Frantec's next two weeks were considerably less productive. Having once found the capital city, she lost little time finding the center of government and, in that building, the office of the planet's chief executive. Here she found a fairly roomy closet where she could hide, even if the closet were opened, and listen to the conversations in the room.

That's what made the time so unfruitful. Nobody even mentioned any type of interplanetary communications project. Frantec even toyed with the idea of moving ahead in time to just after the incident, feeling sure that news would reach this room quickly. She was new to this business of using time manipulation, but something inside her told her that would have been quite unwise. Her next piece of useful information came to her quite serendipitously.

Like Vorlene, everything Frantec saw oppressed her with its strangeness. But being more mature, Frantec found this strangeness fascinating, and it became a matter of almost recreation for her to spend a little of her time observing things. She did have an alterior motive in this luxury she allowed herself. The more familiar she was with the ways of these people the more likely she'd be able to intervene when the time came without committing a more serious faux pas.

So it was that, while relaxing near a waterfront full of pleasure-seekers, she heard someone casually mention the interplanetary communication project. Once again the hours she had spent studying the map of Smarlon came to her aid, and within a few hours she had located the complex. Again she found the need to hide herself, for she did not have a royal medallion to validate her presence.

It is impossible to express, in the English language, what Frantec heard. The Smarlonian language made a rather unique distinction in the syntactic territory we call the first person plural nominative. They had two forms of this pronoun, forms we might call inclusive and exclusive. The inclusive actually carried the meaning of both the first person and second person plural.

The inclusive form was rarely used, being generally reserved for formal and diplomatic situations where exact meaning would be more important. Therefore the linguists on Darmellon had never heard the word and had not included it in their translation software. Reciprocally, their counterparts on Smarlon didn't get a matching pronoun from Darmellon and had not provided a way for their software to generate the rare word.

Since early conversations using the complementary software had been largely technical, the lack hadn't surfaced. But Mary's speech, given in an essentially diplomatic setting required the inclusive first person plural pronoun. But the software, unable to decipher the inoffensive nature of Mary's comments, unable to detect the unacceptable nature of it's own rendering, and ultimately unable to produce the acceptable rendering anyway, used the only first person plural pronoun it had -- the exclusive.

Frantec quickly picked up on the emotions in the room, and understood that they had asked Mary to repeat herself, hoping they had misheard what she had "said." When the statement was repeated in exactly the same words (the software didn't have a clue!) the Smarlonians had no choice but to understand her comments as indicating a desire to unilaterally benefit from exchange between the planets. It was, in short, an unforgiveable statement of superiority and greed.

"The ultimate triumph of good is not guaranteed by the abilities or actions of those who consider themselves good," the Doctor mused deliberately. "It is not even guaranteed by the White Guardian who, like you, is only the guardian of right. Good will triumph in the end simply because it, and only it, is good."

"Pompous double talk," the Black Guardian harrumphed. "Still, I do not need to destroy you now," he continued. "Your well-intentioned meddling will continue to work both good and evil, and so long as that balance is not disturbed, I do not need to intervene."

"My actions will continue to prevent suffering," the Doctor reminded honestly.

"Suffering is not the goal of evil," the Black Guardian stated, "merely its result. And maybe its source in some situations. Stop enough of it and I might have to come back," he warned. "Right now I have a wonderful opportunity to attend to. Remember, with sleeping agents like Cordar stationed strategically around the entire universe, I will always be able to find you -- randomizer or no!"

The Black Guardian laughed at his own last words. For the Doctor and Romana the laugh faded along with their sensations of physically sitting on the hard bench.

Later that evening the other time nomads found the three, unconsious and still cold to the touch, lying in the grass in front of the TARDIS.

Frantec returned to Regent Fergus' chamber only minutes after she had left it, by his time. She had, however, expended several months of her own life and both she and her clothes gave evidence of that wear. The king, having some idea of Frantec's abilities, made a quick and fairly accurate guess about what she had been doing. "What can you tell me?" he asked, interrupting a second briefing by the same messenger.

The messenger, not as alert to the subtle clues of Frantec's expenditure on behalf of a planet of virtual strangers, wondered what she could have to add after so short a time.

"I can tell you why the Smarlonians became so angry," Frantec announced.

"Yes?" the king prompted.

Frantec did her best to explain the linguistic snafu she had discovered. Of course she didn't have the language or training to use the exact syntactic terminology, but Fergus understood her meaning quite quickly.

"Arrange an immediate, emergency meeting of the Council of Elders," he ordered the messenger. "And send Lana in," he added, just before the messenger disappeared from the room.

"It seems the Doctor left you here at a most opportune time," Fergus told Frantec after the messenger had left. "But I doubt he intended you to get so involved."

"I could help, you needed my help, so why wouldn't I help?" Frantec philosophized.

"My point is that we are in your debt, so you must allow us to help you in what ways we can. Right now I believe that would be to provide you a relaxing bath, a good rest in a comfortable bed and, when you awake, a fresh change of clothing. Keep the ring, of course. You need something from the TARDIS in order to understand us."

The regent's wife arrived shortly. She and Fergus exchanged very quick affectionate contact before the king explained what he wanted her to arrange for Frantec. Lana, still unaware of the looming crisis, could still see that the young stranger needed some TLC and readily agreed to provide it.

Our story has encountered a lull in the action. On Vorlene's home planet the Doctor, Romana, and Hadrian need several days to recover from their draining encounter with the Black Guardian. They all recall confronting him, They are aware that their condition is a result of that encounter, but they can recall little to explain why the encounter had such a drastic effect.

On Gallifrey the campaign continues as usual. Cordar remains almost forgotten in jail. Nearly everyone -- and that includes everyone necessary to make it happen -- believes it will be best to hold off on Cordar's trial until the election is over. There are no momentous events, and the outpouring of public favor generated by Borusa's defense of his opponent seems certain to carry the day.

On Smarlon the Black Guardian is at work in the background, making sure the hawkish political forces of the planet arrange for the most hostile response possible to the Darmellonian insult. Arranging and outfitting an attack squadron takes time, even on a relatively hostile and warlike world like Smarlon. Unaware of Frantec's visits, the Guardian takes no action to counter her threat to his plans.

On Darmellon awareness of the crisis has led to frantic action. But what is there to tell? Planetary defense forces are being amassed, the regent and his advisors are holding nearly round-the-clock strategy sessions, and Frantec is reveling in the newfound pleasures of artificial luxury.

Besides, thirteen is an unlucky chapter, and we don't want to fill it up!?