Inside Straight

Daniel Abraham Jonathan Hive

Give the wookie a medal

The Sri Lankan guy was short. He had a small frame and moustache that looked like an apology perched on his upper lip. His hair was close-cropped and thinning. Everyone else around the table was an ace—Fortune, Lohengrin, Drummer Boy, Curveball, Earth Witch, Holy Roller, Bubbles, Rustbelt, and of course Jonathan Hive himself. Ten people, only one of them a nat.

And yet, when United Nations Secretary-General Jayewardene spoke in his soft, thoughtful voice, it was his room. He owned it. He could have been an actor.

“The world, in its present condition, is not acceptable,” he said the way another man might have said we should paint the house. “You here are, I think, among the most aware of this fact. The injustices committed by Abdul the Idiot were outrageous and unacceptable, and I was as aware of them as each of you. Possibly more so. Like you, I tried to intervene. Unlike you, I failed.”

Jayewardene paused for a moment to let that sink in. Jonathan looked down at the table, suppressing a smile. It was hard not to be smug. Ever since they’d come to the Hague, they had been treated like celebrities, cheered and feted in a way that none of them had experienced since the first days of American Hero. Only it was different now. The half-hidden stares at restaurants, the strangers approaching them to ask for autographs or shake their hands. It all looked the same on the surface, but it felt different.

Because, Jonathan thought, this time it meant something. This time they maybe actually deserved it.

“The United Nations is, I firmly believe, a force of reform,” Jayewardene said. “The idea of universal human rights, of the dignity of life, and of the power of law and consensus cannot help but make the situation of the world community better. However, here, on my first assignment, I found myself playing the role of hostage.”

Jayewardene smiled gently and shrugged.

“I am not an ace,” he said. “I was, perhaps, overzealous. I have, however, learned from my error. I have been reminded that the organization I oversee is in essence powerless. I have been made to appear weak in the public eye, and appropriately so. I went to stop the genocide of Egypt, and the task was beyond me.”

Jayewardene’s gaze traveled around the table. Jonathan thought he knew what was coming.

“There are other atrocities in the world besides this one,” Jayewardene said. “There are dictators who traffic in slavery. There are governments who shelter terrorists and preach hatred. There are genocides. Many nations, even those that are members of the United Nations, ignore its decisions. And until now, my predecessors have relied upon the consensus of the governments of the world to take action. It has been a dull tool.”

“You said until now,” Fortune said, leaning forward. It was the important phrase. Jonathan noticed how much better Fortune was looking now that he and Sekhmet had agreed to let his body sleep from time to time.

Jayewardene smiled. Curveball and Earth Witch exchanged glances. Lohengrin’s chin was already sticking out about half a foot from his neck, and he was practically glowing with noble sentiment and pride. They all knew.

“I have called you all together to make a proposal,” Jayewardene said. “Through your actions, you have become symbols of something greater than yourselves. Men and women of the West and of the East, black and white, Arab and Christian and Jew, joining together to protect the defenseless.”

“Jew?” Jonathan said. “Who’s Jewish?”

Bubbles raised her hand. “My mother’s side,” she said. “They’re pretty secular, though.”

“Huh,” Jonathan said. “Well, who knew?”

“I would like you all to consider the good that you could still do,” Jayewardene said. “I have had a proposal drawn up for the creation of a special committee. The Committee on Extraordinary Interventions. It will function through my office, answering directly to the secretary general. And I wish to extend the invitation to each of you, in recognition of your service to humanity and to myself, to join as charter members.”

“You want us to go back out there?” Earth Witch asked. Jonathan could see the distress in her expression. He didn’t know if she was seeing King Cobalt, Simoon, and Hardhat, or the Egyptian soldiers she herself had killed. Curveball, he noticed, was looking mighty thoughtful, too.

“I want every dictator in the world to fear justice,” Jayewardene said. “I want every soldier ordered to slaughter innocent children to hesitate. I want every trader in slaves to sleep less peacefully. I will not ask that you place yourselves in danger if you do not wish it. Certainly, I cannot compel you.”

Lohengrin was on his feet, armor shimmering into being, sword appearing in his hand, raised in salute.

“My sword is yours to command,” Lohengrin said.

There was a moment’s silence. And then Jonathan watched as they slowly rose, each of them. He tried to understand why.

From the need to justify his father’s death, Fortune stood. From guilt over her success in burying men alive and despite her wounded body, Earth Witch. To keep her friend from standing without her, Curveball. From idealism and a competitive heart, Drummer Boy. From a belief in goodness that transcended reason, Holy Roller—well, his hand at least. Christ only knew when the last time was he’d stood up without assistance. From delight at not being discluded, Rustbelt. Jonathan didn’t know why he and Bubbles stood up. Maybe just because it seemed like the thing to do.

“Excellent,” Jayewardene said. “This is excellent.”

It occurred to Jonathan for the first time that the meeting table was, in point of fact, round.

The hall was like something from an old movie. Huge curtains lined the walls, and the crowd in the seats was bigger than a rock concert. The constant flashes from the press section would be the front pages of newspapers and magazines all across the world by tomorrow.

They were all sitting in surprisingly comfortable chairs on a dais. The slow ritual of presenting them with medals was over, but the ceremony itself promised to drag on for hours. While they waited for the next speaker to say more or less the same things, they fell—as bored people will—into conversation.

“Yeah,” Bubbles said, “now that you mention it, I was bothered by that. I mean, he did as much as Han or Luke, right? So why wasn’t he on the dais in the last scene?”

“Sidekick syndrome,” Jonathan said. “Whole rebellion was prejudiced against Wookies.”

“Oh, whatever,” Earth Witch said.

“You guys all know he’s just using us, right?” Jonathan said.

“Who?” Curveball asked.

“Jayewardene. I mean, he said it himself. Here he is, it’s his first day of work, and what happens? He gets kidnapped. I mean you have to figure he lost huge credibility there. And so now he has to make it up somehow, and we’re the most convenient way.”

“Does it matter?” Lohengrin asked. “Whatever drives him to do what is right, it is not important. Only doing what is right.”

“I find you charmingly naïve sometimes,” Jonathan said. The German bristled visibly, then laughed. “I’m just saying Jayewardene is posturing. He’s using us to seem more effective than he is.”

“Even if you’re not totally full of shit, so what?” Drummer Boy said. “I’m good with it. You can back out anytime you want, Hive. We won’t call you chickenshit. Honest.”

Curveball and Fortune both chuckled at that. Jonathan frowned. “I’m not saying I want out,” he said. “I’m just saying that this whole committee thing is a publicity stunt. It’s not like we’re actually going to put on uniforms and run around the planet stopping bad guys and hauling them into the World Court for trial. We’re figureheads. We’re just for show.”

“You know, Bugsy,” Fortune said. “We’re really not.”

The crowd roared as Secretary-General Jayewardene took the podium. He smiled, nodding to the left and to the right. The room grew quiet. The cameras continued to flash.

“Ladies. Gentlemen,” he said. “I hope you will all find this as worthy of celebration as I myself do. I have come before you now to announce the formation of the Committee …”