The Gravity Bombers

by EightSixEightSeven

A little light reading, just for fun.

DOCTOR WHO

THE GRAVITY BOMBERS

By R A Henderson

In the star-speckled blackness of space, a door opened. Not a door in the conventional sense; no knobs or handles or hinges, but instead a complex technological system designed specifically to open and close pathways through physical space itself, its purpose being to reduce the journey time of the craft travelling through it. The ship that did come through was relatively small – at least compared to the gathering of other ships it joined in that sector of space, and it closed the door securely behind it so that none of the others would have an opportunity to study it, reverse-engineer it and thereby duplicate the technology. Every society had its secrets, for its own protection. The metal egg with its three forward-pointing fins, arcing out ahead of its bow to form a three-tined claw, slowed and fell in with the other craft. There were three other ships: One of them was a typical lashed-together Teneshari junk ship, another an impressive and rather heavily-armed warship that might have belonged to the Kalrithia-Natrioma, and the third one of the commonest sights in this sector: a frigate of the Royal Coroth Min Navy. The Coroth Min ship was to be the venue for the conference and therefore it had been agreed that all communication between the parties concerned would go through it, the sole intermediary in the proceedings. The pilot of the tiny egg – a Nuridian Kadiazi StrikeCruiser – scanned for the test signal of HMS Daring's commpatch, located it and locked in. 'This is Kadion Riridani Hicdtal of Nuridia,' the pilot announced. 'Escorting Tjang Meritheven Deram. We request permission to board.'

'Permission granted, Kadion,' the voice of the communications technician aboard the Daring replied. 'Your clearance signal is now being transmitted. Lock on for transmat access.'

Tjang Deram reached over and punched the button to close communications so that he could speak to his aide alone. 'Have you ever used a transmat before, Kadion?' he asked.

'No, my Lord,' Hicdtal answered earnestly. Nuridia had not yet perfected matter transceiver technology and few Nuridians had ever dared to use any that belonged to others due to mistrust. It was certainly true that most societies would not waste any chance to kill a Nuridian Tjang, even if it was just by scrambling his particles in a transmat beam. 'Is there danger?'

'Had it been the Kalrithiate ship we were travelling to,' Deram answered, 'then perhaps I might have said yes. But the Imari are not as perfidious as the Kalrithia, nor have they the stomach to simply assassinate us. Their interest in peace is sincere.'

Hicdtal suppressed a laugh. 'More sincere than ours, my Lord?'

'Surely,' Deram replied gleefully. 'But such could be said of any other party attending this arrangement. We continue to let them believe our aim is peaceful for as long as that belief is of service to our cause.'

'The cause of conquest!'

'What other is worth fighting?'

'None, my Lord.'

Deram reconnected communications. Instantly he was irritated by a persistent human voice. 'Kadiazi ship, we have no signal. Are you receiving us?'

'This is Tjang Deram,' Deram answered shortly. 'We apologise for the connection failure. We had some difficulty adapting our communications technology to your transmat system. We now have your signal and are prepared for translocation at the discretion of your commander.'

'Understood,' the human said. 'Stand by.'

The two Nuridians tensed their muscles and looked at each other, wondering as they fizzed out of existence whether or not they would ever rematerialise.

'That's the last, sir,' the helm technician reported from her console on the command deck of HMS Daring. 'All delegates aboard.'

Commander Bowen regarded the gathering of spacecraft on the viewscreen before giving a nod to the helmsman. 'Put it in the log, Rating,' he ordered bluntly and then turned to his first officer. 'Is the Envoy ready, Lieutenant Valentine?'

'Sir,' Valentine replied. 'He's actually been waiting very nearly half an hour for us.'

Bowen sighed. 'The Nuridian delegation seems to find some humour in being "fashionably" late, Lieutenant.'

Valentine grimaced. 'I agree. Sir?'

'Yes?'

'Permission to speak freely?'

'Granted.'

'I really do not fancy this at all,' Valentine said uneasily. 'I appreciate that we have orders and you know I've never objected to following them, but I…'

'Don't trust the Nuridians an inch,' Bowen finished for him. 'For God's sake, Viper. Who in this sector does? They've caused nothing but trouble ever since our first contact with them, and the Kalrithia have been putting up with it for longer than we have, but we need leverage in this war and our government isn't going to waste the opportunity to welcome the defection of a Nuridian high official.'

'But a Tjang, sir? With respect, that's noodle-doodle. If the defector were a Vedran or even an Ortran I could have accepted it, but Kadions and Tjangs are too high up the ladder, too close to the Supremacy to entertain the idea of switching sides.'

'Believe me, Viper, I agree with you and I wouldn't be doing this had I not been ordered to, but I have been ordered to and so have you, so we're doing it.'

'Well at least allow me a contingency, just in case?'

'What had you in mind?'

Valentine looked pained to say the words. 'Confiscation of all the delegates' arms, full body and cavity searches and security screening.'

Bowen's jaw dropped. 'Of a peace delegation? Have you any idea how you might justify such a suggestion?'

'Very simply, sir,' Valentine answered confidently. 'Any sentence that contains "Nuridian" and "peace" has got to be suspect. It's practically a contradiction in terms.'

'All right,' Bowen sighed heavily. 'But you take full responsibility, is that clear?'

'Crystal, sir.' Valentine gestured to two security guards. 'Level One screening for all delegates excluding the Mertsaadian Envoy, now.'

The guards nodded and left the command deck. Bowen watched them go. 'You'd better be right about this,' he told Valentine. 'Now, where's our Mr Phatepul?'

Kaval Phatepul, Ambassadorial Envoy to the Kingdom and Eighteen Dominions of Mertsaadis, finished his dinner of meat and sauce, wiped his leathery mouth with a large napkin, belched loudly and laughed at himself. 'Human hospitality is indeed as I was promised,' he said cheerfully in a rich, robust and slightly gravelly voice that made him sound like he was half-speaking and half-purring. He picked up the plate off which he had just eaten and laid it on top of the seven other plates he had cleared. 'Whatever reason the Nuridians have for disliking humans eludes me utterly. I am sure, my dear, that they are mad.'

The small, plump human woman that Phatepul had called his "dear" patted his mighty orange paw with her tiny pink hand and smiled at him. 'Absolutely barking, my love,' she agreed cheerfully, getting up to clear the plates away.

'I wonder,' Phatepul pondered, 'if it is their timekeeping that so offends the Tjangra.'

The little human woman, Phatepul's wife, Ruth, giggled as she put the dishes into the washer and trotted back over to him, managing to drape her arms over his shoulders but failing as usual to link her hands in front of his gargantuan neck. 'I'm sure there's an explanation for their tardiness,' she smiled sweetly. 'Even I'm not on time for some things!'

'For that you can be forgiven,' Phatepul winked. 'We are, after all, of different species.' He heard the door alert chime. 'They may enter,' he said, and Ruth went to open the doors.

'Thank you, Mrs Phatepul,' Valentine nodded curtly as he and Commander Bowen entered. 'Your Grace,' he nodded to the giant Mertsaadian Envoy.

The huge, leathery-skinned orange reptilian beast rose from his seat, eight feet tall with rippling muscles barely hidden by his flowing dark blue robes of office. 'You are finally ready to begin the conference?' he asked.

'We are, your Grace,' said Commander Bowen.

'That is a relief,' said Phatepul. 'I feared by my sixth dish of meat that it would not be starting at all.'

'The Nuridians chose to keep us waiting,' Bowen explained. 'They did not arrive until forty minutes ago.'

'And what have you been doing in those forty minutes, Commander?' Phatepul demanded. 'There is work to be done.'

'Security measures had to be observed, your Grace,' Valentine advised him. 'It was necessary to have all of the delegates searched for weapons.'

Phatepul let out a long and almost rattling sigh of despair. 'It is little wonder the politics of this sector have disturbed me for such an expanse of time,' he said aloud, not caring who heard or what they thought of it.

'Not every society is as morally developed as Mertsaadis, your Grace,' Valentine said pragmatically, producing a beaming grin.

'I could not agree more,' grunted Phatepul, barging past them and marching out of the door. 'Let us begin without further delay.'

Valentine nodded to Ruth. 'Good evening, Mrs Phatepul,' he said as the door closed.

As they marched after the Envoy, Bowen said quietly to Valentine, 'Good save at the end there, Lieutenant.'

'Good thing the Mertsaadians have no concept of sarcasm, you mean,' Valentine grinned wickedly. 'Sir.'

An old chair that had very probably once belonged, along with other identical chairs and a large table, to a dining suite stood a few feet from the TARDIS console. The Doctor lay slumped in the chair, feet up on the console edge, snoozing, and when Romana walked in and found this state of affairs she was not even slightly impressed. She sighed in an exasperated fashion and leaned over the console to have a look at some of the readings. She was aware that, thanks to the randomiser, there was no hope of knowing where the TARDIS would land next, but she also knew that when the TARDIS was about to land it would give its location. She observed that the ship was indeed at this point coming into land, and she considered rousing the Doctor, but for the moment thought better of it. Instead, she addressed K9, the metal-shelled, vaguely dog-like computer device that was taking advantage of the break it had been given by the Doctor's nap, studying the TARDIS databanks. K9 thirsted for information, like any intelligent being.

'K9,' Romana called. 'What's the Coroth Min System?'

'Coroth Min,' the metal dog announced, reciting verbatim from the memories of the ship. 'A formerly uncivilised but habitable star system in the outer belt of the Adiaxtane Cluster, containing two celestial bodies, each with an Earth-type ecosystem, colonised by the Grand British Traditional Foundation Society from Earth by Earth equivalent year thirty-four forty-nine.'

'Grand British Traditional Foundation Society?' Romana scoffed. 'How absurd.'

'Well, I find it rather quaint,' the Doctor said suddenly, making Romana wonder if he'd slept at all as he swung his long legs down from the console and sprang lithely to his feet. 'I've not been to Coroth Min in centuries. Its society is founded on very old English traditions going back as far as the eighteen hundreds. Tea and scones with clotted cream, morning newspapers, cricket and lawn tennis!'

'Query,' said K9. 'Lawn tennis?'

'Don't you have anything in your memory banks about tennis, K9?' the Doctor asked, surprised.

'Negative, Master,' the dog replied.

'How very odd,' the Doctor thought aloud.

Romana groaned. 'I'm afraid that's my fault,' she admitted. 'You mentioned tennis a few days ago, I didn't know what it was, I asked K9 to enlighten me and he gave me the option of three different variations. I decided it wasn't worth the trouble and told him to forget it…'

'And he did exactly as you instructed and deleted tennis from his memory! Ha!' the Doctor exclaimed. 'Romana, always be very careful what you say to computers. They invariably have the most literal minds.' He crouched beside K9. 'Are we on either of the planets in the system, K9?'

'Negative, Master,' K9 said. 'We are aboard a military spacecraft currently stationed in orbit of Coroth Min II.'

'Military?' asked Romana. 'Are you sure?'

'I have made contact with its computer, Mistress,' K9 informed her. 'The craft is His Majesty's Ship Daring, a Duke Class Frigate in the Fleet of the Royal Coroth Min Navy. She is fully equipped for combat.'

Romana scowled at the Doctor. 'Has your randomiser dumped us in the middle of a war?' she demanded sternly.

'Of course not,' the Doctor replied indignantly.

'Affirmative,' K9 contradicted him. 'The systems of Coroth Min and Kalrith are currently at war with Nuridia.'

The Doctor gawked. 'Nuridia?'

'A military dictatorship seated in the star system TaKara Nuridias, in the outer belt of…'

The Doctor kicked K9 viciously. 'I know what Nuridia is, K9!' he snapped loudly, but then lowered his voice as he felt Romana's eyes on him. 'One of the most vicious and needlessly destructive collectives of megalomaniacs and powerslaves the universe has ever produced. Everything they can't grind under their heel they turn to dust.'

'I don't think we should stay, Doctor,' Romana suggested softly.

'We cannot leave,' K9 reported.

The Doctor rounded on him, staring in an almost malicious fashion at the little metal dog's red optical sensor. 'What do you mean, we can't leave?' he demanded. Then, without waiting for an answer, he bounced over the console, hitting switches along the way. 'I'll show you whether we can leave or not!' He snorted indignantly as he hit the dematerialisation control.

Nothing happened.

The Doctor looked up at Romana, clearly staggered. 'Romana!' he gasped theatrically. 'We can't leave!'

Tjang Deram and his aide stormed into the conference room furiously, deliberately banging their feet on the deck. 'Your security measures are unacceptable!' Deram roared at Commander Bowen. 'We have even been forced to surrender our Klistars. What kind of civilisation robs its peace ambassadors of their ceremonial symbols?'

'A civilisation that doesn't want you using those swords to cut off the heads of its people, Tjang Deram,' Bowen answered calmly. 'Or indeed those of the other peace ambassadors present.' He gestured to the conference table. 'Shall we begin.'

The Nuridians grunted and sat at the table. Hicdtal leaned over toward his master and quietly said, 'Had they not taken our Klistars, I would have cut off their Commander's sjelacas for the indignity.'

Deram stifled a laugh. 'I think I might have enjoyed watching that more than I would unravelling the interesting paradox behind it.'

The door of the conference room slid open again and admitted an enormous, burly humanoid male with milk-white skin mottled with soft dark blue spots, purple eyes and black hair with a silver streak running from behind the left temple. He wore heavy-looking blue polymer armour plating and was as unarmed as the other delegates. Behind him walked a female of his species, with the same mottled skin, purple eyes and black hair, but her streak was closer to the centre and swirled out toward the right a little. She was breathtakingly beautiful and wore a long, flowing gown of white and silver. The giant in blue armour marched to a seat, pulled it out and allowed the woman to sit down. 'I,' he announced himself, 'am Ninth Lord Hiredious KaSarin Mirax of Kalrith, Marshal of the Kalrithiate Supreme Guard, and this,' he indicated the beautiful Kalrithiate woman, 'Is Lady Xarax KiDona Sjaddenax of the House of Enlightened Speakers. We greet the delegates from Coroth Min, Mertsaadis, Teneshar and Nuridia in peace.'

'Thank you, Lord Mirax,' Lady Sjaddenax said in a voice so sweet it almost sang.

'Meritheven Deram,' Deram said now that all of the delegates were assembled and introductions were appropriate. 'Expatriate of Nuridia. This is my comrade, Riridani Hicdtal.'

A short, stocky, shabbily-dressed creature with a furry, hamster-like face, sitting opposite the Nuridians, scratched the inside of his ear with a claw and said, 'Somjok Narlag of the tradesfolk of Teneshar.' He looked left and right. 'Lefty!' he called as he realised his companion was not in attendance at his side.

The taller, slightly skinnier Tenesharian shuffled over from an observation window where he had been looking at the ships, assessing their scrap value. 'Sorry, Jok,' he sniffed.

'Keep your mind on the job, Drojnay!' Somjok snapped. Then he calmly addressed the rest of the delegation. 'This is my brother, Drojnay.'

Commander Bowen smiled at the two furry creatures. 'Thank you. 'I am Commander Jonathan Bowen, RCMN, representing the interests of Coroth Min. This is my first officer and adjutant, Lieutenant Robert St Valentine.'

'And I,' said the enormous bright orange lizard in the corner of the room, standing behind a seat because he had tried it on arrival and found he did not fit in it, 'am Ambassadorial Envoy Kaval Phatepul of Mertsaadis. I am not here to represent my people, who are neutral in the issue of war, but to serve as moderator in order to ensure reasonable discussion. I need neither bodyguard nor secretary.'

'Did you come alone then, your Grace?' asked Lord Mirax.

'No, my Lord,' Phatepul responded with the same formality that Mirax had afforded him. 'My wife is aboard, but she has no part in these proceedings. I simply bring her with me because I feel uncomfortable if I am ever further away than would take me thirty human minutes to walk.'

'What a sweet sentiment,' Lady Sjaddenax smiled.

'Shall we expedite the plot of the romantic novel?' Deram grunted. 'There are matters of importance to address, are there not?'

'We apologise,' said Lady Sjaddenax.

'I also,' Phatepul said sadly. 'You are, of course, correct, Mr Deram.'

'Tjang,' Hicdtal hissed.

'Not in the case that he defects,' Valentine observed. 'That is still his intention?'

Hicdtal was seething, but the look in his master's eye easily substituted an order. 'Of course,' he agreed, forcing himself to be calm. 'We apologise to the Envoy from Mertsaadis.'

'Accepted,' Phatepul nodded graciously. 'There are many pros and cons, if you will, in offering a former Nuridian Tjang and Kadion asylum or refuge in exchange for information. There are many questions that remain unanswered and many answers that remain unverified until proof is seen. What, if any, information can our defectors give us that we can actually use? Will they give us wrong information? Will they deliberately deceive us in order to guide us innocently into traps? If they do comply in earnest, why do they? What do they hope to gain? I am sure all of the other delegates here have considered these questions, and the purpose of these proceedings is to ask our potential defectors themselves for the answers. I offer the chair to Nuridia.'

Deram stood up. 'We are aware that the Imari…' he stopped and checked himself. He had used the Nuridian nickname for humans, a nickname that was rude and insulting. 'We are aware that the humans do not trust us, nor the Kalrithia, and we are aware that the Teneshari only send delegates to see if there is any profit to be made.' He looked down at Somjok. 'I am afraid we offer none. We are alone in this venture. We have turned against our own people because we have failed them, and those who fail the Tjangra die by execution. We do not wish to die, and your Alliance, the combined powers of Coroth Min and Kalrithia that have kept the Tjangra from its conquest of both, are a guaranteed shield from their wrath behind which we may hide. They will search the galaxy for us, and if they find us they will slaughter us. Death is surely more punishment than we deserve for merely being mortal and capable of error. Please, save us from it, and we in return will give you all the knowledge we have of Nuridia's weapons, ships, forces and even the coveted slip-phase technology that enables us to travel through controlled wormholes.'

'If your offer is genuine,' Lady Sjaddenax interjected, 'then why did you seal your wormhole rather than leaving it open for our scientists to examine freely when you arrived?'

'We want something from you, my Lady,' Deram explained. 'Why would you trade us anything for the wormholes when you could simply take them?'

Lady Sjaddenax raised an eyebrow and looked up at Commander Bowen. 'It seems the mistrust is mutual, Commander,' she said.

'We still require proof of your good intent,' Bowen insisted to Deram. 'Give us something, a free sample, as it were, to prove you're really willing to hand over things to us. If we test it and it's good, we'll offer you asylum in exchange for the rest.'

'That is a reasonable suggestion,' said Phatepul.

The two Nuridians exchanged glances. Finally Deram said, 'Very well. Hicdtal?'

Hicdtal stood and opened a concealed chamber in the left thigh sheath of his body armour, producing from it a small metal sphere. It was copper-coloured, dull and generally unimpressive to look at. 'This is the Integrated Slip-phase Generator that works with our drive systems. Simply attach a power transformer to it and use your navigation systems to project a course. A wormhole will open and take you there instantly. When you shut off power, transfer a standard magnetic charge to close the hole.

'Excellent!' Bowen exclaimed and sprang forward to grab the ball.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you!' said a voice from the corner of the room.

Everyone at the table froze and looked around to see a man standing in the doorway. He looked human and had a humanoid woman and the most absurd-looking robot with him. Valentine went for his blaster but groaned as he remembered he was unarmed. 'I'll call security,' he told Bowen.

'Wait,' Bowen said, holding up a hand to stay the Lieutenant. He looked at the newcomers. The man was tall and wore an overcoat and a ridiculously long scarf. His hair was a mass of brown curls on top of which was jammed a large, soft, broad-brimmed floppy hat. The woman with him was petite and blonde-haired, round-faced and pretty. She looked almost like a child, and she wore child's clothes too, a pleated grey skirt, a blue blazer, white socks and black shoes. The robot, for all the world, looked like a boxy metal approximation of a dog. 'Who the hell are you two?'

'I'm the Doctor,' said the scarf man. 'This is Romana,' he indicated the little girl. 'This is K9,' he indicated the metal dog, 'and that's a bomb,' he said finally, pointing to the coppery sphere. 'If you put any electrical charge through that, you'll be squashed flatter than a cricket under an army boot.'

'How dare you accuse us,' hissed Hicdtal, springing upright, kicking his chair across the room and advancing on the Doctor. The Doctor pinned himself against the door and waited for the blow to fall, but a gigantic orange paw gripped the Nuridian's shoulder and pulled him back. 'I will tolerate no acts of physical violence,' the orange giant growled firmly.

'Thank you so much,' said the Doctor. 'We're incredibly grateful, Mr…'

'Phatepul. Kaval Phatepul.'

'Of the Mertsaadian Kingdom?'

'Of course.'

The Doctor was grinning all over his face. 'I've never actually met a Mertsaadian before, but your reputation precedes you. Are you the same Kaval Phatepul who successfully negotiated the cessation of hostilities at Seliden Kohr in the last year of the civil war there?'

'I am the same,' Phatepul answered.

'This sector of the galaxy owes you a great deal, Ambassador,' the Doctor said warmly. 'If only more politicians were interested in peace and fewer in wealth.'

'We share a philosophy, Doctor,' Phatepul purred.

Valentine approached Phatepul from behind. 'They are still intruders, your Grace,' he said quietly.

'So you say,' Phatepul agreed. 'And they say our Nuridian friends are assassins. Whom do we incarcerate? If the Nuridians, we risk an act of war in the event that their presence here is part of a deception. If these people, we risk destruction if they speak the truth about the sphere. If both, we risk both, as well as a gross misjudgement on our part should the Nuridians be proven innocent. And so we face a quandary.'

'May I make a suggestion?' asked Lady Sjaddenax, still seated at her table.

Commander Bowen answered her. 'Please do, my Lady.'

'Let us examine the artefact we have been offered by the Nuridians,' Lady Sjaddenax said. 'Let us learn whether it holds within its shell our advancement or our destruction.'

'One third of your local credit says it's a bomb, your Ladyship,' cackled Somjok.

Lady Sjaddenax gave a pretty smirk. 'I would be a fool to enter into such a wager, delegate.'

Valentine called security and ordered the guards to hold the Nuridians and the Doctor's party. K9 moved to stun the guards, but the Doctor stood him down and promised no resistance. Valentine carefully took the sphere from Hicdtal and examined it. 'I ordered a full security search,' he said. 'If this were a weapon, our systems would have detected it.'

'You're making the classic mistake of assuming it's a conventional weapon,' the Doctor explained.

'You said it was a bomb,' said Valentine.

'It is,' Romana said. 'But not in the conventional sense. That's a dark matter inverter.'

Bowen gawked. 'You mean there's a gravitational field around the heaviest substance in the universe and if it's removed it could squash it?'

'Squash us along with it!' said the Doctor. 'This ship and all the other ships in orbit here would become a black hole, and being so close to the surface of Coroth Min II the hole would do an awful lot of damage. Enough I'd say to reduce Coroth Min's defences by as much as five eighths!'

'That could tip the balance of the war!' Valentine gasped. 'Most of our munitions factories and shipyards are on II.'

'Hold on, though,' interjected Somjok. 'Why would the Nuridians come on board with a bomb knowing you'd set it off? I mean, they'd get squashed too. No profit in that. Not for anybody!'

'I expect there's another of those little pockets in the other thigh shell,' said Romana. 'Containing the real wormhole generator. They were planning to slip away quietly once that little bauble was on its way to be tested.'

'Well it's going to be tested now,' Valentine said. 'And nobody is slipping anywhere.' He turned to Hicdtal. 'Surrender your wormhole device.'

'This intruder is lying,' Hicdtal snapped. 'He is deliberately trying to cause enmity between us.'

'What would he have to gain?'

'Who knows? Perhaps he is a bounty hunter sent by Nuridia to bring us back.'

'Oh, poppycock!' the Doctor retorted. 'Mr Phatepul, do you believe any of this hogwash?'

'What?' seethed Hicdtal.

'Hogwash!' the Doctor hooted into the Nuridian's face. 'Your flim-flam might've worked on this peace conference, but it'll take more than that to fool me!'

'You accuse me of lying?' roared the Nuridian.

'I do, rather,' the Doctor hissed quietly back.

The Kadion flexed his powerful armoured muscles to throw off the security guards. In a flourish he quickly disarmed one and aimed the snatched blaster at the Doctor. 'You will pay for your insolence, schlacta-darrch!" he snarled.

There was a flash. Hicdtal dropped dead on the deck, his back smouldering. Everyone looked to the grinning rodent features of Somjok Narlag, who was also holding an RCMN standard issue blaster.'

'Where did you get that?' asked a very surprised Lady Sjaddenax. 'We were all searched for weapons!'

'Before we were brought up here, yes,' grinned Somjok. 'But on the way I stopped a guard and bribed him to accidentally lose his sidearm!' He jabbed his chuckling brother in the ribs playfully with an elbow. 'Swish, eh?'

The Doctor nodded to the corpse on the floor. 'I'd check him for the wormhole generator if I were you.'

Bowen nodded and a guard felt around for the catch on the armour.

'There is no need,' said Deram, pulling something from behind his leg. 'As you can see, I have it!' But before anyone could get a decent look at the device, he elbowed his guard in the stomach, opened a hole, jumped through and sealed it behind him.

Bowen sighed. 'Let them go,' he told the security guards.

'We still don't know who they are, sir,' Valentine pontificated.

'We know they saved our lives,' Bowen said. 'I didn't get a good look at that wormhole contraption, but it wasn't a little brass knob like this, now was it?' He took the ball out of his adjutant's hand and held it up.

'Can I have that if you don't want it?' asked Somjok. 'There's a few mercs out in the Ristan galaxy who'd pay a fair bit for that smart a smartbomb.'

Bowen and Valentine exchanged glances. 'Very well, delegate,' Bowen said, giving the little fat hamster the bomb. 'But please leave with it at once.'

'Not a problem,' Somjok grinned. 'Come on, Drojjers!' and the pair of them left.

'We're incredibly sorry for wasting all of your time, delegates,' Valentine told Phatepul and the Kalrithiate party. 'We weren't expecting these revelations.'

'It is not your fault,' smiled Lady Sjaddenax. 'You have nothing to apologise for.' She looked up at her aide. 'Pursue Meritheven Deram and destroy him, Lord Mirax.'

'My Lady,' Mirax nodded, and before Bowen could say anything he activated his transmat and was gone.

Bowen looked worriedly at Lady Sjaddenax.. 'Forgive me, my Lady, but that was something of a ruthless instruction.'

'No more ruthless than the attempted murder of delegates at a peace conference and the entire crews of three ships, the destruction of the same ships and the potential destruction of life and property on the surface, Commander,' the Kalrithiate Lady replied softly, almost soothingly. 'Allow Lord Mirax to do as he is bidden.' And then she too vanished in the orb of her transmat.

Phatepul shrugged. 'Well that appears to be that, Commander,' he observed dourly. 'I think I shall collect my wife and return to Mertsaadis. I would like to thank the Doctor and his party for their intervention. Where are they?'

Surprised, the two RCMN officers turned to the door and found no one there. 'Your guess is as good as mine, your Grace,' said Bowen.

The TARDIS took off as normal, and as it returned into the vortex, Romana went over the loose ends of the matter. 'So the pull of the dark matter wasn't sufficient to affect objects in normal space, but the gravity envelope stopping it from collapsing was affecting what was left of the wormhole that it travelled through to get to Coroth Min.'

'The same wormhole we accidentally slipped through as we landed,' the Doctor confirmed. 'Hence it affected us as well.'

'So why isn't it affecting us anymore?' asked Romana. 'It's still in this sector of space.'

'Oh no it isn't,' grinned the Doctor. 'Deram's got it.'

'What?' asked Romana, completely puzzled.

'Sleight of hand,' the Doctor exclaimed gleefully. 'I swapped it for a perfectly ordinary brass bedknob while Valentine was talking to us. He didn't feel a thing!'

Romana's jaw dropped. 'And you put the bomb…'

'Back down Mr Deram's trousers!' the Doctor crowed delightedly. 'He should be getting quite a shock just about now!'

It was a complete mystery how Nuridia III had seemed to implode and become a black hole as if swallowed from within, but that didn't stop the allies of Coroth Min and Kalrithia capitalising on the destruction of one of the Tjangra's most powerful planets. The war ended four years later with total unconditional Nuridian surrender. Ambassador Phatepul spoke at the victory parade on Coroth Min I and Mertsaadis joined the alliance a few months later. The Doctor had no idea that he had crushed a tyrant empire and stopped a war with such a simple act, and he would not find out until he met Kaval Phatepul again. But that, dear reader, is another story.