In a very civilized yet stiffed manner, Simone called Professor Zhutra out, clapped his shoulders, and wished him good luck. Since she deemed Zhutra going to an execution, Gromov admired her acting skills.

While making a mental note not to trust her, he thanked Simone with a meaningful smile.

"This way, my dear friend," he continued politely and guided Zhutra through the dim corridor.

Not able to read the mood, Professor Zhutra focused on improving their mutual relationship.

"I have to apologize, Captain Gromov," he talked smoothly, with the eloquence of a true diplomat. "After re-thinking all that happened, I must admit we were not in a position to oppose you. Your ship, your rules. I understand why you wrote us off like a thankless bunch. But rest assured that starting now, we'll be the most behaved passengers whoever boarded your ship."

"Hm."

The lack of enthusiasm in Gromov's voice would make a saint cry.

"Are you still angry?" Zhutra inquired. "Please, consider our situation: at the edge and in despair, we were not able to think clearly... And then, you saved us miraculously."

"The most convenient time to complain about me," Gromov mumbled.

"Ah, that... Be so kind and put yourself in our shoes. After we emerged from the tunnel, we were inspected naked like criminals. Experiencing that, I had no idea who you might be, so I thought it appropriate to enact strong borderlines, just in case... Well, I probably don't need to explain what sort of people are space merchants, don't I? You know your own lot, alright?"

"My own lot? I wonder why are you so hellbent on insulting me, professor?"

"No, no, no! No insults, Captain Gromov. According to media, space merchants often operate in grey zones, smuggling goods and trafficking people."

"Those are no grey zones. Both are illegal."

"Exactly. And so my student and I happened to be in the hands of one of them. We were rightfully shocked. Heavily, responsibility rested on my shoulders..."

"...while I was hyped up in my den of sin..."

"Precisely. No, wait! I don't follow you, I am afraid."

"My point is," Gromov rolled his eyes, "that I undertook quite challenging maneuvering to get you out there, risking damaging my ship when approaching yours. Had I made a mistake, we might end up drifting in space forever. Listening to you, I am under the impression I put our lives and business at stake to help you out of unsatisfied lust."

"This is not what I tried...Allow me to explain one more again..."

"No need," Gromov felt relieved they had reached the door of the extraction chamber. "Our pleasant debate ends here. Please, proceed inside. What awaits in there should make you understand how kind a person I am."

"What is it?"

In awe, Zhutra stepped into the empty room. In the center, a wooden closed box was arranged, wrapped neatly into Christmas chains with flickering LED lights.

"Your treasure chest, old chap. Aren't you curious what lies beneath the cover? Hopefully, my decorations suit your taste."

Carefully, Zhutra approached the box, looking like a scary cat, always ready to pull back.

"On and on! It won't explode." Picking pink handcuffs out of his pocket, Gromov cheered.

Suddenly, he stopped in the midst, staring behind Zhutra's head. For a moment, he saw outlines of Samara The Demoness. She seemed to materialize out of thin air, like a transparent ghost trying to break through from another plane of existence.

"What is it, Captain Gromov?"

"A vengeful spirit? Angry I did not marry her?"

"Quit joking."

Solely focused on the chest and oblivious to surroundings, Zhutra mustered his courage and opened the lid.

"My artifact!"

"Delighted?"

Meanwhile, Gromov dismissed the apparition like an illusion. "Did I hit my head recently?" he pondered.

Before she disappeared, Samara said something and gesticulated towards the oval object in Zhutra's possession.

"As you have already realized, Professor Zhutra," Gromov said, rubbing his eyes, "I kept this unidentified object with myself. I am very curious. What is it? A table ornament?"

"Oh, nothing of that sort," Professor Zhutra chuckled, meticulously examining the polished surface of the egg. "It is a very fine instrument, used for quantum calibration. I can give you a very detailed presentation on how it is used, but you'd find it boring. It is a high-tech and valuable thing. It costs thousands. For researchers with a limited grant, this is a fortune."

"Quantum calibration? What does it calibrate? Shroedinger's ambiguity?"

"Yes, exactly, exactly. You are rather knowledgeable."

"There is no Shroedinger's ambiguity in physics I was taught," Gromov informed Zhutra coldly. "So you are sure this is not an item stolen from some ammunition depot you had robbed with your lovely colleague?"

Zhutra hesitated. "No-no, do-don't worry. I have no idea what you are talking about."

"A pity! I was about to forgive you if you didn't lie."

CLICK!

With a loud noise, the Doll's handcuffs locked Zhutra's wrist to the rounded handle of the chest.

"Captain Gromov! What is the meaning of this?"

Gromov did not respond and quickly left the room. Having no faith in the firmness of Doll's toys, he did not want to give Zhutra the chance to fight back.

But the caution was not necessary. It took long minutes before Zhutra understood the situation.

And even so, he stayed chained to the chest like an obedient dog, dragging the load towards the closed doors step by step.

If Gromov was inclined to do so, he could snap a photo and call it: "Too greedy to let money go!" People loved profound mementos, so the picture was guaranteed to achieve virality for a day.

Not minding poor Zhutra anymore, Gromov manually turned left the valve while watching the pressure gauge. The pump switched on, gradually lowering the pressure in the decompression chamber.

The process was deliberately slow, causing the air to leave the room with ominous hissing.

The slow and painful death awaited the man who stayed inside. But he still held the egg, satisfied with their reunion. The euphory began to disappear with dropping pressure.

Gromov decided it was time to proceed with the plan.

"Professor Zhutra," he said, "do you hear me? Do you hear me? Please, nod your head if you understand. I am using the intercom for broadcasting, so you cannot speak to me directly. Fine! I can see you."

Zhutra was pointing frantically at the ventilation holes from which the air was being sucked off.

"Yes, I am aware of it," Gromov acknowledged. "Allow me to officially explain why you are in this situation. If you recall, I forbid you explicitly to bring weapons aboard. Everything dangerous should have stayed behind, and you had agreed to my terms. Was there anything unclear about my intention to punish any transgression?"

Hearing that, Zhutra started explaining his point of view, so Gromov congratulated himself to mute Zhutra's incoming voice.

Seriously, Gromov continued: "Stay informed all our conversations have been recorded and available to authorities, including the proof of the egg's real origin."

After this, Gromov shut off the intercom and set a timer for fifteen minutes. This should be enough for Zhutra to experience an oxygen shortage but not threaten his life.

Meanwhile, Gromov thought of Samara and her demon alter ego. Is the egg somehow related to my hallucinations? If so, what was the purpose of that thing? If rich people were willing to pay millions for it, is it a device that alters the state of one's mind? A technologically advanced substitution for chemical substances?

Letting his fantasy go wild, Gromov imagined an instrument that could make people intoxicated without actually swallowing drugs.

BEEP! BEEP!

Fifteen minutes had passed, so Gromov opened the intercom and checked the situation with his prisoner.

The poor man was lying on the floor, breathing scarcely with closed eyes as in an attempt to save remaining oxygen. The broken pink handcuffs were tossed away together with an improvised treasure chest while the egg stayed unattended in the corner.

"Professor Zhutra?"

"CAPTAIN GROMOV!"

Gromov covered his ears. "You don't need to yell. I can hear you just fine."

"But you said before..."

"It was before. Now we can talk. Are you ready to tell me the truth?"

This time, Zhutra did not hesitate. "Yes, I am. I was waiting hours here, and now I am ready."

"It was mere fifteen minutes."

"I thought I lost consciousness."

"Highly unlikely," Gromov assured him. "But let's skip trifles and get to the main course. I'm all ears, my beloved professor. What's with the egg?"

"Allow me to come out of here first."

"No can do. In my experience, some lighthearted passengers do love to break their promises."

"But I may die here."

"Well, if unfavorable conditions make you focus and shorten your speech, I am more than willing to risk it."

"Do I have your word to let me go afterward?"

"Would you believe it?"

"Of course."

"You are strangely inconsistent in your thinking process. The space merchants are not to be trusted, remember? Anyway, you're running out of time, so stop looking for reassurance. If I wanted you dead, I'd never put my back into saving you and Miss Yeubleux. Now the truth, professor."

With no guarantee given, Zhutra licked his lips and foreshadowed: "I'll make it quick, Captain Gromov. But you should understand the real story may sound a bit vague to you. I cannot provide any evidence."

"Never mind and go on. What is the egg?"

"I really don't know. I can only give you my guesses."

"But you knew the thing was valuable?"

"Yes. Some people would offer a great deal of money to buy it."

"Why?"

"Because of the Emperor in the mask."

"Never heard of that guy. Who is he?"

"Have you heard of the DOZOR, Captain Gromov?"

"Yes, the urban legend. A shady organization behind the AN government. Evil guys in tuxedos if I have to trust the untrustworthy Uriah."

"And here we go!" Zhutra shrugged in comical resignation. "I'm afraid that my explanation, no matter how picturesque you find it, is the only one I can offer. You are not going to believe me, right, if DOZOR and urban legends are involved? How could you believe in such a thing?"

Apparently, Zhutra felt that his words might not be convincing enough. To his rescue, an unexpected phenomenon occurred. Behind him, Samara materialized again, and as if to confirm his words, she nodded towards Gromov.

"This is getting ridiculous," Gromov thought. Samara's body was transparent, but she was there, a reminder he should question his sanity.

"Quite the contrary, professor," he said finally. "Even if I am inclined to dismiss it, I have no problem accepting the fact that you would believe in very irrational nonsense. As I am not your colleague of the Enlightened mind, I do not expect your story to make sense to me."

"Is it so?"

"Yes."

Gromov preferred to sound rude than to admit he saw an inexplicable apparition, especially if Zhutra showed no sign of being aware of that woman.

"In that case, it is easy. I have been studying the Emperor in the mask for years. People of your kind would think he was a myth, but we scientists who have left all our doors open are more susceptible to learning the hidden facts. We found chapters erased from the official history, and we started to ask why!

Of course, my so-called rational colleagues would teach their students about destroyed archives, deleted records, pits of war, and so on.

But I was able to recognize the pattern. After assembling all pieces of puzzles together, our University came to a shocking revelation. We were lied to, Captain Gromov! They lied to us all the time."

"This is not something you needed to study for years," uttered Gromov. "I could tell you as much if you asked me. But humor me. Which lies made you so thrilled?"

"The quantum technologies. Their true origin!"

Gromov glanced at semitransparent Samara whether she would react to the claim, but she listened to Zhutra attentively, not showing any signs of approval or otherwise.

"Please, go on."

As far as he knew, quantum technologies like Q-Fields and their derivatives were often classified. The government of Advanced Nations bragged superiority in the field. The research centers were typically under heavy surveillance, guarded against foreign secret services.

No wonder the popular tabloids came every now and then with new conspiracy theories related to it.

In the Space Forces, many soldiers often led heated discussions. Usually, they bundled Plantarians and the Q-Field together, deducing that the Space Forces had stolen everything from Plantarians, so Plantarians wanted to punish the Advanced Nations and get back their secrets.

Curiously enough, almost no one knew the fact the progress in quantum technologies had made life backups possible.

Thanks to his circumstances, Andrey Jerzinski kept studying the subject to a great extent, in futile hope the more he learned about life backups, the more he could improve his mental state.

Soon he realized the physics and mathematics behind it were so advanced that only a handful of scientists could proceed further on the journey, not to speak about the necessity of having an enormous computing capacity to solve required simulations.

His obsession not only led nowhere, but one day, he earned an unsolicited visit from the special department of the Ministry of Defence. In a very friendly manner, the agents recommended to him to find a less intellectually challenging hobby suited more for an SF Seargent.

Remembering that, Gromov could come to only one conclusion. If Professor Zhutra really dug up anything connected to quantum technologies (and the inexplicable apparition of Samara might indicate as much), they were all royally screwed up.