Despite a warm welcome, the Paradise base adopted inconspicuous caution when dealing with the incoming freight ship.

A careful observer would not miss armed men, always loitering around any member of Gromov's crew. But the initial wariness wore out quickly. Complaining bitterly to her diary about Gromov's inaction, Simone was enjoying the attention of young Angels, dating them with the zealotry of an adolescent girl, held for too long in the cage of involuntary celibacy.

Disappointed, Hawk found out that his pipe dreams about having the woman vanished in the furious competition. The Paradise base was a mining facility with a very unbalanced ratio between the two sexes; the harsh working conditions preferred males, so Simone had immediately become an idol of lonely hearts who were deprived of erotic interactions for years.

Even Zhutra, released from the harmful influence of Simone's whisperings, revived his lost interest in gender studies, and with the insolency of someone who had never been to asteroid mines, inquired about the shocking sexism that prevent females to participate in such an unthankful and dangerous endeavor.

To Gromov's sheer amusement, no matter how often Zhutra had encountered the miners' reassurance, he would refute the very idea that it was not the malevolent intention of male miners, but rather the unwillingness of women to embark on the journey, full of uncertainly, hard work, and painful deaths.

After several heated debates with Khamal Zhutra, no one believed in his secret identity as a military analyst anymore. Yet, a few jovial miners, probably out of boredom, followed Zhutra's lead and founded an organization called the Establishment of Gender Equality in Mines (EGEM).

However, only its venerable chairman did not understand the sorry fact that he had ended up among pranksters and that no other member of EGEM took the holy crusade seriously.

"The place here is a chauvinistic jungle," confessed Zhutra to Gromov, "but these chaps, even though gems in rough to speak mildly, have the potential to evolve. I'm thinking of staying with them for a while. I contacted the University about the matter and Dean Mobama was very enthusiastic. In her opinion, my return would be premature, given my great opportunity to spread our values among 'savages'."

"Sounds like you'll become a missionary," grunted Gromov, who stood in front of a mirror and had Doll polish his appearance. He was readying himself to meet the chief of the Paradise base, the very man Hawk and Ali called Our Lord. "So your dean is not very fond of having you back, isn't she?"

Zhutra was about to deny the claim, but with surprising honesty, he admitted: "She hinted that the situation was not in my favor. However, the University stands behind me, even though there have been some unpleasant investigations going on. Thankfully, the authority in charge showed an unexpected level of empathy."

"Unexpected level of empathy?"

Gromov had met investigators of space disasters before, so he knew that these officials exercised an "unexpected level of empathy" only if some influential lobby intended to sweep the incident under the rug. However, even with the utmost respect to Professor Zhutra's academic achievements, the man was literary nobody with no significant backers.

Thus, the only plausible culprit behind the scene remained the DOZOR. But why they would let Zhutra stay on the Paradise base instead of pressing Dean Mobama to have Zhutra come back with all of his possible discoveries?

"Doll, what do you think of this black necktie? Isn't it a bit formal? I usually wear it at funerals."

Seemingly uninterested in further conversation, Gromov meticulously inspected his reflection in the mirror.

With pursed lips of a never-satisfied perfectionist, Doll rearranged the shirt collar and chirped: "The black tie is a nefarious omen, Captain Gromov. We should not underestimate its symbolism. A funeral may come sooner than later."

"I concur. We better be prepared... for the funeral. Right, Khamal?"

After Doll had discreetly confirmed his train of thought, Gromov bid farewell to confused Zhutra and left the room.

The renewed activities of Free Traders suggested that DOZOR had not given up on their support. If the Paradise base was Free Traders' next target, DOZOR had a more convenient way of how to deal with the professor and their missing agent.

Since Simone had failed her mission, DOZOR must have realized she was no longer trustworthy. So, the organization dispatched Free Traders to take care of both, hiding two deaths in the usual massacre.

As Doll had implied, the hostile action would occur rather sooner than later, preferably before the freight ship left Paradise. After all, the base was easier to target than a moving object with an undisclosed position.

"Big G, this way."

Hawk, still sulking over his unfulfilled love affair, was appointed to be Gromov's escort.

"I apologize for the uncivilized brute, Captain Gromov."

Ali Ghazali, the second pilot from their first encounter and Hawk's inseparable companion, noticed how their guest's mouth twitched after being called by the nickname.

"I don't particularly mind," lied Gromov. However, to add salt to Hawk's injury, he spoke up: "Ali, you look exceptionally chic. Did you get a haircut?"

Compared to the last time, Ali, a handsome, yet a bit unkempt fellow with bushy eyebrows, disheveled hair, and an absurdly overgrown beard, went through an earth-shattering transformation. With his hair, beard, and eyebrows trimmed, he looked like a model out of a fashion magazine.

"I've invited Miss Yeubleux to a dinner," Ali admitted.

In afterthought, he asked sheepishly for permission: "There's no problem with it, is it?"

"Absolutely not," Gromov beamed and patted Ali's shoulder. "You see, I am fond of Simone. We were stuck together for months and we've developed a father-daughter relationship. And on behalf of her real father, I cannot imagine anyone more suitable to court her than you. You are a serious, well-behaved man who would never hurt my gentle and timid butterfly."

"Thank you, sir. I won't disappoint you, sir."

Seeing his friend getting the father-like approval, Hawk immediately stepped in and asked: "And what about me, Big G? Am I a good match for Simone?"

"You?"

Gromov pretended to think it over.

"You are a splendid pilot, Hawk," he decided. "If I were in Space Forces, I'd try to recruit you for my unit."

Hawk looked perplexed. "I'm honored, Big G, but I was talking about Simone."

"Me too," Gromov confirmed with a devilish grin and winked at Ali.

The moment he did so, he froze on the spot. From behind Ali, the electromagnetic fluctuations, visible only to Gromov, emerged in the shape of a human-like figure. Samara The Demoness was coming, filling the surroundings with her radiant presence.

Dressed in the black-and-red robe of the Queen of Hell, her bluish complexion sharply contrasted with the beige color of the corridor, a flawless object of satanic worshipping.

"My beloved husband," she stated calmly with no traits of sorrow. "I was missing you dearly."

Not responding, Gromov stared back at the apparition. Her sudden appearance took him by surprise. After countless weeks he had not seen the demoness, she came without a warning, a reminder of the perfection he had lost.

With two witnesses around, Samara pickup the safest time to avoid his accusations.

"Bottomless shrewdness or boundless shamelessness," Gromov spoke up wryly. "I wonder which part to admire more, you elusive monster."

While the demoness bore his rant with a smug fox-like expression with an ironical glow in green eyes (faithful to real Samara who had never been moved by his outbursts), Hawk misunderstood and panicked.

"Who told you I was shrewd or shameless?" he cried out. "Someone had to slander me. I'm being serious with Simone, trust me on that."

"Too late," grunted Gromov, watching the demoness coming closer. The scent of roses and warming sensation overwhelmed him, soothing his anger that he forgot about the world and daydreamed of touching Samara's hair, combed up into delicate snake-like patterns.

"I may forgive you," Gromov breathed out, violently keeping his arms along the body. The last remnants of consciousness and abnormal willpower prevented him from embarrassing himself in front of two Angels.

Hawk heaved a sign of relief: "I won't let you down, Big G."

However, Samara shook her head: "My beloved husband, the time has not ripened yet. Our excruciating separation must continue."

And as if in an attempt to change the topic, she scrutinized two other men with disdain. "Are they courting one of our daughters? These fools should know that deserving a princess of darkness comes with a price."

The demoness reached out and buried her sharp nails into Hawk's and Ali's heads. "But since you have approved of them, I shall test their endurance."

Bright sparks were coming out of her fingers and the two men shivered. After that, Samara leaned forward, kissed Gromov's lips, and disappeared.

The bewitched Angels exchanged looks.

"Did you feel that?" they asked in unison.

With the mood below freezing point, Gromov turned to them.

"Feel what?" he asked frostily.

"It was like being touched by a ghost," complained Hawk and Ali added: "I was electrocuted once - and this felt the same. See, my limbs are trembling."

But Gromov did not intend to offer him sympathy.

"Man up, you whiney suitors," he spat the bittersweet aftertaste out of his mouth. Then, forcefully suppressing discontent, he continued: "You've earned my acceptance to pursue Simone. My sincere condolences."

"Did you mean congratulations?"

"No," snorted Gromov. "Condolences is the word. Mainly if she takes after her mother. And let's finish this A.S."

Confused, Ali asked: "A.S?"

"Awkward situation," explained Hawk and added hastily: "Don't ask me how I know it, Ali. Never ever! Okay, Big G, follow us. You shall meet Our Lord now."