Assassins

Chapter 3

The assassin regarded the youth for a moment. He had not been lying when he 
said he didn’t know who it was that had poisoned Spark and Tygris. But had 
not considered the fact that she was able to touch the edges of his 
thoughts. He wasn’t lying, no, but he had a suspicion. “Let me guess,” she 
said flatly. “You’ve got this friend who is either in the military or has 
some shady cliche`d connection to them, am I right?”

Alan stuttered, but before he could reply, she was speaking again. “And 
you’ll offer to either get in touch with your friend, or have them contact 
me so that we can cut a deal on finding out who has the pantoxin and who 
might have a cure for it. Thus creating the image of an alliance with me, 
perhaps?”

“I don’t want an alliance with you!” Alan exclaimed. “I’m just trying to be 
helpful and-”

“And get a rep for having dealt with me and survived? Or to put me in 
sufficient debt that I won’t call you out on your insults, next time?” she inquired.

Alan gulped again. Then he straightened. “Y’know, people are more inclined 
to assist when you don’t threaten them into it.”

“I’m aware of that,” the assassin said impatiently. “Which is why I do so 
only when it’s necessary. You,  however, needed a lesson. And I hope you’ve learned it. I’d hate to have 
to teach it to you again.”

“Lesson?”

“To watch what you say. You never know who might be hearing you.” With 
that, Axelle turned again to depart.

“But- wait! What about-?”

“I don’t need your contact, I have my own. And he doesn’t talk as much as 
you do, anyway,” the assassin added in a parting shot. Then she was gone.

Alan shook his head. “Lesson one,” he grumbled as he made his way for the 
door and started off on his three mile hike to reclaim his possessions. “Do not ask Fianna to tell a 
story. Ever. Again.”
***

Axelle had not gone far, although she was not visible to mere human eyes by 
the time Alan left the  abandoned Berbil dwelling and trudged disconsolately down the road. 
Gullible, she thought, touching the outline of the vial nestled in her 
pocket. As long as you sounded like you knew what you were talking about, 
people were usually unwilling to test your claims. Things like, ‘how would 
one go about collecting a sample of Metamorphia water without having it 
change the vial into something unsuitable for holding samples’ never occured 
to them.

Interesting that he had suggested the Military, though. He obviously could 
be analytical when the mood struck him.

Axelle had a small quantity of pantoxin. She’d only used it once. Partly 
of her reluctance to use it again was because it was a rare and exceptionally 
dangerous poison; it’s shifting  molecular structure made it
almost impossible to disinfect an area after it had been used. It didn’t 
respond to the usual detergents and chemicals usually employed; it merely 
shifted to counter them and was carried along when they were wiped up or 
evaporated. The only way she’d found to completely counter the deadly stuff 
was cautery; applying a heat so intense that the molecular structure 
collapsed. Cold might do it too, but she’d never taken the opportunity to 
find out.

The other reason she hadn’t used it was that she had not yet held any 
prisoner so vile that she felt they warranted the excruciating death that pantoxin 
produced, although she had been tempted once or twice.

“I should never have taken an apprentice,” she murmured to herself, but the 
sentiment lacked force.
“Dratted tiger’s more trouble than she’s worth...” But there was no time 
for complaining. Or worrying.
There was a contact to discuss matters with, and he would doubtless be less 
cooperative than Alan.
***

“Carter,” the weary voice said into the phone.

Axelle was standing in her office, in her own secure compound. She had just 
returned from Cat’s Lair, and the sight of her apprentice and Spark fading under 
the poison’s assault was still with her. There was little mercy in her at the best 
of times, but now there was not a shred. “Greetings, Mister Carter,” she said quietly.

“You! What the hell do you want!?”

“Alack sends his regards,” the assassin said, pronouncing the name ‘Alec’. 
“I need some information from you.”

A pause. “You’ve got me right where you want me, don’t you?” the man at the 
other end asked bitterly. “When are you going to give my son back to me? My 
wife’s in a deep depression-”

“Carter.”

Silence fell as the man on the other end struggled with himself. “What do 
you want?” he asked at last, misery in his voice.

“I want to know what you can tell me on pantoxin. Specifically, in regards 
to a cure for it.”

“Pantoxin? A cure? Is Alack-?”

“Your son is fine, for the moment. Better than he was, in fact, since he’s 
learned not to argue with anyone. But there have been two pantoxin 
poisonings; one, an aquaintance, the other one of my people.”

“And you think I’ll help you find some way to cure one of those murderous 
thugs you call your people?”

Axelle’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve not had time to find out how she was 
infected with it,” she answered coolly. “We also have no idea whether 
the air and water in this compound is safe. Any one of us here
could be stricken with it next, since we eat and drink from communual 
sources. All of us,” she emphasized.

“I...see,” Carter faltered. “Very well. But I want something for it! I 
want Alack back.”

“We’ll discuss your reward,” the woman known to David Carter only as The Cat 
said sardonically, “after we see how useful your information is, and how speedily 
you assemble it. I’ll call back every hour, on the hour, until you have something for me.” 
Without waiting for a reply, she hung up the phone.

Sinking into a chair, she brooded. Tygra was right in insisting that the 
primary importance was to find a cure. But the cure was linked to the 
question of who had done it. Who would take out Spark? Why? Had 
it been an error? And Tygris- so far as she knew, the young anthro 
tiger had no enemies. Surely this couldn’t be two botched attempts to 
get Axelle herself! Or if it was, she amended, the  person doing it was 
criminally careless as well as sadistic.

And if there was no cure? Or if they couldn’t concoct one in time, which 
would boil down to the same thing, what could they do? Cyrogenic 
freezing, she mused; that might give them more time. The problem would 
be getting the patients out of the freeze again without losing them; the statistics 
were high against success.

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she contacted the Lair. “I’ve got a 
lead on something that may be useful,” she told Tygra briefly. He was 
continuing to monitor Spark and Tygris, spelled by Pumyra. “If
the source comes through for me, we’ll soon know whatever the best pantoxin 
experts around know, and if there’s a cure there, we’ll have it.”

“Soon had better be very soon,” Tygra warned her. “Tygris was having 
convulsions a little while ago, we had to sedate her.”

“Spark?”

“Maintaining, barely. She’s got strong reserves, but she’s going to start 
running out of energy soon.”

“Zhyan?”

“The same. Sedated. Half hysterical. Can’t blame him, though,” Tygra 
answered, lowering his voice.

“Had a thought,” the assassin mused. “Cyrogenic freezing.”

A pause. “You know, of course, how dangerous that is.”

“Yes. But if we need time...Time. Time- Tygra, how did they counteract the 
effects of the Cave of Time on you?”

“Er? Uh...oh, the Fountain of Life? Hmmm,” the Thundercat murmured. “It’s 
worth a try! We had
Lion-O try the Sword,” he added. “No good, since neither of them is 
Thunderian.”

Axelle snorted, not bothering to hide her contempt at this mention. “Try 
the Fountain,” she ordered.
“Even if it doesn’t cure them, it may restore their energy, help them keep 
fighting. I’m going to get in
touch with my source.”
***

“Nothing?”

“Well,” Pumyra said slowly, casting a worried eye over the two still forms 
in the infirmary, “We did only apply the elixir a little while ago-”

Axelle turned her head and gave the gentle puma a questioning glare.

“We didn’t have any on hand; we had to fetch some from the fountain. It 
doesn’t store well, loses it’s potency within a week or two,” Pumyra 
explained defensively. She was  keeping watch over the victims
while Tygra ate and rested. “It does seem to have produced a good reaction; 
Tygris hasn’t convulsed since, and Spark’s pulse is stronger. But they need 
more.” Now there was a question in the look she turned on the assassin.

Normally, Pumyra was both fascinated and repelled by this human woman. It 
baffled her that Axelle could know enough about bodies and medical things 
to be a healer, yet could wield that knowledge with intent to harm. For a human, 
the woman was incredibly inhuman; Pumyra fancied that only the
Devil-priest could be so cruel. Yet, here she stood, and though her face 
was coolly expressionless, shewould not have been there at all had she not 
meant to help.

“My source said that there is not yet a cure,” Axelle replied slowly, “but 
that certain scientists have been experimenting with it lately and trying to 
create one. As recently as a  week ago. He says their location is obscured, 
meaning...” the woman paused, thinking.

“Obscured?” Pumyra repeated, mystified. “That’s an odd way to put it.”

“Indeed. I wonder if he means they’re hiding in plain sight. Have some 
setup somewhere that looks ordinary, but isn’t. But that doesn’t feel 
quite right.” The assassin shrugged. “We need to find it. It’s
even odds that, wherever they are, someone knows about it- probably someone 
who could slip in and take a sample. Security would doubtless be less 
formidable in an experimental lab.”

“Less?”

“If they think they’ve gone unnoticed, yes. Guards and such around your 
doors do tend to draw attention to you.”

“In what world, then?” Panthro’s voice asked from behind them. “Are they 
experimenting in your world and someone happened to slip through the barrier? 
Or did they drop the lab in here so no one in your world could sabotage it?”

“Should be easy enough to check on that last,” Ax replied. “You all have 
the technology to do a fairly rapid scan and match up what’s here with 
what should be here-”

“We’ll get right at it.” Panthro cast a look at the two silent figures, 
shook his head, and added quietly, 
“Of all the ones for this to happen to...” He didn’t finish as he turned 
and left the room. The women followed after.

Zhyan was loitering in the hallway as they exited; as soon as he saw them, 
he bolted for the door, nearly colliding with Pumyra. He didn’t stop even 
to ask any questions. “He looks pretty ragged,” Axelle murmured to the 
Thunderian.

“He went with the Kittens for the Fountain of Life water. They had some 
difficulty with the Guardians.”

“Flying snakes?” Ax seemed to remember that. “Why the Kittens and not 
Cheetara?”

“Cheetara’s taking my place at the Tower. The Lunatacks have been a bit 
active lately.” The puma stepped outside with the assassin. “While Panthro’s 
running his scan, I thought I’d go back to their Fortress- look around, see if 
I could find anything incriminating. Whoever got the poison into Spark and
Tygris probably did it from fairly close, or else Zhyan would have been 
infected too.”

“And they might’ve been careless enough to leave something behind. Works 
for me. I’ll start on my plane, talk to my source again.” She needed to contact 
Carter anyway; she  wanted to know what he meant by ‘obscured’. She nodded 
a brief farewell to the healer and hurried toward her vehicle.
~~~

“Wait a minute,” Silvercat interrupted, leaning over the counter with 
interest. “What do you mean, ‘search her plane’? What plane?”

“Plane of existence,” Fianna clarified, holding up his glass for a refill. 
S’kat sighed, drew out a fresh bottle and walked over to place it in front 
of him. She knew better than to throw a bottle of Guinness the way she 
 did a can of Bud.

“I don’t quite get it.”

“We authors live on one plane of existence, the mundane one, as it’s been so 
aptly named. But we interact on the Thundercats’ plane also, and alter it 
as we do. We have the power of gods there, because we can alter their 
reality at will.”

“But it’s fiction!”

“Is it?” Fianna nodded to the rain-streaming windows, to the empty glasses 
and bottles that Red and Purrsia had left behind, to the chairs and table that 
were somewhat askew.

“Well...”

“Even if it is, who’s to say it doesn’t happen? I think, therefore I am, 
right? So what happens when our characters look up and realize they’re in a 
story? Like Alan did- he fell into the story and played his part instead of 
breaking through to this reality again. Point in fact, actually- he’s still 
trudging down to the hollow tree right now to retrieve his stuff.”

S’kat slowly shook her head and then hopped up to sit on the bar, legs 
dangling, chin resting on fist. “I’m going to have to think about that,” 
she said somberly. “So- what happened to Spark and Tygris? How could she 
possible search the...mundane plane? It’s too big.”

“Yes, Ax discovered that very thing herself-”
~~~

It’s too damn big, the assassin thought with frustration, glaring at the 
globe sitting in front of her on her desk. Whoever they were, wherever 
they had stationed themselves, it would be almost impossible to find 
these pantoxin experimentors in the little time they had left. The effects 
of the Fountain of Life water had weakened; Tygris was slipping ever 
so slowly again, and Spark would soon follow.

David Carter had not been disappointed to hear from her again; he had again 
demanded to see his son and Axelle- acknowledging that she did owe him for 
his information- had agreed. “But not yet,” she told him firmly. “Not 
until we know where this poison is coming from. Find out where these people 
are that are experimenting with it, give me a lead on curing the damn thing, 
and then we’ll talk about how *long* you get to see your boy. How many 
days.” Carter had agreed to the bribe, sudden hope in his voice.

But there had not been much hope in the assassin’s mind as she severed the 
connection and regarded the globe. Obscured. *Hidden* was what Carter had 
meant. The headquarters could be anywhere...city, town, village or 
countryside. It could be hidden in one of the millions of seemingly 
ordinary office buildings, or hidden in some well-guarded military 
installation...or even hidden in plain sight, in some house or another.

Axelle hoped the installation was in the Thunderian realm. It would be much 
simpler to find it if it was.
***

Pumyra brought the ThunderTank to a halt outside the Ferocious Females’ 
Fortress and let the engine die. Normally, Panthro would have driven his 
precious machine himself, but he was too busy scanning the
sectors and subsectors for anything out of the ordinary. It was the first 
time Pumyra had ever had a chance to drive the war-machine, and she 
began to understand why her friend was so protective of it. Big and bulky 
as it was, it handled like a dream; even the Thunderstrike wasn’t this maneuverable.

She hopped out of the Tank and headed for the main entrance to the Fortress, 
carefully skirting Peachyra’s guardian plants. Even after her departure, the 
avatar’s magic remained potent. The plants knew Pumyra, of course, and 
would not threaten her unless she did something stupid, like actually going
up and attacking the fortress, but even so, it was only common sense to 
avoid the vines and thorns.

The main doors were hanging half-open, a testament to Zhyan’s panicked 
departure with his stricken wife. Most of the lights were off, and Pumyra 
groped along the wall until she found a switch. Blinking in the brightness, 
she looked around carefully. Where, she wondered suddenly, was Chanur? 
Had he, too-?

Pumyra wasn’t particularly fond of the Hani- he was too aloof, too alien, 
too...honorable, in his own peculiar way, for her to feel comfortable around 
him. But the thought of him in the grip of the pantoxin was enough to send the 
Thunderian healer speeding through the Fortress in search of him.

He wasn’t in the Fortress.

Strange, Pumyra mused, coming to a halt in one of the hallways. If he 
wasn’t here, where was he?
Hunting? Or-

It was the barest whisper of sound, but it was enough; she spun to face 
whatever it was that was suddenly behind her, and gasped in mingled surprise 
and relief at the sight of Chanur. “I was looking for you,” she blurted 
out. “Tygris and Spark- they’re at the Lair- they’ve been poisoned.”

Chanur didn’t move, but his eyes narrowed. “I know. I brought Tygris in 
myself. So who did it?”

“We don’t know yet.” Pumyra straightened from her defensive stance, took a 
quick breath, and explained the developments of the last few hours. She 
covered the details rapidly, noticing the scowl that crossed the Hani’s face 
at the mention of his nemesis.

“Pantoxin?” he repeated at last. “Never heard of it, but it sounds 
mutant-make...mutating like that.”

“Don’t you think that’s too sophisticated for them?”

“They made warp-gas, didn’t they?”

“No, they just stockpiled it and used it despite the Galactic Judiciary 
Council’s outlawing of it,” Pumyra
explained.

“Someday, someone’s going to have to explain that Council business,” Chanur 
grumbled. “But later.                                                                   
What did you expect to find here, anyway? I’m not sick, and neither is 
Zhyan- is he?”

“Not with pantoxin,” Pumyra murmured. “But you and he- your bodies, your 
cell structures-”

“You think we might be immune?”

“It’s a possibility. But mainly I just wanted to see if we could find a 
source here, somewhere. If we can narrow down when and where 
they were poisoned, we can get that much closer to the *who* question.”

“Unlikely that anyone actually got inside,” Chanur mused, turning and pacing 
toward the main entrance.
“But things like air and water intakes- those, maybe, we should check.”

“Where have you been, anyway?”

“Took ‘Seko hunting. Figured on distracting him, he was upset about Spark. 
Met an unusual creature in the process.”

“Oh?” That in itself was not so odd, weird creatures had way of turning up 
without warning.

“A wolf, but...blue.”

“Blue?”

“Blue eyes, at least.” Chanur shook his head as he walked out the doors and 
angled toward the rear of the Fortress. “Blue fire eyes. I tried to pursue 
it, but it evaded me. Didn’t even leave any trail. It was headed towards 
that torturer’s place-”

“Axelle’s sanctuary.”

Chanur just grunted. “Might be one of her defenses.”

“And where’s Kaseko?”

Chanur scowled. “He stomped off in one of his fits of pique. Kid’s got 
potential, but he’s got to get past that temper- and he’s got to stop being 
so sensitive when I criticize him.”

“Maybe you need to stop being so critical,” Pumyra retorted, then glanced 
away from Chanur’s glower.
“So where are these intakes, anyway?”

“The air intakes are up on the roof, naturally. We’ll have to get up there 
to investigate.”

“Do the trees tolerate being climbed in?”

Chanur hesitated. “I think as long as you don’t use your claws, you should 
be fine.”

“You think.”

“I haven’t tried it,” the Hani agreed. Pumyra sighed, shrugged, crouched, 
and sprang up, her fingers catching the branch fifteen feet above her head. 
She swung up easily and then stood on the branch, watching to be sure 
this action was acceptable. Apparently it was; no vines came slithering out 
to seize her. Chanur followed, and soon the two of them had reached the roof.

At first Pumyra thought it was the light that made the view look so strange; 
the sun was going down, and it made weird shadows and distorted the 
landscape. Then a breeze drifted past and both she and the Hani stopped in 
their tracks.

“You smell that?”

“I certainly do. It’s coming from the river.”

“River?” Pumyra asked.

“There’s a little river down back,” Chanur explained, nodding in the 
direction of the unpleasant odor.

“Over where it looks so...strange,” Pumyra said slowly. Chanur turned.

“Yes.” He sniffed thoughtfully and then made a face. “Smells like death, 
only worse- old death,” he remarked, then went to the side of the roof 
and peered down. “C’mon.” He slipped back over the side
and the Thunderian heard the leaves rustle. She walked along the edge until 
she found a patch of ground that was clear of trees and bushes, then simply 
hopped over the side, landing with a thump as Chanur descended from the 
tree.

“Showoff,” the Hani growled.

“Leaps are my specialty, just as running is Cheetara’s,” Pumyra retorted, 
and with that she took off for the source of the stink. Chanur rolled his 
eyes and followed.

“And you wonder why we write Mary-Sues,” he grumbled as he tried to keep the 
fast-moving puma in
sight.

Pumyra skidded to a halt about three feet from the banks of the clear, 
rippling river. The land dropped off suddenly, descending several feet 
before spreading out and then rising to the opposite side. The water was 
fairly sluggish here, but deep, in pools. Where she stood was covered over 
in soft green grass, with a few small yellow flowers poking out here and 
there. The evening breeze whispered in the tree branches above and around 
her...and blew the stench of the ruined land opposite her into her face. 
Gagging, she turned her back on the horrific desolation and stumbled a few 
steps back into the sheltering forest. “By the Lords of Thundera,” she 
gasped. Raising her head, she saw the Hani staring over her shoulder, 
transfixed.

Where before had been forest, there lay only fallen, rotting trees. Where 
there had been bushes were heaps of withered threads. The ground was 
blackened as though seared by a fire. But worst of all were the creatures, 
the animals of the forest, lying in heaps of rotting flesh. The odor of death 
and decay was underscored by something more, a trace of burning, a 
hint of chemicals.

Chanur growled something in his own tongue, then grasped Pumyra’s arm and 
pulled her back towards the Fortress. “Come on, dammit. It might be in the 
very wind we’re breathing,” he snapped.

“Wait,” Pumyra murmured, and pulled her arm free. Turning, she clenched her 
teeth and stared intently across the devastation. “There’s...a building, isn’t there?” 
She pointed.

“What of-” Chanur stopped. “A building?” He blinked where she was 
pointing, upstream. “Yeah. So you think that’s the place we’re looking for.
” It wasn’t a question. “We better get back, quick. Call the Lair, get some 
help out here. Stop ‘em before it gets any worse.”

Pumyra agreed wordlessly and turned back to the Fortress. The two of them 
trotted in silence for a while, but as the walls loomed before them, Pumyra 
drew in a breath sharply. “Chanur, it’s got to be in the river! You intake 
water from the river, don’t you?”

“Yes, but we have filters, purification systems-”

“If anything could slip past, it’d be pantoxin, with its mutating 
structure,” Pumyra reminded him.
“Axelle said it’s almost impossible to decontaminate, you have to heat it 
until the molecular structure collapses. And if it’s in the river- it’s being 
carried down into the sea- and it’s spreading across the landfrom the water!”

Chanur paused, considering that. “Then why isn’t it on this side?” he asked 
slowly. Pumyra stopped beside him, wide-eyed.

“I don’t know...”
***

“It’s not in the river.”

Axelle stood with another vial in her right hand, another dropper in her 
left. The liquid she’d scooped from the river and treated with the chemical 
agent remained as it was, murky but liquid. She frowned,
tilting the vial slightly and watching the liquid thoughtfully in the beam 
of Tygra’s portable light. The sun had gone down, hiding most of the ruination; 
the breeze had died and the temperature had dropped. But the stench of chemical 
death was still strong in the air.

“How can that be? It’s all through the land over there, right down to the 
banks,” Tygra protested.

Pumyra, shaken by the sight of the forest, had returned to the Lair and 
remained there while Panthro, Tygra and Axelle joined Chanur at the 
Fortress. Chanur was not thrilled by the sight of the assassin, and
had kept his grim distance. Now he was a darker shadow under the trees, 
only his eyes showing.

“I don’t know, Tygra, I just know it’s not in there.” The assassin turned 
to the other three, frowning.
“The water would have evaporated in four seconds, leaving only the pantoxin 
residue behind.”

“So what’s keeping it out of the river, out of the land and trees and plants 
on this side?” Panthro wondered.

“And if it is being kept out, how did it manage to affect Tygris and Spark?” 
Tygra added, letting his handlight drop from the vial.

“I wondered if the wind blew some of that residue across,” Chanur remarked, 
speaking for the first time.

“Possible, but not too likely; the toxin clings close to whatever it catches 
on to,” Axelle mused. “But obviously it did somehow manage to affect 
them. We can figure that out later; the problem is still finding a cure.”

“If we knew what was preventing it from attacking this side and keeping it 
out of the river, we’d have a start on a cure, wouldn’t we?”

“True...” Axelle tilted the vial again, then frowned. “Maybe. A 
prevention isn’t always a cure.”

“Either way, let’s get away from here,” Panthro muttered, and the others 
followed silently as he led the way back to his Tank.

“There must be something,” Tygra said at length as he settled into his seat 
and took a deep breath of clean air. “Something that’s fighting the toxin- 
and winning. But the forest is the same on both sides-”

“No it isn’t,” Chanur corrected him, moving to stand by one of the huge 
treads. The glow from the Thundertank’s instruments gave them enough 
light to see each other, though not altogether clearly.
“Peachyra worked with this forest-”

The obvious realization struck them all at the same time.

“Peachyra!”

“Her magic-!”

“Shielding her plants-!”

“Of course! No mere poison, no matter how strong, can sucessfully break up 
an Avatar’s magic!” Tygra exclaimed. “Even with Peachyra away, her magic 
remains and does her will, preserves her plants.”

“Now that you’ve stated the obvious, answer me this,” Chanur said 
short-temperedly: “How can we use that to help Spark and Tygris?”

Axelle bit down on a smile; Tygra’s belaboring of the obvious was a trait 
that annoyed many. “How do we get the magic out of the trees, out of 
the ground...?” she mused.

“Maybe just a dose of the river water would do it?” Panthro suggested, 
shifting in his seat. “After all, if you pull off leaves or rip up the grass, 
that’s going to kill it- and I don’t think the garden would approve.”

“It wouldn’t,” Chanur agreed.

“There’s always the fruit trees,” Axelle pointed out. “Picking a fruit 
doesn’t kill it. Although,” she added a moment later, “squeezing 
the juice out might.”

“Will it cure them, that’s the question,” Tygra murmured.

Silence fell for a moment, and then Axelle shrugged, though she was not 
nearly as indifferent as she looked. “Same question we asked about the 
Fountain of Life water. It helped. No harm trying.” She
lifted the vial and frowned, reluctant to pour the liquid out. “Wait a 
minute. There’s a test we can do right now.” Without waiting for a reply, 
she hopped out of the tank and made her way back down to the river. The 
other three traded puzzled and exasperated looks, then followed.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Tygra asked as he stopped on the 
riverbank, panting a little fromthe stink, and shone his handlight down on 
the assassin.

“I’m getting a sample, now shut up and let me concentrate,” the assassin 
retorted crossly. Waist-deep in the river, she carefully leaned over and 
scraped a bit of the blackened, ashy soil into the rinsed-out vial. Then 
turning back, she paused to dip a measure of river water into the container. 
Wading slowly back, she extended her free hand and was pulled back to the 
top of the bank by Panthro.

“What was that all-” Panthro stopped as she held the vial out; the light 
showed that the water and soil in it were agitating frantically, nearly 
slopping over the sides. Axelle’s expression became marginally
worried; she didn’t want to drop the thing, but if it ran over...

It didn’t; after a minute it settled down, though it rippled slightly for a 
little longer.

“What happened?” Chanur asked, eyeing the vial suspiciously but not moving 
any closer.

“The water is clear,” Tygra said slowly. “The...residue, the poison, is 
floating on the top, and there is a blade of green, slightly wilted grass 
in the clear water.”

“The grass is probably dead,” Axelle admitted. “But the water has somehow 
purged all the toxin from it.”

“Then what’re we waiting for?!” Panthro startled everyone with his shout. 
“Let’s get to it!”
***

“Anything?”

The half-whispered question came from a wretched, still-sedated archangel, 
seated beside his new wife.Her hand was clasped in both of his; the 
vital-signs monitor showed that, once again, Spark’s healing
strength was flagging. Sedated or not, Zhyan was showing the terrible 
strain; his eyes were bloodshot and he looked as if he’d actually lost 
weight in a mere day. His wings shifted and rustled, his equivelant to 
fidgeting. “She’s...she’s worse again...”

“We’ve got something, yes,” Tygra answered soothingly, and Axelle watched 
Zhyan’s eyes light up in
desperate hope.

“We have to do this carefully,” she murmured. “The poison has to have an 
escape, an exit. We don’t want it oozing out all over through her pores, 
so-” she pointed to the scalpels lying in their sterile wrappings on a tray. 
“She’ll be able to heal from those without scarring. Tygris’ fur will hide hers, I
hope- how is she, anyway?”

“Twitches, but no convulsions, yet,” Pumyra replied from the other side of 
the room, where she was sitting with Kaseko. Tygris was lying on a steel 
table that had been padded with blankets, since there was no bed large 
enough or sturdy enough for her. Her fur was ruffled, her eyes closed, and 
a humanoid respiratory tube had been somewhat awkwardly fitted under her 
feline nose.

“What are you doing here, ‘Seko?” Ax heard Chanur ask the cub in surprise.

“A wolf told me to,” the youngster answered, worry in his young voice. “He 
said I should see if there was anything I could do to help Spark and Zhyan. 
And Tygris.”

“A *wolf*? That blue-eyed wolf?”

Axelle almost smiled, but exerted her self-control. “A friend of mine. He 
must’ve taken a liking to you,” she remarked to the cub, half her attention 
on the shallow cut Tygra was making on Spark’s arm. “He doesn’t talk 
to people very often.”

“He said he could tell I wasn’t scared of him,” Kaseko answered. “He said I 
was brave.”

“He would know,” Axelle agreed. Then, lifting the Azteca’s head, she 
carefully poured a measure of
water between her lips.

The single, violent convulsion took them all by surprise. Zhyan leapt up 
with a cry of horror, but even as he did, Spark relaxed, going limp on 
the bed. “Spark!!” he choked, and then gasped as a dark, odorous
ooze began to run from the wound in her arm.

“A basin!” Tygra snapped, and Pumyra almost flung it at him. Easing the 
limb into position so that the poison would be caught but the arm would 
not slide in took a moment or two.

“Calm down,” the assassin told the archangel as he hung over the bed. “It’s 
the pantoxin. Peachyra’s magic is forcing it out of her body, no matter 
what form it tries to take. But don’t get too close until it’s
done.” She passed the wide-eyed Kaseko and went to Tygris.

“I think we’d better restrain her,” Panthro commented. “She’s going to give 
us trouble.”

Tygris did give them trouble; the powerful convulsion that rocketed through 
the tiger’s unconscious body was enough to snap two of the restraints. The 
basin was pushed into position and Axelle stood quietly by the makeshift 
bed, holding her apprentice’s forepaw steady while the poison drained in a 
thick, smelly stream.

“We really have to do something about that lab,” she remarked. “And the 
entire contaminated area needs to be purified with fire.”

“Lab?” Zhyan asked, his voice hoarse but calmer than it had been for hours.

Tygra, who was feeling long-winded at the moment, explained.

“So it wasn’t deliberate?” Zhyan said slowly after a moment, frowning. 
“Just-”

“-Criminally careless. Or worse, perhaps,” Axelle said crisply. “We’ll 
find out, one way or another.”

“Worse?” Pumyra sounded mystified.

“If Peachyra’s magic had not been in the river and forest, there would be a 
trail of rot all the way to the sea by now, and spreading,” the assassin said softly. 
“I am wondering who put it in those scientists’ heads to come here and be careless 
with their toxins. That, I can and will find out from my source. It may be that the 
Thunderian Plane itself has some sort of enemy, and if so, well, we may have 
a problem on our hands. But it may simply be that greed and not cruelty is 
responsible.”

“We’ll look into it, too,” Tygra promised.

“Spark!” There was nothing but joy in the archangel’s voice now, and Axelle 
turned as she heard the priestess reply, though her voice was weak.

“Zhyan? What has happened? Where am I, and what am I doing in this bed? I 
don’t think this is Madrid,” she added after glancing around. “Are we in the Lair? 
What is that terrible ugly smell?
Zhyan? Zhyan, what is wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Pumyra interceded gently, for Zhyan was simply standing 
speechless, gazing rapturously at his wife. “You’ve been ill and Zhyan has 
been very worried about you, but you’ll be fine now.”

A low growl caught Axelle’s attention and she looked down at Tygris, whose 
eyes had just flickered open. The apprentice regarded her teacher for a 
moment, then sighed.

“I’m in trouble again, aren’t I?”
~~~

The door to the Pub swung open. Silvercat and Fianna both looked over in 
mild surprise as a bedraggled human figure trudged over the threshold and 
plopped down in one of the chairs that still rested askew. In his wet and 
muddy hand, he gripped the tools of his trade.

S’kat and Fianna traded a glance, then the green dog lifted his mug, hiding 
his smile in the good stout.

“So,” S’kat asked briskly, “who turned out to be responsible for it all?”

“Figuring that out took some debating, a lot of assistance from Axelle’s 
mysterious other-plane ‘source’,
Carter, and no one ever did quite arrive at a final conclusion,” Fianna told 
her. “But the working theory
is this: they ran afoul of a time loop.”

Silvercat groaned. “I hate time stuff. Gives me a headache.”

Fianna ignored this. “Ever wondered why Mumm-Ra didn’t just wipe out the 
entire planet with a massive death-spell of some sort? Why he wasted so 
much time and energy, and took so much heat from the ASOE in trying to be 
subtle and not cause a lot of destruction?”

“Yeah, sometimes. I figured there were some weird-ass restrictions, the 
sort of things that we’d call plotholes,” S’kat answered dryly.

“Those, yes. There’s enough of those around,” Fianna agreed. Alan snorted, 
which showed he was listening, although he had not moved since taking his seat. 
“But,” the warrior went on, casting a sidelong glance at the human, “I think there’s 
more to it than that. I think he goes for the smaller and less destructive 
plots now, because he’s found that the big ones always are stymied in some 
way, too. And backlash harder on him than the small ones. And if the 
hypothesis is right, this was one of those larger attempts.”

Silvercat frowned, went behind the bar, picked up a clean glass, and 
thoughtfully began to pour liquid from an open bottle into it. Taking a 
gulp, she hopped up to sit crosslegged on the bar. “Okay, fire
away,” she said resignedly.

“Mumm-Ra existed on First and Second Earth as well as Third,” Fianna 
explained. “And from what we can tell, our time is First Earth. The 
hypothesis is that Mumm-Ra either reached into his own past, or
sent something to his own future, depending how you look at it. Either way, 
he uprooted a chemical factory from Second Earth- our future, his past- 
and stuck it in what he thought would be an isolated corner of Third Earth.”

S’kat’s eyes widened and she took another gulp of her drink. “But it wasn’t 
isolated-”

“Because we fanfic people got there first,” Fianna agreed with a sudden 
grin. “And were in a position to stop it.”

“So we did stop it? What makes you think it was a major attempt?”

“Well, Tygra told Zhyan about the factory,” Fianna answered. “There wasn’t 
much more than a dark spot on the ground left after he got done with it. 
And they totally razed the affected area, which fortunately hadn’t spread 
very far yet. As to being a major attempt- well, just think about it. 
Pantoxin in the river, spreading down to the sea and gradually covering the 
entire planet- just the sort of thing he’d do, don’t you think? Which also 
backs up the theory that it was actually one of his early attempts; he was 
still going for the gusto. Must’ve been a pretty big output of energy for 
him, and all for nothing, thanks to us fanfic authors.”

“Oh,” Silvercat said thoughtfully, digesting the notion. She took another 
drink from her glass to aid the
process.

Alan, silent and motionless all this time, suddenly stood and went to the 
bar, taking the opened bottle from where it sat beside Silvercat and swigging 
from it. S’kat frowned, but let this pass. Alan clunked the bottle back down, 
wiped his mouth, and remarked, “Have you ever stepped 
from a story back into reality?”

“A few times. It’s a bit unnerving, I guess,” Fianna replied idly, 
anticipating the response to his deliberate understatement. He 
wasn’t disappointed, either.

“A bit unnerving?! One minute I’m walking through a perfectly normal 
forest- well, probably not perfectly normal, if that wolf was any indication, 
but even so, a forest. And the next minute I’m spinning through some 
what-the-hell portal! And end up on my ass, at night, in the middle of this stupid
rainstorm, sick as a-” Alan stopped and threw a quick glance at the Irish 
hound.

“Dog?” Fianna suggested mildly.

“Whatever. Worse than being seasick and having stomach flu combined,” Alan 
replied sourly. S’kat paled a little.

“At least you did make it back,” she pointed out, hoping to steer the topic 
in other directions. Alan shot her a glower, then wandered back to his chair.

“Speaking of back,” Fianna rose to his feet and stretched his massive frame. 
“I need to be getting back to my Missus.”

Silvercat nodded and slid down off the counter. “Out,” she said to Alan, 
who disregarded the directive.

“So they- we- won, huh? Sort of...I guess the Mummy won’t be any too 
pleased,” he mused.

Fianna paused in the act of drawing up his hood. “True enough. If it 
really was Mumm-Ra,” he replied agreeably. “In this continuum, you 
never can tell.” With that he was gone into the wet night.

“Out,” S’kat repeated more firmly, hooking her thumb at the door.

“All right, all right, I’m going.” Alan hauled himself up and followed the 
green dog. “Does this happen often?” he inquired over his shoulder.

Silvercat shrugged. “Not if you don’t challenge people,” she said with a 
sudden, malicious grin. She  laughed as the door slammed shut, then 
regarded the mess in her pub with a thoughtful eye. “Oh well,
not as bad as it might be,” she muttered philosophically, and, yawning, 
turned off the lights.
~~~

Epilogue

“Yes,” the woman with icy blue eyes said coolly to the youth standing before 
her. “That’s what I said.”

Alack Carter slowly lifted his head, daring to meet that piercing gaze. 
“When?” he breathed, his own eyes filling with tears.

“Tomorrow. In the morning. Your father and I have decided where to 
rendezvous- though I suppose I need not mention that we *will* be 
keeping an eye on you and your family until we’re sure you won’t spill 
to certain authorities?” the Cat inquired dryly.

“We won’t- we won’t!” the boy gasped. Taking a breath to steady himself, he 
asked, “Why? All this time- I never-”

“Your father did us a favor,” the Cat responded simply. “I had planned to 
simply allow your family to see you, but the favor was such that I felt this 
was a more appropriate return.” 
She paused, her gaze boring into the youth. “Don’t expect your life to go 
back to normal,” she cautioned. “It’ll never be the way you remembered it. 
As long as you accept that, I think you’ll cope all right. You know why I 
mention this, of course?”

The boy shook his head, his hair brushing against his bare shoulders- 
shoulders now scarred with fire and whip.

“You always did have trouble accepting reality,” the Cat replied. “If you 
fight your new reality as hard as you fought this one, you’re going to 
make your family very miserable. And I’d say they were miserable
enough without you; they don’t need to be miserable with you, too.”

Stung, the boy glowered. “It was you who-”

“Let’s not go assigning blame. Your father was warned and he failed to heed 
the warning, so I had to carry out my threat,” the Cat interrupted. “But that’s 
the past. I’m just  making an objective suggestion for when you leave here 
and return to your home. Now, go to your room and get yourself ready to 
leave in the morning. You’ll find clothes, and you’ll be sent a meal.”

Alack dropped his eyes and turned away.

The Cat, Axelle, watched him go. It was seldom that she freed a slave, but 
it was true that David Carter had provided the critical information on the 
chemical lab, and had helped narrow down the possiblities of where it had 
come from. He deserved a reward, and all he wanted was to have his son 
back. With luck, he’d go on wanting the reward after he’d gotten it, she 
thought grimly. But that was no longer her concern. Dismissing the matter 
from her mind, the assassin turned back to her desk, wondering briefly if 
Spark and Zhyan had gotten to Madrid yet, or if they were taking their 
‘vacation’ in one of the guest rooms in Cat’s Lair. Probably the former, 
she thought with a touch of humor. More privacy in Madrid.

“Tygris,” she said into an intercom by her desk. “Meet me in the training 
room. You’re behind on your lessons.”

END