Following the trail of blasted buildings and broken men, Gates finds The Superjudge.

“All right, squire, I know how this works;” he said, approaching the ‘Judge. “You get to your ship, you call your mates and sooner’n I can say ‘Galactus’ it’s all ‘so long Earth; nice knowing ya.’ Not on my detail, sonny Jim. I… wait. Are you crying?”

“No,” The ‘Judge sobbed. “I… I have something in my eyes.”

“All ten of ‘em? Mate, whatever it is can’t be that bad…”

“My wife,” The ‘Judge whimpered between metallic sobs. “She… She’s shagging a primate.”

“C’mon you poor bastard; let’s put these hostilities behind us, nip down to the pub, have a pint and discuss this man to whatever you are.”

“Will they have Barbeque?”

“Know where they have the best Barbeque? 1964.” Gates said.

“You mean, time-travel?” The ‘Judge asked. “What’s your name?”

“Lem,” Gates announced. “But you can call me Gates.”

“You know what, Gates?” The Superjudge growled, a malicious gleam in it’s five pairs of eyes. “I’m feeling better all ready.”