"This is the glamorous location you had in mind?"

"I said peaceful, Diamanda, not glamorous." Smith adjusted the black Kangol on his head.

"It's a bloody swap meet," Diamanda said. She took off her sunglasses, tossed them into her shoulder bag. "Got those back home."

"Well, it's more than a swap meet. The San Pedro market is the ultimate in capitalism. Anything and everything for sale, out in the open, no secrets no surprises."

"The local black market."

"Yes, except, in San Pedro's case, the local government sponsors it. They take ten percent of all sales to fund the city."

Smith and Diamanda were standing near the gates of the San Pedro market. As far as the eye could see, there were booths, tables, tents and stands lined up in neat rows, piled high with all sorts of goods: food, electronics, antiques, collectibles, audio, video, etc. The sellers and buyers accounted for most of the civilised races in the galaxy. All existing peacefully, helped along by the occasional well dressed and highly armed Ogron acting as security.

"So, why here, why now?"

Smith said nothing, kept his gaze on the market, searching up and down the rows.

Diamanda nudged him with her elbow. "Doctor?"

"It's a good place to lay low," Smith replied. "By the way, you have very bony elbows."

"You're such a charmer." Diamanda smiled, gave Smith a second playful nudge. "How come this place hasn't been shut down?"

"San Pedro is a free city. Makes its own rules."

"And?"

Smith turned to his companion. "Lets just say it's connected to the right people."

"Local syndicates?"

"Praxis Two."

Diamanda nodded. "No wonder they've been left alone." She spun on her heels, took in the rest of the sites. This part of San Pedro reminded her of home: winding roads with small, but clean homes popped into symmetrical plots of grass. Welcome to suburbia. To the south of the market, Diamanda saw some taller buildings made from brick and steel, a few concrete towers, all criss-crossed by thick black wires.

"This was a penal colony, centuries ago."

"A penal colony? That's hard to believe."

"After they had been abandoned by the government that created this place, the prisoners decided to get organised and generate money for themselves. Hence, the market. It was underground for a long time, and then the syndicates were brought in."

Diamanda felt a twinge inside as she realised Donneley would have thought this place to be paradise. That is, if he didn't already know about it. She sighed.

"Something wrong?" Smith asked.

"Um, no. Just thinking." Diamanda put her sunglasses back on. "Anyplace to eat around here?"

"Sure. Come along."

***

Knox thought about the old days. Back long ago when the Empire ruled a large segment of the Universe and had the hated Rutan scum on the run. When every day was the beginning of a huge battle.

Times had changed. The Empire was in ruins. And instead of using years of leadership training to lead new hatchlings into battle, he found himself standing on the outskirts of a Tellurian city, ready to embark on a diplomatic endeavour - an anathema to the Empire of old, but in these times...

Knox blinked. This was no time for wallowing in thoughts. The mission was all that mattered.

Knox saw the Ogrons, automatically assessed their fighting capabilities, their weaponry and their weaknesses in a few seconds. He stored the information away in his mind, useless as it was. It was strange to be alone, not fighting, not leading troops into battle.

As a soldier, he had his orders, and he was ready to carry them out to his utmost ability, no matter how foreign they may be. If he was successful, he would be hailed as a saviour. If he failed, it could mean the end of the Sontarans.

Knox held up his wand, surveyed the surrounding areas out of instinct. One of the Ogrons approached him, armed with a giant club studded with nails.

"What is that?" The Ogron sniffed the air above Knox's domed head.

"It is a sensor device. I'm checking the atmosphere," Knox replied. He wanted to set his wand to kill and blast the oversized beast.

"That better not be a weapon. No weapons allowed in San Pedro."

Knox couldn't decide whether the Ogron's breath or general body odour was worse. "I assure you it is not a weapon."

The Ogron stood there, hefting the spiked club, hoping to have an excuse to bash in Knox's head.

"Check it yourself," Knox said, holding the wand out. The Ogron took the wand, held it against the sky between two giant fingers, sniffed it. Knox felt secure enough to know the Ogron would never find the blaster settings, especially while he held by the wrong end.

"You may keep this," the Ogron said. He tossed the wand back to Knox. The Sontaran holstered the wand, saluted the Ogron.

"I may enter the city, then?"

"Yes."

Knox walked through the gate and headed for the market. He allowed himself a final thought of reducing the Ogron to a pile of ashes and bone before heading on his way.

***

Diamanda found the outdoor cafe quite charming, the food quite palatable, if not anything she was used to. Smith worked on his second cup of industrial strength coffee and watched the crowd.

"So, when are you going to tell me why we're here?" Diamanda asked.

Smith turned around, smiled. "I have the distinct feeling that you're just going to annoy me until I tell you."

"Always do what you do best."

"I'm looking for some equipment for the ship."

"Be a little more vague."

Okay, you've asked for it, thought Smith. "I'm looking for a few modules that would prevent my ship from being reached by my employers."

Diamanda took a sip of a polyester coloured drink. "Question number two. Who do you work for?"

Smith turned back to the street, mumbled.

"Speak up."

Smith turned around, his face dark. "A group of paranoid, small minded malcontents called Time Lords."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but if you can -"

"Why am I still working for them if I can roam the universe at will?" Smith said. He adjusted his Kangol. "They tend not to take no for an answer."

"Was Donneley working for them that night?"

Smith frowned. "One time deal. I'm on the long term plan."

Diamanda opened her mouth to speak, closed it. She had a million questions running through her mind, but had a feeling that none would be answered in anything but vague answers.

"Let's not talk shop so much, Diamanda. Technically, we're on holiday."

"At a black market. How charming."

Smith didn't reply. Diamanda noticed as something caught his gaze. It didn't take her long to see what attracted Smith's attention.

It was a shade under two metres tall, with a brown, domed head bereft of hair, dressed in a black spacesuit. In one three fingered hand, the creature held a wand that he waved in the air.

"It figures," Smith said, annoyed.

"Aren't you going to tell me what that is?" Diamanda asked.

"A Sontaran."

"Not friendly?"

"The military mind taken to ludicrous extremes tossed in a body designed for high gravity combat."

Diamanda watched Smith stand up, adjust his Kangol, his eyes never leaving the Sontaran.

"I'm going to have a chat with him," Smith said. "Stay here."

As he walked away from the table, his eyes never left the Sontaran, who had now holstered his wand and set off in a new direction.

"Doctor?"

Smith turned around. "What?"

"Be careful," Diamanda said.

"Of course."

***

Knox felt troubled as he headed for the market. Not only was he the only Sontaran on the planet, but most of the humanoids that he'd seen so far had ignored him. Had the Empire fallen so far that his mere presence didn't provoke a reaction? The Sontaran Empire had dominated numerous galaxies, slaughtered numerous Rutan scum. Had they not even been the first race to attempt an invasion of Gallifrey?

He stopped, cleared his mind again. Knox reminded himself that he needed to be a diplomat, not a warrior. This was an important mission, one that the Grand Marshall had chosen him for, over all the remaining officer class. And if that meant not letting his pride get the best of him, then so be it.

"Well, if it isn't Super Space Warrior Potato Head."

Knox pulled out his wand, spun toward the direction of the voice.

Standing there was a humanoid of average height, dressed in shades of grey and black, a dark look on his visage.

Knox pressed a button on his wand, checked the biology of the humanoid before him.

"So, what brings a representative of the Glorious Sontaran Empire to this part of the galaxy?"

Knox checked the reading, frowned, scanned the humanoid a second time, checked it.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"You're a Gallifreyan," Knox said, awed. He placed the wand back into its holster.

"You still haven't answered my question?"

"Gallifrey was destroyed, wasn't it?"

"Old news."

"I have no quarrel with you, Time Lord." Knox would have enjoyed scorching the Time Lord's flesh beyond recognition. Instead, he saluted, then turned back around, headed in the direction of the market.

"I would still like to know what you are doing here."

Knox was impressed by the command in the Time Lord's voice. He stopped, turned around and marched back.

"I am Field Marshall Knox." He saluted a second time. The Time Lord saluted back. "Doctor John Smith, Doctor for short."

***

Another day, another job, another planet.

At least I can find some decent coffee here. I'm at this cafe, alone except for this other woman who is quite striking. She keeps looking down this alley, like she's wondering what kind of trouble her boyfriend is getting into while she waits for his return.

I slip in the earpiece and turn on the digicorder. While I read the details of my assignment, my eye keeps turning toward the woman. I'm not into women, but aesthetically, she is attractive. It's the combination of the long, curly black hair, the long legs and the big, blue eyes. Chlorys would adore her.

Back to the assignment. Hmmm. That's odd. I read it again, just to make sure that I understand. If I believed in things like goddesses and higher powers, this would be the time to make an offering to them. But if this is what they want me to do, I suppose I have to go along with it.

The woman just stood up. The breeze catches her dress, ruffling it slightly. I watch her head off in the direction of the market. I can't shake the feeling that I should keep an eye on her. I'm not much for intuition when deduction is more reliable, but it doesn't hurt to play a hunch every once in a while.

So, I'll chase the girl for a while.

What would Chlorys say about that?

The market is a tech-geek's dream come true. Booth after booth of some of the most expensive and amazing scientific gear the universe has produced. Some of the things I've seen would make my employers jealous.

The brunette is less impressed. From what I can tell, she's bouncing back and forth between bored and worried. I can imagine the scene that plays when she finds her boyfriend - she'll give him a huge hug and then slap him across the face, and hug him again. Anyway, she continues her steady pace down this row of the market, occasionally pausing to peruse some object in a vague attempt to blend in with the other shoppers who bounce from booth to booth. The sellers are eagerly pitching their wares, holding impromptu auctions trying to get the best price for their gear. And then the customers, some asking smart questions, others drooling over an object much desired.

It's naked capitalism. Not much else to say about it. I'm surprised my employers haven't put this city out of business; there's enough equipment floating around the market to make yourself a fully functioning time machine, if you have the know how. And with their current attitude regarding anyone else stepping into what they perceive as their private playground....well, I saw what they did to Dronid, and that wasn't pretty.

The woman is eyeing an older couple stationed in front of one of the less crowded booths in the market. The couple have gone out of their way to look like tourists, complete with their bright patterned outfits that reveal skin they shouldn't be showing at their advanced age. I'm not one to judge on appearances, but some decorum should be observed. The woman is standing a few feet behind the couple, who, as I move closer, are very interested in some very powerful scanners. I see that the woman has a troubled look on her face.

As I move closer, I know why she's troubled. I feel a tingle run through my body, growing stronger as I move toward the tourists.

***

Smith sat cross-legged on an empty booth counter at the edge of the market. Knox the Sontaran stood in front of him, arms at his sides, the equivalent of a calm visage on his broad face.

"A diplomatic mission, you say," Smith said.

"Yes, Doctor. I am here to meet someone with an expertise in biotechnology."

"To help find a cure to the virus that's ravaging the Sontaran Empire."

"Yes."

"I see," Smith said. He pulled off his Kangol, ran a hand roughly through his hair. "And with whom did you make this arrangement?"

"With your people, Doctor."

Smith frowned. "My people made this arrangement."

"Yes. In exchange for handing over all our research into time travel, the Time Lords were going to send an expert in viruses to work with us."

Smith hopped off the booth, paced in front of the Sontaran. He could tell that Knox wasn't lying. The Sontarans were not known for duplicity. The troublesome part was who brokered this deal. Why would the Time Lords help the Sontarans?

It was a question Smith posed to Knox.

"They approached us with help," Knox said. "The Time Lords are one of the few races that the Empire would defer to."

"And it was only for the guarantee of ending your experiments with time travel?"

"There were other terms, Doctor." Knox paused, stared at Smith. "Shouldn't you know all this?"

"They don't tell me everything, Knox."

Knox smiled, a curious sight. "Perhaps you're not meant to know."

"Perhaps the Time Lords might re-neg on their deal," Smith said. He gave the Sontaran his best poker face.

Knox paused a beat, then told Smith the other details of the agreement.

Smith took it all in, felt like screaming, kept his opinion to himself.

What were they thinking?

"Again," Smith said as he contained the turmoil in his mind, "How can you be sure the Time Lords will hold up their end of the bargain?"

"The Empire took the Time Lords at their word. We believe they'll hold up their end. Also, we've already turned over all our temporal technology and research."

"Next question, why here?" Smith asked.

"The Time Lords wish to help us, but not directly. They are sending an agent here."

"Who?"

The Sontaran pulled out his wand, pressed one of the dozen buttons on the handle. A three dimensional image hovered between Smith and the Sontaran.

It took a few minutes for Smith to recognise the person. He chuckled, them mumbled.

"You know this humanoid?" Knox asked.

"Yes, I do." Smith headed toward the market, gestured for the Sontaran to follow him. "Come along, I'll give you a hand," He said, before adding "meddlesome twits!" under his breath.

***

I had a hunch about the elderly tourist couple when I felt the tingling sensation run through my body. I checked the blaster in the shoulder holster and eased into my jacket pocket. The woman stood there, eyes still on the tourists. One, leaned forward, hands in pocket giving a deep space scanner a more than cursory inspection. The other, a woman, stood before an ancient doppler radar array, looking on a lash-up LCD screen that displayed wind speeds in the market. The owner of the booth, a portly man with more hair on his body than his head, busied himself with another scanner/sensor cannibalisation job in the corner. He had immediately written off the tourists as non-purchasers, the kind of rubes who liked electronic gear for all the pretty lights.

It was when the LCD screen popped as the tourist touched it that I knew my hunch was right. The booth owner turned around, marched over to the female tourist and berated her in a coarse tongue. The first tourist ignored the booth owner. The female tourist reached out and grabbed the top of the booth owner's head. A blast of bioelectric energy fired the booth owner, who slumped to the ground in a boneless heap. The woman, stunned by what she'd witnessed, took a step back and bumped into me.

"You might want to get out of the way," I said as I pulled out my blaster.

I gave the woman a healthy shove and fired at the woman tourist. She let out a high pitched squeal as her body hit the street. Green blood oozed from a hole in her chest.

The first tourist reverted to it's normal, luminescent green fleshy sphere state.

"What the-" I heard the woman say. I ignored her as I spun to face the other Rutan. It lashed out with a tentacle that throbbed with bioelectricity, missing me by inches. I took a few steps back and fired several rounds into the Rutan. The Rutan collapsed into a puddle of green flesh. I went into a crouch and checked the immediate area. A single Ogron headed toward the booth. I slipped the blaster back into my jacket as I stood up.

"What happened here?" the Ogron said. He tapped a large baton against one of his palms.

"There was an explosion. It killed the owner and those two."

The woman had pulled herself off the ground as she said it.

The Ogron leaned over the Rutan corpse, sniffed the air. "I don't smell any explosion."

"Take a look at this," I added, pointing to the fractured LCD display."

The Ogron stared at the remains of the display for a long time before nodding. He shoved the baton into his belt and walked away.

I approached the woman, who let out a deep breath. "Thanks for the help, um..."

"Diamanda Roesseler," she said, extending a hand.

"Dyane." I replied. We shook hands.

"What were they?"

"Rutans," I sighed. "I should have expected them here."

Diamanda arched her eyebrows.

"I'm here to meet a Sontaran. Rutans and Sontarans have been at war for millennia."

"Crikey! What a coincidence."

Diamanda placed a hand over her lips, vainly suppressed a very girlish giggle.

"I suppose you've seen a Sontaran around here." I said. "They're not hard to miss."

Diamanda said, "Follow me."

And I did.

***

Smith allowed himself a quick grin when he saw Diamanda emerge out of a pack of potential shoppers. The grin disappeared the moment he saw Dyane walk behind her.

"Meeting new friends, I see," Smith said.

"I had to do something when you went off to get into trouble," Diamanda replied. "Use you scintillating wit to charm him?" she added, pointing to the Sontaran. Knox was next to Smith, at attention. Out of habit, he saluted the two women.

"Something like that," Smith said. "Hello, Dyane."

Dyane stopped. Diamanda paused, gave both Smith and Dyane looks. "You know each other?"

"Long time ago," Smith added.

Dyane stared at Smith. "Do I know you?"

"You should. Though I looked different last time."

"So, which Doctor are you?"

"Last in line." Smith shoved his hands in his pocket. "I thought you were out."

"No. In fact, I'm the only one still on the job," Dyane said

"And I thought you wanted nothing to do with them," Smith said.

"That's what I heard about you," Dyane commented.

"I was press-ganged at a vulnerable point," Smith said.

"I see you've met Knox."

"Yes." Smith rolled his eyes skyward. "I highly doubt it was a coincidence."

"They have been rather paranoid, as of late." Dyane walked over to the Sontaran, pulled a card out of her pocket, handed it to him. "My credentials."

"I'll need a moment to verify," Knox replied. The Sontaran fed the card into his wand.

"May I suggest we don't hang around here too long?" Dyane said. "I had to eliminate two Rutans. There might be more."

Knox licked his lips. "A chance to fight?"

"Mr Knox, I thought this was supposed to be a diplomatic mission," Smith said.

"Old habits die hard, Doctor." Knox heard his wand beep. "Your credentials are correct."

"Good," Dyane said. She pulled out a comm-link and said "we're ready."

The Sontaran nodded. Grey light covered Dyane and the Sontaran briefly, then they vanished without a trace.

"Diplomatic mission?" Diamanda asked.

"Long story. I'll tell you on the way back to the ship," Smith said. He placed a hand on Diamanda's shoulder.

They walked out of the market. Diamanda knew that Smith was brooding beneath his calm countenance.

"It might help if you told me what's going on?"

Smith stopped. "I work for meddlesome, paranoid twits, Diamanda. And I'm afraid of the chaos they might be causing."

"Chaos?"

Smith resumed his measured pace. "Once we get back to the ship, I'll tell you more."