which Tygra would normally have noted and stored away for another day. Today, however, it was going to mean life, but almost certainly death, for him sooner or later. A little of his other self had come into this world, as part of the child Cheetara carried. Those same atoms Pumyra had since traced as existing in his heart muscles. Such was the way of things, he reflected. Had it been anywhere else, Pumyra had told him, she might have been able to remove the offending particles. In his already weakened state, operating on his heart would likely kill him anyway. So, eventually, unless a way was found out of this mess, he would die and Cheetara probably miscarry. And that would only be the beginning. The conflict would still be present and a chain reaction of destruction would begin, ultimately leading to the demise of Third Earth and beyond. A thoroughly depressing scenario, the realisation of which had done nothing to help his efforts to find a solution to their problem, but had served only to deepen his already low mood.

He was spared deeper despair by the sound of a soft tap at the door. At Pumyra's call, the door slid back and Cheetara stood there, looking uncomfortable.

Pumyra gave her an unfriendly look and returned to her work. "You shouldn't be here," she said tersely.

"Yes, I know," said Cheetara. "But I need to talk to Tygra."

"The close proximity--"

"It's all right," Tygra said. "I'll talk with her."

Pumyra sighed and tossed down her pen. "Just don't stay too long," she said as she passed Cheetara. "For both your sakes."

For a long moment after she had gone and the door had closed behind her, Cheetara stood where she was, eyes fixed on the floor, biting her lip. Finally, she looked up and met his curious gaze.

"They told me," she said. "About my making you ill. That I could lose my child. That we could all die." She looked away again and drew a deep breath. "I'm not a bad person, Tygra. I only wanted to save my baby. I never meant any harm." So saying, she took the Thundercat insignia from the front of her clothing and tossed it to him. "There. Take it. Rescue your friend and your Sword and then I'll return to my home."

He picked up the disk of red and black that lay at his side. "But this is Cheetara's insignia, isn't it?"

Her double shook her head. "I hid hers. I thought it was a device like mine."

"A device for travelling to parallel worlds, you mean?"

"My Tygra said it was a sort of record of origin. They come from the Eye of Omens when it's activated. I kept in because some day I wanted to go home to show him our baby."

"Why have you given me this now?"

"Because…" She struggled to contain the sob in her voice. "You remind me of him. I love him so much, I would never want to hurt him. Yet I'm hurting you. If I'm going to die anyway, I would rather it be with him, with people who love me. Your friends hate me, I can feel it. And I can't blame them. I would hate me too for what I've done." Her resolve seemed to strengthen and she roughly scrubbed the tears from her cheeks. "When I get home, I'll join Panthro and the rebellion. Now I know what freedom is, I'll never be a slave again."

Tygra held her gaze, suddenly seeing something familiar in her eyes. They were so alike, it was almost as if the Cheetara he knew and loved were really there. And perhaps she was, he reflected. After all, only one choice separated them. Different lives, yet in spirit the same person.

"Thank you," he said. "For doing this, I mean. When this is resolved, I swear that we'll help you."

She gave him a faint smile. "Help? You can't. That has to come from us, doesn't it?"

"Nevertheless, we will try."

"Go and get your friend," she said, turning to leave. "I bet she needs you as much as you need her."

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

Swimming through Castle Plun-darr's moat was hard going at the best of times. Now, in the dark and with the icy fingers of the north wind chilling her to the bone, Cheetara was almost ready to give up the whole thing as a bad idea. She had tried not to be swayed, but Panthro's mood was infectious. He was right of course. Did she really think a few noble words would so easily set aside the venom Slithe had been pouring in Lion-O's ear since he was a child? What could she possibly say to him? No, they were wasting their time and risking their lives. This venture could only end in death and disaster.

By the time she had reached the slimy walls, she was exhausted. Panthro grabbed her flailing arms and hauled her up onto the thin sliver of rock on which the castle was built. He pointed to a half-opened window some way along and gestured for her to follow him. Once beneath it, she found it was just out of her reach. Panthro anticipated her request before she could ask and promptly gave her a boost that threw her clear through the opening and into the room beyond. As she tumbled to the ground, an assortment of pots and pans came down with her, making a noise loud enough to rouse every Mutant on Third Earth. She held her breath, waiting for the angry shouts and the sounds of running feet. But the silence persisted. The inhabitants of the castle slept on, undisturbed by their noisy intruder.

"Where now?" she said, when Panthro had eased himself through the window and joined her.

"Now we find the boy," he said. "And that Sword of yours."

He started for the door. Before he reached it, however, it opened. In the half-light of the corridor, she could just make out the familiar figure and colouring of Bengali. A look of dread slowly spread across his face as he stared at them and he took a few steps away from the door. Panthro reacted by grabbing him and throwing him into the room. He smashed into a cupboard with such force that the neatly-hung saucepans jangled like so many bells in the wind.

"Coward!" Panthro roared, coming after him and kicking him in the side. "No-good, lying, snivelling coward!"

He was about to land another blow, but Cheetara managed to get between them just in time. "Stop it!" she hissed. "You're making enough noise to wake the dead! What's your problem?"

"Him!" Panthro retorted, stabbing a finger at Bengali. "I swore the next time I saw him I would kill him and I will!"

"Then do it," Bengali groaned, wrapping his arm about his injured ribs. "See if I care!"

"You will, tiger, you will!" Panthro snarled.

"Don't you think," said Cheetara, "your energies would be better spent fighting the Mutants than each other?"

Panthro glared at her. "I'm not the one who told Slithe that Tygra would be able to get that infernal contraption of his to work. What they did to him was your fault, Bengali!"

"What's going on here?"

The unexpected voice and the sudden glow that illuminated the room made Cheetara over at the doorway where Pumyra now stood, candle in hand. She took in the scene with dismay and hurried over to Bengali. The light played upon their faces and Cheetara to her horror saw that both bore deep purple bruises. As Pumyra helped Bengali up onto a stool, her dress strap slipped from her shoulder, revealing an ugly welt that continued under the thin fabric.

"What happened?" Cheetara asked.

"Why are you still here?" Bengali snapped. "I thought you wanted to get home."

His annoyance was understandable and Cheetara was prepared to be patient. "Okay then, who did this to you?" she tried.

"Slithe," Pumyra said. "He was angry you had escaped."

"And that's putting it mildly," said Bengali.

"My heart bleeds for you," Panthro snorted. "You had your chance to come with us, but you preferred to cower in here. That makes you as bad as Lion-O, worse in fact. At least he can say he was brainwashed. You stay because you want to."

"What are you doing here?" Bengali said angrily. "Was it just to take your frustrations out on us?"

"I'm here for the boy. Where is he?"

"Why?" Pumyra asked warily.

"Because I'm going to wring his scrawny neck!"

Bengali gave an ironic laugh. "So much for solidarity. And you dare judge us!"

"Watch your mouth," Panthro said, stabbing a finger in the tiger's direction. "Unless you want me to shut it for you permanently."

"Ha, you're all talk, you self-righteous son of a Mutant!"

An insult too far and Panthro had flung himself at Bengali. This time the tiger was ready for the attack and dodged away from him round the other side of the table. And he refused to be silenced so easily.

"You higher grades, you don't know what it's like, being at the bottom of the pile," he went on. "Every day waiting for them to say it's your last. And you with all your plans! What were you seriously offering any of us?"

"Freedom!" Panthro roared, thumping his hands on the table.

"And death for those who don't agree with you?"

"The boy's an idiot. They'll use him against us!"

"So you say. Do you know anything about him, Panthro? Do you care? Or are just pissed off that he ousted you as Slithe's number one boy?"

Fire blazed in Panthro's eyes. He swiped the table away and advanced on the rapidly retreating tiger. Bengali ended up trapped in a corner and still Panthro came, his outstretched hands trembling with rage. Cheetara suddenly had a very real fear about what he would do. Snatching a pan from the side unit, she smacked it across the back of his head, hard enough to stun him. Panthro stumbled and caught himself on the table before he fell.

"Why you little…" he hissed.

"Oh, save it," she said. "I'm not impressed. And no one's killing anyone. We had a deal, remember? Now, where can we find Lion-O?"

"He should be here anytime now," said Pumyra, glancing up at the clock. "We usually have a hot something and a talk before we go to bed."

"Cosy," Panthro grunted. "Shame he won't be around much longer."

"Please don't hurt him," said Pumyra. "He isn't all bad. He's--"

She stopped abruptly as the door started to open. Panthro grabbed Cheetara and dragged her into the shadows. The wedge of light shining through the opening onto the floor grew into a square broken by the large silhouette of a tall, red-maned figure who stepped cautiously into the room, taking in the scattered debris as he did so.

"Has… something happened?" Lion-O asked warily.

"Not nearly enough," said Panthro, advancing from the gloom and slamming the door shut. "Hello, cub."

Lion-O visibly quailed and backed away from him until he came up against the sink. "Panthro? W-what are you doing here?"

"I've come for you, boy. Mumm-ra wants to see you."

"He does? W-why me? I've never done anything to him."

Panthro smirked. "It's what he thinks you're going to do that's worrying him. He's got this idea you know something about a sword."

"A sword? You mean, the Sword of Omens?"

Panthro's eyes narrowed. "What do you know about that?"

"Slithe gave it to me. He said I was to use it to defeat our enemies and--"

A roar of rage silenced him. "Then it's already too late," Panthro growled. He grabbed a knife from one of the sideboards and brought his arm back in an arc, ready to strike. But before he could, Cheetara had caught his arm.

"What's got into you?" she yelled, dragging him away from Lion-O.

"A little professional jealousy, I shouldn't wonder," said Bengali.

"What?"

"Didn't he tell you? How he used to be Slithe's favourite until little Lord Lion-O came along? Quite the master's pet, weren't you, Panthro?"

"Is this true?" Cheetara demanded.

Panthro glared at the tiger, then finally brought his gaze back to her face. "Yes, it is. So what? I was a cub when Thundera fell. Like hundreds of others, I was brainwashed me into believing that serving Mutants was the only way to live. So I did, for a long time, until I finally came to my senses after what they did to Tygra. He was a fool for helping them, but he didn't deserve that. I started looking at my own life and it disgusted me. That's why I rebelled. This wretch," he said, jerking his head towards Lion-O, "reminds me how I used to be and that sickens me too. Happy now, Bengali?"

"I've heard your whining before," he said. "Take your self-pity somewhere else. We're not interested."

"But I am," came a guttural voice. The door was violently flung open revealing Slithe's massive bulk. "So, our runaway slaves have come home. And what a warm welcome we have for them. Get them!"

Several armed reptilians entered the room and started towards them. Cheetara looked about for a weapon and found only a rolling pin to hand. Better than nothing, she reasoned. There would be a few sore heads by the time she had finished. But Slithe had already anticipated their resistance. Grabbing Pumyra, he closed his fingers around her throat until she was left gasping for breath.

"Give it up or I'll crush her throat," he said. "Do it!"

With great reluctance, Cheetara dropped her makeshift weapon. The minute she did, the Mutants were on her, throwing her down to the floor and binding her hands tightly behind her back. A cold circle of metal closed around her neck and once more she felt the draining presence of Thundranium. A low groan somewhere to her right left her in no doubt that the same fate had befallen Panthro.

At Slithe's command, she was manhandled out of the chamber and along with the others marched down the corridor. Just as she was starting to recognise her surroundings from earlier, her captors veered and headed for a set of large double doors. Thrusting her through the opening, she was sent sprawling across the floor and ended up at the foot of an ugly metal construction. At the top of several steps was a gold pedestal, elaborately decorated with precious jewels. The effect was opulent, but somewhat in bad taste. However, Cheetara found her gaze not lingering on this, but rather on the object mounted at the top of the pedestal. In its gold casing, the Eye of Thundera glowered down at her. So, she thought, this was the so-called Eye of Omens, the device for travelling to parallels worlds. The choice of name had not just been a coincidence. The slitted pupil trembled a little and she thought she detected a slight glow as it registered her presence. It was there but for second before Slithe came round in front of her and hauled her up to her knees.

"You've caused us a great deal of trouble, slave," he said.

"Should I be sorry?" she retorted.

"You would, if you had any intelligence," Slithe said. From his belt, he drew what looked like a short dagger. It took Cheetara a moment before she finally recognised it as the Sword of Omens.

"You will tell us how this works," he said. "If not--"

"It will be a cold day in the flaming forests of Plun-darr before I do!"

Slithe smirked. "You didn't let me finish, slave. If you don't tell me what I want to know, I'll have these cretins you seem to value so much tortured to death. Do we understand each other?"

She glared at him. Yes, she did understand. She also knew that after telling him, he would probably do what he threatened anyway.

"So tell me!" Slithe roared.

She wanted to, but the gall of what she was being forced to do made her mouth unco-operative. While she hesitated, Slithe's impatience frayed.

"Very well," he said. "I hate to waste a good slave, so a bad one will have to do." He snapped his fingers and there was a cry as one of his minions kicked Pumyra in the back of the knees. She was dragged over to where Cheetara sat and placed before her. Slithe wandered round behind her and took a hold of her mane, pulling her head backwards until her neck muscles could be seen straining through her taut skin. "Have you ever seen anyone flayed alive?" he said. "The pain I understand is exquisite agony and death not always immediate. Can you imagine the torment of life that endures long after skin has been ripped from flesh?"

"That's enough," said Cheetara. "You've made your point, Slithe. Let her go. I'll tell you what you want to know."

"Better," said Slithe, releasing his hold on Pumyra's mane. Seeing her free from the reptilian's clutches, Cheetara allowed herself a brief moment of hope that the plan she had in mind might actually work.

"You'll have to untie me and take this collar off," she said. "I can't do anything while I'm so weak."

Slithe's eyes narrowed in suspicion and, for a moment, Cheetara feared that she had pushed him too far. But then he gestured to one of minions, who stepped forward and freed her. With the collar gone, renewed energy surged once more through her tired body. Quick as a flash, she grabbed the Sword from Slithe's hand and pointed its glittering tip at him, making him hurriedly draw back in alarm.

"Well, well, the mighty Slithe falling for the oldest trick in the book," she said. "If you've been to my world, Mutant, you'll have seen this Sword in action. If I were you, I'd back off really slowly."

She had neglected to mention that only Lion-O would have been able to call upon the powers she was threatening to use. Still, Slithe was not to know that and clearly he did not, for he fairly fell over his feet in an effort to retreat.

"Now, activate this device," she ordered. "I'm going home and I'm taking your slaves with me!"

It almost worked. Suddenly the double doors opened and Monkian and Jackalman entered dragging a laser cannon behind them. In the second it took them to realise what was happening, the other Mutants had flung themselves to the ground, expecting her to use the Sword. But when nothing happened, Monkian hit the power button and a laser beam shot in her direction. Cheetara threw herself out of its way, dropping the Sword as she hit the floor. Behind her, the Eye of Thundera exploded as the beam sliced through it. The hall was filled with the metallic screams of the dying machine and then there was silence. Cautiously, she looked up and her heart sunk. The devastation was total. The Eye would never see into another parallel world again. With it had died any hope she had had of ever seeing her home and friends again.

She felt like crying, but instead resolved to take advantage of the confusion. She reached for the Sword, but someone took it from her grasping fingers. Looking up, she saw Lion-O levelling it at her.

"Stay where you are," he said.

Bluffing, she thought, he has to be bluffing. Slowly, she got to her feet, noting how he followed her every movement with the Sword's tip. "You can't hurt me with that," she said. "The Sword won't work for evil."

It didn't have to. Something caught her a stinging blow across the back of the head, sending her reeling. As unconsciousness came to claim her, she saw Slithe move forward and give Lion-O an approving pat on the back.

"Well done, my boy," he said. "I always knew you had it in you."

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