-G.A.C. Durgon Bridge, 10:00 Turo Standard Time –

"…So then Jumba tries to sneak in to my cell to take me back, and then when he's there the soldiers arrest him!" Buoyed by the sweet release from twenty straight days in his cell, 626 spared no detail explaining his plan to Gantu.

The captain mulled it over. "It could work…and it would probably be cheaper than our current strategy, at any rate. And that means less grief from HQ when it comes time for budget review…" He shook his head. "That's neither here nor there. Still I would change one thing about your plan. Rather than say you're hiding here, why don't we say you're being held?"

"What's the difference?"

"Saying you're being held implies that the process is involuntary. If Jumba thinks you're being imprisoned against your will, he might think it more likely that you'll go with him. Better odds for a return on his investment."

626 nodded. "Makes sense."

"Also, rather than spread the rumor through the army like you suggested, I think we'll spread it…elsewhere."

"Where?"

Gantu shrugged. "Connections that moral, upstanding men such as the Lieutenant Commander and don't like to advertise."

626 was confused. "Ooookay…" He turned to Obrea for clarification, only to find that he was pointedly looking elsewhere and (at least as far as he could tell) trying his best not to laugh. 626 suddenly got the notion that he wasn't the only one in the room at the moment with some experience in matters of dubious legality.

-G.A.C. Durgon Cell Bay, 23:30 Turo Standard Time-

It had been five days since Gantu put word out to the…contacts (626 wondered whether delicately talking around the obvious was something he'd deal with a lot if he did decide to join the armada), and so far no bite. 626 was alone in his cell, trying to fall asleep to the gentle whirr of the engines.

Just outside the window, the otherwise-unchanging starlight briefly winked as a two-person shuttle dropped out of hyperspace and detached from its stabilizing ring.

When Jumba had first heard the rumors, he'd not believed it. How in space had the Federation managed to find 626 before he could? Still, as he thought about it more, it did make some sense – maybe 626 had gone to them out of fear? Then, he suspected that it was a trap. In fact, he figured, it probably was, but if they had captured his creation it was still a trap worth springing. After all, for all the risks entailed spiriting the experiment out of (not completely willing, from the sounds of it) Federation custody would still be easier than creating a new experiment wholesale. With that in mind, Jumba prepped his shuttle and made for Turo.

Jumba dropped out of orbit half an our before midnight, and, after two hours of drifting to erase any trail, began to quietly jet towards the massive Federation ship. The Kweltikwan scientist thumbed his comm open upon hitting the 4500-mile line and paged the nearest group of patrol ships.

"This is ensign Tolme," a tired voice answered, "state your name, registration number, and, uhhhhh, point of origin."

Jumba smiled. Time to play drunk. "whaaaasssshhhhhup, man! How'sh night goin?"

"Uh, fine?"

"Shweet! OhyeahbeforeIforget – I'm Ramthar Shilvestri, thish beautiful babe pershonal cruisher (got it ash a gift, thankyouverymuch), registration number 29518510 I think. That or 25918510. Or maybe shomething elshe entirely? Oh, and I'm coming from Parnassosh."

The voice on the other end audibly yawned. "Fine. Whatever. Have a nice day. Or night. Whichever it is."

"You too, bro!" Jumba then powered up his engines and pretended to head planetside. As he did, he shook his head. Such talk is unbecoming of evil genius self. By the Gods, that was embarrassing! The things he did for science. Once out of danger he angled his ship towards the much larger Durgon. Where was the best approach? He wondered. Obviously the primary hangar was out of the question, and although there were several other hangars of less import and notability finding one that was both easy to reach and large enough for his cruiser was a challenge. Eventually, Jumba settled on one near the engines and glided in. Once inside he located a nearby computer terminal, hacked himself in, and began searching for his wayward experiment.

Unfortunately for Jumba, whoever had designed the Durgon's computer was not nearly as organized as him, but after a good fifteen minutes he finally managed to obtain a cross-section of the ship.
"Now where is the prison bay?" He mumbled. As it turned out, there were several: a primary bank of several thousand low-to-mid security cells in the middle of the base, a ring of maximum security cells directly in the core, and another group of maximum cells portside stern. This location was conveniently close to the hangar, and so he decided to start there. Jumba turned away from the computer and began to sneak out, but almost immediately facepalmed and turned back. "Of course! The security cameras! I am being idiot to forget that!" He went back to work, and after another few minutes of maneuvering managed to pull up the power grid for the general section he intended to search. A few keystrokes later and the power was cut; he was ready to go.

"What the hell?" Up on the bridge, First Officer Ombit had been enjoying the latest episode of Iouri on Ice when her computer bleeped a warning. Looking at the readout, she noticed that there was a power outage in section A-1. She frowned: wasn't that where the Captain was keeping that experiment. She turned to her shiftmate and, seeing that he had fallen asleep, shook him.

"Gatco! Hey! GATCO!"

"Whazzamater?"

"There's a localized power outage in section A-1. That's where they're keeping Experiment 626, right?"

Gatco shrugged. "Yeah, so what? We get power glitches a lot."

Ombit rolled her eyes. "In precisely one region of the ship? The same place we're currently keeping an extremely significant prisoner?"

Finally, it sunk in. "Oh, blitznak!" Gatco moaned. "When'd the system log it in?"

"Just a minute ago. You thinking that we can trace where the outage originated?"

He nodded. "Something this localized suggests that the power was probably cut via computer terminal. It also looks like whoever's doing this is trying to get in and out as fast as possible, so they probably have a ship."

"Right, where do you think they landed?"

"Maybe one of the ancillary docks near the engines?" Gatco pulled up the readouts for one of the portside docks, while Ombit did the same for one on starboard. "I don't see anything…wait – looks like we registered something in one of the docks right nearby."

Ombit looked over and groaned. "Oh, for the love of... That wasn't even half an hour before the outage!" Considering the delay it was at least somewhat probable that the intruder had already made their way to the cell block. She grabbed the intercom and paged the officer barracks. "Attention! This is First Officer Ombit! We have an emergency in sector A-1! Intruder detected! All available personnel, please make your way there immediately to intercept!"

626 was jolted out of his sleep when the lights in his cell abruptly flickered off, then kicked back on in red as the emergency power activated. As the cannons around him flickered back on line he tensed up, wondering if this meant that finally, at long last, creator and creation were about to reunite.

Sure enough, within a few minutes the door to his cell opened up and 626 saw a rather familiar face peeking in.

"626…at long last I have found you." Wary, Jumba stepped into the room. 626 noticed that he was carrying a small gun. "Is net gun," Jumba explained, "just in case you get any ideas. Now, will you come quietly?"

626 shook his head. "Only if you give up the whole 'instrument of destruction' angle."

"Impossible. Is your only reason for being. This galaxy is stagnated, 626 – nothing of meaning advances, and the Galactic Federation stifles all dynamism in member worlds under weight of regulation after regulation."

"And unleashing me upon the galaxy would do what? Massacre entire planets? Create anarchy?"

"It would lead to change! If none but an evil genius like myself can see it, then so be it. 626, you will fulfill your original programming. We will leave together. No one is coming. I made sure that by the time those armada fools get up and ready, we will already be back in ship on our way to Kweltikwan." And with that, Jumba advanced.

As he did, 626 took stock of his options: there were none. The restraint disk prevented any movement, and although he could theoretically break out there was only one place he could go, leaving him a sitting duck for Jumba's net gun. And even then, his only options were to try and run past his creator through the open door (unlikely to work) or try to sneak into a vent (too easy target for the net gun) And all this was even before he factored in the room's cannons –

Wait.

The cannons.

Of course.

It was the only option.

626 glared down at his creator, and gathered all the spit he had in his mouth into one giant glob. Then, hoping beyond hope that what he had discovered those first few days in the cell meant that the cannons worked the way he thought they did, he spit.

It worked beyond all expectations. The cannons flared to life and unloaded multiple masses of plasma towards Jumba, whose voice jumped several octaves as he leapt back.

"WHAT IN SPACE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, YOU TROG!" He roared. 626 didn't bother giving a response, and merely spit again. This time, he actually aimed, and while Jumba managed to avoid a face-full of plasma his gun was not nearly so lucky. Jumba stared at its charred remnants and snarled.

Still think this is going to be easy?" 626 smirked. Jumba tried once more to lunge, but before he could get any closer the cannons blocked his path once again. "Now back off, or the next time I won't miss."

Jumba glared, but before he could respond he heard the sound of boots echoing down the hallway.

Obrea burst into the room along with what looked to be well over a dozen soldiers. Without missing a beat or flinching at the smell of charred plasma and metal emanating from multiple impact marks, the Lieutenant Commander trained his gun on Jumba.

"Dr. Jumba Jookiba, I presume?"

Jumba nodded.

"Excellent. Dr. Jookiba, you are hereby placed under arrest for illegal genetic experimentation, trespassing on a military vessel, and an attempted kidnapping." With his free hand he gestured towards another soldier. "Wheron, read him his rights."