"Walking disaster? Aren't you exaggerating?"

There was no response as Gromov absent-mindedly raised his finger. "Incoming message. The base sent two fighters our way. They want to make scrutiny of our freight ship. As it seems, their base has experienced trouble recently."

"DOZOR? It can't be, right?"

"No. It's about the neighborhood. We'll know more later. Now we need to prepare ourselves for their inspection. Let's hope our business partners will get unscathed."

"Because of their neighbors?"

"No, because of dealing with us. Can you be a good girl?"

"I told you several times my powers were on the weak side. Nothing much compared to yours."

Saying that Simone sounded envious. Even though Gromov kept his abilities to himself, she was not stupid.

"Do you think," she continued bitterly, "that I can't sense your presence in the ship? The Synthesis has been proceeding for months. It's like living in someone else's mind. Khamal and Uriah would go crazy if not for my whisperings. I'm dumbing them down for a good reason."

Nodding, Gromov asked: "So you were aware of my little experiments? Still, you are mistaken if you believe I'm the only one growing stronger."

"Am I as well?"

Simone did not bother to hide her excitement.

"No doubt about it. It's no joke, though. Your angry outburst felt mindblowing. Quite literally. If you lose self-control, you will harm our visitors."

"I'll be careful, no worries," Simone promised. "But can't I do a few tests with them? I'm sorely missing... How to call them less offensively? Human samples?"

"Call them whatever you want," grunted Gromov. He could not decide whether he found Simone's words disturbing or reassuring. "As for your scientific research, make it as inconspicious and safe as possible."

With a scout salute, Simone gently purred: "A harmless love spell will do. The loneliness of my nights pulls my panties under my knees."

It was another more than a blatant attempt to seduce him, so Gromov felt uncomfortable when he urged her: "In case of any night adventures, don't forget that we can't predict what happens during your..."

"During my what?" she repeated mockingly. "What's the word, my dearest father? Is it the proper time for our father-daughter chitchat? Will you educate me? What about saving our visitors from my desperate clutches?"

The moment she started unbuttoning her blouse, Gromov reluctantly turned on his heel. "The word was orgasmus. After such a long starvation, I reckon you are about to enjoy an earthshaking one. Hopefully, the love spell of yours won't be a death sentence for the stud in your bed."

After the intermezzo, cornered Gromov realized he failed to explain why he had disrupted Simone's plans with Zhutra.

"As for Khamal," he added, carefully inspecting a convenient wall, situated in front of his nose. "DOZOR doesn't need him served on a golden plate, so let's help their prey become a bit elusive. The more time they spent hunting, the more time in our favor."

"Are you taking pity on him?"

There was a hurt, almost jealous undertone in Simone's voice.

"I'm too old to take pity on anyone," sighed Gromov. "Enough of nonsense! Our guests will be here in no time. The pilots are all men, so undoubtedly, the fair skin behind your blouse will arouse... their manly interests."

With that, he left to make the necessary preparations in the decompression chamber. Meanwhile, he extended his consciousness to reach the ship's computer and opened the radio channel.

As said before, two fighters were coming toward them. The pilots kept communicating, making inquiries about cargo as if they were suspicious of Gromov's identity. They were well-informed about his past and asked about his military service, scrutinizing every detail. Especially, the increased number of ship's crew raised their concerns.

"So you saved those people on the way?" asked a young man's voice incredulously. "Just like that? By a mere coincidence?"

"Yes, just like that. You can check them the moment you'll come aboard."

"We are not sure if we ever enter your ship," answered the man. "We have to be careful, Captain Gromov. Given, of course, you are Captain Gromov and not some shady imposter. We suspect that real Captain Gromov might be dead."

"Cautious, aren't you?" mumbled Gromov. Unaware to both pilots, their fighters were nearing a dangerous zone. It was a field, in which Gromov's altered mind could monitor and influence electromagnetic interactions.

"So what you intend to do?" he continued. "Is it an excuse to shoot me down and rob my cargo? Cecil Shanks insisted you were reliable business partners."

Entering Gromov's mental field, the first fighter was scanned. Gromov had no idea how it was done since neither he and nor his ship had the ability before. But as a practical man, Gromov had never dwelled on details beyond his comprehension.

"Look, sir, no offense. But understand our position. Mr. Shanks and you informed us there was only one man aboard when you'd been leaving the Advanced Nations."

"Yes, that's correct. I was keeping you updated about all changes that had happened along the way: one black passenger and two survivors of the catastrophe."

"And who else?"

"Who else? You should know about Luciano's android, right?"

"And?"

"Does a ghost woman I've married count?"

After the question, the radio remained silent for several minutes, then the amused voice said: "It had to be a long journey, Captain. I thought Luciano was an oddball, but you... What can I say? The ghost woman is all yours. Anyone else?"

"No one."

"I see. If this is the case, I'll pay you a visit. A fair warning, though. If anything happens, my colleague will open fire. Do not even think about capturing me. We don't play the hostage game here. Understood?"

None of the fighters had unlocked weapons yet, so no matter how threatening the young man talked, the situation stayed relatively safe for both sides.

"No objections here," Gromov retorted dryly. "But I have a fair warning as well. This is not a ship you can rob easily. Proceed with caution or this old bark will crash into your base. The course's been already set."

"Keep dreaming! We can take you down anytime we want."

The second pilot who had not spoken so far expressed his disdain. The first one only laughed heartily.

"I'm starting to believe you are the real deal," he chuckled. "Only an SF officer would bluff this way. With all respect, sir, you have no trumps in hand. We are clear on the specs of Luciano's ship. Two our shots and goodbye."

"Want to bet on this?"

The tentacle of Gromov's will immersed into the second pilot's gear and erupted in an almost unnoticeable electromagnetic impulse. The gentle touch was enough to blind the fighter's electronics for three seconds.

"Crap!"

The cry of surprise alerted the first pilot: "What happened, Ali?"

"He's jamming me, Hawk," shouted the pilot. "No idea how. But my monitors were off. We're leaving!"

"Not so fast," Gromov stepped in. "We'll proceed as you suggested before, gentlemen. The obsolete piece of junk you're flying might impress Luciano, but not me. The model FI-21 has no countermeasures against the Q-Field."

"Q-Field? You have a Q-Field generator?"

Gromov shook his head: "How can a humble space merchant have the SF top-secret technology? You seem to misunderstand something. I've never said that."

The ambiguous statement meant either that the freight ship had no Q-Field generator, or Gromov was no humble space merchant. After the demonstration of his jamming capability, Gromov was sure they would come to the latter conclusion. But it suited him fine as being mistaken for an undercover agent of Space Forces might earn him a greater share of respect than being a mere Luciano's successor.

After a short hesitation, the first pilot announced: "Sir, if you have the Q-Field, we are out. We cannot risk any confrontation."

"Quite the opposite, my friend," Gromov barked. "Q-field would incapacitate the model FI-21 if I had the generator. So I insist you followed the agreed procedure. I'm waiting for your lovely visit. Coffee or tea? Make your choice."

"Sir, why are you doing this?"

"Why? Is finishing my business here convincing enough? As you said yourself, the journey has been long. And the last thing I'd like to do is fly back with my unsold cargo."

"Alright, then. But my colleague will keep a safe distance from your ship. Out of potential Q-Field jamming."

"What is the safe distance in your opinion?" asked Gromov curiously. Q-Field characteristics stayed unknown to the public, so he wondered how the pilot would calculate its reach.

"I have no clue."

"At least you're being honest," Gromov grinned. "Take it easy. I have no intention to start a war here. Our collision course has been adjusted to miss the base. Do you see that?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"So now hurry up and come inspect my crew. You'll find them to your satisfaction. We are a harmless bunch of people."

"Sure, harmless. You scared me to death, sir. Just tell me, how have you recognized the type of our fighters?"

"Only if you tell me how a nameless base has gotten its hands on discarded SF machines."

"This... I'm not allowed to tell."

"My words exactly. So we both should keep our secrets."

"OK. But you made a mistake, sir."

"What mistake?"

"Our base has a name. We call it Paradise. Pretty neat, isn't it? Welcome among angels, sir."