"Well, how about this? Who would've thought all us old friends would wind up together again? After all this time?"

"Old friends?" challenged Julian.

"Don't play innocent with me." Badin's answer came more as a dangerous snarl than a voice. Something flashed red in the clutches of one roughened hand. But he covered it up too quickly to identify.

Amy was looking at every face in the room, mouth open with continued indignation. "Is anyone ever going to tell me what's going on?"

"He's Badin," Julian whispered. Amy swung her face around, suddenly pale, tears of disbelief gathering at the base of her eyes. They both noticed the intruder's mouth twitch into a horrid smile.

And then the old man turned to M'Pel. "See? Told you this one was smart."

It was Julian who finally thought of the words that his friend was so unable to find. "You let him in here, didn't you?" he accused the raven-haired Vulcan. "Is that why you didn't want me to tell Security? Because you were involved in all this?"

"Too late now." The old man's voice cut through all his remaining speculations. But an even stranger expression flashed across M'Pel's smooth face - a brief twitch of the muscles around her eyes, almost too subtle for any of the others to see. Badin turned to glance towards her, too close to seeing the same brief change.

Don't let him.

Julian shifted his weight, snatching back his adversary's attention. "You also told me once that none of this was personal."

For a seemingly eternal moment, Badin's eyes narrowed dangerously. But at least this attempt at distraction appeared to have been effective. "Una's dead," the smaller man told him. Anger flashed behind the grey of his eyes. "You remember Una, don't you? She caught some kinda… I don't know what, and nobody even let me say goodbye. There was a funeral. Without me. It wouldn't have been an issue if I'd been free to move about as I liked. But the warden said that I was a… flight risk. So yeah - I'd say it's just got personal."

"If you were that attached to your freedom, then perhaps you should have left us alone!"

Julian staggered from the force of a tightly clenched backhand across one lower cheek. He glared, face hot, lips curled into a fearsome snarl. But he did not fall. Shaking away the pain and momentary disorientation, he realised after just a second or two that there were steadying hands pressed against his arms.

Amy Dowling hesitated before releasing her hold. "Are you…?"

"Fine," he muttered. But Badin's face was flushed, so dark that it was approaching black.

"Was that some kind of joke?" he demanded, hand clenched even tighter around whatever object it was hiding.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Julian held a hand to his jaw where it continued to throb painfully.

"Good," the other man growled. "Because it wasn't funny."

And what was that in his hand, that made it so impossible to look away?

Badin's thumb was stroking it now, rubbing deliberately across the surface as if it were some twenty-fourth century Aladdin's lamp. "My God…" said Amy, suddenly, face as pale as cream. Her words barely emerged, as if she'd choked them up from the very depths of her throat.

Then Julian saw it, the glint of light reflected from a metal surface - hidden beneath the fabric of the old man's loose-fitting coat. "A bomb," he gasped in sudden horror. "He's got…"

"Call it my very own farewell gift - to all of you," Badin told them, his voice low and chilling. "You'll find that I tend to pay back what I owe."

His thumb shifted - just a little.

Julian leapt around between the old man and Professor Amy Dowling.

At the edge of his vision, he saw M'Pel. Once forgotten, she had also propelled herself forward, allowing her own weight to topple Badin's suddenly tumbling body…

…And finally, there was only smoke, heat, a sound like thunder… the stench of chemicals, twisted and burning… and a hot, stinging pain like a knife across his eyes.