The inner door of the airlock opened. The three men in space-suits walked across the ceiling and down the bulkhead to the deck. Jak saluted the faces almost invisible behind colored glass and made gestures asking the visitors to remove their helmets. One of the men turned and clanked off along the narrow passage. Another unsealed and removed the helmet of the tall man who seemed to be the leader. Drusilla actually blushed and giggled. Jak, who considered himself above petty embarrassment, felt rather ashamed himself, for the visitor had never had his facial hair removed. It grew profusely in a disgusting fringe between nose and upper lip and formed a horrid black triangle on the point of his chin. Jak rubbed a shaking hand over his own smooth cheeks and shaven head and stammered, "Welcome to the--the Box. How's your hobby? I--I am Jak SP345O926O, and this is Drusilla GW414249834. How may we help?" The man with the hairy lip paid little attention to the traditional greeting, nor did he reply. His black eyes smoldered at Drusilla. In a vibrant voice, he purred, "Drusilla, Latin, meaning 'with dewy eyes.' How appropriate! What a rare and sweet old name! I detest these ugly modern names." The eyes flashed to Jak. "I presume your name is a horrid modern one?" Jak, maddened with indignation, snapped, "I told you I'm Jak SP345O926O. Who are you, and how may we help? In about an hour and a half--" "Silence!" shouted the visitor. This brutal direction shocked Jak into acquiescence. An even greater shock stunned him when the other man who had remained in the cabin removed his helmet. This one, Jak decided, must be mentally deficient, or else he would have had a plastidoc treat the red scar tissue covering the left side of his face. Jak could not understand the semicircle of black cloth over the man's left eye. The leader bent his torso toward Drusilla as much as the spacesuit allowed, and said, "My true name and serial number, you shall never know, fair lady; but for practical purposes, I have adopted the name of the most famous pirate of the early Twentieth Century, Earl Flim. You may call me Captain Flim." The third man came back through the passage. He looked ordinary enough, although he had let his hair grow. He reported, "No one else aboard, captain." Flim said, "Excellent, Ger. Destroy all communication apparatus." Ger pulled a wrench from his tool kit and took a preliminary slash at the radio. Completely puzzled, Jak protested, "Wait! What do you mean 'pirate?' Pirate? What--" "Silence!" Flim roared.