"Doctor," the Guardian grinned. "Given up running from me so soon?"

Romana turned with a jerk, even more surprised by the identity of her companion than by his presence. "Why are you here?"

"I came to help you," he responded genuinely.

"You willingly put yourself in the power of HIM?" She made no gesture to indicate the antecedent to her last pronoun, but the meaning came through clearly anyway.

"He would have had to come back sooner or later," the voice rasped. "Two residents of this planet have been taken away from home. The Doctor would not have dropped this case until they were returned."

"You're back with Frantec?" Romana queried worriedly.

"Actually, no. Someone on Gallifrey managed to prevent our landing. We found ourselves on a world I hadn't visited for centuries. Only a few decades by their time, however. Frantec's still there. That's when I realized who had set all this up. I had to come back to do what I could to rescue you."

Romana started to speak, but changed her mind, not trusting her voice to hide her emotions.

"Did I say two?" the Black Guardian sneered. "Let's make that three. Hadrian, I believe," he said with affected courtesy.

The young time nomad appeared on Romana's other side. "I was able to follow your trail," he explained. "What is this?" He nodded toward the images which Romana only now noticed had stopped moving.

"You might find this instructive," the voice prompted, to both new visitors. The recording resumed. "Doctor, I know you recognize these people."

The Doctor made no effort to respond; the recording prevented Romana and Hadrian from noticing. Hadrian did not at first find any meaning in the presentation, but as he began to understand, the sheer enormity of the implications captured his attention.

"I believe it's worked," Chancellor Hedin noted needlessly. "Your magnanimous gesture has had exactly the effect I predicted."

"So long as we can prevent any further complications from this issue I believe my victory is assured," Borusa crowed pompously. "Kellner has put his best investigators on the case, and I expect we'll have a full explanation before the election."

"But you kept control of some of the investigation anyway," Hedin said, again needlessly. He led the Cardinal across his laboratory to where his crew and Borusa's two technicians were digging into every detail of the equipment seized from Cordar. Cordar himself watched from between two stern and fully-armed guards. The technicians had fully disassembled every piece of his equipment, had opened and scanned all the data and programs on his computer blocks, and were busy cataloging everything this thorough search revealed.

The Cardinal himself listened carefully as his female technician explained what they knew so far, what they did not know, and what they wanted to hear from Cordar. Borusa, himself a skilled technician, understood quickly and stepped in to interrogate Cordar personally. First he lifted a hand-made circuit board that had been removed from Cordar's messenger.

"Perhaps you could explain why you installed this device with this programming in it?" Borusa asked, also holding up a sheet of paper covered with closely spaced computer symbols.

"Of course," Cordar began. "This is a standard 2292 CPU," he explained, pointing to a black chip on one edge of the board. "The rest of the chips allow it to act as a fairly simple electronic trinary computer. That code," he added, indicating the sheet of paper in the Cardinal's hand, "controls this specially-built device here." Cordar pointed to another black chip, this one only slightly larger.

This chip had the usual electrical connections on three sides, but the fourth side sported a ribbon of crystalline plastic threads held together by a moderately flexible epoxy sheath. It looked like a traditional electronic to fiber-optic conversion chip, but the ribbon merged with what looked like a clear and very short square pyramid.

"This was attached to the side of the messenger," the Cardinal's female technician broke in to explain. "He had the hole covered with a small chameleon field which made it invisible even when in use."

Cordar twitched in confused irritation at the interruption. "That chip has a unique molecular design I invented myself," he bragged unconvincingly. The incoming electrical signals excite these special molecules, causing them to...." He paused for several long seconds before grunting in frustration. "I know what they do," he argued with his brain. "I invented them myself to do just that one thing."

"Yes," the Cardinal prompted patiently.

"The end of the molecule attached between the electrical conductors flexes with each electron passing between them," he explained. "That shortens that end of the molecule slighly, stretching the rest of it," he went on. "The atoms at the end...." He stopped as he had before, unable to force his brain to release the information he sought. "I know what it does," he said. "I invented it specifically to do just that!"

Cordar's mention of invention had sent Borusa's male technician to one of Hedin's data terminals where he accessed the patent database. While Cordar was trying to explain what the chip did, this technician found the record of Cordar's patent application and read the details.

"The atoms at the other end of the molecule respond to this stress by generating time fluctuations that can travel through these crystalline plastic fibers and be projected by this device," the technician laid a finger on the square prism, "to any point within 50 billion light years and 130 teraparsecs."

"Uh, yeah," Cordar mumbled, making it clear that the explanation from the patent database meant even less to him than it did to the technician who had read it with no understanding whatever of the implications. Even Hedin didn't immediately figure out what such a device was capable of doing.

Borusa, however, with his centuries of study and his firm grasp of the theories that formed the foundation of Rassilon's accomplishments made quick work of understanding the molecule, whose structure Hedin's monitor displayed with the rest of the information in the patent database, and the relatively simple 2292 code. "That's what created that 'cube' the Doctor found."

The others in the room, except Cordar, looked at him with respect. Cordar remembered the cube clearly enough, but his expression indicated that he still hadn't worked out how he had created it. This confusion meant little to the others, but the Cardinal thought he knew the reason for it. He just wanted to confirm that the loss of understanding was real, not a fluke instigated by the stress of the interview.

He lifted the printout of one of Cordar's files. "Feed this file into data interpreter 247FJ," he ordered his female technician. She did so and the image of a complex molecular structure appeared on her screen. "I believe this is something you invented and did not patent," he said to Cordar, his tone indicating he expected a response.

"Yes," Cordar responded cooperatively. He did not, however, elaborate.

"Looks like a virus to me," the Cardinal prompted. "Has the power to reproduce itself within one body," he continued, "but no reliable mechanism for spreading itself to another body." Borusa continued to scrutinize the diagram.

Suddenly he grabbed the monitor's controls from his assistant and zoomed in on a short stretch of the DNA code. "What's the purpose of this sequence?"

"Well," Cordar began, drawing on the part of molecular biology he had truly mastered, "over the first thousand or so reproductions it would have no effect. After that this molecular breakdown sequence," he pointed to an even smaller section of the DNA, "would disappear and this sequence," he indicated the rest of the portion Borusa had highlighted, would begin to produce a protein."

So far everyone in the room understood what was happening. But they were not as quick as the Cardinal in determining what protein would be produced and, subsequently, what it might do. Cordar had run into another one of his apparent mental blocks and couldn't recall what he had done.

"This is the virus with which you infected Monatim," Borusa concluded. "You infected him just over a month ago before he had a chance to conduct his portion of your survey of Vorlene's home planet."

"And he's just getting over it today," Hedin predicted, having finally understood something of this extremely technical interrogation.

"Let's check, why don't we," Borusa agreed.

"Returned this morning, healthy as a harrier," Fostil reported when they had reached him on a communication monitor.

"I didn't want to have to share the credit for the discovery," Cordar interrupted. I figured by now I'd have understood their secret and filed a patent on it."

"And this sequence accomplished your purpose in what way?" Borusa asked again.

Cordar continued to stare at the sequence, attempting to rebuild the resulting protein and predict its effect. But the understanding he sought continued to elude him. He accepted Borusa's next question with considerable relief.

"Let's look at some other DNA," Borusa suggested. "Display that file," he commanded his assitant again, pointing to a listing on paper. The technician replaced computer blocks, poked at a few keys, and sat back as a different DNA sequence appeared on her screen.

"How is this sequence," again Borusa zoomed in on a portion of the lengthy coiled molecule, "different from the corresponding portion of the Rassilon Imprimature?"

"The proteins produced here," Cordar began with renewed confidence, "attach themselves to every cell. In the Rassilon Imprimature these proteins respond to fluctuations in the normal flow of time." He decided to stop here and not get into explanations he didn't need for his answer, in order to avoid further embarrasing memory losses. "But these proteins would be different from the ones Rassilon designed in that they would...." In his frustration Cordar tried to whirl around, but the attending guards halted the move sharply.

"...Actually manipulate the normal flow of space-time," Borusa concluded for the interrogee. "It's a modification that occurred to Rassilon at one point during his work; a modification he wisely decided NOT to implement."

Everyone in the room but Cordar turned to stare at Borusa. The implications of the Cardinal's conclusions were clear to everyone except Cordar, who continued to twitch with irritation at his sudden loss of mental acuity. "I believe," Borusa mused with sudden distraction, "That Rassilon still has much to offer his race."

"And I'm sure that in the next few years we will gain much from this exchange of ideas and discoveries," Mary concluded. During the moments afforded by the communication delay her classmates murmured approval rarely granted to a brilliant student. After the delay they compliantly fell silent so they could hear the expected reply. The faces on the visual monitor registered shock rather than approval, however. The child at that end next scheduled to speak hesitated several times while rising from his seat, allowing one of the adults in the room time to reach him and lay a hand on his shoulder in a way that indicated he should not speak.

"Would you repeat that, please?" the computer voice prodded.

Mary looked to the tour guide, who had been engaged in a quiet side conversation with the teacher, preventing both from seeing what the children had seen on the visual monitor. The tour guide nodded and Mary stood and repeated her final sentence.

Meanwhile the guide and the teacher finished their discussion and turned to see the visual monitor. They didn't like what they saw, and when the five-second communication delay had passed after Mary had completed her repetition they both became seriously concerned. The adults on the remote planet were ushering the children from the room, while two others mumbled to each other in quiet words the computer could not translate coherently. The resulting jumble of syllables from the computer voice added an eerie soundtrack to what even Frantec could tell was a rapidly unfolding nightmare.

"We have no need for interference from the likes of you!" the computer suddenly repeated. In just moments the signal died away and randomly-colored dots raced each other around the monitor's face. The computer-generated voice, finding nothing intelligible to translate, fell ominously quiet.

The guide rushed from the room, returning moments later with a clearly unsettled bureaucrat. "We aren't sure what has just happened, but we think it would be best if you returned to your classroom," she announced. The teacher complied with this hinted command and quickly rounded up his charges. Frantec, curious to understand what had happened, and protected by the badge on her blouse, stayed behind, following the guide and the bureaucrat out of the room.

"This can't be true," Romana pleaded, her eyes searching the Doctor's face for any sign of denial.

"I don't remember it exactly that way," he said, "but I have no doubt the rendition we've seen is accurate."

The Black Guardian's presentation faded from before them, and his chilling voice again accosted their eardrums. "Accurate in every detail. You see, Romana, there are evil tendencies in everyone."

"So neither you nor anyone else still alive of your race knew we were here until Cordar found us," Hadrian concluded.

"Certainly, if anyone in power knew of you the scientific corps would have been prevented from learning about you in their survey," the Doctor responded.

Hadrian now accosted the image of the Black Guardian. "Evil as it was," he taunted, "the results for us have not been evil at all."

"The actions of the evil, like the actions of those who thought they were acting for good, do not always have the intended results, as we have seen," the Guardian responded. "The Master's interference on Planet Earth instigated both World War I and World War II. When the Americans developed the atomic bomb, the Master was delighted. But in the end the effect was to frighten the major powers out of ever waging a serious war, and nearly a century of peace followed. The Master's still fuming over that one!"

"They've totally cut off all communications, including the data links," a digital communication specialist reported to the bureaucrat.

"Can I see the last portion of the data transmissions?" she asked.

"I'll have to translate them," the specialist parried.

"Do it then," she commanded.

Frantec stood back. Having never needed to read on her home planet she didn't really understand the concept of communicating meaning through marked symbols, and though her clothing, carefully selected for her from the Doctor's TARDIS wardrobe, compensated for language differences even while the TARDIS was away, it had no power to overcome this barrier. She could only hope someone would read enough of whatever appeared so she could understand what was happening.

"It will take about five minutes for the translation program to convert the last ten seconds of data," the communication expert informed.

Frantec took advantage of the break to do some communicating of her own. She lifted her arms and vanished from the room. The bureaucrat stood silent for a moment, contemplating the wisdom of saying anything. The looks of the faces around her emboldened her. "Did I see what I thought I just saw?"

"You mean that our royal visitor just vanished before our eyes?" an orbital tracking scientist near the back of the room asked. The other people in the room nodded or murmered agreement.

"I think we have more important matters to focus on," their boss suggested, waving her hand to draw the specialist's attention back to the trailing end of the recently-severed communications. He took the hint and went back to his keyboard.

Fergus was holding a conference with his housing advisor when Frantec "barged" in by appearing beside him. The advisor fell over trying to escape, and would have jumped up running if the regent hadn't spoken. "Don't worry, she won't hurt you," he said. Then, to Frantec, "I should have warned you about how you enter this room." Seeing the concern tinged with fright on her features he added. "I gather you have important news."

"Something strange has happened at your planetary communication center," she informed. "The people from the other planet have broken off communication and have refused to respond to anything sent from our side." The housing advisor had no reason to think Frantec's use of the second person plural odd, and Regent Fergus only barely noticed, concentrating as he was on her message.

"I think you should leave," he said to the advisor. She stood and left willingly. "Do you have any idea why they might have done this? Anything that happened just before this cutoff?"

"Some school children from both planets were talking. Suddenly the adults on their end hurried the children out of the room, said something rather nasty, and turned their equipment off."

"Do you remember what the last person on our side said?" the regent asked.

"Yes, they asked her to repeat it." Frantec paused a moment, refreshing her memory. "Something like, 'We expect to gain much from this exchange of information and ideas.'"

"Sounds pretty innocuous to me," Fergus mused. Just then a guard pounded insistently at the door. The regent bumped a button under the table which opened the door. The guard ushered in a breathless messenger.

"Important news, my leige," she intoned.

"Our communications with Smarlon have been cut off," Fergus offered.

The messenger, intent on delivering her news, passed this off as pleasantries and ploughed on into the urgent information. "Less than ten minutes ago a strange incident at the interplanetary communication complex has caused the operators there serious concern. For some reason the Smarlonians have cut off all communication. The crew there is just now attempting to translate their last data transmissions in an attempt to figure out what went wrong."

"They should have that part translated in about two more minutes," Frantec interjected.

This interruption gave the messenger's brain a chance to process the previous conversation. Her eyes opened wide while the rest of her drooped like an underinflated parade balloon. "How could you know? The director contacted me less than a minute ago!"

"I was there when it happened," Frantec revealed. She looked carefully into the regent's face before she continued. "You and your advisors have much to consider," she conceded. "I'll go back and watch what's happening. When there's anything significant to report I'll come back."

Fergus nodded as she spoke, glad for the outside perspective on what could turn out to be a major interplanetary incident. Frantec left as she had come, leaving the messenger even more flustered. The regent paused, considering the impression made by Frantec's simple beauty. "Did she say anything else?" he asked the young woman in front of him.

Thinking he meant Frantec, the messenger could only babble.

"I mean Tonia. Did she say anything else before you dashed in here?"

"Only that she fears the Smarlonians intentions are hostile. Which is odd considering that the speech that preceeded the cutoff was both positive and well delivered."

"The school girl who said we had much to gain from an exchange of information and ideas," Fergus responded.

"Tonia didn't tell me what the girl had said. She only said that she had carefully reviewed a tape of the proceedings and that she had been quite impressed by what the girl had to say."

"Go back out and wait for more," the regent ordered.

"Yes sir," the messenger bowed before leaving.

The surreal nature of the last quarter hour prevented Tonia from taking as much notice as she would have ordinarily when the royal visitor who had vanished several minutes earlier reappeared. The computer communications guru had just begun to read the text of the Smarlonians final data communication.

"They were sending a graphic file which was supposed to show us a technological development of which they are quite proud," he had just noted. "That file was cut off, and these are the last characters they sent.... 'We dare not ignore such an insult. Prepare yourselves.'"

Tonia looked around at her crew. "You've all seen the transaction for yourselves," she challenged. "What might have been misinterpreted as an insult?"

"They asked this Mary to repeat her last sentence. That's when their looks changed, and her repeat caused the drastic reaction we saw, so I would guess there's something in that last sentence." These words were spoken by a young messenger girl who still held undelivered papers in a sweaty hand.

"But the sentence couldn't have been more innocuous!" Tonia puzzled. What could they have possibly taken offense to.

"Maybe a glitch in their translation software," a programmer sitting next to the specialist proposed.

"We've tested the software on both ends for weeks," Tonia countered. "It was working perfectly."

"Nothing works perfectly," Frantec spoke in this arena for the first time.

"It talks," the programmer said. "The phantom talks."

Frantec ignored the snide nature of the comment, and Tonia stared the man into silence. "Where is their planet?"

Tonia turned to ask Frantec more politely for silence, but was silenced herself when her eyes reminded her of the royal medallion.

"Do you have some sort of star chart to show me where Smarlon is?"

"Melissa," Tonia called to the messenger girl. "Take her to the observatory and point out Smarlon. And you," she said to the specialist, "can you show us the portion of that picture file that did get here?"

"The format we've been using is based on interlacing," the specialist said. "So we won't get part of a clear picture. We'll get scattered bits of the whole picture."

"Can you show us?" Tonia insisted.

"Give us a couple of minutes," the specialist requested, gesturing toward the programmer next to him.

Tonia nodded and left the room in the direction of the observatory. There she found Frantec asking the messenger girl for information the poor youth couldn't provide.

"Can this show where your moon is now?" Frantec was asking.

"Yes," Tonia offered, sending the messenger back to her interrupted tasks with a glance. The bureaucrat worked the controls until everything displayed reflected the current astronomic alignment. "That's our sun," she explained, and," working yet another control to cause the display to zoom through the simulated expanse, "here's Smarlon."

"That's all I needed," Frantec said gratefully. Already a plan had been developing in her mind, and now she began to act on it by once again vanishing before Tonia's only slightly less astonished eyes.

"Your people are back on your planet," Borusa informed Vorlene. "They did not abandon you. It was Cordar's unwarranted interference that prevented them from really leaving, much less returning for you."

"I just wanted the freedom to explore our new home. New and expecting mothers aren't allowed to join exploratory missions."

The cardinal started to suggest birth control, but decided it might not be an appropriate addition to the conversation. "I think you'll find them quite understanding," he said. "You really should return as soon as possible."

Vorlene looked at him quietly, studying the leather shoulder piece that rose behind his head.

"I can arrange for a fleet TARDIS to take you home. You could be there in minutes."

"There's so much to learn about your world," she nearly begged.

"Actually, the less you know of life here, the better. I am concerned that how much you have seen and learned will so corrupt you that it will forever alter the progress of your tribe."

Vorlene's face asked the questions she couldn't put into words.

Borusa continued his explanation. "You will go back to your people with many ideas based on what you have seen here. Even if you try to put them away, they will probably come out, and some of them may become part of your tribe's culture.

"In the past we have wiped the memories of individuals who, like yourself, have been contaminated by contact with us. We could then return them to their worlds at a point in time just before they came in contact with us. But in your case that wouldn't work. Without consulting us, the Doctor has released your tribe, and to send you back would force us to undo that. That's too major an intervention even for us."

"Why all this fear of interference?" Vorlene asked.

"We have our reasons," the cardinal nodded solemnly. "Right now it appears that sending you home with the limited exposure to the citadel that you have had will be less intrusive than any other option reasonably open to us. Please," he concluded, "for your sake and ours, let us take you home."

"All right," she agreed reluctantly. Less than ten minutes later she stepped through the plain doors of the fleet TARDIS into the orange meadow of her usual home. Her parents were there, conversing with her girlfriend. She hopped over and was soon chattering away as carelessly as ever. Borusa grinned as he waved for his assistant to close the door and take off.

"I have more to show you, Doctor," the Black Guardian chided. "The parts you see from here on I shall wipe from your memory -- making it possible to show you them without altering the course of your life; without it being possible for you to prevent these things from coming true.

"Hadrian, begone!" Without even fading Hadrian vanished from the room. "Hadrian has forgotten the scenes he just saw. Romana, watch closely. While I shall remove your memories also, should you make a decision about staying with the Doctor during this presentation, I shall allow you to remember that decision."

Once again only their sense of touch connected them to their captivity. Apart from that they again seemed to be present with the scenes their captor presented -- participants, even.

"Trakken, I believe;" the deep, icy voice prompted, "a society with a strange mix of ancient culture and near state-of-the-art technology." The Doctor and Romana perceived the scenes as if they were residents of the planet, sensing the gripping fear of the unknown mixed with the unrest of political and social change.

"See, I had been asked to come help," the Doctor challenged.

"So?" the Black Guardian taunted. Just then scenes that made it clear the people of the place believed the Doctor was the villan occupied their senses. "What do you feel?" the dark one taunted. "Are you good or evil?"

The story drew near its close. "See?" the Doctor noted hopefully. "Problem solved, evil averted!"

"Look again, Doctor. Consul Tremas, isn't it? This double loss is quite traumatic for the society, and much evil will result. Oops! Did I say 'double'?" They watched as the Consul's daughter, possessing a rare mix of intelligence and compassion, leaves her home with the Doctor. "Not so wonderful, Doctor."

The scene changed. "Is this man good or evil?" the Doctor's tormentor sneered. "Omega this time. Brilliant solar engineer. Made all of Rassilon's work and all of Time Lord society possible. Sounds pretty good to me!

"Wait, he has an enemy -- someone who looks just like him! Who could that be? Is that you, Doctor? About to destroy a member of your own race? Murder is never 'good'!"

Frantec could not comprehend the technology that made it possible for her to understand everything that was said by everyone. Her race had only recently become aware of other sentient life, and the concept of different languages was foreign enough. She did just understand the need for the complex equipment, but she understood everything that was said on both sides of the conversation. This is what had sparked her idea.

Finding the matching communication site on Smarlon wasn't as easy. She moved herself back in time to several hours before the incident to give herself time to explore the planet. By jockeying back a few seconds after each appearance she could make several years of her life take up only a few minutes of the Smarlonians' time.

First, of course, she must find food, and the other necessities of life. Her sleeping location must be sufficiently remote to prevent her being found, and sufficiently back in history to allow her to sleep there many times while she familiarized herself with the planet's layout and history. She managed to find a place in a cave. It had a clear underwater stream running nearby for bathing, cleaning, and drinking, and it had openings large enough to allow ventilation, but small enough to prevent the entrance of predators or Smarlonians.

The Doctor had introduced her to maps and star charts during their brief attempt to reach Gallifrey, so when she was able to purloin an atlas from a library, she spent several days studying it closely, fixing place names in her memory. She returned the book a few minutes after borrowing it, startling an old man quite severely in the process.

Most of the time she was able to appear in a location where she could not be seen. This allowed her to listen in on conversations. This, added to the knowledge she had gained from the atlas allowed her to focus her investigation. For example, less than a week after "learning" the atlas she heard the following conversation.

"By letting my firm perform this process for you in our larger, more efficient facility you can save yourself money. I really can't imagine any reason why you wouldn't want to take advantage of this offer."

"I can."

Pause. "Go ahead."

"You mean you don't know the major barrier to your own proposal?"

"Like I said, I can't imagine any reason you wouldn't want to save money."

"I like saving money as much as the next guy. But lower processing costs won't make up for increased transportation costs."

"I covered that part for you already. We have the raw materials shipped to us as part of the cost. Your only additional cost is shipment from our plant to yours -- and you've already saved part of that cost by not having the raw material shipped here."

"I understand that you can get your raw materials from a supplier in your own trade zone, but I still have to ship the processed material across the boundary. The cost of hiring a transport firm certified to cross the boundary would drive transportation costs above your projected cost savings."

"Not if you take advantage of our boundary service. You pay us a slightly increased per part fee and we use our underground transportation network to deliver the parts to your side of the boundary. You hire standard transport from there. The difference between the shorter distance and our increased price works out to about the same cost as standard transportation from our facility."

"Except that it's illegal."

"We're doing the underground shipping. You simply hire standard transport from a location where it's legal."

"That sounds good, but you're not the only one exposed to legal liability here. The way those goons in Diblun wrote the trade zone law an inspector would be able to determine the source of the material. If I can't produce documentation that a certified carrier transported it across the border the law assumes I've broken it."

Frantec didn't understand everything about legal matters, but she deduced, correctly, that Diblun was the capital. From her knowledge of the atlas she knew where to find Diblun, and soon began searching that part of Smarlonia.