It was a dead end. Parraligne looked nervously at the room at the end of the station as Xini searched a large crate full of worthless junk.

He glared at the series of doors he had locked behind them: none of them were armored, if that was anything for a Hogloo. He didn’t even dare count the time it would take for their enemy to reach them in seconds.

He had used his nanobots to assemble a powerful decomposition machine gun, regretting not having brought more equipment with him.

“I hope you really have something useful there,” he growled, “or we’ll have a hard time turning the tide of battle.”

“Oh,” the tiny creature asserted boldly, “with what I’ve prepared, the battle is already won! Ah, there it is!”

She held in her hands a strange device similar to a large pistol ending in a grappling hook. Parraligne grimaced in disgust: it was an orb extractor. This ancient weapon had undergone quite a few mutations throughout History. According to legend, it was originally used to confront a vanished people using metal bodies and locking their consciousness in orbs: a technology that was copied and improved by the Homs to produce the Vermilions. The weapon had then evolved to become a most terrible object of death capable of literally tearing the life out of any living being. Completely illegal, it was regularly used within official military forces and in criminal networks.

“An orb extractor? Against a Hogloo? If he's also part of the Racine terrorist group, there's no way it'll be effective against him: these creatures have brought genetics to a truly aberrant perfection.”

“I know, she replied, but you see, this model is equipped with a neurotransmission firing system. If thoughts are often slower to fire than modern electronic circuits, my thoughts are those of a superior race: I am capable of thinking infinitely faster than you are capable of moving!”

“Fine, you will shoot first. But what difference does it make if the Hogloo is insensitive to it?”

“Who said anything about shooting the Hogloo?”

Xini gave him a cruel smile and her weapon was visibly pointed in his direction. Parraligne began to feel nauseous as his vision decomposed. It seemed to him to see the same scene again... But not exactly... Xini was positioned differently, higher up... But her smirk was the same...

“Oh,” she said with amusement, “it seems that your memories still exist! What a pity they resurface too late!”

“Why?”

“Mmm, try to remember it before you die: it won't be funny otherwise. Because, this time, you're really going to die. Previously, I only managed to fracture your memory with my extractor. This time, with the shield surrounding us and the addition of the pulsar interference, you have no chance of transferring to another orb! Ah... It's not that I like eliminating you: if you had lost your memories properly, I wouldn't have to do this. Just think that I'm going to have to justify myself. I see the headline in the newspapers ‘A Root terrorist kills a Vermilion! In a final heroic act, he saves a genius scientist!’ Tsss... You're going to be the second of your race to be eliminated in this affair.”

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“The second?”

“Oh! You don't even remember the other one? It's his fault if you discovered the whole thing.”

The Vermilion's vision blurred as a wave of images overwhelmed him. His memories were there... As if they had always been there in fact... They were emerging, in tight ranks, in a rumbling cascade, from their hiding place: in the memory zone intended for access to the Vermilions' private Network!

His own voice echoed within him: “I told myself that I would find our memories at the right time, right?”

“Hey, youngster, why do you seem so surprised to learn that I'm from the Old Generation?”

Parraligne shrank nervously and turned his head 360°, as if he were looking at something else interesting. With a mocking, slightly haughty air, the old Vermilion walked around him, making his maneuver useless.

Calling Cube “old” was the result of knowing his advanced age. Otherwise, his appearance was that of a Vermilion Hom approaching forty... Which is much more than the Vermeils allowed themselves to age before voluntarily changing bodies. So, if from a Hom point of view, he was hardly old, from the Vermeils point of view he looked like an ancestor both in his real age and his appearance.

“Well,” the young man replied embarrassedly, “you are still models... how to say... After all, you participated in Vector's coup d'état, so it's not... I don't dispute your devotion to the Administration, but your programs left too much room for interpretation. And then, you are certainly aware of it: I hear that most of you ask to be placed in a stasis tank to be woken up only in the event of a maximum emergency.”

Old Vermilion banged his younger brother's head like someone knocking on a door.

“Is there someone in there? After all, it's true that they produce the new generations less intelligent! Do you really think they went into stasis voluntarily? That's what they said, yes... But I know them... There are some, I'm sure they would never have chosen such a solution. And then, in any case, their choices came too soon after their last death... It's suspicious.”

“What are you claiming? Are you accusing the Administration of deception? Do you have any proof?”

“No. These are just certainties. But, if you want the proof, I think I've discovered something worthwhile.”

“And you think I'm going to go along with you? Just because we work together doesn't mean I'm going to follow your delusions!”

“Even if I uncovered a plot that threatens the very essence of the Administration?”

Parraligne cast a suspicious glance at his colleague... but he couldn't let a potential threat hang over the precious Infinite Administration. He had to find the bottom line...

Cube lay on the ground, definitely dead. His orb shattered by the Hogloo’s venom; a biological weapon specially modified by Root to counter the Vermeils. Parraligne’s body was far from its optimal configuration. The absence of an arm and a leg was truly harmful in a fight.

Dragging himself aside, he let a screen of automatic machines and micro-robots cover his escape. Curled up in a precarious hiding place, he started his self-destruction when a small figure equipped with an orb extractor towered over him.

“Oh no,” Xini sneered, “you’re not going to leave us with all those bad memories. Let me get rid of them for you!”

Before he had time to destroy himself, he felt the discharge of harmful energy ravage his mind. Somehow, the traitor had modified her weapon to make it more selective. One by one, his memories of his last years were fading!

Terrified of forgetting this terrible threat, he gathered what he could to try to send it to the Vermilion Network, in the form of a primary AI. No connection…

A program! A program that would add to his memory recovery program and supplant it… It was dangerous but… if the old Cube was right, he would also kill two birds with one stone…

Parraligne's vision cleared again and his hateful gaze tried to pierce Xini.