After the health checkup was over (with no findings), Hawk remembered to call his partner. Their conversation, intentionally or not, made Gromov wonder if he was listening to a secret language.

"Long live to the one above us," Hawk spoke up to the communicator. "The Angel of Prey speaking. Have mercy pouring upon my head, Ali."

"The Angel of I-am-sick-of-you receives your prayers."

Relieved and angered, the second pilot, who stayed around the freight ship, rebuked Hawk. Then, he continued: "Our Lord is growing impatient. You plume of hellish stench, what have you been doing? You were supposed to report back before thirty minutes. Biting my nails here."

"Sorry about that, Ali," Hawk answered. "Restrain your righteous fury. The divine inspection's done and no fiendish spawns spotted. Alas, my friend! You won't believe what happened."

"Nothing good I presume," the second pilot retorted in obvious disdain. "If you caused any trouble, Our Lord will punish you mightily."

"There is a greater power in the Universe, Ali. Even Our Lord does not rule over the imperative of love and inebriety of men. The lighting of affection intoxicated my humble mortal shell."

"Eh? If Our Lord finds out you were drunk, he will crush you."

Hawk hesitated and glanced at Gromov, standing nearby. Both men were at the medical center, in which Hawk had been scanned and examined. The procedure and lovestruck made Hawk forget about his duties, so now he was reporting back, doing the assessment of the situation in a half-hearted and unapologetic manner. For a good reason, the second pilot was not happy about it.

"Big G," asked Hawk sheepishly, "do you mind if I talked to my friend in private? I'm afraid the scolding will take a while."

"As you wish."

Shrugging, Gromov left the room. On the ship, since the Synthesis, there was no privacy for anyone. Gromov's senses could reach every corner and overhear every conversation. Even the visit to the medical center was not necessary as Gromov's augmented vision could perform the scan and he would get the evaluation from the medical computer.

"Don't spare my insolence, Ali," announced Hawk loudly after he thought he was alone. "Big G has just disappeared."

"Big G?"

"Captain Gromov. He's a nice guy. Don't trust Miriam B's nonsense. Compared to Our Lord, he is like an old, harmless bear. I gave him a nickname and he loves it."

The second pilot sighed: "Our Lord told you to be respectful with the captain. Anything else?"

"Yes, let's switch to our heavenly protocol. Your words of rage should not fall on the ears of the innocent."

With a pious, yet mischievous grin, Hawk manipulated the communication device, setting up the secure channel. To avoid the possibility of being eavesdropped on, he began to send encrypted messages.

"Encoded reprimand? That's a novelty," thought Gromov, contacting Doll mentally. "My dearest daughter, would you mind decoding their chat for me?"

"With utmost pleasure, my dearest father. These primitive maggots and their shallow treachery! How dare they trick you! Those self-proclaimed Angels made my precious sister suffer."

From her tone, Gromov deduced that Doll was furious about Simone's injured lip. When it came to what she considered her family, the android was overprotective.

Instead of correcting Doll that it was him who hit Simone, Gromov focused on the chat between the two men. Surely enough, they had more important business to discuss.

Hawk: TELL OUR LORD, I FOUND NO SIGNS OF FREE TRADERS. BUT THE SHIP IS SUSPICIOUS. I BELIEVE THE HACKER WANTED BY THE ADVANCED NATIONS IS ON BOARD. THE MAN LOOKS HAGGARD. PROBABLY TORTURED?

Ali: AND THE RESCUED?

Hawk: A WOMAN AND A MAN. THE MAN CALLED PROFESSOR ZHUTRA LOOKS LIKE A MILITARY ANALYST. HE MADE NO SECRET ABOUT IT. DOING HIS PAPERS IN FRONT OF ME.

Ali: AND HIS COMPANION?

Hawk: SPORTY FIGURE. SHORT HAIRCUT. AN OPERATIVE. SPECIAL AGENT PERHAPS. ABSURDLY TONED MUSCLES.

Ali: ANY WEAPONS?

Hawk: SEEN NONE. NO MODIFICATIONS ON THE SHIP EITHER. BUT THEY ACT ABNORMALLY. NEVER MET MERCHANTS LIKE THEM BEFORE. EVEN LUCIANO USED TO BE NERVOUS AROUND ME. THESE PEOPLE DO NOT CARE.

Ali: SO WHAT NOW?

Hawk: IF THEY ARE SPACE FORCES, WE CANNOT BLOW UP THEIR UNDERCOVER OPERATION. TELL OUR LORD I SUGGEST CONTINUING AS USUAL. I DOUBT THEY ARE AFTER US.

Ali: WHAT IF THEY COLLUDE WITH FREE TRADERS?

Hawk: FREE TRADERS HATE SF PILOTS. GROMOV WAS PART OF THE SF CLEANING OPERATION AGAINST THEM. THE CHANCES ARE SLIM.

Ali: OK. I WILL INFORM OUR LORD AND LET YOU KNOW OF HIS DECISION. BE CAREFUL. THE ADVANCED NATIONS ARE IN TURMOIL AFTER THE SCANDAL. WE CANNOT AFFORD ANY MISTAKE. GROMOV IS NO ORDINARY CHARACTER.

Hawk: UNDERSTOOD. NOW PLAY WITH ME.

When the transmission ended, Hawk switched to the open channel and kept chatting, bragging about his faithful encounter with Simone. In his description, Simone was the most beautiful woman in the world. Holding nothing back, he indulged himself in rather explicit fantasies that the second pilot commented with non-committal grumbling.

"A bit vulgar, aren't you?"

Not eavesdropping any longer, Gromov concluded that the Paradise base had a remarkable source of information on the Advanced Nations. Not only Hawk knew about Gromov's participation in the eradication of Space Traders, but he was aware of the real Uriah's identity and about the recent AN political earthquake, most likely caused by the disclosure of Uriah's files by Heinrich Schubert.

And the source could not be honorable Cecil Shanks. At the most, that man would only provide some juice tabloid gossip about Gromov. Furthermore, no matter how Heinrich Schubert used the compromising documents, he had no idea who Uriah Uriah was or where those documents originated, nor that the hacker was present on Luciano's freight ship.

Pondering the news, Gromov almost crushed into Simone who waited at the corner of the corridor.

"What happened?" she asked nervously when she saw Gromov's serious face. "Have I...?"

Gromov shook his head. "You haven't harmed him. At least not permanently, my uncontrollable psycho," he grunted. "Hawk's fine and wants to do unspeakable things that involve all organs of your sensitive anatomies. Tongue, lips, nipples, feet, fingers, and labia. You became an object of his pornographic sublimation."

"Putting it this way, it sounds almost disgusting."

"Exactly!" Gromov agreed and sent the transcription of Hawk's secret communication to her tablet. Unfortunately, Simone was not able to connect to the digital facilities of the ship as Gromov or Doll could. "But his erotic indecency is least of my concerns."

Reading from the screen, Simone frowned: "What is it about? Why would they think we are some Space Forces' agents?"

"Skip it. This misunderstanding is what I want them to believe. I was inspired by your diary on that matter. There's no harm if we borrow some respect from my former colleagues. After all, you were kind of a secret agent, anyways. And the best lies are based on truth. Admittedly, our brainwashed Khamal in the role of a military analyst is somehow farstretched. As for Uriah, I have no objection to turning him into a tortured prisoner of conscience."

"Is Uriah really a hacker?" Simone inquired incredulously.

"Yep. And successful at that. Mind you, not skillful or something. He was lucky to break into the Ministry of Defense."

Simone seemed impressed. "Oh! Who would think that? The scandal they were talking about... Is it his work?"

"Partially. If I am not mistaken, the ticking bomb I left behind with one of my friends has exploded."

With clear admiration, Simone hugged Gromov and whispered in his ear: "The Enemy of Humanity isn't a man one should mess with. They must pay the price for offending you."

"Sure, sure. Doll would say so."

Gromov's attention caught Simone's swollen lips. They were almost purple, with traits of dried blood on them. With a sudden reminder of his unfulfilled relationship with Samara, Gromov's desire to continue the game raised.

"Uriah's files were never meant to be an instrument of my revenge," he explained, gently stepping back from her. "If anything, I let those documents with Heinrich Schubert as means of extortion. In fact, I warned him not to cause any major disruption in the status quo."

"Why not?"

"Because of the war with Plantarians."

"Are you disappointed in him?"

"Not really. I guess that seeing the bigger picture would never be the strong point of those who are meddling in politics. I wonder whether Heinrich is crying over the spilled milk now - or he thinks he did the right thing."

"Is he a good friend?" Simone asked with a hint of jealousy that surfaced every time she had been inquiring about people from Gromov's past.

"Call him a random brother in arms. My only friend has already died. If they revive him, the state of Andrey's wrecked mind will be no different from Zhutra's or Uriah's."

"What about Samara, then?"

"The demoness? What's with her?"

Simone avoided his eyes: "I mean the real Samara. The woman after whom our mother has been modeled. Should I call her a random sister in love?"

Gromov hesitated.

"Why not," he added in afterthought. "The real Samara was not special. We were fortunate to meet each other when we were in desperate need of some distraction. Sometimes I suspect our whole affair was a futile attempt to escape from..."

He stopped.

"To escape from what?"

"As for her, I guess she didn't want to marry her fiance. She was too soft-hearted to spend her life with an overly ambitious bulldozer."

"Jeesh! If you are into soft-hearted girls, why have you replaced her with the cruel demoness?"

Gromov smirked. "Isn't it what men usually do? Aren't they dreaming of gentle antelopes, but marrying fierce dragons?"

"With that attitude," remarked Simone, "no wonder you were a romance underachiever. And what kind of distraction was she to you?"

In retrospect, what made Gromov fall in love was the suffering Andrey Jerzinski had been going through. Amused, Andrey enjoyed the show like a vivid spectator, commenting on the recent events with the fervor of someone who was destined to parasite on the lives of other people. Not two but three unhappy people yearned for something refreshingly new.

Gromov once again stared at Simone's swollen lips: "No mystery, my innocent daughter. They call it libido."

"Libido?" exclaimed Simone, partly disappointed and partly elated. "What a shallow excuse! Try it again, please. I'm sooo intrigued!"

"Just bear with it. It's the major reason why living creatures keep procreating. Not a noble motivation I admit, but sufficient enough. Now if you pardon me, I'm going to inform Uriah that there's a warrant on his head. The moron will be gloating that he has finally become a true desperado."

Saying that Gromov left Simone alone in the dim corridor.