scientific warfare team.
When the Galactic War was nearly over,
the work was abandoned
and all my fellow scientists left.
I didn't go with them, which was just as well,
since they were blasted by an enemy gunship
within minutes of taking off.
Why did you stay?
To look after the animals, for one thing.
And for another...
to try to finish the work we'd started.
Look, what was the object of the work?
It must have had some object,
some war object if the Federation backed it
and built this place.
The war object was to create a species...
not necessarily human,
that could go into areas heavy with radioactivity
and act as shock troops.
The Federation had suffered losses
of up to 60% frontline troops.
Now, just think,
what a few squads
of radiation-proof space commandos could do.
I'm glad you never succeeded.
- It was a horrible idea.
- No.
It was justified by the times.
But how about now? Why are you going on with it?
All this? It's insane.
Well, just think!
Those animals can go into
any of the devastated sectors of the war zone
and the radiation won't kill them.
They can work on simple projects already.
Og certainly could.
They and their kind can make
whole systems habitable again...
without the loss of a single human life.
I know it seems callous
to work on the animals as I do...
but the painful business
of the physical transplants is over.
All that is needed now
is a few simple brain grafts...
and I'm very close to home.
Very close.
Now do you see?
Orac, report on navigation control system.
60% capacity is now restored.
The fault in anti-grav gyro remains.
We know it remains.
We're trying to find it, aren't we, plastic-brain?
If I might be permitted to finish,
the fault remains in the inertial guidance
glycolene ballast channels.
It'll therefore be necessary
for someone to enter the tank.
Sounds messy.
Physical inspection and adjustment is essential,
if potentially uncomfortable.
Sounds very messy.
Now, look!
You can drown in that filthy muck down there.
- Smells lovely.
- No, it doesn't.
It's disgusting.
Well, somebody has to go down and
you are the one with the delicate touch, Vila.
- Magic hands. You've often said so yourself.
- Why do I get all the dirty jobs?
Typecasting?
- This isn't fair, you know.
- No. It's pretty foul by the look of it.
Oh, cheer up, Vila, you can have a hot tub
when you come out,
whether you need one or not.
All right, I'll do it.
Anything is better than listening to your jokes.
Stationary orbit established
over the target position.
Preliminary scan shows no sign
of any radioactive contamination down there,
or any other legacy from the war.
So it's habitable?
Probably, but there's nothing
to sustain civilised life.
Only trees and soil useless for anything
but the most primitive form of agriculture.
Then what brought that planet-hopper here
in the first place?
- Keep all systems on full alert.
- Yes, Commissioner.
(Beeping)
Sleer to Federation Central Intelligence Control.
Personal to Intelligence Commander Borr.
Yes, Commissioner?
I want some Federation wartime
double-X information on the planet Bucol Two.
Double-X information was oral only, Commissioner.
I know that.
But someone must have the information
locked in his head.
I want you to track down any senior
wartime intelligence operative of the department.
Someone, somewhere must know
what was happening on Bucol Two.
Yes, Commissioner Sleer. It may take a little time.
Make sure it is a little time.
Yes, Commissioner.
In order, my dear.
- Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking.
- Not at all, or not about this?
All right.
You've convinced me that you're sincere,
but not that it's right to do what you're doing.
You must have started with men
as well as animals to get crossbreeds.
They were deserters.
And the decision was not mine and it was war.
Just the same...
I bitterly regret it.
I'm trying, in a way, to make sense of it all.
Trying to get