Discussions With A Kitty

by Seven


Disclaimer:  Earth: Final Conflict and its characters are copyrighted by Tribune Entertainment Company.  All rights reserved.



Note from Author:  Just something to ease through my writer's block... the return of Galahad! (if any of you remember him).



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The Flat Planet had closed half an hour before. The buzz and lights were gone, replaced by an uneasy silence to be broken in six hours, by the first wave of fun-seekers.

Liam's jacket slipped from his shoulders into a heap at his feet. He ignored it, stepping behind the bar and pulling a beer from the freezer. He took a deep sip from it, ignoring the cold, sticky sensation the glass left on his lips.

He thought it wouldn't have gone further. Da'an had lied to him, but he had adjusted. A lessening of the trust, and life went on. Now....

Now Da'an had outright betrayed him, betrayed the people who had put their lives in his hands. Sacrificed them for Zo'or's pat on the back and gold star.

If he were miserable, repentant, Liam might have been able to forgive him. Any sign of benevolent emotion, and he might have been able to let it go. But Da'an had been defensive, claiming that he had no choice, and that he needed to regain Zo'or's confidence. And it had only fueled Liam's anger, the self-inflicted blindness of soul.

A furry gray shadow slipped past his ankles and hopped onto the bar. A pointed tail lashed behind a pair of questioning green eyes. "Mrroowwwww..."

Liam felt his tense facial muscles relaxing into a smile. "'Night, Galahad," he murmured, opening the cooler and pulling out a bowl of cat food. The tiny cat tiptoed over to it as he set it down, and buried his triangular face in the brownish substance.

For a long moment, Liam just watched his cat eat. "It's strange, isn't it?" he murmured. The green eyes rose from the rim of the dish and gazed up at him quizzically. "How the people you trusted can turn right around and bite your hand. How the people you never trusted can be... the very people you want to save most."

Galahad meowed plaintively, eyeing the young man.

Liam reached under the bar and pulled out a small bag of chips. As he tore off the top, he murmured, "I trusted Da'an... not for myself, but for the Resistance."

He popped a chip into his mouth and began to circle the bar, his voice taking on an aimless, singsong quality. "And then... he uses something I set up... something I thought would keep us safer, to set up all those Resistance fighters." He paused, then continued, his voice wavering, "I would've expected that more of Sandoval or Zo'or."

Galahad's small pink tongue flicked out to lick a particle of the cat foot from his tiny nose.

"And then... Sandoval, the man who tried to kill me, the man whom I have spent my entire life working against.... my father," Liam choked, "becomes ill with a blood disease. And I save his life... why? He's done all along what Da'an just did, and somehow I'm less angry at him than I am at Da'an... why?"

There was a long silence, one pair of green eyes meeting the other. Then Liam sighed and slumped down on a bar stool. His tall, lean figure seemed to soften slightly, hunched over and vulnerable.

Then the beer bottle was set down decisively with a loud clunk. Liam's hand went out to scratch behind Galahad's ears. He smiled a little as the kitten's eyes closed in delight. "'Night, Gally."

Then he slowly made his way into the back room. Galahad watched him, then finished the cat food.