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The air inside the bridge of the Galactic Federation Star Cruiser 1838 is thick with the smell of ozone and the high-pitched, manic energy of Dr. Jacques von Hamsterviel. The tropical warmth of Kauaʻi feels like a distant memory behind the ship's reinforced titanium hull. Gantu stands at stiff attention, his massive, grey fins twitching with a nervous energy he can’t quite suppress. The silence of the bridge is punctured by the crisp chirp of the communications console. A Grandswoman, her posture rigid, turns toward the small, caped rodent currently pacing atop a high-backed command chair.
"Incoming call, sir," she announces, her voice devoid of emotion. "From a Mr. Leroy."
Hamsterviel’s long ears rotate forward, twitching with avarice. "Put him through!" he screeches, his voice cracking like a whip. He leans toward the holographic projector, his tiny red eyes gleaming. "What is the progress? Talk normal! No more of that primitive cackling!"
The blue-flickering image of Leroy—an experiment who looks far too much like Stitch for Gantu’s comfort—materializes in the center of the room. He stands amidst the wreckage of what appears to be a Hawaiian jungle clearing. "All experiments captured," Leroy growls, his voice a gravelly imitation of the "626" Gantu has spent years chasing.
"Excellent! Miraculous! Stupendous!" Hamsterviel throws his tiny arms into the air, spinning in a circle. "I am on my way. It has taken Leroy a paltry few hours to succeed, while you..." He stops, his gaze snapping toward Gantu with the precision of a predatory hawk. "You took three long, agonizing years to fail. Three years of 'Oops, I fell in a volcano' and 'Oh no, the little girl kicked my shin.' What is wrong with you?"
Gantu shifts his weight, the cold metal floor plates groaning under his massive frame. He feels the phantom ache in his joints—a reminder of a thousand slapstick defeats. "Well," Gantu rumbles, his voice low and defensive, "I have a bad knee. The humidity on this planet is quite detrimental to my cartilage."
Hamsterviel stares at him, a vein throbbing in his forehead. "No! That was a rhetorical question, you giant, bucket-headed space-slug! You don't answer it! You sit there and soak in your own incompetence!" He tries to hop down from the oversized chair, but his tiny cape snags on a decorative fin. He dangles there, legs kicking fruitlessly. "Now will you get me down from this chair?"
Gantu blinks, his mind whirring through the insults he just endured. "Uh," he pauses, genuine confusion clouding his features, "was that a rhetorical question?"
"No! That one was not!" Hamsterviel screams, his face turning a vibrant shade of magenta. "Get me down! Get me down this instant!"
Gantu sighs, a sound like a depressurizing airlock, and reaches out with two massive fingers to unhook the doctor. He sets the gerbil-like creature on the floor with more gentleness than the villain deserves. Gantu glances toward the corner of the bridge where Lilo and Experiment 625 are huddled. The girl looks small, her red dress stained with dirt, while 625 is uncharacteristically quiet, clutching a half-eaten hoagie as if it’s a security blanket.
"What should I do with the girl and 625?" Gantu asks.
"Take them to the prison block," Hamsterviel says dismissively, brushing the dust off his cape. "They are clutter. Garbage. Remnants of a failed era."
"Yes, sir," Gantu replies, his shoulders slumping.
"Then," Hamsterviel adds, his tone turning dangerously casual, "pick up your final paycheck and return your ID."
The world seems to tilt on its axis. Gantu freezes. "What?!"
"You heard me," Hamsterviel sneers, already walking toward the docking bay. "You are fired. Terminated. Canned. Now that I have Leroy—a creature of actual competence—you are no longer needed. You’re a relic, Gantu. A big, grey mistake."
Gantu’s jaw drops. The betrayal is a physical weight in his chest. "But... but what about my future? My career? My dental plan? How am I supposed to pay the bills?"
Hamsterviel doesn't even look back. "Well, why not write your memoirs? I have a title for you: 'Diary of an Incompetent Fish-headed Minion: The Idiot Years.' It’ll be a comedy. To assure my galactic dominance, I am now off to Earth to eliminate those pesky experiments! Ta-ta, Captain Failure!"
Ten minutes later, the heavy magnetic door of a holding cell slams shut with a final, echoing thud. Gantu is not on the outside this time. He is shoved into the small, sterile room along with Lilo and 625. Gantu begins to pace, or as much as one can pace in a ten-by-ten-foot box. He is a storm of fury. His nostrils flare, and his large hands ball into fists that look capable of denting the bulkhead. He looks positively murderous, a dark cloud of resentment radiating from his body.
625—no, Reuben—watches him warily. He moves closer to Lilo, placing a yellow paw on her shoulder. He has spent the last few days watching this girl treat him like a person instead of a prototype, and seeing Gantu’s rage makes him protective in a way his programming never intended.
"Three years of devotion and hard work," Gantu bellows at the ceiling, "and this is how I'm rewarded? Cast aside for a red-furred freak with a bad attitude?"
Reuben takes a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before speaking. "You are right, big guy. That gerbil treats you like a total pile of blitznak. I mean, seriously, talk about zero gratitude." He leans back against the cold wall. "See, his problem is he's got no aloha spirit. But that will come back and bite him in the tail someday. 'Cause you know, the aloha spirit you give always comes back to you. At least that's what Lilo says."
He looks down at Lilo, expecting a spark of her usual optimism, but her head is bowed. Her dark hair hides her face.
"Nani says aloha means 'hello' and 'goodbye,'" Lilo says, her voice small and cracked. "But for us, right now, it mostly seems to mean goodbye."
The defeat in her voice does something to Reuben that even Hamsterviel’s shouting couldn't. It stings. He looks at the reinforced door, then at his own paws. "You know," he says, his voice taking on a sudden, sharp edge of bravado, "turns out I'm pretty strong. I'm not just a sandwich artist. I could maybe open this."
Reuben lunges at the door, straining his yellow muscles, his face turning an even brighter shade of gold. He grunts, pulling at the seam of the slider. Suddenly, the door hisses and slides open with a burst of sparks.
"Whoa! Ha-ha! I am strong!" Reuben crows, throwing his hands up.
Gantu stands by the wall-mounted control panel, his hand resting on the manual override lever he just smashed. "You didn't open the cell. I did." He looks at the two of them, his expression shifting from murderous rage to a grim, determined clarity. "I'm breaking you two out of here. This isn't about the job anymore. It’s about... well, it’s not about Hamsterviel. Aloha."
Reuben’s eyes widen. "Aloha! Whoa-ohh!"
They scramble out into the corridor, but the victory is short-lived. The hallway lights flicker red as an alarm blares. Around the corner, a squad of Leroy clones—cloned with terrifying speed—skitter into view, their many arms bristling with blasters.
"We're cornered!" Lilo cries.
"Not quite," Reuben says.
Before Gantu can react, the yellow experiment leaps into the air. With a wet thwack, his paws stick to the ceiling panels. He begins to scurry across the overhead tiles with the agility of a spider, defying gravity with ease. Gantu stares up, his mouth agape as he hauls Lilo onto his shoulder to keep her out of the line of fire.
"625, when did you learn to climb ceilings?"
"The name is Reuben," the experiment calls down, his tongue poking out in concentration as he navigates the light fixtures.
Gantu dodges a stray blaster bolt, his massive frame surprisingly graceful in the heat of a real fight. "Huh. Have you always had a name?"
Reuben pauses for a split second, hanging upside down. He thinks of the sandwich shop, the quiet moments on the ship, and the way Lilo looked at him when she said he was part of an 'Ohana'. "... no," he admits quietly.
"Huh," Gantu grunts, returning fire with a confiscated blaster. "Well, Reuben, let's save the monstrosity, the noodle, and his mad scientist husband, and then you can be my galley officer when we finally leave Hawaii."
Reuben stops dead, nearly slipping from the ceiling. "No kidding? You're not just gonna go back to being a freelance failure?"
Gantu pushes through a heavy blast door, sealing it behind them to give them a moment of breathing room. He looks up at the yellow creature who has been his only constant companion for three years, despite the insults and the endless sandwiches.
"I've grown rather fond of your egg salad," Gantu mutters, his voice gruff but sincere. "And a Captain needs a crew. Even a Captain without a ship."
Reuben grins, a wide, toothy expression that finally reaches his eyes. "Well then, Captain. Lead the way. I've got a fresh batch of mayo waiting in the galley if we make it out of this."