Andrea and Man-E barged in through the front door of the building, shaking themselves; they were both soaked from the now driving rain. Man-E was careful to guard his chest. Duncan had fixed his holoprojector, but couldn’t guarantee it was still waterproof. At the moment, it was doing a fine job of clothing him in an expensive looking suit and overcoat. He turned to Andrea, who was wringing out her long, blond hair as best she could. “Alright, now where’s this portrait you were talking about?” he said, “pulling” up the collar of his “coat” to hide his face slightly. He was careful not to turn around, as the two guards behind the front desk were cautiously eyeing them. Andrea turned and smiled at them, recognizing at least one of them right off.

“It’s over against the other wall; can’t miss it.” She started over to the desk as he made his way across the room. The portrait was indeed hard to miss; a painting of a ruggedly handsome man, perhaps a little older than Duncan, covered a six-foot square area. Below, on the ornate frame, was a gold nameplate reading “Potter Elapidae, Our Founder.”

I certainly hope they haven’t switched portraits, he thought. Showing up as someone’s dead uncle might raise a few questions.

The two security guards rose as Andrea approached, one smiling, the other with a decidedly suspicious look on his face. “Andrea,” the first guard said, “what the heck are you doing out in this weather so late?”

“Got a call from the boss; he told me to get down here fast as I could. He’s not sure what effect all the lightning might be having on some of the equipment, so he asked me to check it out. Guess I was the only one he could convince to brave the storms.” She tried to steady her voice; it tended to have a little, telltale crack whenever she stretched the truth.

“We didn’t receive any word from him to expect you,” the second guard said warily, looking over at the man by the painting. “It’s very irregular; we’ll have to check this out, Ms. Steele.” He snapped up the phone and started dialing.

“You can ‘check it out’ right now.” Man-E stepped up to the desk, now wearing the face from the portrait. He spoke in a low, husky tone, and rubbed his neck, pretending to nurse a sore throat.

“Mr. Elipidae!” the suspicious guard blurted, bolting up from his chair as if coming to attention. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t realize it was you!”

“Quite alright; glad to see you doing your job, keeping my projects safe,” Man-E replied.

“Sorry to say, sir, but it sounds like the laryngitis is getting worse,” Andrea noted, picking up on the ruse as Man-E continued massaging his throat.

“The weather doesn’t agree with me, I fear,” he responded. “But we still need to check the equipment.”

Andrea nodded, and turned to the smiling guard. “He’s right, Tom, we should be getting upstairs.”

“Of course,” he said, smiling even wider at the boss. “Let me buzz you through the security doors.” He went back behind the desk, and punched in his security code. Two large doors off to the right slid open, revealing a short hallway with an elevator at the end. “Go right ahead.”

“Thank you,” Man-E rasped. “Oh, and one other thing. When was the last time that picture frame was dusted?” He pointed at the portrait.

The formerly suspicious guard nearly tripped as he swung around to look at the painting. “I’ll get maintenance on it first thing tomorrow, sir!” Andrea swore she him start to salute.

Andrea and Man-E started down the hallway. “Glad the artist caught your mentor’s likeness so well in that painting,” Man-E said quietly.

“Ad libbing a little bit, weren’t we?” she asked.

“Just throwing myself into the part; you did say he was a little authoritarian and a tad on the egotistical side.”

“You just wanted to intimidate that guard,” she joked.

Man-E didn’t answer immediately; when he did, his voice was pained. “I don’t intimidate people.”

Andrea wasn’t sure quite what he meant, but sensed she had struck a sensitive nerve somehow. She quickly changed the subject. “Now, explain to me how we’re going to bypass security upstairs. The room I think they’re keeping the stone in has some heavy electronic security. We can’t just pick the lock.”

“I’ll take care of the electronics, don’t worry,” he assured her. There was something in his voice, however, that gave Andrea a chill. She decided she didn’t want to hit another raw nerve, though, so she let it pass. “Are you sure it’s in that particular room?” he asked.

“Not really,” she admitted. “But the security around there is tighter than anyplace else in the building. And Mr. Elipidae was coming out of that room when I overheard him talking about ‘the stone.’”

“As good a bet as any, I suppose,” he said as they entered the elevator. “Let’s give it a try.”

Outside in the van, the others waited. “We should have gone with them,” Teela said impatiently.

“Man-E’s plan was the quickest way in. The two of them have a better chance of getting the stone and getting out without a confrontation minus an entourage,” Duncan replied.

“Your father’s right, Teela. I’m sure they can handle it on their own,” He-Man agreed.

Teela wasn’t placated, but she didn’t pursue the matter further. She looked out the window in the back door. “Storm’s getting a lot worse,” she commented. “Sky’s darker, too. I’ve never seen clouds that dark.”

“It’ll get worse the longer we take. I just hope we haven’t overlooked something,” Duncan said, furrowing his brow.

“Like what?” Ror asked.

“I’m not sure. A lot of coincidences here; we come to Earth, meet up with one of the only people we know on the planet, and she leads us right to the stone.”

“I thought what Andrea told us explained all that,” Teela said, still looking out the small window.

“I suppose,” Duncan said, stroking his chin, “I don’t know, I’ve just got a bad feeling about this. Like we’re missing a piece, but I’m not sure where.”

“Your ‘bad feelings’ are usually right,” Teela noted. “I told you we should have gone with them.” She was just turning away when a bright flash caught her eye. She squinted, and stared out past the trees a few hundred yards behind them. She jumped and nearly hit her head on the van’s roof when a loud buzzing sounded behind her.

Gwildor snatched up the mini-key, which was still lying beside him. The lights were twinkling, and the buzzing was now subsiding to a low hum.

“I could have sworn I told you not to play around with that thing!” Ror growled.

“I didn’t, I didn’t!” Gwildor insisted. “I just set it to warn us if another dimensional portal opened up after we ran into Skeletor’s goons.”

“So another portal just popped open?” He-Man asked.

“Yes, and it must be close for us to pick it up,” the Thenurian responded.

“Right behind those trees,” Teela said, pointing toward the rear of the van. “I just saw the tail end of some light show back there.”

“More visitors,” Ror groaned. “Goons or snakes? Anyone want to place their bets?”

“Does it matter?” Duncan observed. “Either way, we have to make sure they don’t interrupt our little infiltration team in there.”

“So what do we do first?” Gwildor wondered.

The van suddenly shook violently, and Ror started wrinkling his nose. “The first thing we do is get out of this thing! Smoke!” He pushed the passenger door open, and motioned the others to make a hasty exit. He-Man pulled back his arm, and struck the van’s sliding door with the flat of his hand; the door went flying off, landing on the moist ground several yards away. He grabbed Gwildor and the floating Orko, and bounded out of the van just behind Ror, Teela and Duncan. The van vibrated and shook again as they escaped, and then exploded in a huge ball of flame.

“So much for getting it repainted,” Orko sighed.

“Andrea’s really going to love us after this,” Ror said.

“I think we have bigger problems,” He-Man said, pointing beyond the shattered van. The flames were starting to die down thanks to the constant downpour, but they were still illuminating the general area quite well. Caught in the flickering light was a Blast Attak, one of Skeletor’s android warriors. On his shoulder was perched a huge pulse cannon, it’s barrel glowing with energy as it prepared to release another blast aimed directly at the heroes.

Weldon sputtered in Thenurian as his hand once again slipped and scraped against the housing of the attack-trac’s communications system. He wasn’t a techno-wizard like Gwildor, but most Thenurians seemed to have an innate talent for machinery. Too bad I’m not most Thenurians, he thought, tossing aside his screwdriver in disgust. “Extendar, could you hand me the hammer, please?”

The cybernetic warrior arched a golden eyebrow. “Isn’t this work a little delicate for a hammer?”

“Nah, I’m just gonna have a little talk with Mr. Microchip here,” Weldon replied.

“I was thinking of asking you to check my systems when you were through, but I believe now I’ll pass,” Extendar said dryly.

Weldon scratched his head, and extracted himself from the disassembled com system. “Y’know, that just might be the answer.” He looked at Extendar and smiled.

The metallic hero met his gaze, and crossed his arms in front of him. “As I said, I’ll pass.”

“Trust me,” the Thenurian said, pulling some of the wiring out of the console. “I think I can stabilize the receiver and the transmitter, at least enough for some short messages, but I need something to boost the signal. Like a big, shiny antennae with his own power source.”

Extendar leaned back slightly, still not ready to cooperate. “My cybernetics aren’t in the best of shape as it is, you know.”

“I don’t need to access your main systems, just a little power and a couple of connections. Your body should do the rest.” Weldon put his hand on his ally’s shoulder. “Look, Grey says it’s important we try to contact the others, especially Malaktha. He’s supposed to be getting some info from Snake Mountain that we really need.”

“What information is that?”

Weldon shrugged. “Beats me. But Grey seems to think it’s vital, something we gotta know before we can fix everything.”

“You put a lot of faith in him, don’t you?” Extendar asked, relaxing a bit.

“Yeah, I do. Look, I know he plays all enigmatic and such, but I’ve been with him for a heck of a long time, and he’s about the best friend I’ve ever had. The best man I’ve ever known, too. You trust him, and he’ll get us through this.”

Extendar looked into Weldon’s face for a moment, nodded, and then opened the access panel on his broad chest. “There’s a good possibility I’ll regret this, but let’s try it.”

“Attaboy. You won’t feel a thing.” Weldon started gently poking around with his finger inside Extendar’s chest, then carefully pushed a bundle of wires aside, revealing a terminal with a red symbol emblazoned across it . He stopped suddenly, and looked up, a shocked expression contorting his face. “Um, were you aware you have Horde technology in here?”

Extendar’s shoulders sagged slightly, and his eyes closed. “Quite aware,” he said in a flat tone.

“I guess I thought this was Duncan’s work,” Weldon said, staring at the red bat-wing logo.

“A bad decision made by a young fool who wanted to be powerful. He didn’t care where he got the power from, and paid a huge price for his stupidity.” The pain in the cyborg’s usually calm tone was obvious.

“We all botch up sometimes,” Weldon said, returning to his work. “What you do after that mistake is what matters. Looks to me like that “fool” turned into a pretty good hero.”

Extendar said nothing, but a faint smile crossed his gold lips.

Skeletor stood atop the small hill, allowing himself a better view of the valley before him. Behind him, Beast Man held their captive tightly by her arms, and Evil Lynn yanked on the chain that encircled the woman’s waist and wrists.

“So, Celice, I think you understand your job here, don’t you?” the villain said, his gaze still focused ahead. “I can sense the power close by, but I can’t pinpoint it. That is your task.”

The young, red-haired woman nodded. “I know what you want, Skeletor. But I don’t know if I can find this stone for you. Or if I should.” Her eyes blazed with anger, and her voice was a taut.

Skeletor cackled. “Ah, my dear, you’re forgetting your townsfolk so quickly? One quick call to my minions, and the whole lot of them can easily be entombed in that cave.”

“If you can contact them,” Celice replied defiantly. “I know the problems Eternia is having are making communications almost impossible. Torin has been out of contact with Eternos for hours. I think we’re too far away from your lackeys for you to reach them.”

Skeletor turned; the dark skies combined with his hood to cast heavy shadows on his fleshless face. Celice could not suppress a shiver at his visage, something that greatly pleased the Lord of Destruction. He lowered his voice, and played to the effect. “A clever little plan you had, eh? Accompany us, and then call my bluff.” He cackled again. “And how are you so certain I can’t contact them, my dear singer? Just because technology is failing hardly means my magics have faded. I am Skeletor, after all, and such things are little more than a minor annoyance to me.” His voice became almost a whisper as he came up to her. “Make your choice, Celice. But think of how many will pay the price if you’re wrong.”

Celice glared at him, meeting his gaze without flinching this time. She then lowered her head, and whispered, “Alright, you monster. I’ll do what you ask.”

“Of course you will,” he said, putting a clawed finger under her chin, forcing her head back up. “Now find what I am seeking.” She pulled away as much as she could in Beast Man’s grip.

Celice closed her eyes, and began to sing. She sensed the dissonance around her, warping the natural vibrations of everything her voice touched. She concentrated and her pitch raised and lowered rhythmically, as she tried to attune her powers to the world gone mad around her.

Beast Man continued to hold her securely, but his eyes were slightly glazed. Evil Lynn watched her closely, ready for any attempt to escape, but found that Celice’s song was beginning to affect her, as well. She shook her head briskly, and tightened her grip on the chain. Ninjor, however, seemed wide awake, not lulled by the song in the slightest, his gaze fixed on Skeletor. He watched for any sign that the haunting trill of the singer’s voice was affecting his master, but Skeletor seemed as immune as he was. Skeletor glanced over at Ninjor for a few seconds, acknowledging his lackey’s gaze with some amusement, and then turned to survey the valley again.

And the song continued…

“Okay, now raise your left arm up a bit more,” Weldon said, tinkering with the controls on the communications console. He held a set of headphones to his ear, and motioned for Extendar to stop. “Okay, that’s a little better.”

Extendar stood beside the attack-trak, wires running from his chest to the vehicles control console. “Are you getting anything?”

“It’s coming along. Hold up your other arm.” The cyborg complied. “Okay, now pull up your left leg.” Extendar gave him an odd look, but pulled his leg up, balancing on the other. “Hey, we’ve almost got it! Now pick up the other leg…”

Extendar sighed, and lowered all his limbs. He glared at Weldon.

Grinning, Weldon said, “Sorry; just wanted to see how far you’d go.” He waited for a reply, but got only a cold stare. “Okay, maybe I accidentally disconnected your sense of humor; I’ll fix it later. Now put up the left arm again.”

“Weldon!” Extendar nearly growled.

“Hey, no joking around this time; that really was helping.” The Thenurian fiddled with the controls a bit more as Extendar raised his arm, a sour look on his shining face. “Almost. Can you stretch it up a little more?” The cyborg nodded, and employed the ability he took his name from, extending his forearm into the air. “Alright, hold it there! Hey, Grey, we got a signal!” Weldon shouted to his friend.

Greystar had been looking out over the valley nearby. Montork had said he sensed something, probably the stone, and they had stopped to look and give Weldon the chance to try to establish radio contact with the other two teams. Ram Man and Montork had joined their ally, and all had stood silently for some time, just scanning the landscape. Greystar seemed strangely melancholy as he stared out into the gloom; the cloud cover had given the whole area the look of twilight, and the steady rain lessened visibility even further. Even so, the valley had a natural beauty to it, with sparse trees and bushes dotting the unspoiled land. Montork was impressed, as well. Though far removed from the brightly colored vegetation on Trolla, the many green tones were strangely soothing, even muted as the were from the dim light.

Ram Man had always liked places like this, simple and green. He loved being part of the Guard, and would never consider leaving the palace and his friends, but sometimes he longed for wide-open spaces where he could bound around without worrying about colliding with anyone or anything. That would be enough to make him happy, he thought. Don’t need gold or treasures, just a nice place to be himself. So he stood beside his new, mysterious friend, and just enjoyed the moment, as was his way.

Ram Man heard Weldon call before Greystar did. “Hey, I think your little pal needs ya,” he said.

Greystar didn’t answer right away; he seemed to be pulling himself back from a far away place. “Weldon?”

“Yeah, he’s calling for you.” Ram Man looked tilted his head as much as he could in his helmet. “You okay?”

Greystar smiled weakly. “Fine, considering what’s happening. Just.. lost in the past.”

“You’ve been here before?” Montork asked.

“Long time ago,” Greystar replied, a tinge of sadness still present in his voice.

“You lived here, maybe?” Ram Man wondered.

“No, a friend lived in this valley. He and his people.”

“Doesn’t look like anybody’s here now. Should we look for ‘em?” Ram Man asked.

“No, their gone. Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

“Sounds like you miss your friend,” Montork said sympathetically.

Greystar turned and motioned the two to follow him back to the trak. “Yes, I do. Very much.”

Ram Man opened his mouth to offer some comfort, but Greystar was already rushing to the vehicle.

“Take your own sweet time, why don’t you?” Weldon glowered. “This thing isn’t gonna be working long, you know.”

“Sorry; lost in thought,” Greystar replied gruffly.

“Here, take these, the speaker isn’t cooperating.” Weldon handed him the headphones, and went back to adjusting the controls to keep the channel open.

“Malaktha? No, not a miracle you got through, just a short technician.” He grinned at Weldon. The grin quickly faded, however, turning into a concerned frown. “You sure you translated that right?” His frown deepened. “That’s the kind of thing I was hoping we wouldn’t find. No, we needed to know about it. Thanks.” He started tapping the headset as the signal broke up, and then sighed, as the connection was lost.

“The static returns,” Weldon moaned. “I can try to get it back.”

Greystar looked back toward the valley. “No, he told me what he needed to.”

“Bad news?” Ram Man asked.

“Not what I wanted to hear,” Greystar rubbed his chin, obviously worried.

“Care to share it with us?” Extendar said.

“Not right now, no.” Greystar answered, a response Extendar didn’t seem fond of.

“Well, whatever,” Weldon cut in. “Before Malaktha got through, we got a piece of a message from Kittrina. They got the villagers back, and everybody’s safe.”

“That’s good news, at least,” Greystar said. “Now Skeletor has nothing to hold over Celice. We can get her back without endangering her townsfolk.”

“And stop Skeletor from getting the stone thingy,” Ram Man added.

Greystar nodded. “That was the plan.”

“Yeah, no stone thingys for old bone head,” Weldon agreed. “You got any kind of fix on them?”

Montork looked out over the valley. “I feel something strong just on the other side of that big stretch of flatland. I’m sure the stone is there.”

“And you can be sure Skeletor is, as well,” Extendar added.

The heroes piled quickly into the trak. Weldon leaned over to Greystar as he settled in behind the controls. “You know, you’re not helping your credibility with these people when you hold stuff back so obviously,” Weldon warned quietly.

“My credibility would go down even more if they knew what I have to do next,” Greystar said soflty.

“Am I gonna like it?” Weldon asked.

“You’re going to hate it as much as I do,” Greystar replied, grimacing.

“Hey, what’s that?” Grizzlor exclaimed as he felt a rumbling beneath his feet.

“A minor tremor,” Shadow Weaver answered, unconcerned. “They’ve been happening all over the planet, from the reports Hordak was getting.”

“Yeah, but it’s happening here!” Grizzlor’s voice raised an octave as another tremor came, a little stronger than the first. The wind had started picking up, and there was a decided chill in the air. Flashes of lightning could be seen behind the trees at the edge of the ruins. “Maybe we’d better find some cover. Looks like a storm’s coming.”

Weaver dismissed his concern. “We need to keep searching. A little storm isn’t going to stop us.”

Grizzlor looked around nervously as another tremor shot through the ground beneath his feet. “Are you sure?” She narrowed her eyes to mere slits in answer; Grizzlor returned to his prodding and digging.

“Any sign they’re moving out yet?” Fisto asked.

Castaspella closed her eyes tightly, trying to focus. “No, they’re still there.” She was still seeing through Dree-Elle’s eyes as the little Trollan spied on the Horde duo. The “reception” was getting fuzzy, though, and the mage had to concentrate her energies more than she had expected to maintain contact. “Weaver seems very intent on her quest.”

“Time for a little more discouragement,” She-Ra said, nodding to Fisto. She raised her arms high above her head, and brought her hands down with all her might, striking the ground with incredible force. Fisto brought his huge right hand down simultaneously, adding his power to hers. The ground shook hard from the impact; Castaspella was still lost in keeping contact with Dree-Elle, and almost lost her balance. She opened her eyes and glanced at She-Ra. “Better brace yourself, Casta. We’re just warming up.” Castaspella smiled, and propped herself against a tree, noting that it, like most of the others she had seen recently, was wilting badly. She pressed her eyes closed, and tuned in Dree-Elle again.

“Maybe a little more bad weather to go with it?” Glimmer signaled Spinnerella to pick up the wind a bit, and Frosta, standing in front of her, held out her hands to cool the air as it whipped past. Glimmer fired a few more energy blasts toward the other side of the forest, creating more “lightning flashes.”

“This is a lot of trouble to go through; there’s only two of them. We could take them,” Spinnerella said as she twirled, her voice warbled slightly by her motion.

“Only two here, but a lot more nearby at a Horde outpost,” She-Ra said. “I’d rather not take a chance on re-enforcements joining the party. They probably can’t send for help, but why take the risk? We can’t find the stone if we’re too busy fighting.”

Spinnerella kept spinning and didn’t answer; she preferred a direct approach to all this sneaking around, but she rarely questioned She-Ra’s judgment in such matters. Her spin magic made her one of the more powerful rebels, and thus she was usually called on when the situations turned dire. Easily bored by inaction, she had found facing such threats exhilarating, and in an odd way, almost enjoyable. Like Glimmer, she had matured a bit serving in the rebellion, and her former “all I want to do is dance and party” philosophy had faded as she realized how much she was needed in the war against the Horde. She still took whatever opportunities for thrills and fun presented themselves, however, and could be impulsive when her adrenaline was flowing, as it was now; a good battle with Shadow Weaver wasn’t an unappealing thought at the moment.

Nearby, Bow, Swift Wind and Flutterina waited quietly, watching Dree-Elle from thick cover, ready to rescue their floating ally if she was discovered. Bow had his smoke arrow ready and in position; a quick shot would require only raising his arms and pulling back on the drawstring. He was fairly certain it would work, even with the problems the breakdown was causing. No magic, no convoluted mechanisms, no complex chemical reactions, just an old magician’s trick stuck on the end of an arrow. There was a beauty and reliability in simplicity, he thought. He smiled as another strong shudder rocked the ground, and the cold, biting wind began to gust.