She laid the bar of soap on her coffee table and pushed herself off the sofa. She was getting old. Her long plume of golden hair had grayed and her reflexes had slowed. A wave of nostalgia washed over her and she smiled again. She was feeling nostalgic about events that wouldn't happen for hundreds, even thousands, of years. Was that possible?
She walked to her closet and opened the door. Her slick black uniform hung within, a uniform meant to flatter a more youthful figure. It was a uniform for a younger woman, a woman who could attract attention--even the attention of--
She shut her eyes, blocking the memory, but she fingered the locket that dangled from its gold chain around her neck. Some memories she couldn't block.
With a sigh she bypassed the uniform, took her coat from the closet, and shrugged into it. Then she opened her door and stepped out into the hall, neglecting to lock the door behind her. She didn't expect to be robbed, but she had appeared here with little more than her uniform and a hulking pile of useless scrap metal. Already she had lost the one thing she might have treasured most in this world; nothing she had accumulated since held any meaning for her.
She walked down the hall to the elevator, arriving at the same time as one of her neighbors. "Good evening, Cathy," she said. She had learned--the hard way--that it paid to be friendly.
The young woman looked up and smiled broadly. Her ivory earrings matched the gown she wore and she had swept up her hair in a manner more fancy than her usual style. "Good evening, Officer Mann. It's nice to see you."
The two women entered the elevator as the doors rumbled open. "Going somewhere special tonight? With your young man, perhaps?" Dora asked politely.
"I'm going to a concert."
"That's lovely. Have a good time." Dora noticed that the young lawyer hadn't answered her second question. It was none of her business, but the instincts she had honed as a police officer made her wonder why Cathy always went out rather than bring visitors to her apartment.
The elevator stopped at the ground floor and Dora got off, leaving the mystery of Cathy's relationships for another time. The air outside nipped at her, but wasn't really cold, so she decided just to walk, letting her feet take her where they would. Even after all these years she sometimes discovered something new.
She watched the evening sky as she strolled, remembering the times she had journeyed from star to star, fighting crime wherever she found it. "Police officer" didn't have quite the same ring as "Evil Chaser." Nor should it; a law enforcer confined to one world couldn't compare to one who ranged at will throughout the universe.
Encountering new races...
Even though it had been half a lifetime ago, tears pricked at her eyes. Tears she refused to shed. Duty drove her then, the need to uphold the law, to bring criminals to justice, to make the universe safe for the innocent. For children. Duty had called her to set her personal desires aside, to alter her planned course and come to the rescue of a ship in distress. A ship that had been testing a new, temporal weapon.
Then came the explosion that sent her falling, through time and space, crashing toward the one destination she held firmly in mind. For now she had an anchor to hold onto, a new life to which she could look forward, on Earth.
But not her Earth. Not his Earth. She had wound up young and alone in a strange, alien city, not to mention a person out of time. Her weapons and computers were damaged, her memory faded in and out, her body had taken a terrible beating, and she had the unbearable sense that a part of herself had been ripped from her grasp.
It didn't take her long to realize what she had lost, and just how alone she had truly become.
She touched her locket again, but this time she opened it, activating the miniature holographic projector hidden inside. She gazed at the hologram of the child's father, his mane of flaming red hair, exotic eyes, and that roguish cleft in his chin. It was the strong face of a man born to lead. He had given the locket to her at what would turn out to be their last encounter.
She chuckled as she thought of the first time they had met. He had just released a group of highly dangerous criminals that she had apprehended. He seemed barely more than a boy at the time, and an awkward cub at that. To his credit, he did help recapture the criminals, and he and his people had assisted her on other occasions. He had saved her life more than once. She couldn't blame him for not foreseeing the event that would sever their contact for all time.
She closed the locket, no longer needing the visual aid to feel his presence. Thoughts of the past--or perhaps the future--occupied her while she stopped at a nearby coffee shop for a leisurely cup. Finally, after she had spent a good portion of the night on old memories, she decided to return to her building.
She enjoyed the walk back, and this evening might have ended as quietly as many another, had she not caught the moving shadow out of the corner of her eye. It flickered briefly at the very edge of her sight, then vanished, but that was enough. Her police instincts had been polished over the course of decades, and they were not about to fail her now.
She followed the half-glimpsed shape to where it had disappeared against the darker bulk of the building. Nothing. She examined the sidewalk in both directions, ignoring the curious stares of those passing by, only to find no trace of an intruder. Momentarily confounded and feeling a sense of unexplained urgency, she put her hands on her hips and gazed up at the stars for guidance.
Then she saw it, high above her, scaling the wall as easily as a cat climbed a tree. It would never occur to anyone to look for such a thing, and even Dora could barely make it out though she knew it was there. As she watched, it leapt gracefully onto a balcony and she could see it no more.
She turned and raced into the building, not quite sure of her motivation, but certain that she had to act quickly. The elevator had never seemed so slow, but it did give her time to make up her mind. She had always listened to Duty's summons, and she could hardly stop now. She entered her apartment, draped her coat over the back of a chair, and opened her closet. Her uniform would see use one last time.
The climb would be rough on her aging system, but nothing an Evil Chaser couldn't handle.
She donned her black uniform. The pink and gray cape she left on its hanger, but she couldn't resist wearing the helmet, even though the metal might reflect light and give her away. She threaded her hair through the hole in the top, letting it flutter out behind like a banner. The computer that used to analyze all incoming data and display it on her visor no longer functioned, but just feeling the helmet's familiar weight revitalized her. It had been far too many years.
Soon after beginning the attempt she realized that she was more out of practice than she had thought. An embarrassing discovery, but she refused to permit it to stop her. It took her more time than she had predicted, but her trained senses located the place where she could scale the outside of the building with a minimum of difficulty.
On the way up she noticed curious gouges in the most convenient handholds. She didn't intend to slow her progress, but she found herself examining them. Someone else had been performing the same activity, and fairly frequently at that. This was no solitary event. Why would anyone--besides an Evil Chaser--be climbing up an apartment building on a regular basis? No burglaries had been reported recently, and window washers had platforms from which to work.
She shook her head in confusion and proceeded with extra caution. She reached her destination, muscles cramped but spirit exhilarated. She swung over the balcony railing, crouched in a shadow, and froze. She identified it immediately as belonging to her pretty, young neighbor. Soft voices came from directly in front of her, in the area illuminated by the light spilling from the lawyer's apartment.
She crept closer, internal warnings flashing wildly. She spotted two figures conversing. One she recognized as Cathy, and the other was undeniably masculine, though he wore a heavy cloak that prevented further identification. He had a low, rumbling voice and spoke so softly that Dora couldn't make out the words.
What was this? Cathy so rarely had visitors, this was an unusual occasion in itself. And a male visitor, on the balcony, to which a well-used trail led?
Dora moved as close as she dared. The man's back was to her, so she couldn't make out any details but his hair. It flowed past his shoulders, thick and golden, as hers had in her youth. She could tell he held something in front of him by the angles of his arms. A book...he was reading from it. The rhythmic dips in his voice indicated poetry. Occasionally Cathy added an appreciative comment. The young woman stood facing her guest, smiling. In fact, she practically glowed with happiness.
The man finished reading, closed the book, and dropped his hand to his side. Even Dora's years of training and decades of experience couldn't prevent her from gasping in shock at seeing that hand, its soft golden fur, the sharpened claws in place of nails. A hand that could belong only to one person on this isolated rock of a planet.
He spun at the sound of her sharp intake of breath, eyes searching the shadows. "Show yourself!" he growled. His voice carried the note of command passed down through generations of the leaders of his people. It nearly broke her heart.
She hauled herself to her feet, into the light. Not wishing to frighten him, she removed her precious helmet, tucking it beneath her arm and shaking out her hair.
Cathy pushed in front of her royal guest, eyes widening in recognition. "Officer Mann! What are you doing here?"
Dora held her back straight, chin high. "I'll trust you with my secret, since you have entrusted me--albeit unwittingly--with yours." It was all she could do to keep her voice steady beneath the barrage of so many pent-up emotions. "Mandora, Evil Chaser, at your service, Miss Chandler."
Cathy stared at her as though she were crazy. "What?! I'm afraid you'll have to give me more of an explanation than that, police officer or not."
Mandora nodded sharply. "I followed him. At first I didn't know why a brief glimpse of him called out to me, but even after so many years the ties between us are too strong to be ignored."
Cathy turned to her guest. "Vincent?"
He stepped forward. "Who are you? What do you know about me?"
Mandora swallowed. Now that the moment she had dreamed of for years had come, she couldn't bring herself to tell him. He lived. He had made a life without her, and he had even befriended the natives. She considered carefully for a moment before responding. "I am responsible for your presence here. I would have done anything in my power to find you again, but I didn't even know whether or not you lived and had no way to discover the truth. Your people were too far, and I was alone with limited resources in a strange country."
"My people? There are more like me?"
She nodded. She could well imagine what a shock such a revelation would be to him. "A few. They are a noble people, stricken by a horrible tragedy. Your father led them to safety after their home was destroyed, and they have prospered in their new land."
"My...father? You know my father?"
Cathy tugged on his arm. "Vincent, I don't think--"
"Hush. I don't know why or how, but I believe her. Let us hear what she has to say."
Mandora continued. "Your father is a great man." She used the present tense, even though he wouldn't be born until long after this civilization fell to ashes. "He is the hereditary leader of your people. You resemble him, except that his mane is bright red. I'm truly sorry you cannot join them. You would have made an excellent lord."
"This is nonsense!" Cathy exclaimed. "If Vincent really had relatives somewhere, why can't he join them? Why haven't they been discovered?"
Mandora shifted her gaze to the young woman. "Surely you don't believe such as he could have originated on this world? What drastic mutation could have given rise to his appearance? What laboratory could have produced so elegant a specimen?"
The lawyer laughed. "Are you saying he's an alien from another planet?"
"Thundera, to be exact. The two of us were tossed here unexpectedly as I was bringing him to his family, and my equipment was damaged beyond hope of repair." She held her helmet sadly, turning it so that it shone in the light like her unshed tears. "Were it not for that accident, he would now be taking his proper role as Lord of the ThunderCats."
Cathy shook her head. "I don't buy it. I'll admit you think fast on your feet to come up with such a wild tale, but just listen to yourself. Alien worlds, a race of--of--ThunderCats, and Vincent some kind of king? I'm sorry, but you can't expect us to believe all that."
Mandora didn't blame the young woman for her skepticism. The people of this Earth had no experience with long-distance space travel. Perhaps that was part of what led to their downfall and paved the way to the Third Earth of her own time.
Vincent half-turned toward his companion and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Catherine, do you not feel it?"
"Feel what?"
"Her honesty. It shines like a newborn star in the heart of the night." He aimed his gentle gaze at the Evil Chaser. "You tell the truth...and yet, I sense you hold something back. This bond between us--like the one between Catherine and myself, it is a bond of love."
Cathy put her hand over his, strengthening him, and looked to Mandora for answers. Out of habit, the older woman stroked the locket she wore. It held the knowledge they sought, but what price would she pay for releasing its secrets? Vincent deserved to know his true heritage, but did she deserve to tell him?
The silence stretched out, an impassable gulf, until an echo from her past bridged the way. Justice. Truth. Honor. Loyalty. Yes.
She unclasped the golden chain and held the locket out to him. "This is the one remembrance I have of the world that once was." It settled softly onto his palm. "Open it. Hold it with one side facing the sky to see your father...hold it the other way to see your mother."
He did as she asked without hesitation, setting aside the book of poetry. Even the doubtful Cathy gasped as the hologram of Lord Lion-o sprang from the heart-shaped mechanism. The handsome hero seemed to grin proudly at his son, the twinkle in his eyes undiminished by the years. "Oh, Vincent," Cathy murmured, watching the image in awe.
Not a mutant, nor an experiment. Not a normal human gone awry, a misshapen branch on the evolutionary tree. He was a perfectly formed member of the Thunderian race, and even, in many respects, its ideal. Nothing less than the best.
Then Vincent flipped over the locket.
The image of the young woman that formed was just as breathtaking as her chosen mate. Her skin-tight outfit accentuated her slim figure, and the hologram had frozen her in a hunting crouch that displayed her feline grace. Her blonde hair shone beneath the light of an invisible sun. She gave the impression of a wildcat that could never be tamed.
Tears of understanding and sympathy welled in Cathy's eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Gone was the rough exterior, the shield she cast up between her beloved Vincent and the rest of the world. "That--that's you, isn't it?"
"That is Mandora, Evil Chaser." She shrugged, running her fingers over the dents and scratches in her helmet. "I am Officer Dora Mann, as you've known for quite some time. Never married. No children. Just another human making her way in the world."
"Oh, no, you're so much more!" It had taken only Vincent's testimony and the locket's evidence to win over the lawyer. "I can hardly imagine the things you must have seen and experienced. And to lose your only son as an infant, never to know what became of him...no one should have to endure that."
"Yes," Vincent added. "If it was difficult for me, growing up among strangers, ignorant of my past, how much more so must it have been for you, knowing fully what you had lost?"
Mandora could feel his concern, his presence a warm pulse at the back of her mind. She realized now that he had always been with her in spirit, a loving whisper beneath her consciousness that never allowed her to despair, no matter how gloomy her circumstances or dire her straits. He must have inherited that psychic streak from his father, who had the ability to command the Sword of Omens as well as communicate with the ghost of his former mentor, Jaga. Who knew what other talents her son possessed due to the mixing of Thunderian blood with her own?
"There are so many things I want to tell you," she said. "About me, about your people and the world in which they live, about the great, wide universe of stars in which you were born..."
He closed the locket and held his hand out to her. "And I wish to hear it all, Mother."
That single word melted the barrier behind which she had locked her tears. One by one they fell, despite her happiness. Gladly she reached out and clasped his hand, touching him for the first time since the catastrophe that had torn them apart.
Sensation exploded. A flurry of faint images passed through her mind: dark tunnels, candles, and a whole host of unknown faces. From Vincent's expression, he must be feeling the same thing. Perhaps, she guessed, his psychic talent was using the opportunity of their contact to forge a stronger link between them.
After a brief, disorienting moment, it was over. As though to punctuate the experience, a deep thunderclap rumbled through the heavens. Cathy hugged herself. "If it's going to rain, we should go inside."
Mandora was about to agree, but her instincts stopped her. She sniffed the air. "It doesn't smell like rain. And I don't recall seeing any lightning." Then she heard it, slowly growing in volume, the purr of an engine. She nudged the other two back toward the apartment, prepared to defend them against whatever possible menace might approach. She didn't have long to wait.
The machine dropped into view and hovered beside the balcony. She had never seen it before, but she easily identified its basic design, though she couldn't believe her eyes. "A feliner?" she exclaimed. Behind her, Cathy and Vincent held each other and stared.
Two Thunderian females, neither of whom she recognized, were visible in the front seat. The younger of the two piloted the craft while the other, in a display of acrobatics that would have astounded an Olympian athlete, leapt from her place, somersaulted through the air, and landed perfectly balanced on the balcony railing.
She, also, seemed at a loss for words. She had a puff of red hair that stood straight up from her head like a candle flame. Her velvety fur was a uniform gold except for a darker, mask-like marking over her eyes and where it faded to light yellow with black spots on her right arm. She wore a strapless green leotard with a skirt that barely covered her hips, calf-length boots, and matching cuffs at her wrists. A darker green belt around her slender waist held the black-on-red insignia of a sworn ThunderCat, one of the knights of the Thunderian population.
Mandora knew that the shock of such an encounter might keep them staring at each other helplessly. To break the silence she tossed her helmet in the air, caught it again, then said, "What's the matter, dear? Cat got your tongue?"
The young ThunderCat blinked. "Mandora?" she breathed. "Is it--is it really you?" Her voice began to rise with her excitement as she spotted Vincent over Mandora's shoulder. "And Lionel as well! Father will be overjoyed that after so many years we've finally succeeded."
The other Thunderian, also a ThunderCat, set the feliner on autopilot and stood up to get a better view. She was blonde, with a dappling of black spots in her hair and black stripes marking her pale yellow fur. Her outfit was similar to that of the first but done in shades of red. "It was my father's homing device that did the trick," she declared. "No one else could find a way to aim the temportal without coordinates."
The one in green licked her index finger and drew with it an invisible tally mark in the air. "Another point for the Tygra clan," she announced, as if for the scorekeeper of a friendly rivalry. She beckoned to Mandora and Vincent. "Hop on board, we haven't much time. We're set to retrieve in a few minutes."
The aged Evil Chaser hesitated. This was too much, too fast. After such a long time, to locate her son and then be found in turn by the ThunderCats... It seemed too good to be true. Why now? Why this moment? It had to be more than mere coincidence. "Hold it," she said. "Who are you? How did you get here?"
The girl on the railing cocked her head in confusion, perhaps expecting them simply to jump into the feliner and zoom off for parts unknown without a second thought. She recovered herself swiftly, however, and responded. "I'm Leona, daughter of Lion-o, Lord of the ThunderCats. This--" she indicated the other girl, who nodded "--is my half-sister, Cheetina. My father has been searching desperately for you, ever since he discovered you weren't killed in the explosion that took you from us."
"That's right," Cheetina chimed in. "My father, Uncle Bengali, and Panthro tried to recreate the temportal through which you fell, but without knowing when or where in the universe you had been sent, it seemed an impossible task."
"Then Tygra devised a monitor to home in on you," Leona said, taking up the explanation where her sister left off. "It scanned for your minds--your mental resonance signatures, as he termed it. Only one signal appeared."
"So we set the temportal for that signal," Cheetina concluded, "and here we are!"
Mandora had to agree that the story made sense. If the ThunderCats had been looking for the two of them together--a perfectly logical assumption seen from their perspective--they wouldn't have picked up anything until just now. The moment she and Vincent had touched must have been as bright as a beacon.
She also understood why Lion-o had chosen to have another child, though the knowledge wrenched her heart. Someone had to carry the Sword of Omens after he died. And the fact that Cheetina had a different sire than her older sister spoke volumes.
Mandora wanted to go home. She wanted to return to the world that she knew, to soar once again between the stars, but most of all she wanted to reunite with the man she had elected to spend the rest of her life with once upon a time and might finally get the chance.
She was reaching out to take Leona's helping hand when behind her a low voice called, "Wait."
She turned to Vincent in surprise. He exchanged glances with Cathy before he continued. "I cannot go with you."
"But--" Mandora began.
"I am sorry, Mother. I would give a great deal to spend more time with you, to meet my father and the rest of a family I had only dreamed of before, but I have something here that I cannot give up for anything. I have lived my whole life in this city. There are many people here for whom I care deeply and who care about me in return. They depend upon me to help them, to protect them from the dangers of this world."
"I...see." She swallowed, realizing that after finding the two things she most desired, she could have one or the other, but not both. She managed a faint smile. "Following in your father's footsteps, after all."
He gripped her shoulders, the locket cool against the one her uniform left bare. "You are not disappointed that I must remain here?"
"Yes." She had to be honest. "But not in you. Your father would be proud. I know I am."
Cheetina checked the feliner's chronometer. "Please hurry, Lady Mandora. We haven't much longer."
"Here." Vincent released her and offered her the locket.
"No, you keep it." She took his large hand in hers and tucked his fingers firmly around the trinket. "To remember me." She turned to the lawyer. "Cathy?"
"Yes, Offi--I mean, yes, Mandora?"
"Everything I have on this Earth, I hereby give to my son. You will see that it is taken care of, won't you?"
"Of course."
"Thank you." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not one for emotional goodbyes, but in this case..." She drew her son into a strong embrace. "I wish we had more time. A part of me will be with you, always. Farewell."
She allowed Leona to pull her away. She scrambled aboard the waiting feliner, not as gracefully as the young ThunderCat but well enough. She waved to the couple on the balcony as Cheetina steered the machine back toward the stars, wishing them a happy future. When they had vanished from sight, she sat quietly, turning her helmet around and around in her lap. The night's events would catch up to her soon, probably leaving her in a state of chaos until she sorted everything out, but for now she floated above it all.
As soon as the feliner's protective dome settled into place and Cheetina once more programmed the autopilot to hover until the retrieval command engaged, the two ThunderCats turned to face the back seat and began babbling questions and stories at lightspeed, each finishing the other's sentences for her, anxious to learn about this legendary long-lost relative and fill her in on everything that had happened since her disappearance.
Mandora soaked up their chatter, bathing in it, until finally she had to chuckle. The girls halted, curious to find out what they had said that she considered humorous. "Nothing," she replied, still smiling. "It's just that I forgot to bring my soap."