Six

54 Hours In

He had gotten lost several times. Glad I didn't go back, Corregan thought of the folder as he ascended the last step, legs burning from excessive backtracking through empty corridors and out of dead ends. At the top of the staircase, Corregan brought up a hand to block the light pouring in through a long window at the other end of the tiny room perched atop the capitol's tapering spire. Through slatted fingers, Corregan saw that the sun had barely crested the jagged urban horizon, and amber beams were slaloming through the air between skyscrapers, only to spill haphazardly over a dingy gray floor. Not quite the bowels…he berated his misreading of the map, his mind chalking it up to horrendous exhaustion. He squinted into the light of daybreak, questioning why there should be such a high and bright view for such a clandestine meeting.

A creature, elegant and slender, stood still by the window. Azure skin wrinkled as she turned. Eyes of hardened obsidian, with inclusions of cerulean irises, studied the ambassador with a seasoned starlet's sangfroid. A primly maintained black uniform splayed into headgear—a regal set of horns— at the neckline. The outfit creased as she initiated a sleek and graceful bow. A three-fingered hand on a gracile arm extended to greet him.

Corregan let out his bated breath as he took her palm and shook. "I was told you'd be unavailable for these proceedings, Grand Councilwoman."

"I am," she opened in a commanding contralto, ringing with a peal of ennui. "I'm not meeting you in any official capacity. In fact, only a select few even know I'm here."

"Hmm, toeing the line of ex parte…I like your style, ma'am."

She chuckled and invited him to stand with her at the window. Corregan was treated to the city at daybreak. The energy of the evening had never died, only intensifying with new light. Some ships buzzed past the building, shooting up through the murky atmosphere into the waiting galaxy. Corregan beamed with wide-eyed wonderment.

She laughed again, a warm harmony that embraced Corregan's tired body. "I've seen that look before."

Corregan jumped from the skyline and landed atop obsidian orbs. "I can imagine so."

"Indeed. Your father wore that same look many years ago. How is he?"

"My fath—uh, I, I can't really say."

"Ah, I see."

Wonderment took its time wearing off. When it did, "Wait, you know my father?"

"Yes. He was one of the first humans I met when I began making regular visits to Earth. A group of them would greet me, usually in some ridiculous, secluded location, under your own stars. Made them all feel comfortable, I suppose. Most of them tried, commendably, to hide…a hatred, perhaps born from fear or ignorance. Something readily embraced by the many armed guards who thought themselves clever by ducking behind the ferns or trees. Regardless, it never bothered me—such hatred is not unique to your species.

"But I do remember, he was not like most of them. Such wonderment, so heartwarming and thrilling. Especially so when I discovered that your father excelled in galactic law. Always had a few points of revision to offer me; he couldn't help it. And…judging by your reaction, I take it he never shared this with you. Cannot say I am surprised—your species is also eminently secretive about the universe around you."

Corregan's jaw dropped. Senior emerged from the light, gazing into infinity. "So he knew about all of this?"

"He did, Ambassador. He's never visited Turo, naturally. But we often discussed it. He always expressed such youthful joy when I told him of the resplendence of this planet. Not in words, but his eyes, they would shine a certain way, like how they would under those stars. Only he was lost in his own thoughts…his own stars." A wistful smile curled up the corners of her mouth.

Corregan narrowed his eyes. "So, you two were, close?"

She tittered softly. "You humans have a word for it…platonic, I think is what he told me. He had a prodigious mind, Ambassador. One of the only humans who could and would grasp the concept of a galaxy teeming with life. I respected him and his thoughts greatly." Her cerulean irises passed over Corregan slowly, weightily. "It must have been such a burden for him."

"Yeah. It's a pretty sizable secret to keep from the world, ma'am."

"Oh, I meant keeping it from you. He mentioned you a great deal."

"Me?"

"You were so young then. And he was so proud of Junior. I may still have a couple of the images of you laying around. When he gifted them to me that last time…I could see it, how it crushed him to return home after learning of the splendor of the universe, to fall from the stars. When my collaboration with Earth required a hiatus, no one was more devastated than your father. I always meant to return—and I did, but it was many years later. By then, it had been so long, that I…."

"Yeah."

"...I apologize, Ambassador. It was just, seeing you, he's standing here again. You two look so similar." She cupped her hand over her mouth. Azure eyelids sealed away cerulean irises for a few moments. Corregan was grateful for the quiet solitude. When she returned, she sounded the potent dignitary. "However, I did not contact you solely for my personal reminiscence," she asserted while straightening her jet-black formal dress.

"Fair enough, ma'am. Why am I here?"

"Well, firstly, I'm sorry for not being present earlier. It's been a…busy time here on Turo these past few months. But I wanted to get your take on this business with Six-Two-Six. How do you feel about it?"

Corregan furrowed his brow. "Feel about it? Well, ma'am, truthfully…I have no idea what to think. He's going to trial, and his best—or at least, only—representative has barely begun to understand galactic law—"

"You said he," she muttered gently, but with enough pressure to derail Corregan.

"I…I did. Is that, bad?"

"No, no it's…refreshing." The obsidian orbs cracked just long enough for Corregan to notice before she blinked and sealed the fissures. "But yes, anyway, do not fret over galactic law. You come from a fantastic line of legal thinking. Our laws are indeed legion—but their mostly absolute nature requires far less interpretation than what I imagine Earth laws would need."

"Hmph, mostly absolute…I suppose so. Yet, even so, I have the feeling that I'm irrelevant. That no matter what I do to try and defend him, it won't help."

"Oh, it won't, Ambassador. You are quite right."

"I-I…" Corregan stuttered into silence, caught unawares by her shocking honesty. His head drooped. Blue eyes welled. "What can I do? How can I help? I don't…." A tap under his chin. He raised his head to catch azure fingers retracting to produce a small red disk. "What's that?"

"Help."

He tiptoed backward, leering through hazy eyes at the smoothed ruby pebble. "What kind of help?"

She sighed and twirled the disk between her fingers. "This galaxy is troubled, Ambassador. More so than I can explain now. Suffice it to say, I am looking to foment much-needed change. This here, I believe, will do just that. I first thought it was pity for your species that led me to give it to you, but, thinking of your father, and the respect I have for him…" she trailed off.

Corregan approached the Grand Councilwoman again and studied her eyes' cerulean inclusions. Past the irises, deep within, he found his father's look. Distant, far-off, lost in his own stars. I'm sorry, Senior. Corregan stuck out his palm.

The small red disk buzzed to life when she deposited it in Corregan's waiting hand. The front was a video screen, which illuminated his skin with an eerie green glow. Several series of indecipherable glyphs flashed by— Corregan squinted, trying to catch a few, but ultimately had to close his eyes and relent.

She fumbled through a hasty apology. "Here, let me," she said as she took back the disk and fiddled with the screen and a few bumps along its circumference. "There we go, try this instead." Images streamed by. He gasped. Burning legs finally demanded their reprieve. She moved lithely in the tiny room, her gracile arm gathering a melting ambassador with precision. She sat with the puddle on the floor for several minutes of stunned silence.

"Why?" Corregan finally mustered.

"Because of him, Ambassador. When he was quiet, and relegated to the far corner of the galaxy, he was tolerable. As we pushed him to be more active—as he closed in on a real case for galactic citizenship—he became intolerable."

"Who decides what's tolerable?" Corregan was angry. He shot to his feet, ignoring his muscles' protests. "Who decides this is the proper reaction!"

"I understand, Ambassador," she cooed while rising gracefully. "That's why I've delayed action against Six-Two-Six for as long as I could. Our laws, as absolute as they are, mean nothing without compassion. He deserves a chance to be more than genes and programming. As do they all. He could be an inspiration to the many more whom I believe are out there. And that scares a good number of people. People who prefer our system as it is."

"Well, what about you? Don't you have a stake in this system?"

She exhaled. A layer of tedium sloughed off with her breath. "More than you know. But I cannot bear this galaxy as it is anymore. Something must change. This galaxy, my Federation, all must be cleansed, Ambassador. I cannot do it myself—I am too caked in the old dirt and grime. You, however, can bring about change. Fresh, new perspectives can change our galaxy. You can do it with this."

Corregan walked a tight circle as he fumbled with the disk. "But, how can I use this…information?"

"The operation detailed is extralegal. There is no Federation mandate for it. The plan as enumerated on the disk can be considered a treasonous act under our laws. And remember whose name isn't redacted from these files." She teasingly pointed a finger at the screen. "Hearing about your time so far on Turo, I thought you might savor that bit."

Corregan did smirk, but quickly buried it beneath a diplomatic grimace. "And by revealing this to the Federation, can I guarantee the safety of Earth?"

"Yes. I can assure you the Federation will never sanction a military action of this magnitude against your species. You will potentially save a great many lives. And," her voice grew wilier, "you will have solidified Earth's place in this galaxy. Imagine the fanfare of a human uncovering this travesty. Proof that you're evolved enough to participate in galactic affairs. Social, economic, political…you'll gain your people's admittance to a higher existence. You'll make Earth a partner in the Federation. You'll show your value, and humanity will prosper."

Corregan turned back to the window and rested his palms against the chilled glass as a galactic partnership unfolded in his mind. The President and he stood before a series of flashy red starships, all pointed toward Turo, ready to be loaded with treasures of incalculable value. People from various nations joined on a nearby set of bleachers, anxiously awaiting liftoff. People from all sorts of backgrounds, nationalities, beliefs. A people united, he could hear himself speak to the President, whose grin never dimmed. As engines ignited, they brightened a shadow, a little figure with long ears and six limbs. Corregan squinted, but the plume of smoke and steam washed away the image. By the time the fog cleared, the rockets were afternoon stars, and the figure was gone.

Corregan faced the Grand Councilwoman. "What about the Experiment? What about Six-Two-Six?"

Her wily expression faded. Another deep sigh, azure skin wrinkling around the corners of her mouth. "I'm afraid his fate is out of your hands. I cannot stop the process. He will be tried and likely convicted."

Corregan scrunched his face. "No, that makes no sense…surely they'll wait. Until this operation's backers are interrogated. And then Stitch's investigation will be reexamined, right?"

She slowly shook her head. "The investigation, however brief and desultory, was conducted by a separate body. They'll take a few extra Turan days—I would guess ten at most—to deal with the operation's disclosure and any imminent political and social blowback. Some bombastic speeches here and there, and then the media cycle will be distracted by something else…until articles of treason against the perpetrators are formally drafted—that's when everything interesting begins. Change will happen…but it will come too late for Six-Two-Six. He will merely lose the fight for his life a little later than planned."

"And the rest of his family?"

"The other Experiments? I cannot say. They may escape judgment. They may not."

The red disk teetered on Corregan's fingertips. His tongue was tangled in thorny disbelief. "You said this would help!" he managed through the thicket.

"Help you. And help humanity. When I said nothing you do for Six-Two-Six will matter, I meant it. Even if, by some miracle, you exonerate him, he will never be safe. And he will always be a danger to you, and your species. I know this is…suboptimal. But it's what you have to work with." Corregan listened to her callous voice, but watched her obsidian orbs fracture. In the canthus of her eye, tears pooled and began rolling down her azure skin.

"How can you support this!" Corregan yelled. "You care about Stitch!"

She dammed the tears with the back of a finger. A few shallow breaths, and a resoluteness somehow manifested within a shaky contralto. "Six-Two-Six did not witness this unfold, but when I exiled him to your planet, worlds rioted. You've never seen an entire planet riot, give in to primal fury, to fear. Our own Turo nearly erupted. Even after the fires were extinguished, as the dust settled, all they saw in him was a weapon, an anger unchecked and indefensible. Not everyone believed like I did in what he could become. Many still don't. So blinded by ignorance, by fear, by limits, they hated. Somehow, our Council held the center, reined them back in—but the hatred still burns, Ambassador.

"So yes, I care very much for him. Three of your Earth years, I've deflected that hatred, squirreled it away in the cold corners of our Federation… and I've watched him become something more than a weapon, more than an anger…he is something good in this very bad galaxy." Eyes drying, solidifying, she leaned into Corregan and clamped his shoulders. "But if you fail to use these files to elevate humanity's existence…they will obliterate your world. Even without Six-Two-Six, the other hundreds like him who reside with you pose just as much of a threat as he does. These forces of hatred will turn your planet's surface to glass, and kill your kind indiscriminately, so long as they terminate their targets. I—we, cannot allow that to happen. Not for them." She readjusted her grip from admonishing to anodyne. The seasoned starlet. "Understand this well, Ambassador: he will die, no matter what you choose. So it's up to you to mitigate the collateral damage as best you can."

"You...you don't know this for sure…" Corregan half-heartedly mumbled.

"Yes, I do. They may come tomorrow. Or three more Earth years from now. But they will come. And they will kill Six-Two-Six, and his brethren, and whoever else stands in their way. You can prevent the death of your people. You may even prevent the deaths of those Experiments. But his…his is out of your control."

Corregan was stumbling backward, abandoning the horrendous pitch. The Grand Councilwoman danced after, reaching to grab his shoulder, to drag him back onto the stage of a terrible political revue. "No, no, this is…wrong, this is…" he stammered, swiping away at her approaching grasp.

"Please, Ambassador. You cannot save him. But you can make his death mean something. He can do the good he has always desired."

"I…I—I…" he stuttered into the floor. On his rear, face buried in olive-skinned hands. Blue eyes shuttered to the spiteful galaxy. A quiet sniffle as the room dimmed, a heavy cloud having passed in front of the cresting Turan sun. The dulled red disk dangled from his fingertips.

She bent down. She consoled. She reasoned. She begged. "Save your people, Ambassador."

He lifted his head. The hardened obsidian had melted. He looked beyond molten darkness, through cerulean irises, and saw the stars. He blinked, and fields conjoined. A wave of violescent sky cascaded over his mind, the tide dragging him outward. Letting go, he floated into the great field. Into his own stars.

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A/N - Another chapter I enjoyed putting together. It's a little bit exciting to think on what will happen next! As always, feedback is appreciated.

Coming 15 June - Seven