Castellan Andred stared down sternly at the body of Parillon, who had been pleasantly alive in the courtroom, opposing him in a legal matter, only a quarter-cycle previously.

"How often does something like this happen on Gallifrey?" Devon asked.

"Never, until you lot arrived," Andred said darkly. "Vacate this room and wait for me in the outer landing."

The Doctor nodded for Devon and Danziger to go on but he stayed behind and keyed a locking code into the door, leaving him alone with the Castellan and a corpse. "Andred," he said. "Why don't you tell me what's going on? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Andred's only response was to turn around and level his staser between the Doctor's eyes from a distance of three meters. "I believe I gave you an order," he said.

"Oh, Andred," the Doctor said sadly. "That's not the way to solve anything. What's come over-"

The staser blast nicked the Doctor's right ear.

"I won't warn you again, Doctor," Andred said. "Leave this room. Now."

The Doctor's eyes bore down upon Andred like fire and stone, saying to the Castellan more than words ever could. Andred got the impression the Doctor could see through his soul like crystal. He gulped once, but the hand holding the gun never wavered.

"Very, well, Castellan Andred," the Doctor said quietly. "I will do as you ask." He slowly turned, unlocked the door and left without another word.

 

"Why didn't Parillon regenerate, Doctor?" Devon quietly asked. More guards rushed past as she spoke, heading for Parillon's office. They were led by Captain Harrigan, who gave them a scowl as he went past. Danziger could tell immediately that the captain was a man who didn't like aliens.

It was ironic, Danziger mused, that he knew how he felt. But it certainly felt different to be on the receiving end.

"I don't know," the Doctor replied. "As you heard Romana say last night, regeneration isn't a guarantee. Also, some Gallifreyan weapons are designed to cause total death. I'm sure the investigation will find that out shortly, although I doubt they'll find out anything else."

"How hard can it be for a race of time travelers to investigate a murder?" Danziger asked.

"We can't use time travel here on Gallifrey," the Doctor said.

"What?" Danziger asked. "Here? On your own planet? Why not?"

"I'm sure you can understand the complications involved in using time travel to discover things about your own future," the Doctor said. Danziger nodded. "Also, there are many complications involved with using time travel to revisit your own past. It causes paradoxes, and if you do it too many times, the Blinovitch Limitation Effect kicks in and fifth-dimensional space begins to harden. The time vortex can be a delicate thing, and we are not the Lords of Time in name only. We have a pledge to protect the time vortex, and universal causality, to the best of our ability. That's why I'm on trial.

"The path a single person takes throughout the space/time continuum is known as a time stream. But it's not just people who can have time streams. Races can have them, too. Entire civilizations. So you can think of all of Time Lord civilization as a single, living entity. We cannot use time travel to know our own future as a people. To do so would cause irreparable damage to the continuum. Also, we cannot use time travel to visit our own past. There are many legends and myths which shroud our ancient history, but we cannot use time travel to find out about our own origins. We have to use conventional methods like anyone else. It's ironic, but it's true: we can use time travel to observe and learn about any people in the universe except ourselves.

"For that same reason, we cannot use time travel to investigate a murder. We walked into a room and discovered the body. The moment we did that, that room at that moment became a part of our time streams. We cannot, and must not, attempt to use time travel to observe what happened before we arrived. We can only investigate this crime like it was any other."

"Well, I guess it's nice to know you Time Lords don't have truly God-like powers," Devon said. "Although I didn't catch most of what you just said."

"I think I caught even less," Danziger muttered.

"Just trust me that it can't be done," the Doctor said.

Castellan Andred rejoined them and said, "I want to speak to all three of you."

"Hold on a minute," Danziger said. "You're the same guy who wants the Doctor's head on a platter in the courtroom! Why should we talk to you? Are you the chief legal prosecutor or the head constable around here?"

"I am both!" Andred snapped.

The Doctor quickly jumped in. "The Castellan's office is in charge of all legal matters, as well as citadel security. The two go hand in hand. Parillon was my defense counsel and a valued member of Andred's staff. Parillon was battling his own superior in the courtroom, back there. Andred is an old and dear friend of mine who helped Leela and myself fight off the Sontaran invasion, back when he was just a Citadel Guard, even though he now wants to prosecute me to my death. And now we all have to act like friends while we sort out Parillon's murder. Clear?" He suddenly turned back to Andred. "I take it you didn't discover a thing."

Andred just scowled. "And what would you know about that?"

"Oh, I just guessed," the Doctor said mysteriously. "I would imagine you have a lot on your mind and you probably aren't able to pay full attention to your duties very much, nowadays, what with Leela having a child, soon. How has Leela been doing lately, anyway?"

"I'll thank you to keep out of my private life," the Castellan said icily.

"Oh, absolutely," the Doctor agreed with a mock severity. "Leela and I only traveled together for many years. You know, I saved her life on a few occasions. The first time was within five minutes of meeting her. She was kind enough to return the favor every now and then. If you love her, and appreciate the fact that you have her with you, then you could just show me a little more respect than you have been, lately. It would make things so much easier."

To Devon and Danziger's astonishment, Andred's face twitched and his jaw was clamped shut as he fought to hold back tears. "I ask you again, Doctor," he said quietly, and this time there were no gruff demands, only an impotent pleading. "Please keep out of my private life."

The Doctor nodded. "Forgive me, Andred. But I do wish you would talk to me."

"I can't."

"Very well. Then forget I mentioned it. You wanted to talk to us about Parillon's murder, yes? What did you find out?"

"Nothing," he snapped, the mask over his emotions slamming shut. "Just as you said. How could you have known that?"

"Because your training in detective work and forensic analysis probably consisted of a one-day course a couple of centuries ago which you don't even remember." The Doctor turned to Devon. "Do you remember why Ulysses's immune system back on the stations didn't work too well?"

Devon was caught off guard by the sudden change of topic. "Well...it was because the stations were sterile," she said. "There were actually many reasons for the Syndrome, all of them working together. But one of its main causes was that the stations were so clean of diseases that more and more children were being born without any immunities. So on the rare occasion a virus sneaked through the system, they were unable to cope with it."

"Unable to cope," the Doctor said, and turned back to Andred. "Do you see a parallel, here?"

"No," Andred said.

"Unable to cope!" the Doctor shouted. "How often does a murder happen here on Gallifrey? Once a millenium? Twice, if you're really having a rowdy time? Crime is a disease, Andred. And just like Ms. Adair's son, when that disease is taken away, the immunity system breaks down and is unable to cope when that disease finally chooses to strike!"

"Doctor, I assure you I know how to conduct a murder investigation!" Andred snapped.

"You do? Tell me then, did you realize the murderer probably used a transmat device to enter Parillon's office?"

"I saw no evidence of that," Andred stated.

"I did," the Doctor said. "Parillon was transcribing something. It was a ceremonial document, the kind we still keep on parchment. One hand was on the parchment he was reading, holding his place so wouldn't lose it as his eyes kept glancing at the other parchment on which he was writing. His other hand still held his stylus.

"Now, that is not the position or activity of someone who is carrying on a conversation with someone else. It's the position and activity of someone who is alone. Whoever killed Parillon was there unannounced. It wasn't someone who walked through the door, chatted with him about the weather and then shot him. It was someone who sneaked into his office and shot him in the back. Parillon only had enough time to be surprised before he died.

"So if we assume that the murderer was there in secret, he could only have gotten behind Parillon via a TARDIS or a transmat device because Parillon's desk faces the door. But a TARDIS takes several seconds to materialize and is quite noisy. So a transmat device it is. Do you follow my logic so far?"

Andred nodded slowly. "Yes...yes, I do."

"Good man!" the Doctor clapped him on the shoulder. "You take it from there and let me know what you come up with. The document Parillon was transcribing might also be important."

"In what way?" Andred asked.

"No one killed Parillon for kicks," the Doctor replied. "It was for a reason. The chances are high he was killed because he found out something he shouldn't have."

Danziger spoke up. "If he did find out something he shouldn't have, it would have had to have been after your hearing, or else he would have mentioned it while we were in there. But your hearing only ended about 20 minutes ago! What could he have discovered in that time?"

Devon spoke up. "It would also mean that whoever killed Parillon knew that he'd discovered something new, even though Parillon hardly spoke to anybody on his way out."

"Your reasoning is sound, Devon," the Doctor nodded, then looked at Andred. "It would be a very good idea to see if you can account for every second of Parillon's movements after he left the courtroom and with whom he spoke. It would also be a good idea to find President Romana and inform her of the situation."

"I...will follow your advice, Doctor," Andred said. "In the meantime, I would appreciate it if the three of you were to return to your rooms in the palace. I might need you again later."

"We'll do that," the Doctor said.

 

The three of them strolled through the city towards the palace, still talking about Parillon's murder.

"Romana was right," Devon said. "There is something more going on than just your trial."

"Yes, I think that's been established beyond all doubt, now," the Doctor agreed. "I seem to be the subject of some type of conspiracy. I'd be flattered if it weren't so dangerous. I suspect Parillon was on the verge of finding something to clear me, doing his job too well for someone's liking."

"How many enemies do you have, Doctor?" Devon asked.

The Doctor stopped dead in his tracks, looking at the ground without blinking or moving. Three seconds later he said, "About 500. Give or take a few." He started walking again.

"Yeah, but how many of them could do this?" Danziger asked. "Somebody wants you hurt. It's more personal than putting a bullet through your skull from a hundred meters. Someone wants you to suffer, and whoever it is is here on Gallifrey and can move around without any problem. How many of your enemies fit that description?"

"Not many," the Doctor replied quietly. "You've just narrowed it down to a chosen few." Then he suddenly brightened up. "Of course, it could be someone completely new!"

Danziger just sighed and shook his head.

"Doctor, are the Time Lords as powerless to face this as you say they are?" Devon asked.

The Doctor thought for a moment before answering carefully. "I'm not sure. I wouldn't think they could, but one thing I've learned in my travels is that anyone, anyone at all, can surprise you.

"The Time Lords are one of the oldest races in the universe. We began to evolve from the sludge when the galaxy was still coalescing from the Big Bang. That's why we're so superior in our technological development and mental abilities. But the downside to that is, in many ways, Time Lord civilization has come to a screeching halt because there's so little left to discover. Or so they think.

"One of the rules of life is that you either grow or die. There is no in between. But you see all this?" The Doctor spread his arms wide at the city around them. "This is a people who are trying to fight that rule, to prove that there can be an in-between state, where there is neither growth nor death. Lords of Time, indeed." He shook his head sadly. "Lords of Stagnation, I say. A society hidden beneath a protective barrier, unwilling to come out and play with the other races because they're not as advanced. Isolated inside an arrogant bubble."

The Doctor turned to Devon. "The Time Lords have their own version of the Syndrome. Rassilon set up Time Lord society and ensured our place at the top of the universal ladder. He provided for us very well. So well, in fact, that he strangled us. He didn't leave any challenges left for the ones who came after him. Like an overprotective parent, he gave us time travel, a transduction barrier, and the most sterile, boring, unchanging place in the cosmos. And just like a child who is overprotected, the result is not very pretty.

"People need a lack of protection. People need to be challenged, threatened, frightened every once in a while. Every so often, people need to fight for their freedom, to defend what they have. If not against an enemy, then at least against the forces of nature, or atrophy. Otherwise, no one would know what they have. No one would grow. No one would learn. People need a little dirt on their hands, just like children on space stations need a few germs inside them to keep the immune system strong and healthy.

"It's one of the oldest paradoxes in the universe: bad things have to exist in order for good things to come about. No light can ever exist unless the darkness is there for it to shine against."

He walked on towards the palace sadly. Devon and Danziger followed him again. "But like I said, anyone can be surprising. Andred has a good head on his shoulders and he may come through."

"He's the key to this, isn't he, Doctor?" Devon asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I just wish he would talk to me. I assure you that he is not acting anything like himself. He really is a good friend of mine."

They walked on for several more minutes in silence, then Devon said, "Um...John, would you mind going on ahead? I need to ask the Doctor something."

Danziger was surprised, wondering what it was Devon could talk to the Doctor about that she couldn't ask him. But he tried to hide his slighted feelings as best as he could. "Sure. Yeah, Adair, I'll...just go find the others. They need to know what happened, anyway."

"Thank you," Devon said, and he walked on. She stood in silence with the Doctor for a minute, wondering what to say. The Doctor could see she was agitated about something.

"Here, Devon, sit down," he offered, motioning to a bench further on which faced a small park with a pretty stream winding through it. They sat down.

"Doctor," she said. "What exactly is the penalty for meeting yourself on the dream plane, and why is it so important not to do it?"

"You're worried about Ulysses, aren't you?" he asked. "That's why you wanted to talk with Parillon."

Devon collapsed with relief, amazed again that the Doctor could read her so easily. "Yes," she said. "I'm scared out of my mind. When I was visited by an older Ulysses in my dreams, I can remember him coming into the biodome and looking at little Uly, lying asleep on his bunk. Doctor, my son met himself on the dream plane, just like you did!" She looked at him, fear in her eyes. "What's going to happen to him?"

The Doctor just smiled. "Nothing, Devon. Gallifreyan laws only apply to Gallifreyans."

"Are you sure?" Devon asked. "Some of the things Romana said still worry me. She said the CIA seeks out anyone else who can travel in time and deals with them somehow, so they can maintain their monopoly. It's very frightening. The Time Lords seem quite capable of doing whatever they want to do, and from what I've seen, they wouldn't really care who else got in their way. What if someone on the High Council takes notice of the dream plane and considers it a threat somehow? And who set up the race of people here on Gallifrey to be the Lords of Time, anyway? I mean, do you have a charter from God, or something? By whose authority does the High Council intervene? And what if they decide, from some lofty moral high ground, that Ulysses broke some cosmic law by meeting himself and they try to take him away from me?"

"Devon, I think you've been through so much you're starting to get paranoid. Not everyone you meet has it in for you. Some of them just have it in for me."

"That's not funny."

"No. I'm sorry, you're right, it's not. But I assure you, Devon, you are worrying for no reason. I still don't know how the Time Lords found out about my little meeting, but it involves Reilly somehow, and my status as a Time Lord. They don't know about Ulysses. They don't even know his name.

"You no doubt heard in the courtroom that I've crossed my own time stream twice before. Well, there have actually been seven times that I've crossed my own time stream, including my meeting on the dream plane. The Time Lords aren't omnipotent or they would know about all of them. And we're not entirely evil. We're just as fallible as everyone else, that's all. And as I've said before, this transgression is so minor it would have been easily overlooked. My meeting on the dream plane is being used as a very lame excuse by someone who wanted me back here on Gallifrey and couldn't be bothered to just ask me to come home nicely." The Doctor thought for a moment, then smiled brightly. "Besides, little Uly was asleep! So it doesn't apply anyway!"

Devon appeared comforted by the Doctor's words but she still wasn't entirely convinced. "I'm not paranoid, Doctor. Just realistic."

"Okay, Mr. Danziger," the Doctor said.

Devon just glared at him. "That's not fair!"

"Oh, isn't it? I heard from the others when I was on G889 how you repeatedly approached the Terrians when no one else would. How you believed in them. How you looked to their good nature. How you rushed into the tunnels to bargain for Yale's life. How you single-handedly talked Danziger out of starting a war, even though it might have meant getting Yale back, but at too great a cost.

"Where is that Devon Adair?" he whispered. "I'd very much like to meet her. You have her face, but you're cynical, believing everyone means you harm. I'm glad you only showed up recently. If you'd shown up earlier, the Terrians might have had their war after all."

Devon just smiled weakly. "I guess Reilly showing up today rattled me more than I thought."

"I have no doubt. But don't let it affect you. When you feel paranoid, life becomes meaningless and you lose the ability to enjoy it. Besides, I've got a lot of experience at meeting old enemies in the oddest places. It happens more than you think."

"Only to comic book superheroes and Time Lords like you," Devon said with a smile. Then she asked, "Why would your Time Lord status hold just as much power on the dream plane as my son? Can you tell me that?"

The Doctor took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It would be easier to show you," he said.

 

"Please tell Director Ferain that I'm here to see him."

The man seated behind the huge desk just looked up at Romana with disdain. Behind him, a bay window looked out over Crystal Plaza, behind the palace. "Director Ferain is very busy," he said. "He does-"

"Tell Director Ferain that the Lady President will see him now."

The man said, "Sir, President Romanadvoratrelundar to see you." He said this without moving, but Romana knew he had given the computer a telepathic command to open a comm link into Ferain's office before speaking. In fact, the comm link had probably been open the entire time.

"Send her in," she heard Ferain say, but Romana didn't wait to be told.

"Have a seat, Lady President," Ferain said smoothly as she strode boldly through the double-doors into his office. Contrary to what his aide had just told her, Ferain didn't look busy in the slightest. "Tell me, what have you to barter with this time?"

"You were expecting me?" Romana asked as she sat down.

"Of course," Ferain answered. "I knew you'd be desperate as soon as you heard of Parillon's murder."

"Don't get full of yourself," Romana warned him. "Just because I'm here doesn't mean we'll have a deal when I leave."

"Of course we will," Ferain answered. "What puzzles me is why you'd bother."

"You're a resource," Romana answered coldly. "I'll use you as I see fit."

"Hypocrite!" Ferain sneered, leaning forward in his chair suddenly, all pretense melted away. "We're evil for interfering, but only when it doesn't serve your cause!"

"Name your price."

They locked eyes and Ferain slowly sat back. "The Celestial Intervention Agency isn't a mercenary group for hire."

"Name – your – price!"

He smirked. "Abdicate the Presidency and name me as your successor."

Romana gasped. Not even she had been prepared for that.

"What, too high?" Ferain sneered. "You thought I was going to settle for a measly 'Leave us alone for a few more years?' Let's see how much you really care about the Doctor." He leaned forward and spoke slowly, rubbing it in. "Let's see just how much he's worth to you."

"He's worth it, and more," Romana said. "But it's not worth whatever useless information you have. And if you prove to me that you have any worthwhile information at all, I'll give you the Presidency right now."

Ferain rubbed his fingers together, contemplating them. She had called his bluff. "What do you want?" he finally asked.

"I know you have your agents and your network already out there, trying to find out who's behind this," Romana said. "And I know that you haven't found out anything yet or you would have come to see me by now to gloat."

"You're not answering my question."

"I want to be included in your network," she said. "Whatever you or the agency find out, you share it with me instantly. You keep me informed of anything and everything you discover."

"And you'll give me the Presidency for that?" Ferain scoffed.

"No," Romana said. "I'm not going to give you anything. Not for that alone. What I give you will be of a worth in direct proportion to whatever information you give me. The better the information, the better the deal."

Ferain sat still and licked his lips, breathless with anticipation. "And if I give you vital information?" he asked. "If I provide you with the clue which leads you to your mysterious enemy and solves your puzzle?"

Romana took a deep breath. "Then you can have the Presidency."

Ferain looked at her. "You'll abdicate, and name me as your successor?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Liar!" Ferain shouted, standing up. "As the President, all you have to do is pardon him right now and he walks away from all this! You'd never hand over the Presidency while you've got an escape clause like that! So why are you in here making deals with me?"

"You wouldn't understand," Romana said, and instead of yelling back, her voice was full of pity. "I don't think you ever will."

Ferain stared at her for a long, long time, and then sat down. "All right," he said. "It's a deal."

They crooked fingers over it.

 

"You have heard the charge against you, that you have repeatedly broken our most important law of non-interference in the affairs of other planets. What have you to say? Do you admit these actions?"

"I not only admit them, I am proud of them! While you have been content merely to observe the evil in the galaxy, I have been fighting against it!"

Morgan watched the screen in fascination. It was a recording of a trial which had taken place many centuries earlier, and it was a lot different from the one he'd seen today. There were no spectators. There was only an accused man looking up at a tribunal in a dark room. Of the tribunal, the man in the middle did most of the talking, speaking for it. The accused was a little man with a mop of dark hair, a bow tie, checked trousers, and an overcoat with a ratty handkerchief tucked into the lapel.

It was the Doctor, in his second incarnation.

"It is not we who are on trial, here, Doctor," the tribunal said. "It is you."

"No, no, of course. You're above criticism aren't you?" the Doctor retorted.

"Do you admit that these actions were justified?"

"Yes, of course I do! Give me a thought-channel and I'll show you some of the evils I've been fighting against!"

One member of the tribunal nodded to another and a large screen behind the Doctor came to life, presumably showing images directly from the Doctor's brain. Morgan wondered just what kind of mental powers the Time Lords had.

"The Quarks!" the Doctor said, as a machine creature appeared on the monitor. "Deadly robot servants of the cruel Dominators! They tried to enslave a peace-loving race! Then there were the Yeti!" An abominable snowman filled the screen. "More robot killers, instruments of an alien intelligence who tried to take over the planet Earth!"

"All this is entirely irrelevant," the tribunal said.

"You asked me to justify my actions. I am doing so!" the Doctor protested. "Let me show you the Ice Warriors! Cruel Martian invaders! They tried to conquer the Earth, too! So did the Cybermen – half creature, half machine!" The images on the screen changed as the Doctor spoke. Then an image appeared which Morgan had actually seen pictures of before – a metal creature, conical in shape, with a domed top, a single arm, and a gun. "But worst of all were the Daleks," the Doctor said. "A pitiless race of conquerors exterminating all who came up against them!"

The Doctor turned his wrath on the tribunal as the screen behind him faded. "All these evils I have fought, while you have done nothing but observe! True, I am guilty of interference – just as you are guilty of failing to use your great powers to help those in need!"

"Is this all you have to say?" the tribunal asked.

"Well isn't it enough?"

"Your defense has been heard and will be carefully considered. But you have raised difficult issues. We require time to think about them. You will be recalled when we have made our decision."

Morgan blinked as the recording paused briefly. It continued again at the point where the trial resumed.

"Doctor, we have accepted your plea that there is evil in the universe that must be fought, and that you still have a part to play in that battle," the tribunal said.

"What?" the Doctor asked in wonder. "You mean...you're going to let me go free?"

The members of the tribunal gave each other knowing looks, as if sharing a secret joke. The one in the middle said, "Not entirely. We have noted your particular interest in the planet Earth. The frequency of your visits must have given you special knowledge of that world and its problems."

"Yes, I suppose that's true," the Doctor said. "Earth seems more vulnerable than others, yes."

"For that reason, you will be sent back to that planet."

"Oh...good."

"In exile."

"In exile?"

"You will be sent to Earth in the 20th century, and will remain there for as long as we deem proper. And for that period, the secret of the TARDIS will be taken from you."

"But you- you can't condemn me to exile on one primitive planet, in one century in time!" the Doctor protested. "Besides, I- I'm known on the Earth. It might be awkward for me."

"Your appearance has changed before, it will change again," the tribunal said, "and that is part of the sentence."

"You can't just change what I look like without consulting me!" the Doctor stormed.

"Pause recording," Morgan said, freezing the Doctor in mid-tirade. He then scanned down the reference list he'd found earlier and said, "Computer, give me trial number 49268."

The computer screen switched to another courtroom, more brightly lit and more populated than the last, though still not anything like what they had been in today. Morgan noted with interest that the judge, however, was the same one who was presiding over the Doctor's current trial.

This courtroom was dominated by a large screen, hanging high on the wall behind the judge. It showed a man with a neatly trimmed beard and moustache, dressed in black, looking down on everyone else. A summary notation on the right side of the terminal mentioned that this man was the Master.

On the left side of the courtroom, staring up at the Master, was a man who could only have been the Doctor. The notation mentioned that this was the sixth Doctor, on trial for his life.

As far as Morgan could see, his only crime was his dress sense. This incarnation of the Doctor was a big man, with curly blonde hair and a garishly multicolored coat which made Morgan's eyes hurt. It looked as if someone had been using the Doctor for paintball practice, but as far as he could see, the coat was intentional. He also wore yellow trousers with black stripes, orange shoes, green spats, and a blue bow tie with white polka dots.

No matter how often the Doctor regenerated, he was never hard to spot.

The Time Lord was evidently angry about something, because he stood up slowly and spoke to the court in complete outrage.

"In all my travelings throughout the universe, I have battled against evil, against power-mad conspirators. I should have stayed here! The oldest civilization – decadent, degenerate and rotten to the core! Ha! Power-mad conspirators – Daleks, Sontarans, Cybermen – they're still in the nursery compared to us! Ten million years of absolute power! That's what it takes to be really corrupt!"

The image froze again.

Confused, Morgan said, "Computer, play recording."

A pleasant voice came from a speaker beside the terminal. "The remainder of this recording is restricted to members of the High Council."

"Hmm," Morgan said, switching the terminal off. He had come back to his room to peruse the legal archives, telling Bess to go ahead and enjoy herself with the others. He had wanted to take advantage of the Time Lords' vast library of information – and to get away from the incessant questions of True and Ulysses. Now he just stared at a blank screen with nothing but the absolute silence of the room to hear him think.

Then an idea struck him.

It was a wonderfully wicked idea. His stomach churned at the thought.

He reactivated the machine. "Um...computer," he said, whispering close to the terminal, as if afraid he would be overheard by someone. "Uh, retrieve information pertaining to Earth colony world G889."

The screen lit up with several pages of information about G889 and Morgan smiled. It was an encyclopedic entry about his planet. It gave galactic coordinates, basic information about its orbit and mass, and its physical makeup. It talked about the Terrians and the Grendlers, the metaphysical plane which permeated the planet, and the fact that it had been colonized by humans circa Earth year 2190, mostly by exiled criminals. The report ended there.

"Computer," Morgan whispered, excitement tingling all over him. He leaned still closer to the screen, as if afraid someone would see what he was doing. "Retrieve all records about G889 after Earth year 2200!" He grinned in anticipation. To know the future of G889! He was going to be so rich! He was certain it hadn't occurred to anyone else to do this!

"That information is restricted, Morgan Martin," the computer said loudly, right next to his ear. He yelped and jumped back, his hand clutching his chest to still his beating heart. "Do not attempt to access time-sensitive documents again. Four one eight two." Beep.

The door opened.

"Ah!" Morgan shouted, whirling around.

"Morgan?" Bess asked, looking at him curiously. "Are you all right?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, his jaw working up and down. "I was, um...just, um...doing some...investigating. You're back early."

"Parillon's dead," Bess said glumly, giving him a look that meant there was trouble ahead.

"Dead?" Morgan asked, his investigations forgotten. "As in, dead dead? Wh...how can he be dead?"

Julia and Alonzo walked into the suite behind her. They were followed in turn by Baines and Cameron. Then Yale. Then Zero. Then True and Ulysses. Morgan watched in amazement as every member of Eden Advance except for Devon came through the door. Leela, Konran and Savil also joined them.

"I invited them all here because we decided we needed to have a meeting," Bess said. "Well don't just sit there, honey! Get them all a drink!"

"Uh, yeah, um..."

"Now, Morgan!"

"Okay."

"So how did Parillon die?" Alonzo asked as they all found a place to sit.

"Was he really murdered?" Magus asked.

"It seems so," someone said from the doorway. Everyone in the room looked up to find two of the Citadel Guard standing there.

One of the guards said, "We are looking for Mr. John Danziger, Ms. Devon Adair, and the Doctor. There are a few more questions we need to ask."

"Well, I'm here," Danziger said. "I don't know where Devon and the Doctor are. I left them talking alone a couple of hours ago."

"And what did you do after leaving their company?" the first guard asked.

"I found Magus, Denner and Mazatl and I told them what happened. We rounded everyone up and came back here. Look, what's this all about?"

"What it's all about," the second guard said calmly, "is that we need you to give us a reason to believe you didn't kill Parillon."

The others could only stare in astonishment.