Be Forgot

The snow drifted lazily across the broad plain, adding to the accumulation of a prior storm. It seems that winter worsens with the passing of every year, Tygra decided as he gazed at the landscape through the large, arched windows of the council room of Cats' Lair. The weak sunlight did little to brighten the late afternoon or his dark mood.

He turned away, and spied the circular table emblazoned with the Thundercat symbol. The middle-aged architect smiled ruefully to himself. It has been more than 25 winters since this table has served its function. And I have become equally "useful", he thought.

He shivered slightly, his thinning fur not insulating him well enough under the baggy, light tunic and trousers he customarily wore. Despite the comfort of soft boots, his toes ached with the aging of his bones. Were Mumm-Ra still alive, I doubt I could leap into battle to fight him now, he decided. The whiteness of his mane had grown larger over time, like his once narrow waistline. With a low growl, he gave his head a shake to dispel the shadow that had crept across his mind.

One Thundercat had to remain on Third Earth to watch over those that had become accustomed to the aid of the Thunderans. Since he had designed Cats' Lair, knew every line and curve, and had mastered all of its technology, it seemed only fitting that he should surrender his life to this effort.

Tygra took a deep breath. The atmosphere no longer held the scent of the females that had once walked the halls. Even the Tower of Omens stood vacant, for there had been no need for Pumyra to suffer loneliness and isolation as well. Using the controls of Cats' Lair, he could run that edifice remotely. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. How has she fared on New Thundera? he wondered. How has life treated any of my companions?

A shrill alarm sounded, breaking his reverie. Would I have forgotten them, as they have finally forgotten me? he thought, as he raced to the control room.

*****

The youngster standing on the bridge before the Lair clearly had the black and orange markings of the tiger clan, but in a particularly odd arrangement on his mostly white face. But the set of his mouth, and the fierce blaze in his amber eyes, marked him for a fighter. "What madness is this!" he shouted, brandishing a weapon. His grey-green leather garb had the familiar lines of one associated with a royal house. A wide belt held a red disc similar to one he had once worn. His feet were shod in sturdy boots that facilitated swiftness.

"Displacement," Tygra answered casually, noting the unsteadiness of the right hand that held the inelegant weapon as he approached. "You are not the first...Tygra."

"Sorcerer! You know my name!" His fingers quivered on the trigger. A rising tone began to emanate from the weapon as it cycled through energy levels preparing itself to dispense a fatal charge.

"Because it is my own name as well," the older Thunderan said. "And I know that as one who carries that honorable name, you will not fire upon one who has no defense."

The nosie ceased. The weapon fell from the warrior's hand, and clattered onto the stone.

*****

The young Thundercat paced. "How long will I be stuck here."

"Perhaps a year."

"And how long is that!"

"Usually 365 days."

Tygra slammed his hands down on the council table. "Lion-o needs me now! What Mumm-Ra has planned is horrific!"

The architect handed a sheaf of papers to his unhappy guest. "Look at the figures for yourself. The calculations don't lie."

Tygra threw the papers down. "Gibberish! I am brother to the Lord of the Thundercats. I am a warrior! I need to get back to the battle!"

You have not had the scientific training I have taken for granted, the architect thought, bemused, as he gathered the papers, and set them back on the table. Of all the Tygras who have come here, you are indeed the strangest in both look and manner. He shrugged. "I cannot alter the laws of the universe."

"What of magic then?" the youth asked hopefully.

"Possibly on New Thundera. I can hail that world, but the energy required is vast. Long ago, it was decided that only in the greatest of emergencies was I to open the lines of communication."

"But you can do it."

"Ten days. Maybe eleven, to send a message out, and get a reply back. Calculating the routing points can be tricky at best."

"That is too long. And without a guarantee of help-- No! Unacceptable!"

"The distances between the worlds is great. And I also have to get the information into the most precise mathematical form, or the message will deteriorate in its passage."

But in truth, interplanetary communication was easy. The youth had a greater problem to face. That the time variation between parallel dimensions of existence could vary widely was something he could not bear to reveal to him. If a rescue was eventually made by magical means, everyone, and everything he loved in his own dimension might be long dead and gone. If he were lucky, maybe he would have been gone but the span of a breath. The others who had come to the Lair in the past had faced the same uncertainty. And he had lived without knowing their ultimate fate when they departed as mysteriously as they came.

The warrior growled in frustration, and resumed pacing. His handsome face shifted in emotion as he attempted to absorb realities he had never expected to experience in his short life. "Let me help! There must be something I can do!" he finally appealed earnestly. "My brother and our world are in great peril. I can't wait a year!"

Well, all the Tygras have had the intelligence....

*****

His younger self was a good student Tygra had to admit. While he did not possess advanced training in mathematics, he was capable of handling numbers, and learned swiftly as they rearranged various calculations like a diabolical puzzle.

"There. Everything is in the computer. Now we wait until morning for the right window to launch the message," the architect stated, stepping away from his keyboard, and the complex computer that had once formed the heart of the spaceship that had carried them from lost Thundera ages ago. Although he was tempted to explain tachyons to his guest, it seemed pointless against his vast scientific ignorance.

Scowling, the youth leaned against a wall. "All of this dimensional hexing was Mumm-Ra's fault? How could that be when he vexes our world as we speak?"

"Your Mumm-Ra did not do this, but mine did. Now, on a rare occasion, a visitor, like yourself, will appear on the Lair's bridge." Although he had yet to learn why they were always an alternate form of himself, Tygra kept this knowledge to himself. Clearly this notion had not dented the youngster's stubborn thought processes. He looked different from him, and his voice was higher and smoother in pitch, so recognition of their resemblance had eluded him.

"Connections to other worlds and dimensions. I still cannot wrap my mind around that one." He chuckled. "My brother Lion-o would be fascinated. This is more in his line of interest, not mine. Everything technological impresses him." He tapped the handle of his energy gun neatly tucked into his belt. "Can't fault this gift though," he added. "Quicker and more lethal than any spell, or whip, so my appreciation has grown too."

"And your interests?" Tygra asked. The youth might lack polish, but he clearly loved his "brother". Perhaps he would open up and tell him the circumstances of his adoption into the house of Claudus. It was always interesting to see how the stories differed.

"Fights and maidens, I always say," he replied with a half-hearted wink." His bravado faded, his smile quickly changing back into a frown. "Don't know how you live the celibate lifestyle," he added bleakly.

"I serve my Lord Lion-o," Tygra said.

The youth nodded gravely, his eyes still troubled by the extent of his host's sacrifice. Perhaps he saw himself traveling his own bleak road in service to his king.

New Thundera has plenty of nobles for its bloodlines, the architect thought. My seed would have added little. It was the same self-effacing thought he used to comfort himself on every lonely night, even though he knew it held no truth.

*****

The youth dozed on a cot he had brought into the control room in the hours before dawn. Tygra ran a final system check. In an hour, he would launch the communication. He wondered who on New Thundera would answer; he wondered what help they would send. That no one would respond was an idea he would not allow himself to consider. He was not yet ready to enter into the realm of myth.

Resolution with the other Tygras had always come in any case. One had the remarkable ability to heal, and was of great help to him, until one day he simply vanished on the bridge as he walked toward the forest. Another reeked of evil, and because he was still young himself at the time, he had dealt the invader a swift end in mortal combat. Two had simply gone mad during the passage from their dimensions into his, and had died raving in beds that once belonged to others. Their ghosts sometimes flitted about, like trapped birds one only glimpsed out of the corner of one's eyes. The electrical surges they caused in the equipment were merely routine nuisances. The majority of the other Tygras had acted like petulant, unwanted twins, until the unstable distortions in reality swept them away once more in a predictable end game.

The architect sat back in his chair, and stretched. The air suddenly grew cold. He turned slowly, the crackling energy nearby somehow familiar and reassuring. There would be no need to send a message to New Thundera now.

"One has finally attracted your interest enough to pay me a visit. You have come for him, for you are the only constant in the story, my old friend."

The tall, shimmering figure before him nodded. Truth, Justice, Honor and Loyalty. His form radiated every virtue. The cowled and robed being waved his hand without any words of comfort. Jaga and the youth vanished in a vibrant orb of radiance.

The architect quietly turned his attention back to the computer, and slowly tapped a few keys. It responded with a soft hiss, cancelling a message that was no longer necessary.

He was alone once more at the precipice of a new year. Tygra. Master of Cats' Lair. Lord of Nothing.

The robotic voice of a Berbil suddenly chirped over the control board, "The giant locusts have been spotted to the west!"

"On my way," Tygra rasped, amazed to find his voice at all beneath a throat constricted with his loss. He shut down the speakers, and rose stiffly from his chair. Mumm-Ra's few remaining leftovers would be a welcome distraction he could handle, for his intellect and command of technology could be counted on to trump the brawn of a primitive monster. But most importantly, a Thundercat always put the welfare of others first, no matter the odds against him.

"Time enough for tears later!" Tygra shouted to the emptiness in defiance of his broken heart. He raised his bolo whip high. His voice would always be heard loud and strong. "Thundercats! Ho!"