The ship appeared, invisible, at a reasonable distance from the coordinates. A swarm of nanobots and combat drones patrolled the surroundings as soon as the sensors indicated a probable absence of danger: one could never be too careful.

The area was at the edge of the galaxy, in starless space, almost at the level of the galactic protection shield. All galaxies, except those disputed or in the process of being colonized, had powerful protection devices capable of blocking unauthorized teleportation and delaying invasion fleets using other means of travel. Of course, from the tinkered data of his old alpha+ authorization, Libre had no problem crossing such a barrier. In this case, he did not need to do so, but the target of his attention must have been able to cross it.

A wreck was drifting through space. Some sort of small ship of a model similar to his own, although a few years older… or at least, what was left of this ship: a good half was missing.

“‘Lost Truth’, deploy the proceed to analyze this target, keep scanners to scan the surroundings in case of ambushes…”

“It’s already done, Captain.” replied the on board Z.I.A..

Libre scowled. The A.I.s had truly murdered heroism across the universe, sending heroes to retirement homes or the movie industry while they took over their jobs…

“I’m going to the wreck. Prepare a crew of robots to accompany me. Assault robots and various specialists.”

“Yes, Captain. Crew ready. Do you want to go there by teleport or through an airlock?”

“Airlock.”

Protected by the dual combination of combat armor and a survival energy field, Libre Lhom floated through space toward the wreckage. A small dorsal thruster, set to manual control, allowed him to reach his destination quickly. He noticed on the spot that part of the artificial gravity device was still working, although faulty in places. Good, that would save him from bad maneuvers with the thruster.

His presence was not really necessary because he could have directed everything from the comfort of his ship, but he was not going to deprive himself of this pleasure. If ever a war fleet appeared out of nowhere, hungry for his blood, he could always teleport aboard his ship and... fight or flee? That would depend...

“Result of the preliminary analysis.”

“Yes, send!”

“The majority of the computer data is destroyed, however, those that could be downloaded indicate that it is an administrative vehicle of category alpha, a model reserved for agents...”

“Yes, I knew that: I still keep up to date with ship models.”

“This one was attacked by a superior model…”

“No kidding.”

“The countermeasure deployed was the dropping of a decoy generated by emptying the raw material reserves of the matter synthesizer, while the real ship teleported to a safe place. The coordinate of this place was entered in extremis via an external connection, apparently recognized by the onboard system.”

“Yeah, obviously it was already too late at the time of the jump… At least, if the attackers were looking for a specific object contained in this ship, they would get little for their pains…”

A precious object? If it was contained in this part of the ship and not in the one left behind, there might be a way to negotiate with the Administration… Well, it would have to be as valuable as one of the legendary orbs of the Secret Council for that…

In short: it would have to be an object capable of determining the fate of the entire universe. Did any even exist? Probably… Maybe…

“Biological life form detected. Altered signature.”

Libre jumped, one hand on the butt of his weapon. How had a life form escaped the preliminary scan? A camouflaged enemy? Or worse: a Hogloo?

Full of apprehension, but nevertheless preferring to go before his robots, he approached the area indicated by the goggles of his armor. He had drawn his weapon and pointed it forward, thus minimizing the time it would take for it to force his hand to point in the right direction in the event of a confrontation.

Debris blocked the way, but the strength of his armor was enough to push it aside like common pebbles. He then discovered a curious transparent mass, shining with a fluorescent orange color. Prisoner of a sort of solidified jelly, a young Ham was lying on the ground. She was dressed in a civilian-looking suit, like any space pilot, except that these people like to customize their outfits to make them less sober. A large hole pierced her side on the right side. Although it seemed to be blocked by a sort of foam, it was likely that she had a pierced lung and perhaps other additional damage depending on the nature of the weapon that had fired at her.

A survivor, surrounded by a protective foam of a military model. Probably an agent of the Administration. The foam was a derivative of temporal stasis technology and saved its prisoner from an instant and painful death. Its bright color and the light it emitted were intended to allow rescuers to find it despite the blocking of most biological signs.

Libre lifted the solidified mass at arm’s length. The ship didn’t seem to contain anything else: it must be the “resource” that those who had given him these coordinates were talking about. In any case, he wasn’t going to let her die like that in the middle of space. His Z.I.A. analyzed that there were only a few hours left before the foam would no longer be enough to slow down the patient’s critical condition. There was time.

“‘Lost Truth’, continue searching the wreckage and recover all the interesting components. Once the recovery is complete, use the diversion route and then bring us back to Crash. Prepare the medical block as well.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Medical block ready. A preliminary analysis of the patient nevertheless indicates that it is advisable to take her to a specialized center. Otherwise, the operation risks leaving a mark.”

Yes, good idea: to get arrested. The hospitals had substantial security measures and could certainly uncover his identity. Not to mention the patient's. Who could she be anyway?

Well, anyway, she could always pay a surgeon, a Hogloo even if she had the means, to repair the few traces that the operation would leave. Even if she couldn't, it was still better than her current state.

“Ah, also think about scanning the patient to remove all forms of tracers and communication devices. Also check if she has implants and, if so, put them under control.”

Domeria blinked. She closed her eyes again, dazzled by the glow of the room. She still felt a little comatose.

How was she alive? She clearly remembered collapsing before reaching the controls. Had the AI taken the initiative? With the disturbances from the enemy weapons, it was unlikely, but how else could she explain her survival?

She tried to open her eyes again and succeeded. The lamps were not directly above her, contrary to what she had first thought. Tilting her head to the side, she observed a room that appeared to be an infirmary.

Perhaps the enemy had been liquidated by the space station's defenses? The intervention personnel must have recovered her, surrounded by the emergency protection gel.

A pain in her chest reminded her that there was supposed to be a hole there. With an instinctive gesture, she brought her hand to look for it. The local cells had been regenerated but she immediately felt a small mark on her skin. So, not the local hospital… The one on a military ship perhaps? As an assassination target, she might have been taken to safety.

Straightening up with difficulty, a certain stiffness still numbing her muscles, she quickly examined her clothing. She was wearing hospital pants, but her torso was covered only by a rudimentary protection intended to preserve her modesty. Insensitive to touch, small robots were still moving on her exposed skin, probably analyzing the state of her nerves by taking different points of reference. In any case, that's what she suspected, since the weapon that had injured her attacked the nerves directly, potentially causing permanent damage.

A man of her own species suddenly appeared, teleporting to a chair located near the bed. Sava Domeria shrank in on herself, instinctively folding her arms towards her chest. Although it was properly covered, the fact that her stomach was exposed bothered her a little, giving her the impression of being exposed herself. The newcomer didn’t look like a military or police officer at all. An administrative inspector perhaps? Or a local agent? To be allowed to come and talk to her, he had to have at least alpha rank.

“Sleep well, Miss Domeria?”

The man must have been about her age, but an arrogance and excessive self-confidence emanated from his person. It could be his real character, or a psychological game intended to put him in a position of strength. Perhaps he had even carefully prepared his scene before teleporting, in the hope of making her colleague uncomfortable… Because, now, she was certain that it could only be another administrative agent, or an inspector… Her instinct suggested another possibility, but she preferred to ignore it.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“Classic questions. Didn’t you have anything more original?”

She frowned and glared at him. Although she finally felt fully awake, she didn’t have the patience to play any psychological games. And then, as classic as they were, her questions were as legitimate as they were relevant given the circumstances.

“Okay, okay, you are currently in the Brador galaxy… Ah, it’s true that without your identification bracelet, you can’t know where it is. Let’s say it’s in the old Hogloo space, rather on its old border.”

So, she had drifted a little more towards Hogloo space, a jump of a few galaxies away… Wait a moment: without her identification bracelet?

Glancing at her right arm, she noticed that it was indeed missing. Without implanted chips, it was her only means of communicating with her personal data. Removing it without its owner’s consent was a serious crime, unless necessary. Perhaps it had been necessary to do so to repair the nerves in her hand?

“I feel much better, could you give me back my bracelet? And you still haven’t answered my questions: where exactly am I… And who are you.”

A sinister smile lit up the Hom’s face.

“I’m afraid I can’t give you what you ask. You are currently aboard my ship, the “Lost Truth” … whose name was previously known only to myself… and the databases of the stations where I docked. As for me, I am Libre Lhom, a renegade agent of level alpha+, maybe even a space pirate, who knows…”

If she had not jumped when the character suddenly teleported, she did when he revealed his identity to her. She moved away, trying to get up… only to fall on the other side of the bed. She cried out in pain as she landed heavily on the neoplastic floor.

“Are you okay? I know there is all the equipment here to patch you up, but if you break your neck, I am not sure I can save you in time.”

Her heart pounding, her head spinning slightly with dizziness, Sava got on all fours, looking around her in panic, looking for a weapon.

Libre Lhom, renegade of level alpha+… The universal news was talking about it. He had killed thousands of prison guards and freed terrorists, whose identities had not been released. The probability that she would come across this criminal in the middle of an infinite universe was zero! But as usual, reality did not care about probabilities.

She stood up abruptly, leaning painfully on the furniture and pointing like a weapon the first device that came to hand. Her vision was blurred and she had to lean her back against the wall to avoid collapsing. Despite everything, she saw clearly enough the mocking smile of her interlocutor, who had not left his chair.

“Come on, when you are in a weak position, it is better to bide your time than to engage in desperate actions. Your nerves are barely rebuilt and your body is greatly weakened by blood loss. Despite the care of the machines, you need a good meal to really start to recover... Come on, drop it: you are hurting yourself. You’ll fall again and end up breaking something. My pirate gang will have a harder time selling you on the slave market if you break again…”

Lowering her improvised weapon, more because her wrist hurt than because she felt less in danger, Sava eyed Libre warily:

“You’re kidding me, are you?”

“Eh, eh, eh… Yes, of course. Even if there must still be a slave market somewhere in this vast universe, I suppose they must be experiencing some economic difficulties now that the unemployed are cheaper than slaves.”

“What do you want from me?”

The Hom sneered, straightening up to his full height… roughly equal to Domeria’s, so not particularly impressive. Smiling arrogantly, he struck a confident pose, one foot on his old chair… Almost as if he were trying to buy time before finding an answer to the question…

“Well, nothing more than saving your life. I dare hope that you have enough honor to compensate for my action.”

“As long as… as long as it remains honorable, of course. And I will not help you commit terrorist acts either!”

Lhom seemed offended.

“I don’t think it’s necessary for me to commit this type of act, any more than I need to attack your honor. I’m a Homtest, not a scumbag! And even if I weren’t one, I’m not… that kind of person. You’re just going to serve as my crew while I… Let’s just say you’ll see. In the meantime, follow me.”

The Hom headed toward the door that opened as he passed. Cautiously, using the walls to help her move, Sava followed him. As they found themselves in a corridor, Lhom turned to her and added a little clarification:

“Ah, also there will be mysterious killers who will try to take us down. It’s not like you have a choice, but I prefer to warn you about it…”

The raised eyebrow Sava returned could be interpreted as a jaded “Again?”