A guard strapped Ace into the Interrogation Chamber chair. She winced as he jerked the straps tight and locked the ends in place. He flicked several switches on the side of the chair; she heard a faint buzz like an insect and felt a tingle through the electrodes affixed to her temples. Through the spotlight, she barely made out Stimms' sharp gaze, observing her with clinical interest.

"So what's it going to be?" Ace asked as the guard left her field of vision. "Good cop, bad cop? Chinese water torture? Or feed my face to the rats?"

Stimms' gave her a half-smile. "I would advise you to drop the sarcasm. It'll just cause you more pain."

"Dark uniform, buzz cut, bad dye job--you some kind of fascist?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Just what--" Her body convulsed for several seconds and then relaxed.

Stimms raised a finger to his lips and then showed her the remote control in his hand. "Let's get one thing straight: I ask the questions."

Ace looked away, into the darkness surrounding them. The straps were cutting off the circulation in her arms and an agonizing itch spread from her temples. Was this how rebels under Grogan met their fate: left to die alone and glorified in radio broadcasts?

"I know you were involved in destroying the Morestran ambassador's shuttle. Your vitals match those detected at the docking bay. But no record for you exists in the citizen database. And your DNA in no way resembles the original rebels banished with Grogan forty years ago."

She continued staring into the darkness.

"My guess is that you're a stowaway from a Morestran vessel," Stimms said, his voice calm and indifferent. "Or perhaps an Empire spy."

"Think whatever you want."

"Whoever you are, you're in over your head. Whatever the appeal of the rebellion, no one will save you now. As far as Grogan's concerned, you're just another casualty in his lost cause. Help me and I'll spare you all the discomfort of a drawn out interrogation. Tell me all you've learned about the rebellion."

Ace struggled to gesture a reply, but her fingers were now numb. "If you want details, go ask Grogan."

"Would you rather I extract the information from you?"

She remained silent, keeping her eyes fixed on his. Seconds passed. Ace thought of detention hall and the headmaster looking up at her from his notes. She remembered fixing him with her most unsettling glare. The headmaster shook his head and continued his scribbling: Dorothy regularly disturbs classes with her outbursts, insults the instructors, sets-off small explosives in the chemistry lab . . .

"You don't scare me. I know evil--looked it right in the eyes. You're nothing but Rixx's puppet," Ace said, her voice raspy. "You live to impress him, you insecure bastard."

Stimms' thumb hovered above the remote control button. His eyes were wild and his face flushed. Ace shut her eyes. But rather than a painful jolt, she heard the man chuckle.

"Let's see how your courage stands up to the Berthol-Stimms device."

She opened her eyes as he exited the room and the door hissed shut. The black void encroached on the chair, testing itself against the brilliance of the spotlight. Goosebumps formed on her arms and her breath became clouds of vapour. A hum of machinery filled her ears.

"I will now begin the interrogation," said Stimms through a hidden speaker.

"Is your Berthol-Stimms toy your claim to fame?" Ace cried into the dark.

"It was devised by the former Security Chief. After he was killed by the rebels and I assumed his position, I made some modifications. Information is easily extracted now, but with lethal results."

Ace's heart sank. The hum of machinery faded, replaced by her quick breaths and the pulse of blood in her ears. Out the corner of her eye, she caught a gleam in the dark. Then another before her. And another. A shimmer of dots and stripes danced around her. Figures in colourful, billowing garments pranced, hopped and did cartwheels. One left the circle and tiptoed towards her. Its blanched face, surrounded by a mop of green curls, tilted from side to side. Red-painted lips formed an impossibly large smile. Its hollow eyes drew close, filling her field of vision.

"Why aren't you smiling, little girl?" the clown said with a squeaky voice, firmly pushing up Ace's cheeks with its fingers. "Smile! Don't you like clowns?"

Ace turned her face away. "I hate clowns." The clown laughed hysterically. "I'm not a little girl anymore," Ace shouted; "it'll take more than a circus to scare me!" She looked up, but the clown was gone.

A loud, persistent whine filled the room.

"That was only the minimal setting," said Stimms. "Whatever courage you think you may have, young lady, will soon be in vain."

The whine rang in Ace's ears and echoed in her mind. The darkness crept closer. An eye-stalk appeared in the spotlight, its pupil expanding and contracting.

"Who are you?" said a shrill, grating voice. A pair of lights flashed above the eye-stalk as it emphasized each syllable.

"You know who I am."

"You are a companion of the Doctor, sworn enemy of the Daleks!"

"That's right. And if he were here--"

A metallic claw extended into the spotlight and clasped her throat in a vice grip. Ace gasped for air.

"The Doctor is not here. You are our prisoner. Tell us his plans!"

Ace grabbed the claw with both hands and, with a shout, wrested it off her neck. The eye-stalk withdrew into the darkness.

The whine rose to a high-pitched whistle.

She made out a man wearing a brown jacket and check pants. A panama hat overshadowed his face, but the spotlight reflected off his eyes with a twinkle. He leaned forward on an umbrella with a question mark shaped handle.

"Professor, please get me out of this," Ace muttered.

The man remained still and looked on.

"Professor? Please . . ."

He withdrew into the darkness.

"Doctor!" Ace cried after him.

"This is a battle you must face on your own, Ace," said a deep, female voice. "The Doctor will do nothing to save you now."

A pair of hands snaked around her waist; lithe arms contracted as they twisted their way up her chest. The skin was smooth and translucent: light pulsed beneath the silver-blue surface. Ace shivered at the biting cold as the arms brushed against the skin of her neck. A thin, pointed face with full lips and glowing eyes appeared beside Ace and pressed against her own face.

"I hear your thoughts, Ace," the Timewyrm whispered into her ear. "I know you're scared--left all alone to die."

"We defeated you, Ishtar. Left you trapped inside the mind of a child." Ace struggled to breathe.

"But I left my mark on the Doctor. I exposed dark secrets hidden in the back of his mind. He's too busy sorting out his thoughts, looking after himself, to help you now."

As the arms tightened their grip around Ace's neck, there came a searing and the smell of burning flesh and metal. The Timewyrm and Ace screamed in unison as the creature's skin blackened and withered. Exposed cybernetic flesh bubbled and cracked. As the arms disintegrated, she noticed a bright glow emanating from the stone pennant dangling from her neck.

The chair began to vibrate. The whistle dulled to a whine and then went silent. With a pop, the spotlight extinguished and darkness swallowed Ace whole. She felt faint and struggled to keep her eyes open. There was a muffled explosion nearby.

Ace drifted into unconsciousness as the chamber door hissed open and light flooded into the room.

Above the Shore, silhouettes of seagulls wavered in the afternoon light. The Doctor rested a hand on Ace's shoulder. Brushing wayward strands of hair from her face, she turned to look at her mentor.

"I need you to wait in the TARDIS, Ace," he said gently.

"You already tried that once, remember?"

"This is serious. Events on Tranta are reaching a critical point." He furrowed his brow. "There are too many players in the game, too many factors that require my full attention."

"I can look after myself, Professor. You know that."

"All to well. But I need to know you're safe. I can't afford to worry about you right now."

"But Professor--"

"Ace, this isn't up for debate!" He looked away and sighed.

Why must I always prove myself to him? Ace thought. Granted, she didn't know the full scope of events unfolding around her, but she couldn't just stand by. She needed to help out in any way she could, to make a difference--however small. She wouldn't abandon her friends.

The silence was painful.

"Professor?"

"Hmmm?"

"Remember when I first came aboard the TARDIS, on Iceworld?"

He smiled, but continued looking out to sea. "Vaguely."

Ace suddenly felt tired and rested her head on the Doctor's shoulder. "You laid out three rules."

"Ah yes."

"First: you're in charge," she muttered, her eyelids growing heavy.

"Of course."

"Second: you're not a Professor; you're the Doctor."

He patted her head. "As I've told you on many occasions."

"But you never told me the third one--not even when we reached Perivale."

"Then it's about time I think of one." His voice was distant as she drifted off to sleep. "Third: never take anything at face value . . ."

Ace awoke in a large bed, tucked under white sheets. The Morestran ambassador sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at her. She removed her hand from Ace's forehead.

Ace frowned. "Pro--"

The Ambassador touched a finger to her lips.

A rhythmic beeping awoke Stimms. He shook his head, sat up and brushed the pieces of circuitry and plastic off his lap. He retrieved the electronic notepad from his breast pocket; his uniform was singed and torn. Tapping a button, Grogan's features appeared on a holographic viewscreen before him.

"Did I reach you at a bad time, Stimms?" the rebel leader said with a half-smile.

Stimms felt the cuts on his face and his singed eyebrows. "Your followers have gone too far this time, Grogan. If it were up to me, I'd bomb the hell out of those asteroids and destroy your hideout."

"And make me a martyr? You're not thinking straight, Stimms. Here's a suggestion: convince Rixx to negotiate a treaty with me, or I will launch a full-scale revolution on the Capitol--within the hour."

Stimms sneered. "With your petty band of misfits?"

"And several thousand supporters on Tranta."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I have run out of patience. First, we will capture the Ambassador and return her safely only if the Morestrans agree to a reduced sixty percent share of artron energy. There's been no sign of the Corporation in decades, so the Empire's protection is no longer needed. Second, we will establish a democratic government and reopen trade routes to other worlds. The number of people that die in the process depends on Rixx's willingness to negotiate."

"And if the Empire refuses to co-operate?"

Grogan shook his head. "Highly unlikely: they wouldn't risk the life of such a prominent, valued political figure as Ambassador Ishtmus."

"The Ambassador is an impostor, Grogan. I was informed by the Morestrans earlier that the real Ambassador is away on assignment." Stimms chuckled. "Your ultimatum means nothing."

"You're lying."

"Contact the Empire yourself, if you must."

The rebel leader's eyes became solemn. "We will storm the Capitol as planned . . . but we'll capture Rixx instead. In the interest of their exclusive trade agreement, the Morestrans wouldn't dare risk his life."

"Don't be rash: such a foolish move will turn the entire population of Tranta against you." Stimms looked away and furrowed his brow. The time has come, he thought. He leaned forward and peered intently at Grogan. "I have a different idea--one that will benefit us both. It involves the Doctor . . ."

A flood of voices filled Central Control while Rixx frantically tapped at his keyboard and scanned a flurry of readout screens. The Ambassador entered the circular room, accompanied by Ace and a Morestran guard.

"Controller Rixx--"

"This isn't a good time, Ambassador!"

The Ambassador stepped forward and waved out her arm, causing the holographic screens to flutter and distort. "Your Security Chief is torturing rebel prisoners; I won't stand for it."

Rixx's eyes bore sharply into hers. "I have a bigger problem on my hands: a crowd of thousands--rebels and Tranta citizens--has formed at the Capitol's main entrance."

"And what will do you about it?"

"I am trying to contain them." Rixx examined the screens as they reformed. "Someone has put the idea in their heads that my death is imminent and the Empire will seize control of Tranta when I'm gone."

"You're hardly looking well, Controller. And if you should die, what is to become of the city?"

"The city will go on--monitored with the same wisdom and guidance citizens take for granted," Rixx said. "That is all you need to know. Artron energy shipments to the Empire will not be affected."

"We shall see. In the meantime, the Empire has recalled me. I need a security escort to your rocket," the Ambassador said. "And I am taking this rebel with me--for humane questioning."

"Fine," Rixx muttered. "Just let me concentrate!"

The Ambassador glanced at the guard and Ace, and they headed to the exit. The door hissed open, revealing a battered Stimms surrounded by security guards. They levelled their staser pistols at the trio.

"You will remain where you are--all of you," Stimms said, studying his prisoners.

"What are you doing, Stimms?" Rixx turned his attention away from the readout screens. "Escort the Ambassador to her shuttle."

"This is not the Ambassador, Controller." He nodded to the guards. "Seize them."

The trio struggled as guards grabbed hold of each of them.

"Stimms!" Rixx shouted.

"What is the meaning of this?" exclaimed the Ambassador.

"Controller, this is an impostor. The Empire informed me that the real Ambassador is away on assignment. And this Morestran guard is in fact a rebel."

"You'd better know what you're doing, Stimms," said Rixx, restraining his anger.

Stimms grabbed the side of the Ambassador's face and tugged the skin. She winced and tried to turn her face away. The skin whitened and bruised between his fingers before he let go. The Ambassador gave him a vicious glare. He sneered. "Impressive."

"Let her go!" Ace cried, struggling in the guards' grip.

Stimms pressed a staser pistol to Ace's forehead and looked at the Ambassador. "Lose the disguise."

Ace stood still and gritted her teeth.

With a look of defeat, the Ambassador tapped her belt buckle. Her blue robes distorted and reformed as a white bodysuit worn by a male figure. The stranger pulled off his blank mask to reveal a deeply-line face, thinning black hair, bushy eyebrows and distant grey eyes.

"Doctor," Ace whispered.

The guard resumed his hold on the Doctor, while Stimms replaced his pistol in its holster, smiling with delight. "Very impressive indeed. Hard-light projection?"

"Block transfer computation."

"Simple Time Lord technology, I suppose."

The Doctor frowned.

Stimms turned to Rixx. "Controller, this man calls himself the Doctor. He is a Time Lord, an ancient and powerful race. He has been in league with Grogan since you exiled him, helping him to bring about your downfall." He approached Ace, grabbed her necklace and examined the stone pendant. "Interrogating this rebel proved most fruitful--until her Shly-Ka trinket destroyed the Berthol-Stimms device."

"Whatever the Doctor is, he is our prisoner now," said Rixx. "Now let me deal with the protest outside before it turns into a revolution!"

Stimms gripped the pendant in his fist. "Where did you get this--Dorothy?"

"My name is Ace." She spit the words.

He pulled the necklace, bringing her face to his. "What are the Shly-Ka planning, Ace?"

"Let go of her," the Doctor said in a harsh whisper.

Stimms released the necklace and approached the Doctor. He gripped the collar of the bodysuit with both hands and clenched his fists. "Or what, Time Lor--"

The Security Chief stifled a yell as the Doctor grabbed his arm and pressed a thumb to his wrist. The guard behind the Doctor staggered in a dazed state before collapsing. Stimms moaned in pain as all his muscles contracted.

"You're nothing but a bully, Stimms," the Doctor said before releasing his grip.

Stimms dropped to the floor, nursing his wrist with a whimper.

The cocking of a gun caught the room's attention. Grogan stepped into Central Control waving a machine gun. "Get up, Stimms. Stay where you are, Doctor."

"Grogan, there is no need for that weapon. We are near to reaching an agreement beneficial to all," said the Time Lord.

"I've grown weary of your negotiations, Doctor. The Morestran energy crisis and the Shly-Ka relocation do not concern me." Grogan turned his attention to the Controller.

"I never thought we'd be standing face to face once more, Paul."

"Neither did I, Martin. You may thank your Security Chief for this reunion." Grogan looked over as Stimms stood by his side.

"What is this?" Rixx barked.

"You're no longer fit to rule, Controller," said Stimms. "You've made it quite clear you're unable to end the rebel crisis."

The Controller chuckled. "And who will replace me? You?"

"I've studied your duties for many years, Controller. My security patrols have ensured the continued existence of your utopia. But the threat of the rebellion must end." He gave Grogan a brief glance. "Grogan and I have negotiated a truce--one which will benefit everyone."

Rixx tapped a button and the readout screens faded; he slumped back in his chair. "A truce which will benefit you both, no doubt. You are driven solely on power, Stimms. And you, Grogan, on greed. Those qualities drove the Corporation, which promised great profits to the citizens of Tranta. You and I know full well the resulting misery and exploitation, Grogan. You may think you can balance profit with prosperity, but how will you stop other alien races from exploiting you?"

Grogan remained silent.

"The Morestran Empire is desperate for artron energy," Rixx continued. "As long as I deliver on time, I call the shots. And if that makes me sounds like a dictator, than so be it. But who else has sacrificed so much to fulfill the needs of so many? I have given the citizens of Tranta job security, a roof over their heads, a healthy environment in which to raise their family and a bright future. I have given them results, not promises. And in return, all I've asked for is a strong work ethic and creativity."

Stimms crossed his arms with impatience.

"There is only one worthy successor. One without an ounce of selfishness, who does not wither with strain and old age, whose mind is not swayed by fantasies of power and greed. The Intelligence will succeed me."

"NO!" cried Stimms, racing towards Rixx and wresting him out of his seat. The old man hit the floor with a sickening thud. Stimms sat in the chair and placed the control coronet on his head. "Grogan, I will order the rebels and my security troops to stand down."

The rebel leader nodded his head and watched on as the Doctor knelt beside Rixx's crumpled form. The Doctor helped him to turn over on his back. The Controller looked up with a serene gaze and smiled.

"A Time Lord . . . How old are you?"

The Doctor took the man's pulse and grinned. "I stopped counting after nine-hundred."

Rixx gave a painful chuckle. "I know how you feel . . . Do you play chess, Doctor?"

"From time to time."

"That's good. It's the kind of simple game I now yearn for." He looked up at the ceiling and exhaled laboured breaths.

A viewscreen suddenly appeared before Stimms. His curious glance was met by two pairs of bulbous, luminescent eyes. The two reptilian, robed figured chirped quietly to each other. Ace recognized them as the Keeper and the Elder from the cave.

"I speak on behalf of the Shly-Ka," said the Keeper. "Our numbers steadily decrease, nearing extinction. We demand the right to return to our lunar sanctuaries orbiting Antuath."

"You'll have to take up your cause with the Mining Corporation and the Morestran Empire, I'm afraid," said Stimms. "It does not concern us."

"On the contrary: the citizens of Tranta owe a great debt to the Shly-Ka. When Controller Rixx first assumed power on Tranta, the Corporation planned to destroy the city and Antuath with an alien weapon. One of my species at their headquarters caused the weapon to self-destruct upon launching. The Corporation is no more."

"We are grateful for your act," said Stimms, "but cannot allow our mining operation to be compromised by your presence."

The Shly-Ka chirruped to each other quietly. "Then it is clear now that only a show of force will ensure our survival. We shall relocate Tranta to Morestran space and raise a force field around Antuath. Do not attempt to return to the planet," warned the Keeper.

The viewscreen disappeared.

"Warning: high-level quantum surges are emanating from Reverend Prentis' rocket," reported the Intelligence's female voice.

"You see!" cried Rixx, still lying on the floor. "I knew the Shly-Ka were a danger to Tranta and her operations."

"Warning: orbital stabilizers are disengaging."

"Compensate!" commanded Stimms.

"Stimms, no!" Rixx struggled to his feet and tried to wrench the coronet from the Security Chief's head. "You don't know what you're dealing with!"

A loud rattle echoed through the chamber as Grogan fired a short burst from his machine gun. Rixx clenched his chest and crumpled to the floor. Streams of blood spread through the robes and pooled on the polished metal floor.

The Doctor backed towards Ace, while the guards exchanged confused glances. Grogan turned his weapon their way.

"That wasn't necessary," said the Doctor.

Laser light scanned over Rixx's corpse. A screen flickered on, displaying a chart of fluctuating lines, which soon flattened out.

"Controller Rixx is dead," reported the Intelligence. "Initiating successor regulations."

"Cancel that order and bring orbital stabilizers on-line," ordered Stimms.

"In the event of Controller Rixx's death, the Intelligence is to assume command of Tranta operations."

"No! You will cancel that order," cried Stimms.

"Security Chief Stimms, you are violating successor regulations."

A low rumble filled the room. The Doctor rested a hand on Ace's shoulder. Grogan looked about anxiously.

"Do as I command, Intelligence, or I'll erase your programming!"

The floor shook gently as the rumble rose.

"Assuming command of Tranta operations," reported the Intelligence.

Stimms cried out as electricity shot through the coronet. He slumped forward and the coronet clanged on the floor. Smoke rose from his hair.

"Tranta is shifting from its orbit," said the Intelligence. "Compensating."

The floor lurched violently. Cracks appeared in the wall of photonic circuitry.

"Compensating."

Grogan raced out of the room. The guards followed suit.

"Ace, get back to the TARDIS!" cried the Doctor over the rumble.

"What about you?"

"The Intelligence will keep fighting the Shly-Ka device until something gives. I need to prevent that disaster." He gave her an imploring glance. "Now go!"

She hesitated a moment before darting out the exit.

"Thrusters are jammed. Orbital stabilizers are inoperative," reported the Intelligence.

The Doctor braved his way to Stimms' corpse and retrieved the coronet by his feet. He placed it on his head.

"Identity unknown. Warning: intruder attempting to take operational command. Cease at once."

"Intelligence, I need to clean up this mess. Allow me to take control."

"You are violating successor regulations."

The Doctor winced from a mild electric shock. He touched his fingers to the coronet and furrowed his brow.

"Losing--operational--command . . . Compensating."

The portals around the room shattered and glowing blue liquid emptied onto the floor. The Intelligence short-circuited.

"Oh dear . . ." The Doctor sighed and removed the coronet. He studied Rixx's corpse. "I yearn for a far simpler game as well," he muttered to himself. Taking a deep breath, he dashed out of the room and navigated lurching floors to the elevator.

Concrete rubble and twisted metal hit the streets as city buildings shook at their foundation. Balls of flame lapped at the sky as the city of Tranta raced towards Antuath. Crowds scrambled in a panic towards the auxiliary docking bays, as escape shuttles lifted off.

Rebels had abandoned their cause and worked alongside guards and workers, loading citizens onto the shuttles. Dave and Elsa helped direct the crowds.

"You should get on the shuttle, Elsa," Dave cried over the rumbling and commotion. "The few that take off will barely escape the gas giant's gravity."

Elsa ushered several children into the crowd. "The rebellion's over, but I'm still needed here."

"This is your chance to see other worlds--to finally leave this city."

"Are you leaving?"

Dave shook his head.

She smiled. "Together till the end, then."

They continued directing the crowd of people, while a thick latticework of cracks raced across the sky of flame.

Darting through alleyways and weaving through groups of citizens, Ace rounded a corner and found herself at a docking bay. She spotted Ikuko, frantically operating a control console. Tears were streaming down her face.

"Ikuko!"

The young woman looked up briefly from the console and smiled. "Thank goodness you're alive, Ace."

"What's going on?"

"Computer control of Tranta is down. I'm initiating launch sequences manually."

"Is the city going to crash into Antuath?"

"Yes, so get on a shuttle now!"

"That's where I'm headed." Ace turned in the direction of the TARDIS and took a deep breath. "Goodbye, Ikuko."

"Here." Ikuko tossed her a staser pistol. "Just in case."

They smiled at each other once more, and Ace ran down the street.

The Doctor coughed as a cloud of debris fell before him. He waved his arms to clear the air and patted the dust from his bodysuit. He peered down the alleyway and tapped the large blue Police Box beside him.

"Come on, Ace."

He unzipped the bodysuit to reveal check trousers, a white shirt and a knitted pullover adorned with question marks. Swirling clouds of violet and azure gas filled the sky, overwhelming the flames. The Doctor retrieved a key from his pants pocket and gripped it tightly.

A figure rounded the corner and entered the alleyway.

"It's about time," said the Doctor.

Grogan stepped into his field of vision, levelling his machine gun at the Time Lord's chest. He cocked the weapon. "I won't let you slip away this time, Doctor."

"It's over, Grogan. No more alliances to be made, no more deals to be broken."

"This is your space/time machine, is it not?" He nodded at the Police Box. "We'll use it to go back and set things right."

The Doctor looked at him with solemn eyes. "I can't allow that."

"A million and half people are about to die, Doctor--and you have the power to stop it!"

"I will not alter the course of history: I was there when the mistakes were made. I can only salvage what I can in the present. We must all live with the consequences."

"Then we'll all die," Grogan snarled.

"Once Ace gets here, I can drop you off at the nearest Morestran colony--"

"You're not going anywhere." He tightened his finger on the trigger.

"Grogan," the Doctor said levelly, "I have the chance to save your life and Ace's. There is nothing else I can do."

Another figure entered the alleyway.

The rebel leader's eyes were wild and his face flushed. "A Time Lord," he stammered. "You've sentenced an entire city to die . . ."

The Doctor remained silent, giving him a frank gaze.

Grogan pulled the trigger.

Behind him, Ace screamed.

Time seemed to slow down for Ace as a barrage of bullets struck the Doctor full in the chest. Bursts of red exploded across his pullover. She fumbled in her pockets. The pistol. Ikuko's pistol. Where had she put it?

The explosions ripped through the Doctor's body, bursting out his back. His face contorted. He fell to his knees.

The pistol slipped out of her hands and skittered across the ground. She ran for it, reaching out. Grogan was screaming something unintelligible, or just screaming. He hadn't seen her; his full attention was on the Doctor.

Ace dove for the gun. She picked it up on her first roll and stumbled to her feet, bringing up the gun and firing, twice, at point blank range. Grogan pitched forward. The machine gun hit the ground with a clatter. The silence was deafening.

It was too late--the Doctor lay on the broken pavement, in a pool of his own blood.

Ace ran to the Police Box, throwing the phaser pistol aside. She dropped down and cradled the Doctor's head in her lap. His eyes were serene and distant. Fluid gurgled in his throat as he struggled to breathe. She heard air being sucked through the bullet holes in his blood-soaked pullover. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I lost my way, Professor."

A faint smile. "Doctor," he whispered.

"I-I could have stopped him."

"TARDIS . . . Hurry . . ." He closed his eyes.

"No," she pleaded. "You've got to hold on!"

"I'm sorry," he gasped, and died. His palm opened, revealing the key.

Ace grabbed it, unlocked the Police Box door and dragged her mentor inside.

With a grinding of engines, the TARDIS vanished as Tranta collapsed.

The entrance hatch to the escape shuttle hissed shut and the remaining crowd backed away. The retro-rockets fired and the shuttle veered away from the city. It wavered as it passed through gas clouds, veered to and fro, and suddenly caught on fire. A split second later, it exploded.

The commotion of the spectators was interrupted by a thunderous groan: the supporting beams above strained and buckled before finally breaking free.

Elsa and Dave held each other tight and looked into each other's eyes.

A fierce cloud of fire and gas shattered the transparent dome.

The Keeper and the Elder exited the cave as a sleek, crystalline vessel landed on the asteroid surface. A crowd of red-robed Gardeners exited the craft and exchanged clicks and chirrups with the elder Shly-Ka. The gas giant filled the night sky and cast a violet light over rocky terrain. The creatures bowed their heads as forgotten sensations stirred in their cores. Renewed symbiosis with Antuath overwhelmed them like a fever.

A bright flash caught the crowd's attention: a fireball appeared in the planet's atmosphere. Extreme gravitational forces ripped Tranta apart, reducing Rixx's utopia to a shower of concrete, steel and glass.

The Shly-Ka exchanged shocked and guilty stares. Bowing their heads once more, a chorus of ethereal wind song emanated from air sacs at the back of their heads. Their requiem was carried by sterile winds and echoed in the caverns beyond.

Ocean waves, distant pine and birch trees, and undisturbed sand were imbued with grey by the overcast sky. The Doctor turned his attention from the horizon to the Shore. A lone canvas tent stood on the beach a short distance away. He drew himself up and walked forward.

Reaching the tent, he hesitated and traced his fingers over the green canvas. He cast one last look at the stretch of beach behind him.

So long as sentient beings remain, so long as space remains, I will remain in order to serve, or in order to make some small contribution for the benefit of others.

The Doctor nodded his head and yanked aside the tent flaps, stepping into the unknown.

Buddhist quotations from The Heart of the Buddha's Path by His Holiness the XIV Dalai Lama.

Thanks to Tim, Dan, Alyx, Julia, Eric, Richard, Pat and James.