Gromov had several reasons why to dislike Professor Zhutra. The planet on which he grew up was becoming more and more decadent while encouraging the so-called "freedom of education."

The main idea came from the premise that everyone was entitled to the education of one's own choice.

The institutes, such as the Zhutra's University of Enlightened Mind, were offering the enrichment (according to their opinions) of the materialistic world; and the only thing they had in common was the united front against natural sciences, especially mathematics.

Generally not valuable, their graduates created the loudest part of the society; not only obnoxious but often even harmful.

Now one of them made the stupid mistake of smuggling a dangerous object to the ship of the man who did not excel in being tolerant, mainly if the safety was compromised.

With the interest of humanity at stake, Gromov decided to pay meticulous attention to this accident, burning with sadistic pleasure.

A priest to perform an exhausting exorcism, he unlocked his guests' door.

Knock! Knock!

"Oh, it's you? You look like attending a funeral."

With the air of noblewoman having unsolicited visitors, Simone welcomed him like the last man she could have expected. "Come in, then."

"Not necessary. Here you are."

Gromov gave her a sealed envelop. "Take your access card. You have permission to enter the lounge, medical center, and dining room."

"Great! So we are not your prisoners anymore?"

"Yes, the unbearable time of suffering has ended. Make it a story. Tortured and bullied by a perverted tyrant."

"Poor you. Did I hurt your feeling? But wait ..."

Simone tore the envelope open and frowned: "Have you forgotten Khamal? There is only one card inside."

"I would never forget Professured Zhutra," Gromov ensured her. "Don't be ridiculous. In the last hours, he was the only one on my mind. You could say I had a very vivid dream just because of our friend."

Simone kept frowning. "Why not give the card to Khamal? Do you plan to have him locked till the end of our journey?"

"Quite the contrary, Miss Yeuxbleu. I plan to set Professor Zhutra free. Forever!"

Not exactly dimwitted, Simone immediately realized the meaning of Gromov's bleak talk and black suit, followed by the absence of the second card.

"You ..."

There was something gratifying in such a horrified expression. Under normal circumstances, a man would hurry up to dispel her worries, but now, Gromov only watched how that woman's confidence was crumbling apart.

"What do you intend to do with Khamal?"

"Miss Yeuxbleu, what about a little confession? Don't you have anything you'd like to admit?"

"No idea what you want to hear from me."

"Your reluctance makes you a culprit, I guess," Gromov sighed. "Look, beauty. We both are aware of the fact Professor Khamal brought a forbidden item on my ship. The consequences are given and clearly explained. You had agreed to my terms before you embarked on the ship. Even promises given under life-threatening situations need to be honored."

Simone gasped: "You know about the egg? Have you been spying on us?"

Gromov decided not to answer. He ordered instead: "Be so kind and call your partner for me. The moment you warn him or try to refute my order, I'll lock the door and let both of you die slowly of thirst and hunger. No kidding."

"You won't harm him. I won't let you."

Blocking the door with her hands, Simone valiantly defended the fortress.

"Harm him? I would harm both of you if necessary. But you deserve a chance because Professor Zhutra didn't bother to inform you about his mischief. Ready to sacrifice yourself because of that imbecile?"

"Let's speak reasonably, captain." Simone was not able to give up on her condescending tone. "Khamal made a mistake ..."

"And he will pay for the mistake. If you ask me, the wager may seem excessive, but if we speak about an artifact worth millions and one pitiful life, in my estimation worth only of ... Anyway, Professor Zhutra lost his game. I'm sure he'll take the news like a man."

Not convinced, Simone smirked: "Come on, captain. Stop the comedy. Trying to scare us to submission, aren't you? Playing a little mind game? After watching too nasty videos on the Darknet, have you decided to use this godsent opportunity to make one of your own?"

In disbelief, Gromov struggled for words. What was she thinking? Even if he were a labile weirdo, lost in obscene fantasies, did she believe that speaking up like a heroine of popular drama could deter him from taking action?

What was the basis of her confidence? The psychological profile, built on Luciano's dissolute paintings, presence of Doll, or perhaps a haircut and facial features unfitting an unscrupulous beast?

"Together with the famous sleuth," he sighed, "allow me to correct a few of your assumptions. Since you don't take my word for it, perhaps you can check my documents. Take your time."

After she perused the papers, comprised of Gromov's ID, ship contract, and military honors, she paled as if the official writings were more frightening than the massive man in front of her very eyes.

"So-so you are really an SF officer?"

"Ex-officer, to be precise. No matter how you doubt my qualification, rest assured that two weakened passengers are not enough to take me down, especially if one of them exposes vital organs like a dauntless but a bit clueless heroine. Next time, lower the chin and use arms to protect yourself. You'll survive a second longer, given the discrepancy in our strengths."

Even with his limited self-defense training and sparing experience, Gromov was not bluffing. A professional fighter might have beat him up in no time, but Simone Yeuxbleu or Professor Zhutra did not pose a threat.

Not so smug anymore, but still not convinced Gromov had been serious, Simone tried another approach.

"Look, captain, we all make mistakes," she said. "OK, Khamal broke your rules, no excuses, but you should not, I repeat, you should not be so harsh. No one was hurt so far."

"And no one will. Trust me on this, Miss Yeuxbleu. I am very capable of preventing similar accidents. Now be a good girl and call Professor Zhutra for me. Do it in a very casual way. I don't want to hunt a panicking birdie."

"I cannot! I cannot! If I don't warn him, how am I going to live ever after?"

Gromov sneered: "If irritated conscience is your only concern, do not worry. Luciano, the previous owner, bought enough vine to keep you mercifully drunk till the end of our journey."