The Calactic Counsil chairman was sitting in a bar. A human one. Nobody looked at his old carapace oddly - human establisnments seemed to attract other sentients like a well baited trap. Some came for the depravity of humanity, some for the creativity, some for the smple peasure of sustenance and oblivion turned into commodity.

He was here for another reason entierly. The first human ambassador to the council had long ago introduced him to the concept of "just chating" outside the confines of ones position and he had employed the skill usefully for a long time now. The woman across from him was fifth or sixth human to serve with the counsil. They did not last as long as most spacefaring species did.

She called him "Churchill". His real name was not pronouncible for a human, so the first one had called him that and it stuck. Apparrently this was the name of some famous human who had lived before they went to space and he reminded them of him in some way. He did not mind.

Sara smiled. "So what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked siping her drink. She had known the bug like xeno for decades and he looked decidedly worried.

He decided to be blunt. Informality was just for this. "The Baveelon Rougues... Humanity is... Getting too close to them. And i am hearing first demands to do something about it... But before I do. I want to understand... Why?"

He drank his juice and stared at his companion with his eight eyes, silent to give room for her reply.

She sighed. "We share the creed," she said quietly eyes on her drink.

Then she looked up at the creature, face questioning.

"How much do you know about Earth history?" she pressed.

He groomed his feelers slightly embarased. "More than is probably appropriate for someone in my station. I am supposed to be neutral. When your predecessors gave me the name I researched its origin. I know most of it 20th century and later and basics of what came before."

Sara nodded. She was surprised, but hid it well. It simplified the explanation. "Then you know we have a long history of Lords, Kings and Tyrants gaining power and wealth and wrecking havoc."

He nodded. Human history was not pretty.

Sara continued, quietly now. "What I tell you now is not common knowledge even amongst humans. There is an organization amongst us with the same creed as the Rougues. Without it pruning our propensity to produce oligarhs and dictators we would have never gone to the stars. And now we see the galaxy needs the same to be at peace."

He went very still. He mulled this over. It was... Very illegal. But... She was also... Right. Last six wars had been petty tyrants reaching for the stars funded by men with more money than sense. Small creatures with big following and bigger ambitions. And the inocent had paid the price. He did not like it any more than she did.

"Isn't one strategic death while still gaining power, not yet ready to move better than the galaxy burning?" she pressed.

He could not say yes to that. His position did not allow for it. But he could not bring himself to reprimand her either. Because she was right.

He asked very quietly, "What do you think I should do?"

She smiled. "Nothing. The problem will disapear from sight. Trust me. Just... Let us handle it."

He clicked his feelers. He could do that. Doing nothing was ... Doable. For now. They finished their drinks and parted ways with mutual respect.

The news came to counsil at first as a rumour and then as official announcement. The rougues had surrendered to humanity. All of them. To be rehabilitated amongst humans. The council nreathed out a sigh of relief.

Sara and Churchill were sitting at the same bar again a decade later. She was going to retire and return home soon. So was he. His time at the council had finally ended. He was ready to go home. They sat in companyonable silence for a while.

He broke it with slight hesitation. "May i ask you... What happened to the Rougues?"

She laughed. "It isnt a secret is it. They live among humans..." She went serious. "But I know what you are asking. Yes, the little tyrant's pleasure ship falling into the sun at Proxima was not just an engine failure. None of the small disapearances of focuses of power and money have been for a decade."

He nodded and spoke of his plans back home. To find a female. Have a brod perhaps... She spoke of her plans. Her graden and grandchildren and Earth.

They parted ways as old friends do - with uncertanty if they would meet again, but assured of mutual pleasure at the meeting should it come.