After a short exchange on the topic of human rights that was as lengthy and meaningless as those debates tended to be, Gromov escorted both "prisoners" to the medical center.

"Against my will," muttered Professor Zhutra. "Against my will."

The student, Simone, complied silently, worryingly watching Uriah and his shabby weapon. In Gromov's opinion, she misinterpreted the hacker's shaking body as a threat. But Uriah's excitement slowly vanished, replaced by the inevitable fatigue of the collapsing organism.

After Gromov locked up the door, he relaxed: "Finally, it is done. Next time, Uriah, we will ignore everyone asking for our help. Screw all charity. Did you make the arrangements in their cabin?"

"Completely, sir. I used the finest equipment available."

Saying that Uriah started winking non-stop.

"What is it, Uriah. Something in your eyes?"

"No, sir. Just..."

Uriah winked again with the lewdest expression he was capable of.

Ignoring these conspicuous hints, Gromov took Uriah's spear and walked him to the cabin. Uriah trembled with exhaustion, every muscle of his malnourished body vibrating, with breath as hard as if he was running a marathon.

"Lie down, you moron," said Gromov gently. "You did well."

"Thank you, sir. I am fine. Few seconds and I'll be as good as new."

With these words, Uriah fell asleep at once. In the Space Forces, Gromov saw a fair share of dying or dead people. Still, none of them looked more dead than Uriah, whose pale complexion, almost non-existent movement of the chest, and position of crossed hands evoked a forgotten vampire, resting inside the abandoned tomb, surrounded by magnificent serenity and calmness.

The grave atmosphere affected Gromov, so he sighed in relief when he closed the door and met familiar walls covered in naughty Luciano's paintings.

The white-winged angels, hovering over decaying corpses, soldiers crying in pain, and horses with broken legs, all of this bore utterly different meaning now, almost like an infernal memento, pushed on him as a reminder of human mortality.

"I have to ask Doll to remove this morbid garbage and replace it with Hieronimus Bosch. It will be more cheerful this way," muttered Gromov.

[H. Bosch was a Dutch/Netherlandish painter from Brabant, famous for picturesque depictions of Christian Hell and Heaven - Pavel Morava's remark]

Dwelling no further in bleak halls, he headed to the extraction chamber and climbed through the passage to retrieve the personal belonging of his new passengers.

There was a horrible stench coming from inside, nauseating to such an extent that Gromov put on an oxygen mask, suppressing the urge to vomit.

In the corner of the cabin, a dead body of a young woman, wrapped in a transparent plastic foil, laid on the floor, unceremoniously hidden behind toolboxes as if not to disturb the remaining survivals.

"That guy is truly impressive."

Seeing the scene, Gromov had to admire Professor Zhutra's spirit. "Nagging about human rights after this horror. A complete idiot, indeed."

Gromov quickly checked prepared luggage, inspecting the content. The only unusual thing, besides fancy underwear, was a huge egg-shaped metal object, looking like a decoration.

"So heavy! What is it made of?" he pondered. Even without gravity, he could estimate the weight of that enormous item by its resistance to the applied force. "I will charge them handsomely to get it back to the Advanced Nations."

With no intention to stay more than necessary, he grabbed the belongings and transported them back to his ship. With certain pity, he left the dead woman behind.

Then, he detached both spaceships from each other and meticulously inspected every piece of inventory he had retrieved. Since he found nothing dangerous, he took the personal baggage and brought them to his guests.

After unlocking the cabin, he knocked and waited for someone to open the door. Then, wrapped in a white towel, Simone appeared with wet hair and drops of water under her chin.

"Oh, it's you," she said. "I have to thank you, Captain Gromov. The shower made me feel like in paradise. But I still could not get rid of that horrid stench. It is everywhere on me. Rest assured, I smell more nicely and look less greasy. Normally, I would never allow any man to see me like this."

"I see no particular difference," Gromov mumbled. Then, noticing how the woman's eyes widened in shock, he regretted his remark. "Is Professor Zhutra alright?"

"Khamal? Sure, he is taking a shower now. But, please, do not take his whining personally. He was on his edge when you had rescued us, not thinking clearly. After some rest, I believe, he'll be a completely different person. You will enjoy our company, granted."

"You don't need to please me, Miss Yeuxbleu. You may not understand why I was acting that way, but I had few encounters with space pirates, and pirates are rather an unpleasant bunch of people."

"You don't say." Simone did not seem convinced. Gromov felt she was making fun of him.

"About ten years ago," he said, "My colleagues and I were hunting certain a drug dealer that was hiding in Rusty Asteroids. Since we were supposed to deal with space pirates - I believe they called themselves free traders back then - our superiors deemed it necessary to provide us with a presentation covering the pirates' most glorious achievements. Among others, the free traders robbed a spaceship with settlers, capturing all two hundred people aboard. Then, if I recall correctly, they herded them into small confinement and pushed them into outer space. For a reason beyond my comprehension, the pirates filmed the venue with slow-motion cameras, hovering in spacesuits between dying men, women, and children, having good fun."

Despite his light tone, Gromov did not want to dig up this particular memory. Back in time, the presentation shook him immensely, so he did his best to forget those scenes.

Not impressed, Simone Yeuxbleu curled her lips up. "Sure. May I ask since when do merchants hunt mafiosos? Not that I doubt your words, but you do not strike me like a veteran, hardened in thousands of battles. Aren't you rather an aspiring artist?"

With the apparent irony, Simone waved her hand toward Luciano's paintings. "Captain Gromov, do not misunderstand. Even though I do not mind you being concerned about your safety, just please, make your stories more believable. I guess you found the video somewhere on the Darknet when you were browsing some nasty porn. Am I right?"

In awe, Gromov considered his options. Do I need to defend myself? Who cares? After a short consideration, he nodded in defeat. "You are a keen observer, Miss Yeuxbleu. Being a space merchant is a lonely job, so besides saving an unthankful lot, I have never had anything better to do than watching perverted videos and painting half-naked valkyries. By any chance, since you are Professor Zhutra's students, aren't you both involved in psychology? I enjoy having my exposed soul dissected in this manner."

"Oh, I hope I didn't insult you," Simone softly spoke up as if soothing a crying infant. "Men are like overgrown children, picturing themselves as unwavering superheroes. Of course, I am grateful to you, but please, pretty please, do not pretend you are some ex-Space Forces' officer. I'll never buy it. I am sure you have other qualities to be proud of. For instance, the paintings are decent for an amateur. Being you, I would focus on more realistic anatomy, but you may like specific female parts enlarged."

After a couple of seconds, Gromov sneered. "No matter how grateful I am for your insightful feedback, I would prefer to move on before you bring Sigmund Freud and good old Oedipus into our conversation. Here you are! Take your luggage. The rest stayed in my cabin, including all your table decorations."

Simone frowned: "Table decorations?"

"Table decorations," confirmed Gromov, adding no more details. "See you later, Miss Yeuxbleu. I'm looking forward to another opportunity to have a chitchat with you. After I gather and glue back my fragile male ego, of course. By the way, inform Professor Zhutra that I want to speak with him afterward. I am curious what business had the University-owned spaceship in this part of Universe."

Quite satisfied that he managed to have the last word, Gromov hurried back to his cabin where the surveillance system was running, supplied by several strategically placed cameras installed by Uriah.

"What was the moron thinking? That I am a voyeur or what?"

Recalling Uriah's lewd winking and Simone's condescending tone, Gromov hesitated, but in the end, he still kept watching the situation, prioritized safety over privacy.

Nevertheless, when Simone dropped her towel, he did not bother to look away, enjoying the view shamelessly.

"Khamal," the woman shrieked while drying her hair. "That guy Gromov was here and brought our luggage. As expected, he 'inspected' all our things and left my clothes in quite a mess, that pervert. You may want to check it out if something is not missing."

Professor Zhutra, coming naked out of the bathroom, took his bag and opened it. "I did not expect him to honor our privacy, not our feelings. It was as clear as day that he was a bitter bully that enjoys having the upper hand over the weaker ones. So we have to endure and not offend him."

"Too late." Simone shrugged. "I've already said my piece to him. If you ask me, he is a harmless fellow. Once he realized I saw through him, he just walked away."

Meanwhile, her companion was maniacally throwing the content of his bag on the bed. Then, he stood up with a darkened expression. "That harmless fellow has stolen my artifact. The egg is gone!"

Simone seemed startled. "What egg? Wait, Khamal, you are not serious, aren't you? You promised to me that you would not bring that thing along."

"I didn't make such a promise, Simone. I told you that I'd consider if we should keep it or not. But, understand, if I left it behind, we would end up empty-handed. The egg is too precious to throw it away."

With no warning, Simone came closer to Professor Zhutra and slapped his face hard. "You imbecile! You keep endangering us. Three people died, and more will follow. Gromov thinks it is a weird table decoration. The moment he realizes we took it from the abandoned army deposit, he will kill you - and rightfully so. He clearly stated we were not allowed to bring weapons aboard."

"Stop overreacting, Simone. The egg is not a weapon."

"Oh, is it not? So what is it, then? Something has exploded, probably one of the items we found. But now, you are absolutely sure that the suspicious grenade-like egg is no weapon. Even a simpleton like Gromov will not swallow the lie that it was just a piece of decoration. Especially if you keep making a fuzz about it."

"The motor malfunctioned. The explosion came from the rear section, not the store. And I am not making fuzz. The egg is mine. I mean, the egg is ours. He had no right to confiscate it."

"The egg is dangerous," Simone insisted. "Everything the Emperor touched is cursed. The DOZOR is after it."

"My lovely Simone! Calm down. You can get millions for these artifacts, so the criminals target them, which, unfortunately, led to many deaths and misfortunes. There is no need to invent some mysterious organization, though. I agree that having the artifact may bring disaster, but not because of curses or accidental explosions. Remember, we did not disclose the target of our expedition to anyone else, so nobody knows what we were after. We are safe."

"We are not, you jerk. We are not safe at all, Khamal. What about the encrypted message someone had sent from our ship? I saw you were panicking back then."

"There was no encrypted data. Modern devices try to communicate every now and then. Relax! As soon as we are back home, I put the egg into a bank safe. I took all possible precautions, trust me."

Simone sneered. "If you took all possible precautions, we would never happen to be here, two survivals of five, locked up by a paranoid captain. However, I have to apologize to Gromov. A shut-in like him knows more about safety than you. By the way, he wants to meet you afterward. From what he said, I guess he intends to interrogate you about our purpose here. Pretty sure you will have hard times satisfying his curiosity. I wonder what you want to tell him about the egg."

Professor Zhutra frowned: "Nothing, absolutely nothing. No one has the right to stick one's nose into my, sorry, our business. We obtained the egg legally; I can prove as much."

"Good luck with that," Sime chuckled. "The hyena is infamous for its bite force."

Under the impression that the raging storm was over, Khamal smiled back and stated confidently: "No worries. As you said before, he is a simpleton. If I throw at him some technical jargon, like a quantum calibration machine, he will trust me. Deep inside, these blokes suffer from an inferiority complex. He never admits he has no idea what I am talking about."

Meanwhile, in the distant cabin, comfortably seated in a leather chair, Gromov almost facepalmed. Not because of the spray of insults, but because he would probably believe in Zhutra's made-up explanation.

While unconsciously patting the egg, which leveled up from mere table decoration to an artifact worth millions, Gromov decided it was the time to have a good talk with Professor Zhutra.

"Doll! Doll!"

"Yes, Captain Gromov?"

Awakening from her stilled battery-saving mode, the blond angel began to breathe and mimic life. "Are you feeling lonely?"

"Since I was five," Gromov replied brusquely. "Doll, if I understand correctly, there are plenty of instruments in your possession."

"Surely there are!" Doll answered with a delighted expression. "My standard accessories beside, dear Luciano had collected a splendid collection of tools that could make our private sessions more enjoyable. You can stay assured, Captain Gromov, that with SexySexyLadies' products, you will never know the meaning of the word boredom."

"Go ahead, then," Gromov sighed. "Educate me in intellectual pleasantries you shared with dear Luciano. Wait, what are you doing?"

Instead of providing a list, Doll came closer to Gromov, nearing her red mouth to his ear. Her touch was pleasant yet cold as her skin had only started to warm up.

"I will educate you with gusto," she whispered sweetly. "Please, do not move. My ASMR module needs to evaluate your response to find the best triggers for you."

"Your ASMR module? What the..."

[Coined in 2010, ASMR (autonomous sensory meridian response) is a relaxing, often sedative sensation that begins on the scalp and moves down the body. (source: thinkwithgoogle.com) - Pavel Morava's remark]

Suddenly, under her heavy breath, the sounds of scratching, clicking, bustling filled his ears accompanied with lightly spoken words: "...dildos...rings...Venus balls...whips...movies...handcuffs...fishnet underwear...massage oils...vaseline...probes..."

Finally, Gromov retracted from her voluptuous body with goosebumps. "Thank you, Doll. Very educational. Next time, be so kind and warn me. Handcuffs will do. Bring them to me, please."

"Do you want to play a slave-master game with me?"

"Nope. But I do intend to invite Professor Zhutra to be the main character in my brand-new masterpiece called Tell me everything or die painfully."

"Excellent!" Doll clapped enthusiastically. "May I participate?"

"This premiere doesn't need a witness, so no. But if that impertinent moron will need some consolation afterward, you may take care of him."

Doll smiled beautifully. "In this case, I will slip into my nurse costume."