Researchers from other nations had their movements restricted. The docking ports where they landed, the research areas, and the residential areas were all completely isolated from the Space Station's military forces. They could only see the small landing craft traveling between the Space Station, Earth, and Mars growing increasingly frequent, while heavy landing craft used to transport large equipment often remained docked at ports on the other side for long periods. Yet no one mentioned what cargo those heavy landing craft carried—whenever they tried to learn more, Countess Katarina Karkov of Sicaria would promptly host a dinner party or academic salon, ensuring that life aboard the Space Station would not become too dull. Everyone knew that Countess Katarina Karkov was immensely charming, with an elegant, slender neck and cold, haughty green eyes. Yet she was not unpleasant; rather, that proud bearing drew many people to her. Even researchers truly devoted to academia found themselves completely wrapped around Countess Katarina Karkov's finger by her vast store of knowledge, effortlessly ornate rhetoric, and teasing tactics.
In the social circles far from Earth, Countess Katarina Karkov had indisputably become the central figure of the academic salons. She heard the researchers' new ideas, discoveries, and problems, while also taking note of certain less pleasant individuals. "I am not your subordinate, Agent Romanoff." Countess Katarina Karkov gritted her teeth, stressing the word "Agent." She viciously tore a page from her notebook and slapped it into Agent Romanoff's hand. "They are all freaks. If possible, just bring me the visitor list directly."
"I am not your superior, Countess. If you are unwilling, you may abandon this assignment." Natasha Romanoff spoke lightly. She briefly scanned the list Countess Katarina Karkov had provided, along with what the people on it had said, then handed the sheet back. "No