"Yes, that's why. Then when I learned about your arrest--it's been on all the news, they're making an issue out of it--I beat them to it before they could come for me. I gave myself up as an accomplice." Hendley started to protest but Ann went on quickly, giving him no chance. "You wouldn't have been caught in the camp by that--that awful man if you hadn't tried to see me. It's because of me you're here at all. Don't you know how important that is yet? I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but with you." Hendley sank into the chair beside her. He reached out impulsively to grip her hand. A stern voice intruded. Hendley looked up at the bench facing the two chairs of the accused. "The accused will be silent," a grim-visaged judge said, staring down at them. "This court will now come to order." As the procedural ritual to open the trial began, Hendley thought of Ann's reference to Nik. His safe refuge under Hendley's identity would have exploded around him. He would certainly have been taken into custody, perhaps returned to the Freeman Camp. Hendley smiled grimly. Two beige-clad men came forward at the judge's order. One was designated as a pleader for the defense, the other for the prosecution. There was also a bailiff, several guards, and, ranged along one wall, a bank of twelve computers, six in each of two rows. Each was of a different design and manufacture. These, Hendley knew, were the jurors. Such trials were unusual in the Organization, but not unknown, and the system was familiar to him. He guessed that the rarity might account for the crowded spectator gallery. "They're here because of all the news coverage," Ann whispered, as if she had divined his thoughts. "Not just over you, but over that man whose disc you were wearing. There's been a lot of furor over BAM. They're said to be guilty of sabotage--it's caused all kinds of excitement." She paused. Then, nodding at the jury, she asked, "Why are there twelve of them?" "It's an old tradition." "Wouldn't one of them do?" "Yes. A more sophisticated computer could even make twelve separate sets of calculations, for that matter. But it's traditional--it's always been done that way." The two pleaders began to present their cases. Each spoke rapidly, without emotion--the emotional factor could not be considered by the computers who would render the verdict, and was, in fact, regarded as inconsistent with absolute justice. The presentation by the prosecution took most of the morning. Its weight of evidence was exhaustive. At noon the court recessed. Hendley was taken back to his cell, where he was given a spare meal. When the trial resumed, it seemed to him that Ann was paler, more drawn than before.