A luxury shuttle, but one that was clearly equipped with powerful weapons, was waiting for the small group outside the spaceport. The guards protested in low voices to the old man, indicating the lack of caution in finding himself alone with these “suspicious foreigners”. In a weak but still authoritative voice, he assured them that he knew what he was doing and that he had already signed the necessary forms so that his defenders would not be worried in the event that he was assassinated by these visitors.

  The old man and the five crew members of the “Lost Truth” found themselves alone in the living room of the vehicle. It was a luxurious place where gold, red and orange mixed with the brown of real wood furniture. There were gel chairs of the highest quality on which everyone sat. Sava ostentatiously sat down opposite Libre and the latter felt uncomfortable in the face of her menacing gaze. Then the old man spoke:

  “I suppose you have guessed who I am?”

  “Yes,” Sava said bitterly, “you are Khraz Rêvegloire, whom I knew as the little dictator of a small nation of nothing at all. What are you now? Emperor of what is left of this galaxy?”

  The man raised a well-stocked white eyebrow. He was not used to being spoken to without deference and he did not expect it from Sava either. Of course, he could see perfectly well that she was not in her normal state and knew why, having observed the scene preceding her arrival thanks to spy nano-drones.

  “Yes, that's right... I am the Orange Emperor, member of the Confederation... Well... Let's say rather that my son is the real Orange Emperor, now. As I got older, I gave him the power and the title... But they continue to call me that...”

  The old man observed his visitors with his sly eyes that had seen a thousand intrigues. Each of the people present was most interesting, including the one he knew nothing about but who visibly concealed his identity.

  “In short,” he abbreviated, “I once put you on the trail of a certain plot. I hope to reap the fruits of it now. I would therefore ask you to indicate to me the results of your investigation without omitting anything. I do not want to have to have you executed…”

  Sava glared at him and the old man felt disturbed by the hardness he read in her eyes. She was rather frightening at the moment and Khraz was very happy not to be in the place of Libre Lhom, against whom this anger was in reality directed.

  “Oh, yes?” she replied. “And you think that after all the time that your cursed investigation made me waste, its result will still be useful to you?”

  “Oh, the past is always useful, especially if the culprits are still alive. However, I must admit that I did not anticipate this time constraint… Think of it more as one of the last satisfactions of an old Hom…”

  “And you dare to threaten our lives?”

  “I suppose you have been through a lot of difficult situations to show yourself so brave… unless rage is blinding you right now?”

  Sava looked away.

  Her head hurt with anger. Forcing herself to breathe more calmly, she tried to put her thoughts in order.

  She understood the pragmatic logic with which Libre had dared… to marry her, from an administrative point of view. That, she would never forgive him. Maybe she would have ended up forgetting the manipulation trick, but that…

  Nevertheless, this was not the time to think about it. She had to know how to get out of the current situation. The threats of the Orange Emperor were quite futile: even with technology fifty years more advanced than theirs, he remained a simple leader of a piece of galaxy. Faced with their weaponry improved by the Xerineans, his defenses would not last long. It was also possible that he knew that but…

  In the end, why hide anything? Why not tell him everything? Technically, this new “Confederation” was still a part of the Administration. A part that was not led by this corrupt president. Yes. She was going to tell him everything…

  But should she also talk about the secret fleet? That secret could have serious consequences, once revealed… Might as well start by talking about the rest and leave it for later.

  So, she began to tell her story. Talking calmed her down… except when she criticized Libre’s actions and he justified himself: at those times, the old man snickered, enjoying the argument.

  Finally, the story finished, the experienced politician took a moment to think. It was a moment of silence where they sometimes wondered if he hadn’t simply fallen asleep, eyes open. But finally, he delivered his conclusions:

  “That’s very interesting. If we find this Zoghoze, he will probably be able to testify to the Administration's involvement in the Zcarbb attack on our galaxy... Of course, we will be suspected of lying or even of collusion with the Hogloos. This last suspicion could well turn against them, moreover, if it incited an effective alliance with them... But it is true that all this is rather useless now...”

  The man gave a wicked smile, his features briefly rejuvenated by excitement:

  “Tell me about this secret fleet and the former Emperor Vector instead!”

  Sava let out an exclamation of surprise and quickly checked the parameters of her smart-bubble. They confirmed that her mental shield was in place and that no mind-reading method had been able to work.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “How do you know that?” she asked. “There's no way you know... that you know... Oh...”

  As she spoke, she detected some subtle changes in the attitude of Libre, in front of her. He knew something... He had just communicated with Emperor Orange... How had they done it? Did the old man possess telepathic powers?

  He gave an amused smile then made a sign for someone to approach. Immediately, a cloud of smoke appeared next to him. When the dark velvets cleared, a small, supple creature surrounded by shifting darkness stood beside him. It was a Chaotiun, without a control collar!

  “Let me introduce you to my partner,” the old man said. “Coal is an independent contractor attached to my service. I protect him from both the laws of the Administration and the domination of the Black Banner… You have no idea how useful having a Chaotiun as an ally can be to a politician… Ah, if only I had had him when I was younger…”

  The creature burst out laughing, but oddly enough the sound it made was different from the laughter they all heard in their heads.

  “Ah! Ah! Ah! I wasn’t even born the last time you could be called young.”

  The old man pouted in annoyance. Nevertheless, he let the comment pass without dwelling on it.

  “Sava,” he said, “I understand that you preferred to keep these details to yourself. However, if you want to be the winner in this conflict that is eating away at our world, you must take more risks.”

  Emperor Orange’s face suddenly became grim as he stood up, his cape billowing as if billowing in the wind. He raised a solemn hand and announced:

  “It is time to strike our enemies! Join me and together we will defeat the Zcarbb menace and the tyranny of the President of the Universe! Make me, cough! Cough! Cough! Ouch, my back… Cough, cough, cough!”

  The old man sat back down, shaken by a coughing fit, and took the glass of water that the on-board robot served him. Aware that he had spoiled his effect, he decided to finish his speech quickly once his crisis had passed:

  “Trust me...”

  A doubt ran through the room and everyone could hear it echoing in the atmosphere, as the chaotiun shared the superficial thoughts of each other.

  History would never know that it was in this small vehicle, between these very different and often insignificant people, that decisions were made that greatly influenced the fate of the universe. Or perhaps they only accelerated what would have happened anyway?

  The old Orange Emperor promised much. He assured the two Xerineans that the Confederation would drop the charges against Xini, allowing her to remain free in their territory. The same promise was given to Libre Lhom and the emperor swore that he would be reinstated as an administrative agent, but in the service of the Confederation. For their part, Vector Vermilion and Sava Domeria refused to take advantage of this negotiation. The former simply asked that his anonymity be preserved, and the latter said that she simply intended for justice to be done. She nevertheless tried to negotiate Libre's execution, but it was more of a dark humor than a serious proposal.

  “Well,” the old man summarized, “since we agree on the plan, it’s time to meet this Hogloo… This ‘Zoghoze’. Let’s go out.”

  He stood up and the vehicle door opened. Following the Orange Emperor’s hesitant step, the passengers found themselves on a landing strip surrounded by a strange landscape.

  Libre heard the Xerineans murmur. Since it wasn’t a conversation they wanted to hide, but simple observations, they spoke in the administered language. Apparently, some mysterious clues allowed them to notice that the vehicle had just landed.

  Turning his attention back to the surroundings, he observed a strange luxuriant flora that was eating a sort of large building. Although the flora of the universe is infinitely varied, the Hom guessed that this one must be artificial. It was more a sixth sense than logical observation, but something disturbing seemed to emerge from these colorful plants.

  “The lair of a Hogloo geneticist…” he whispered fearfully.

  From the moment the Orange Emperor had learned of Zoghoze’s involvement in the affair, he had had to discreetly give instructions to his vehicle to head there. He had also calculated his time carefully so that the end of their discussion would coincide with their arrival at the scene. Lhom was in awe of this Hom’s genius. Would he be as gifted at the Game when he reached such an age? Would he even survive that long?

  The master of the place came to meet them. He was a Hogloo of normal appearance, although rather fatty. This large lizard might seem harmless, but a large Hogloo could only mean one thing: a Hogloo with a large reserve of material to use as a weapon, or even massive secret weapons implanted in its body.

  “Greetings Zoghoze!” quavered Khraz Rêvegloire.

  The Hogloo returned his greeting with a simple wave of the hand. Even if the character in front of him ruled, at least in title, a good part of their galaxy, he had no power here. This laboratory was a Hogloo land, with enough weaponry to crush any army that dared to threaten it.

  “Khraz,” said the geneticist, “for what important business are you dragging your old carcass to my place? I already told you that there was no way I was extending your life expectancy.”

  The old Hom gritted his teeth but smiled. He apparently had perfect teeth despite his age, like all people who were not in absolute poverty.

  “Nasty lizard… I mean, respectable master geneticist… I am also pleased to see you again.”

  The Hogloo sneered, but he remained erect there, standing in the middle of the path leading to the door of his building. He did not seem to intend to move aside to invite visitors. Tall plants swayed against the wind, making a mysterious threat hover above the visitors’ heads.

  What could be the relationship between the old emperor and the Hogloo geneticist? Certainly, as master of this sector of the universe, the former must have frequently consulted the latter: a Hogloo master geneticist was the pinnacle of services that one could offer oneself throughout the universe. Their prices were exorbitant, when they even deigned to accept a request.

  “Well,” said the big Hogloo, “tell me what you want. I have much more interesting experiences waiting than you.”

  “Oh,” grunted the old man, “okay: let's cut it short. I'm coming to see you about one of your activities, about fifty classic years ago... I'd like you to testify against your employer in the case of the kidnapping of the little Zcarbb princess... You know: the time my galaxy was almost entirely destroyed by those filthy insects!”

  All expression disappeared from the Hogloo's face, which in a way was also an expression.

  “Even if you knew anything,” he replied, “I couldn’t divulge information under contract.”

  “Not even… if your former employer had a secret army, who could threaten the Hogloos?”

  The master geneticist remained silent. Everyone remained silent. Strange noises seemed to rise from the plants, like the growls of wild animals on the lookout… but there were no wild animals: only plants. Zoghoze finally broke this relative and heavy silence.

  “I would still need proof.”

  Khraz Rêvegloire made a gesture and his identification bracelet projected a holographic image into the air. The president’s secret fleet, as it had been filmed by the “Lost Truth”, appeared there.

  The Hogloo made a gesture.

  Immediately, plants grew from the ground, forming a table and stools. He sat down on one of them and it transformed into a veritable throne formed of intricate plant interlacing. He invited his visitors to sit down as well.

  “I think,” he said, “that we have some common interests to… discuss.”