Chapter Eight
Best Interests

 

Snarf cracked eggs into a bowl.

One, two, three... oh, drat! Empty already?

He lumbered over to the refrigeration unit and removed a new container. Let’s see... two for everybody, so that means eleven more.

It was only after cracking open the tenth of them that he realized his mistake. His groan eventually settled into a discontented purr.

Ten! Ten, Snarf, you old fool!

He tossed the remaining egg back into its container carelessly. Well, I guess it means extras for everybody.

And audibly, "Why do I always forget?"

His eyes riveted toward the Berbil meat-fruit he had set aside to prepare. Sure enough, it had also been measured out to feed seven. He began to correct his mistake, unsure of why he continued to make it. Even after they had buried one and lost the other forever ago, the snarf still could not mentally reshape Cats Lair to house only five.

I’m starting to lose my senses. Soon they’re going to have to move a couple of Wollos or Bulkins in here to keep my poor head straight!

"Snarf snarf..."

"Forget what?"

Tygra waited politely by the kitchen door until its occupant bid him enter with a wave of his tail. "That the kids are gone. I still act like they never left." He sniffed mournfully.

Had it been any other situation, his mother-hen remark would have prompted a laugh from the visitor. "I don’t think any of us is willing to let go completely," he replied drearily, taking a seat at a nearby table, "even after all this time."

"Sometimes I expect them to come bounding in here demanding candy-fruit, and threatening to mix up all the laundry if I don’t give them any." He grinned a little in spite of himself.

Tygra returned the look. "And I expect them to barge into my lab. Wilykat liked drafting, while Kit just wanted to mix around solutions to see what would happen."

"They never meant it, of course. Just their way of entertaining old Snarf."

"He drew some exceptional things— unrealistic perhaps, but interesting all the same. And I can’t tell you how many times she nearly caused an explosion, just because she wanted to derive a shade of ‘perfect blue.’"

"I think they really enjoyed helping me around the kitchen, though they complained. Who knows, they may even have become as good as or even better at cooking than I am."

"If you ask me, they were an aspiring architect and chemist, respectively."

"Sure, they upset me at the time—"

"Same here—"

"But when I get right down to it..." Snarf sighed. "I’d give anything to live it all over again."

Tygra propped his arms dejectedly upon the back of his chair and rested his chin upon them, saying nothing.

His companion quickly finished reducing the size of the midday brunch. "There’ll be lots of scrambled eggs today, so be sure to save some room."

"I’ll do that."

Relief washed over Snarf as the tiger’s moody pensiveness was replaced by a dull look of amusement. "Tygra?"

"Yes?"

"Wilykit’s gone. I think it’s more than appropriate that we’re all starting to live with that. But you can’t convince me that it’s right to abandon hope on her brother too!"

He assumed the hardened expression that indicated he had debated the issue more than once before. "None of us like to admit it, Snarf, but we are helpless. We’ve tried every trick we know to contact Latcris, varied everything in our transmission that could possibly be varied, and we still don’t know if we’ve reached them or if they’re even listening. And there’s something in that field of theirs that prevents us from landing the Feliner again or checking up on Kat through the Sword of Omens. At the very least, Cheetara hasn’t sensed anything unpleasant—"

"You say all that, but you sound like you’re giving up!"

Tygra felt a twinge of compunction. "We won’t give up," he returned feebly.

"Then we have to try harder, for Jaga’s sake!"

"And what if they’re right, Snarf?" he snapped uncharacteristically. "What if he really is better off with them? If that’s the case, do we have any right to continue?"

Silence pervaded the atmosphere for a few moments after the bottled-up worry had sprung to speech. The architect feared that he had been too blunt as he watched the snarf’s shoulders slump and head dip pitiably, and opened his mouth to apologize; but he was beaten to the punch by the nursemaid’s small purr. "I hope you haven’t convinced yourself of that. Every Eden has its forbidden fruit, you know, just as every society, no matter how grand or advanced—" his voice hinted of sarcasm "— is flawed. Sure, those flaws don’t mean much to someone who’s born and bred into them. But while an outsider may learn them quickly, he never fully adjusts— especially not without the support of friends and family.

"So they promise Wilykat ‘opportunity.’ What does that really mean, exactly? The opportunity to try to fit in? The opportunity to maybe succeed in whatever it is they do over there? And they’ll possibly learn to accept him along the way. None of that’s definite, not even anything they hand to him on a silver platter. What is for certain is that he has a bunch of people here who love him and miss him like crazy. Being a ThunderCat may be more dangerous than anything he gets into in Latcris, but this is his home and his life. Shouldn’t that be enough, snarf snarf?"

Shaken, Tygra softened. "I agree with you wholeheartedly. I only wish we had more say in the—"

Loud, triumphant peals of laughter cut him short, which only got louder as the reveler in question tore down the hallway with loud thumping steps. "Yes! The bastards are finally receiving!"

The tiger jumped to his feet, his chair clattering onto its side as he leapt into the corridor. Snarf quickly righted it, looking on with hopeful interest. "Panthro!" Tygra called. "Panthro, say that again?"

The panther came up to him from behind, clapping him sharply upon the back. "We’ve reached them!" he rephrased as his startled comrade turned to face him. "Latcris is acknowledging us! Lion-O’s on the horn with one of Forn’s representatives right now."

"What are they discussing?"

"Don’t know, but it sounds friendly enough. Come on, he wants you in the control room to help speak on our behalf."

Incredulous, but with renewed confidence, the tiger jogged back eagerly with his friend.

"Snaaarf, hey! Wait for me!" cried the hapless caretaker, who would have taken off at their heels that moment if he had not remembered the delicate baked goods waiting in the oven. His head swiveled from appliance to exit for a few indecisive moments; finally he scampered to the oven, swiftly removed its contents and placed the tray aside, then took his leave on two legs, blowing vigorously upon his burning forepaws.

***

 

As he paced back and forth before the couch, Forn swallowed back an angry outburst. All through his obvious agitation, the child had sat ramrod-straight with his knees hugged against his chest, staring directly ahead at nothing. His indifference vexed the Executive, who had expected remorse and perhaps a little fear. It was not often that he had to discipline his children, for his behavior and demeanor come punishment time was highly effective; at least, that is what he had thought. But either he was a fool, or his children were weaklings. The ThunderCat— there was no use denying what he was any longer— possessed uncanny resolve. Nothing Forn had said thus far had weakened that stoic stare for even a second. Meanwhile, his frustration mounted to such degrees that he feared he would lose control and strike the boy, an action highly repugnant to his moral stature. After a time he began to feel like an interrogator before a close-lipped prisoner, and speculated who would crack first. "If you are not willing to cooperate, at least answer me this," he addressed at length after selecting his next plan of attack. "Are you totally ignorant of everything that I have done for you?"

The booming voice was harsh on Wilykat’s ears, but he refused to cringe. He wondered why Forn spoke so loudly; surely the rest of the family, who were no doubt pressing their ears against the closed living room door that very moment, could already hear perfectly. "No."

"Then you’re simply ungrateful, is that it?"

"No."

"Your actions prove otherwise, lad."

"I’m thankful... but..."

"But what?"

"But I’m not happy."

The caretaker stopped squarely in front of his ward, staring down at him with a narrowed golden gaze. "Aren’t you?" he fairly hissed.

"You’ve provided me with a lot... sir," he quickly substituted for "Father." "The opportunities you’ve given would be great for a Latcrisian. But not for me."

Forn paused thoughtfully. "Why should it make any difference? We’ve welcomed you as one of us—"

"You know that isn’t true." He slowly glanced upward. "You may have, and your family may have, but you’re not millions and millions of people. No matter how long I stay here or what I do, I’ll still just be a foreigner. Something for your media to dissect. And whether or not you like it, I’m proud of who I am. I don’t want to change."

"Then you face a considerable dilemma: lose yourself and gain the world, or keep your identity and forsake a good future."

He looked relieved, as though a point he had been hammering all along had just been driven home. "Right. That’s all I have to look forward to here."

"Then, what is it you want to do?"

Wilykat’s voice was remarkably steady. "Like I heard on the viewing-screen a couple of times, ‘I’ll take door number three.’ I want to go home. That’s all I want: to go back to Cats Lair where I belong. I know you don’t think highly of the other Thunderians, but they’re my people. We’ve been through both good and bad times together, but we’ll always be happy as long as we have each other. Tell me," he beseeched, searching Forn’s eyes for some glint of understanding, "if Cale or Tybus or Satuu ran away to a new place... well, you might be angry, but you’d still want them back, wouldn’t you?"

The elder twitched visibly at his words. His anger disappeared, to be replaced by intense thoughtfulness. Without another word to the boy, he turned and strode slowly away. His startled family was flung backward and into an awkward heap upon the floor as he opened the door and drifted past them, retiring to his bedroom.

 

 

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