Title: Mr. Red Patch


"Mr. Red Patch!" Eli called after the nameless Chiss warrior who had been following him on his way to his assigned quarters, presumably making sure that Eli wouldn't do anything stupid, such as attempting to escape on the very first day of his so-called 'freedom.'

The sapphire blue Chiss blinked, his expression briefly clouding in confusion until his eyes slid down on the burgundy red patch on his right arm which instantly identified him as a member of a House belonging to the Eighth Ruling Family.

"I beg your pardon?" Mr. Red Patch said in response, clearly at a loss as to the highly unusual form of address.

"Well," Eli said awkwardly, letting out a small shrug, "I don't know how else to call you. You've never shared your name."

"Of course not." Mr. Red Patch confirmed. "You were not in a position to ask questions. I was."

Corners of Eli's lips quirked up.

"Well, where I come from, the interrogator usually introduce themselves to the prisoner. When the prisoner is being cooperative, that is." Eli clarified for the alien. ISB agents often came in pairs; a good ISB agent, and a bad one. The latter didn't share their name.

"I just want to say thank you, I guess. You could have made it a hell for me. You didn't." Eli confessed in a low tone of voice. "You simply asked questions."

Mr. Red Patch tilted his head to a side. "It is not in Chiss nature to be cruel."

Eli barked out sharp laugh, biting his tongue to stop himself from saying 'I thought you people didn't have jokes?' No, Mr. Red Patch would not have appreciated his come back.

The glowing eyes narrowed.

"We are far from... icicles, Mitth'eli'vanto." Mr. Red Patch growled out angrily, as if reading his mind. He might have hidden behind the corner but he had been listening. On the other hand, he would make a very lousy agent if he didn't.

Eli let out a long, deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's just you people aren't a very hospitable bunch. And you aren't exactly a cheery lot either."

Mr. Red Patch regarded him for a while, until he finally inclined his head.

"I suppose we must seem … cold to your species if the majority of humans exhibits the same behavioral patterns as you do. I am Murofu'oro'ratu, Central Commander of the Expansionary Forces." The Chiss opted for the literal translation as it did not have a clear rank equivalent in Sy Bisti. In Galactic Basic, Eli supposed, it would probably make him the Commander in Chief.

Eli blinked. "Oh."

The corners of the sapphire blue lips twitched. "You didn't think we would have an ordinary warrior lead your interrogation, did you?"

Eli felt the warmth coming to his cheeks. "Well, the ISB would have probably send over a senior field agent?"

The Central Commander made a scornful sound. "Based on what you have told me, the Imperial Security Bureau are mere amateurs."

Eli snickered. Oh, this was pure gold. However, something told him that the ISB Director would take the Chiss's professional assessment somewhat personally.

"Ah, well, anyway, that's all I wanted to say, I guess," Eli admitted sheepishly. "Just… thank you."

Mr. Red Patch nodded, the expression on the sapphire blue face unreadable.

"I've been wondering, if, perhaps, you would be willing to share more stories about the humankind." He begun, his steady voice holding an uncharacteristic hesitation. "Less... circumstantial, merely to satisfy my own curiosity. For example I was fascinated by what you had said about the custom of celebration in the Galactic Empire. There is nothing even remotely similar in the Chiss Ascendancy."

Eli scratched his head. "You guys don't celebrate? At all?"

While it was true that Eli couldn't exactly imagine these icicles drinking themselves down into oblivion, or throwing a wild, Zeltron-style party, still he would have expected even the Chiss needed to unwind once in a while.

The Central Commander cocked up an eyebrow. "I said no such thing. There are many ceremonies. And we do celebrate, however, based on what you have told me, it is done on a much smaller scale compared to the Galactic Empire. Among the Chiss, celebration is saved until the job is done."

"Even if it is never-ending?"

"If it isn't ended, the celebration is false."

"No, it's necessary." Eli opposed. "Well, at least for us humans. It's vital for our mental health. We can't function properly without fun."

"Yes, fun," Mr. Red Patch repeated the word thoughtfully. "I've found the human concept of entertainment most intriguing. Not to mention the things you seemed to find amusing in your captivity or the questions you found humorous during our interrogation sessions."

Oh yeah, there is nothing quite like a prisoner laughing his ass off during an interrogation, Eli mused. It must have blown his Chiss brain. Still, it was probably for the best the Chiss didn't really get why answering the summons from the Dark Lord had been nicknamed a choking hazard.

"While it is true that in some cases I simply lacked the necessary information to fully appreciate the peculiarity of your replies, I must admit that my mind has been unable to grasp the concept of, what you have called, a joke. Especially the one regarding the Clone Troopers. I find nothing humorous about their identical appearance."

Eli cackled, remembering the particular session: A clone trooper walks into a pub and asks the barman, 'Hey, have you seen my brother?' And the barman says: 'Dunno. What does he look like?'

"Yeah, well, it doesn't compute, I guess," Eli said dryly, and he barked out another laugh at seeing the sapphire blue face cloud in confusion.

"Was that supposed to be yet another joke?" Mr. Red Patch asked with 'what the kriff' expression all over his face. "Never mind. Perhaps we could continue this conversation elsewhere? I would be honored if you joined me for a family dinner at my home."

Eli gaped at the Chiss. "Umm, sure? I mean, the honor is mine."

Eli mentally cursed himself for such a casual acknowledgment. The offer took him completely by surprise. After the treatment he had received, it seemed almost too good to be true. "Just to make things clear, Central Commander, why do I have the feeling that whatever I say during the dinner somehow makes it into the official record?"

Mr. Red Patch stared for him for a moment, until finally the sapphire blue lips quirked up in a small smile.

"Have you expected anything else, Mitth'eli'vanto?"

"So anything I say may be used against me?" Eli asked, even though he knew the answer to his question.

"I do not plan to use your own words against you, Mitth'eli'vanto," Mr. Red Patch said in a carefully modulated tone. "However, essentially you are correct in your assumptions. It may happen."

Eli closed his eyes for a brief moment. He really shouldn't have expected anything else. The Central Commander was apparently the type who took their work home.

"Let's go then. What could possibly go wrong? Where is the bad agent, by the way?"

Eli looked around mockingly, pretending to look out for another Chiss.

"The bad agent?" Mr. Red Patch repeated slowly, his eyes slowly trailing Eli's body movements.

"You know," Eli said dryly, "the bad agent. Remember what I've told you about the ISB? You're the good agent, the one who asks questions. The bad agent is the one who doesn't. So who would it be, huh?"

The Central Commander frowned. "My wife, naturally. She has no military training and she doesn't speak a word of Sy Bisti."

TO BE CONTINUED


Disclaimer:

Murofu'oro'ratu (core name Fuoror) is an original Chiss character created by cystemic on tumblr. I love cystemic's and humansrsuperior's fanarts (and the name - OMG DAT NAME!) so much I decided to make Fuoror part of the Freak Fleet verse with cystemic's permission. Fufu is a big boy now, with wife and kids and everything...