“I’ll tell you what,” the President says, “you just have to give me back the command of the earth which has currently collapsed into anarchy and we can talk.”

“You have let the Earth empire revolt?!?,” every word was the portrait of unbelief. Then : “I’ll be back.”

In his cabin in his ship on the far side of the moon the Grand Overseer Klsye giggled and called a few million Vorans to merge in his hilarity and to ask for their counsel. They came rolled in a tight ball of shimmering specks. Suddenly, the grand Overseer had an idea :

“Hello, I am Grand Overseer Klsye of the Voran Empire. Are your overseen peoples easily posessed?”

“I’m not sure …” was the president’s tentative reply.

He promptly sneezed.

“I see they are not. I’ll be back. Please tell Vorans 106 578 992 through to 106 579 002 to come back, but do indicate the safest way, it seems they just managed not to interfere with whatnot by chance.”

The president hung up, disconcerted.
An attendant came and marched him back to the white TV set …