Seven

60 Hours In

The stars had fallen away as Corregan and Jumba waited. The ambassador had roused the doctor from his obnoxious slumber, and dragged him into the insomnia of indecision. Lazy light streaked through a hazy sky as Turo's sun crawled up from its den. Corregan yawned, savoring the dense city air, and stretched his tired arms. They had been sitting on a bench of marbled stone within the colonnade for a Turan hour, the sprawling capitol opening up to their backs, and still they waited.

Corregan lackadaisically ran a hand along the slate gray column behind his head, catching the minute nicks in the cold thick stone. "How long is a day on this planet?" the exasperated ambassador asked.

"Eh, is quite a bit longer than your world's. You get used to it quickly. Or you go mad, heh heh."

"Personal experience on that, Jumba?"

"Pah! Genius, not madness!" Jumba scoffed with gesticulating mauve arms. A meaty hand inadvertently brushed over Corregan's arm. When Corrigan failed to react, Jumba blinked twice and said, "No recoil? You've learned, Ambassador."

"Yeah, I guess so…" Corregan murmured as he wiped at the sleeve of his navy blue jacket. Through the urban fog, he watched aliens scurrying about clogged streets and strange vehicles careening around the corners of skyscraping constructs. So familiar, he yearned as the sun struggled through the jungle of buildings and spires. The amber orb moved behind a tall cubic structure, which barred the sparse light from reaching the colonnade. A soupy darkness started to encroach on the marbled bench.

"What is wrong, Ambassador? I would have thought you to be cheerier."

While Jumba spoke, the ambassador twirled the red disk between his fingers, but clumsier than his benefactor had demonstrated. Grumbling unease festered in his gut. He pawed at the screen, watching the characters jump by. Help, his mind mocked as the disk dulled in the graying light.

"Jumba, am I making a mistake?"

"I do not know, Ambassador. I am here merely for, eh, moral support. And, of course, for insurance policy," Jumba tapped the handle of the silver case, which was stashed in the narrow gap between bench and column. "You will do what is best, and we will work from there."

"Moral support…" Corregan trailed off.

Jumba nodded emphatically. "And how am I doing?"

"Platitudes aside, not too bad."

"Hah!" Jumba clapped his meaty mauve hands together. "Not too bad. Precisely what I was aiming for."

"Right…" Corregan ran his thumb along the disk's face. He flexed his bicep, which had been alleviated from the burden of carting around the manila folder that still rested on the chair cushion in the corner of their room. Its reams of pages would be sticking out at a hundred different angles after Corregan had torn through it, gathering what little information he could. He had slipped from the stack the authorization form, with the Experiment's paw print clearly stamped, and folded it to fit neatly into his jacket's inner pocket. His free hand pressed against it as an ashen pallor overtook the colonnade.

"Stitch is counting on me."

"He is."

The cubic structure had swallowed the sliver of sun. The lengthy sable shadows of the columns disappeared as the area fell into a strange twilight. Corregan rubbed his chin and sighed. "And so is my world."

"It is."

In darkness, Corregan sat on the marbled bench and mulled. Jumba stayed silent for a while, consigning himself to scraping at an especially large nick in the column supporting his back. The ambassador gazed at the ground, the same slate gray as the columns. The paw warmed his palm. The hand grasped his shoulder. The eyes stared, through him and into infinity. He shuddered. I'm sorry, Senior.

A clatter from far away. Corregan roused. At the periphery of his vision, a tiny but deep shadow set against a dirty gray backdrop hovered near the colonnade's ingress. Corregan shoved Jumba, who gave a harrumph of displeasure. "What're you—" he shouted before Corregan shushed him. The ambassador pointed two fingers toward the entrance. "Ach, time to be cashing in policy," Jumba said as he rose from the bench, snatched up the silver case, and trundled out between two columns, headed for the tall cubic structure that blocked the rising sun.

The shadow shifted toward Corregan, who gulped and hid the disk in his jacket's inner pocket, slipping the red device in between the folded page. As the figure enlarged, Corregan dusted off his lapels, which were coated in a thin film of urban dinginess, and smirked as the back of his hand came away dirty. He nervously rolled his sooty knuckles for the several minutes it took for the form to reach his marbled bench.

"Ambassador," thundered a deep and bellicose voice from a gray beak. In the dull air, the feathers did not shimmer, settling instead on smatterings of emerald and ruby and sapphire. His infamously sharp talons drew tight and furious circles in the air as he stood.

"Chief-Elect, please, sit." The ambassador gestured toward the vacated seat. With a grunt, Thyse'ant obliged. Corregan scooted over to make room for the Chief-Elect's massive frame and pavonine tail, which fanned out through the columns' interstices. The two stewed in silence for half a minute.

Corregan finally cleared his throat and welcomed Thyse'ant. "I appreciate you taking the time, Chief-Elect."

"I did not have much of a choice, Ambassador," he jabbed, letting the malice linger on Corregan's title.

"I suppose you'd like to get right to it then, yes?"

"Naturally. I would not deign to speak with you otherwise." Crimson irises smoldered. Thyse'ant's eyes scanned the empty colonnade, and his beak made a soft clicking sound as he went.

"We are alone, if that's what you're concerned about."

"Hmph, alone enough, I suppose. Though I see you've left the Doctor on overwatch." Talons circled the cubic structure. The rotund frame, though pressed against the roof, still eclipsed the sliver of light that was emerging over the edifice. "Clever, human."

"In case you renege."

"If I renege? Hmph, were I Rhys'la…with me, I highly doubt that will be the case. You, however…." He swiveled his formidable frame toward the ambassador. "I wonder about you and your…resolve."

"My resolve is firm," Corregan wasted no time in replying. Thyse'ant blinked. Corregan tugged at his cuffs, golden buttons tarnishing rapidly in smog. He sensed the tension building in the jacket's wool fibers.

Thyse'ant huffed and picked at a talon. "To be held in this position by a human…" he hissed. "I remember when she first reported on you. I was a young soldier then, innocent enough to the politicking of Turo. I was not meant to see the report, but these prying eyes of mine…" he chuckled, a hoarse scratching that made Corregan cringe. "What stands out in my mind is how unimpressed I was. By the time the Federation makes planetfall, the beings are usually advanced enough to join our fold. You humans still had some, evolving, to do." He brushed at one of the legs of his slacks. "But maybe your time has come. You certainly are insidious enough for Turo."

"I'm only doing this for—"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you have your case ready to present. But you will find no court here. Now, where is it?"

Corregan paused, tapping the outside of his jacket. Thyse'ant's crimson irises jumped in time with the finger. The ambassador saw the eager eyes, and a slight smile upturned the corners of his mouth as he extracted the red disk. Thyse'ant sat quietly as Corregan palmed the device and swiped a thumb across the screen. Crimson irises danced with the characters, then collapsed.

"Where—never mind, only one place you could have obtained that. Pretentious bitch," he spat. Corregan locked the disk in a closed fist as Thyse'ant's beak clicked. "And you think this is worth my prisoner's life?"

"A life for a life, Chief-Elect. Fair trade."

A twitch had developed in Thyse'ant's right eyelid. Corregan watched the membrane quiver, though he was careful not to fall into the seething crimson pool housed below. When Thyse'ant spoke, Corregan detected the incredible restraint the chief-elect was imposing on his sharp voice and sharper talons. "Do you understand, Ambassador, what the consequences of this will be?"

"Of course I—"

"No." Talons sheened menacingly in the approaching rays of light. Corregan contained his gasp as Thyse'ant flew across the narrow gap. The gray beak clicked at the tip of Corregan's nose. "You say you know the reason you are doing this. But—do you truly understand what will happen? Do you believe you can buy that creature's safety? That you will walk away from this totally unscathed?"

Corregan bit his cheek, but said nothing. The thundering voice rolled on, "You think this will save some poor soul. You're only delaying the inevitable. Someone will come for Six-Two-Six. Now, it might not be me—but someone will come. And when they do, they will lay waste to your world. Your kind will be erased, as either willing abettors to fugitives from galactic justice, or as simple simians who could not comprehend their place and got in the way."

"You call this justice?"

Thyse'ant snarled. "And what do you know of our ways? You would not even be here to try to argue about justice without our graces. Without him residing on your pathetically backward planet, he who unwittingly elevated your species to the threshold. Do not presume to understand how justice is served here, Ambassador."

Corregan bristled. Crimson irises begged for his dissolution. The ambassador skirted the edges of seething pools while twisting the typhonic fury roiling in his gut into a smug snarl. "You said he…."

For the first time since Corregan's arrival, Thyse'ant's eyes showed surprise. Talons tapped the bench, tossing up a tiny cloud of aerosolized rock. The gray beak clacked. "You just now noticed, Ambassador?"

Corregan's snarl retreated into pursed lips. "I…but why?"

"Unlike most of this galaxy, I do not fear him. I see him for what he is—a creature trapped in an unfortunate situation. Perhaps you mistake my earlier enthusiasm for some form of joy. I do not imprison him for my own pleasure. I do it because it is what the galaxy requires."

"Requires?"

Frustration—or maybe exhaustion—mounted in Thyse'ant's now-pedantic tone. "Planets rioted, tore themselves apart, when his existence was made known, when he was shipped to your world—unprotected, to be monitored by an impotent and backward species. Delegates put on airs of joy or pride when he visited Turo, but truly, the Federation found no peace after his exile. Representatives from every sector bickered while his power and influence grew and evolved. After his stint as head of our armed forces went…poorly, he retreated from the public eye—"

"I assume the Hamsterviel Usurpation didn't help things either," Corregan interjected his uneducated guess.

The corners of the gray beak leapt up the side of Thyse'ant's face. A smile? Corregan ventured another uneducated guess. "That's right," Thyse'ant mused, "it did not. You're familiar with recent history, Ambassador. But Hamsterviel and his cloned minions seizing galactic power for the briefest of reigns was only a symptom, not the cause of what ails this galaxy."

"What is that sickness then, Chief-Elect?"

The beak dropped low, somber. "Fear, Ambassador. All of these pieces coming together as they have, they've all left many to be fearful. And angry. Waiting for a reason to riot again. To tear apart planets. To go to war. He is their reason, their spark to ignite their anger and engulf our Federation in a conflagration of fear. So should I remove Six-Two-Six, I stand a chance at keeping this galaxy intact. I do not like it, Ambassador, but I must do it."

To go to war over him…Corregan thought. Wide dark eyes squinted in the harsh light of his mind. Motes of mischief flared. He shook his head and ran fingers through his coiffed hair, which was losing its usual bounce. "So this is your justice?"

"No, Ambassador. This is how we save billions of lives. When I can secure the lives of the Federation and its people, then justice can prevail. But you…you do not see it that way. You chase after a useless ideal without a foundation,or without forethought, and thus you endanger the rest of us. Are you truly willing to bring war onto others' heads, Ambassador? Or onto your own? I am prepared to do what is necessary, not personally palatable, to preserve our shared galaxy. Can you say the same?"

Corregan stared at his clenched fist. Knuckles whitened as he squeezed the ruby pebble. Shadows, warping in the young light, peeked out from behind the colonnade. From them, the wide dark eyes gazed back at the ambassador. They squinted in the rising sun, delivering their message. ʻOhana. Corregan smirked as the motes of mischief guided him back to Thyse'ant's glare. "I can. And I want him freed, Thyse'ant. Now. Once I see him out of that cell and in daylight, you can have this." A crescent of red peeked through the gap in his fist. "But he's coming home with me."

Lengthy sable shadows were now crawling from their dens. The sun rose past the cubic structure, spilling amber across the colonnade. Corregan squinted, in both bright light and burning conviction, and waited. Amber was cascading over the bench and shadows were foraging around Corregan's oxfords by the time Thyse'ant spoke.

"Why?"

Corregan balked. "Um, what do you mean, why?"

"Even after I tell you that your plan is futile, that your actions could bring about war, you pursue it. Why?"

He stammered in his effort to articulate a reason. "I…it's the…he's…." He ran fingers through his coiffed hair. A strand separated and flipped down over his forehead. "It's the right thing to do!" he finally blurted out.

"Hah!" Thyse'ant's full laugh was an onerous sound for the air to carry. "The right thing, how adorable. And how did you arrive at your infantile conclusion of what the right thing is?"

Corregan firmed his posture as his argument went limp. "I don't need to explain it to you! This talk of war, of dooming Stitch…we're here for a transaction—nothing more. And what do you care? Why are you so interested in my thought process?"

"Thought process, hmph, generous. Be assured, I'm not interested," Thyse'ant growled.

"So what, you're trying to talk me out of it?"

"No. Your mind was decided before you sat down on this bench."

Was I? Corregan's mind asked itself. Undaunted, Corregan straightened his jacket and leaned into Thyse'ant's chest, a move he immediately noticed to be non-threatening. He added extra granules of roughness to a gravelly tone. "Then what is it?"

Thyse'ant's poise changed. Corregan watched as the Chief-Elect grew taller and stiffened. The military uniform around his chest puffed out. In the ample amber light, feathers regained their iridescent shimmer. "I want you to know why, human. To do what higher-order beings do and understand their decisions. And the ramifications of those decisions."

Corregan tugged again on his cuff, and felt the strain tighten in the wool fibers. Do I understand? He glanced up, and saw a field of stars forming in the vestiges of a violescent sky.

"You extort me to get your way, but you do not think about why. You do it for some nebulous sense of good, the same damned altruism that kept the Experiment free. One that had plenty of unintended consequences…" Thyse'ant paused to run a talon along his beak's hairline fracture. "The Council's choice to leave him on your world violated many right things, Ambassador. Now you claim yours to be so vital, so righteous, yet you will sacrifice the right thing for how many others to achieve your own? No, you do this because you fear doing the true right thing, what would be best for all. You deny yourself the chance to consider why out of fear of what you may find. Your arrant cowardice is insulting, Ambassador."

Thyse'ant relaxed his muscles, and the feathers shimmered in a terrifyingly tantalizing pattern. The field of stars above had migrated onto the quills and veins. The ambassador cocked his head a few degrees as the stars rose to their zeniths along shimmering stems. Iridescent feathers swooped in a rising gust. Crimson irises were setting, fading from the empyrean.

"But," came the thundering voice, "maybe this is all too much to ask from a human. So, very well, Ambassador. Since what you possess could be of significant inconvenience to me—and since you are so keen to bring destruction down upon the heads of you and those on your planetary backwater—I will accept your proposal. Provided, of course, that you acknowledge your cowardice."

The stars dimmed as Corregan glared at the crimson irises. "What?"

"Accept that you do not truly know why you are doing this, and you will have your deal. We can go now to retrieve him. I'll even walk you to your vessel, and once you've departed, I will handle the Council Undersecretary and other tiresome bureaucrats, and bury the articles of treason. Unless there was something else you needed to accomplish during your stay?" A sly grin cracked along the edges of the gray beak. A smug confidence, though tinged with an almost unbearable weariness, emanated from sharp crimson irises.

Corregan shot to his feet. The fist, with a ruby disk planted inside, clenched harder. Knuckles blanched. Blue eyes boiled. Frazzled hair whipped in the wind beginning to sweep through the city.

"Ah, interesting," Thyse'ant praised while clacking talons. "And perhaps I underestimated you. Maybe you can think closer to our level. But oh, that simian brain must be burning! To give up Experiment Six-Two-Six to elevate your world and stave off war, or to save him and let your planet and many others burn. Now, with your overwatch there—who I'm fairly certain is armed with one of his exceptionally high-powered rifles—my risk in forcibly stopping you from leaving is too great. Much as it pains me to admit, you were truly wise to do that. So, I leave the choice to you, human."

Afterburners shining brilliantly, the afternoon stars joined their cousins in the field. The President stood next to him, hand firmly grasping his shoulder, wearing the smile of campaigning season. Your name will live forever, the President decreed. As will humanity. Corregan looked down, shuffling his oxfords through the soft zoysia grass, to find a creature. Six limbs lay limply, the sapphire fur incongruous with the undulating verdant blades. Long pink-lined ears were pinned back. Wide dark eyes shimmered in the afternoon sun, motes of mischief floating woozily within. It was mouthing something unheard. Corregan extricated his shoulder from the President's grip and crouched down. Sounds were starting to rattle the air, but he needed to lean in further. Inches away, he met the creature's dark eyes, and found within them his father's gaze. He stared for a long while. They shared the stars. Sounds blended together. A harmony. Corregan heard the word. "Smish."

Thyse'ant coughed, and Corregan stood again in the colonnade. The stars swirled above but dimmed with passing seconds. The Turan sun marched on, bathing the bustling city in beautiful amber light. He opened his palm, and the ruby disk gleamed brilliantly. I wonder how the game ended, the ambassador from Earth wondered as he looked up and dove into crimson irises.

"So, Ambassador, what will you do?"

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Coming 18 June - Eight