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fatigues (but not Cleric ochre, more two-tone black and grey) was waving. Next to her, was a smaller creature in a hooded sweatshirt. Next to that was ayoung dark-skinned human in similar clothes to the older woman, and finally a weird alien with a pointed chin, red eyes and legs like a grasshopper (otherwise, basically humanoid). He raised his hand and feebly waved too.
    ‘Hi,’ he added. ‘Sorry to butt in and all that.’
    ‘Who the hell are you?’ Jaanson yelled.
    The woman jumped down and started walking towards the group. Her friends remained where they were, although Sadkin could see the young, hooded one tense slightly, as if anticipating trouble. Fast and sharp, that one, the Colonel thought. He also noted that they all wore backpacks that seemed a tad heavier than normal archaeological equipment would require. He flicked his eyes to Cleric Elias and back at the hooded thing. With a nod only Sadkin could see, Elias made his focus the hooded creature.
    ‘I must repeat the Professor’s question,’ Sadkin said. ‘This is an official Papal Mainframe excursion. I am Colonel Sadkin, Father of this Chapel.’ He indicated his Clerics and Vergers. ‘Why are you here?’
    The woman didn’t speak again until she was right up close to the Colonel, all smiles. She held out a hand, and Sadkin rather surprised himself by shaking it.
    ‘Professor Bernice Summerfield,’ she said. ‘How do you do.’ She looked over to Jaanson and the Talpidian.
    ‘And?’ Jaanson demanded.
    ‘I’m an archaeologist, but probably not the one you were expecting.’

4
Of Crime and Passion
    The planet Legion, and its capital, curiously called Legion City, was, the Doctor decided, a strange place. He was quite familiar with edge-of-the-known-galaxy planets; places where only the very brave, the very foolhardy, the very criminal or (more often than not) the very drunk found themselves.
    He was also very familiar with planets that were, frankly, made up of a few stores and bars and places of less salubrious occupancy that seemed to thrive on the outskirts of civilisation. Its nearest synonym in human culture would be the American ‘Wild’ West of the mid-nineteenth century. Legion City could just as easily be Tombstone or Dodge City if it weren’t for the spaceport, the flashing neon signs, the constant drizzle and the variety of alien species carrying ever more outrageous weaponry to ‘protect’ themselves.
    Apparently there was even a Chief of Security here, like an old Wild West Marshal, but the Doctor hadn’t seen any sign of that. Despite, he noted, having witnessed three barbrawls in the White Rabbit alone – and the Rabbit wasn’t the only bar here by any means.
    He was using his smartphone to access information about the place. It was, frankly, sketchy. Keri had told him that one of the reasons Legion was a popular destination for the disenfranchised was its anonymity. What happens on Legion stays on Legion. Often in a shallow, unmarked grave.
    Legion City was certainly its only city, but there were other smaller villages and shanty towns on the ‘light’ side of the world. Legion wasn’t a huge planet (more a planetoid really, maybe even a moon) except that it didn’t revolve around a sun – it was simply too far away. It was one of those rare places that actually stood still. Well, it probably didn’t, but its orbit took nearly a lifetime for the average being just to shift from summer to autumn so to all intents and purposes, it never moved.
    It was cold and perpetually dusk – again, because the sun was a loooong way away.
    It also meant that it had a dark side, literally, the side that faced ‘the unexplored universe’. Over the decades since the planet was ‘civilised’, stories had grown up about the dark side, rumours that it was populated by demonic evil beings who would eat the soul of anyone going there.
    The Doctor was quite intrigued by this. As he’d got older, he’d got more daring. Three or four