The eldest Gris attorney, one of the two ex-Domestic Police judges, rose and demanded attention. "Your

Lordship," he said to Turn, "we accept the charge of bigamy in your prison but will seek to prove it was totally justified."

"WHAT?" cried Turn.

The old attorney said, "To clarify the point, we will have to produce a great many witnesses. They will attest to various crimes and situations that give the background nature of this charge and when we come to the end of this trial, I am sure you will agree that the extenuating circumstances are so great that you will be bound to find our client innocent."

Lord Turn roared, "Don't presume to tell me what my findings will be!" Then he saw the Homeview cameras on him. He must not appear unreasonable or preju­diced. "However," he said with a groan, "produce your witnesses and we will get on with this."

Madison's spirits soared into Heaven Number Sev­en. It was exactly what he had planned and hoped for. He had brought off a PR man's dream. He almost chortled aloud with delight. Miles and miles of headlines stretched before him like a roaring river of the blackest ink.

And all for Heller!

A trial which, by Voltar standards, should have taken ten minutes was, artfully, due to Madison's careful coaching, being dragged out Earth-style for days and weeks and, he hoped, months.

And it gave headlines every day and provided hours of Homeview.

The two old Domestic Police judges, in their century on the bench, had seen and judged over every stall and circumlocution that prisoners by tens of thousands had ever dreamed up-and those prisoners had lots of time before trial to think. The old Lord's executioner had heard every plea and dodge that terrorized victims and anguished families had ever strained their brains to put forth. Many had worked and they used them all for Gris.

The basic pattern of defense, however, was always more or less the same.

Witnesses, called by Gris's attorneys, would take the stand. Each would detail and produce incontrovertible, horrifying evidence of a Gris crime. Although many of these crimes had already appeared in newspapers before the trial, here they were exhibited and reenacted and dwelt on for hours and hours, each one, until not the most sordid, vicious detail was left to the imagination. Wrecks were found and hauled in. Bodies were even exhumed and filled the courtroom with their stench.

Gris was becoming more confident, even cockier, in the limelight. When, after a day or two or even three was spent upon a crime, he would again be put upon the stand, he would confess that the evidence was true, that he had done it and that as an Apparatus officer he pleaded guilty to it BUT he would qualify the statement by declaring each time, "JETTERO HELLER MADE ME DO IT. IT WAS ALL BECAUSE OF HIM."

Headlines, headlines, headlines, hours and hours of Homeview. Day after day. Week after week. The public outrage against this Apparatus officer was growing to such a pitch that Lord Turn borrowed tanks and stationed them in front of every gate. Not only was the courtroom jammed each day but the whole hill on which the castle stood was a constant jam of spectators. Every Homeview set on Voltar was playing to crowds.

Several times Lord Turn addressed the Gris attorneys. "How in the name of anything holy is this continuous blackening of your client ever going to get him off?"

The attorneys calmly ignored Turn's bafflement. They just continued to produce more crimes. Gris continued to plead guilty to them. Gris continued to assert that Heller had made him do them. And so the show went on.

The Fleet was becoming absolutely livid. These accusations by a "drunk," sitting there and grinning now in his black Apparatus colonel's uniform, continually accusing a Royal officer of the Fleet-and of all people, Jettero Heller-and never explaining for a moment how or why he had made Gris do it was getting to be a lot more than the Fleet could take.

The court was only running mornings, and one afternoon Madison received an urgent summons from Lorn-bar Hisst to come at once to the Apparatus plaza in Government City.

He flew in but was diverted by an Apparatus patrol to an entrance through the cliff below. Even so, he had a glimpse of the plaza: it was packed with Fleet staff cars bearing admirals' pennants.

Lombar Hisst was in a dungeon room under his office. He met Madison the instant the PR man stepped out of the airbus.

"You've got to help me," said the agitated Hisst. "There's a deputation up there. The most senior officers of the Fleet. The Fleet outnumbers the Apparatus ten to one, even more. They're very angry about what Gris is saying! What if they mutiny?"

"Now listen," said Madison, in a calm, reassuring voice, "this is just a problem in PR and we are being very successful. The basics are Coverage, Controversy and Confidence. We surely have Coverage: every paper is giving us front page every day and the Homeview exposure is terrific. This deputation is vital Controversy. We could not possibly do without it. Now all we have to add is maximum Confidence."

"That's what's getting shaky," said Lombar. "Mine."

"Oh, no, no," said Madison, "this is all part of the plan. This is a heaven-sent opportunity for image build­ing. You can raise public confidence to the stars with it! This is just another great chance to be a STRONG MAN! Somebody not to be trifled with! Now give me one of those presigned blanks we got from the Grand Council. I'll send for my camera crew. You just let those admirals cool their heels while I set this up."

Lombar, much reassured, did as he was told.

An hour later, in his cave of an office, before the cameras of Madison's crew, he stood tall in his red uniform and glared at the deputation in powder blue.

In a roaring voice, into the incredulous faces of senior Fleet officers he had not even invited to sit, Lombar Hisst, using the Madison prepared speech, stormed, "You are here to complain about the statements of the prisoner Gris. I shall have you know that he is not representative of the Apparatus. Apparatus officers are honest and upright men, beyond reproach. That is more than I can say for officers of the Fleet. You have dared to question what I, the Dictator of Voltar, have ordered. Therefore, know all, by order of the Grand Council and signed by the Lord of the Fleet, its member, the following regulations are in effect at once:

"A) No officer or personnel of the Fleet may mention the name of Jettero Heller.

"B) No officer or personnel of the Fleet may speak ill of the Apparatus.

"C) No officer or personnel of the Fleet may complain about myself, Lombar Hisst, in any way, or ques­tion any order that I issue, no matter how or where.

"D) Fleet officers must salute any officer or personnel of the Apparatus.

"E) Any offender against these regulations shall be docked a year's pay.

"The deputation before me is dismissed. Get out of here at once!"

A senior, gray-haired admiral, the whole front of his uniform gold with decorations, stepped forward. "Hisst, I can see from here that the order you hold in your hand bears no Royal seal. It cannot therefore be enforced, as it has no validity."

Hisst drew himself up like a red thunderstorm. The cameras were rolling. "You, sir, have just violated Section C of this issue twice. You have questioned an order I gave and the deputation which came to me so impudently has not left! Therefore," and he reached down to his desk for another order Madison had just typed in case, "the entire Fleet is restricted to its ships and bases and this order calls upon the Army to enforce it. Now salute and LEAVE!"

They did not salute. They left.

The camera crew went out to show them getting into the airbuses.

Lombar was ecstatic. "They obeyed!" he said to Madison. "Did you see their faces? Almost purple! But they are cowed! Why, I suddenly realize I can use them to relieve the Apparatus on Calabar and begin to organize the invasion of Blito-P3 in earnest!"