For a moment no-one moved. Tegan crouched next to where the Doctor was cradling the silent and still form of their young Trakenite friend. She tried in vain to make a sound, but her mind was numb with shock. It was almost as if time had frozen to preserve with perfect clarity one of the most horrifying moments in Tegan's life so far – the senseless murder of a close friend before her very eyes.

Adric was similarly dumbstruck. The young Alzarian had experienced the harsh realities of death before, but never so unexpected, instantaneous and unwarranted. A handful of seconds seemed to span an eternity as his anguished gaze alternated rapidly between Nyssa's still features and the tormented expression of the Doctor.

At any other time the Doctor would have been quite intrigued by the apparent time-dilation phenomenon he was currently experiencing, but this was most definitely not the time. Even nine centuries of life had not managed to armour him against moments such as this. 'Not now,' he thought as he held Nyssa in his arms, willing her to show some signs of life – 'not Nyssa…' Feelings of anger and guilt began to filter through his usually dispassionate subconscious. The elevated degree of responsibility he felt towards Nyssa was something he had rarely experienced with other companions, numerous though they were, as by and large they had chosen to travel with him in a way that she never had. The fact that Nyssa had been orphaned and made homeless as a direct result of the Master's enmity towards him, the fact that she was the last living Trakenite in the universe, had engendered a sense of duty in the Doctor that was difficult to ignore. An unfamiliar feeling of panic begin to stir in his mind, and his fingers trembled as he felt Nyssa's smooth, white neck for signs of a pulse.

"ON YOUR FEET!"

The order barked from the leading guard appeared to slow and distort as it reached the ears of the trio crouched around their stricken friend. The Doctor ignored the directive and continued to examine Nyssa, his head bent low over her still features as he listened for some sign of respiration. Adric, in contrast, leapt to his feet, his face a mask of anger and outrage, his fists clenched as he fought the urge to blindly retaliate against the hostile force arranged in front of him.

Tegan looked up, tears rolling down grief-stricken face. "How could you?" she demanded of the nearest guard, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and anguish. "You're supposed to be civilised – how could you kill a defenceless girl in cold blood?" She got to her feet and glared accusingly at the guards, most of whom nervously shifted their aim towards her in response – "You're just a bunch of savages!" she spat, as she wiped a hand across her face and took a stance next to Adric.

The head guard, whose authority could now be perceived by the ornate crest on his collar and the fact that he was the only one of the company who had not discernibly backed off following Tegan's tirade, raised his rifle and aimed directly at the Doctor's head. "STAND UP!" he bellowed, "OR YOU WILL SHARE IN HER FATE!"

The Doctor sighed in irritated resignation, then, after fixing the head guard with a contemptuous stare, he carefully lowered Nyssa's inert form to the ground and backed away. A gentle hand on Tegan and Adric's arm indicated for them to follow his lead. Tegan whipped her arm from his reach and turned to him in protest.

"Doctor – NO! We have to help her!" Tears flowed freely down Tegan's anguished features as she looked to the Doctor in desperation. "Please…there must be something you can do – you can't just let her die like this!"

The Doctor, rightly sensing that Tegan was on the verge of hysteria, took her by the shoulders and spoke to her with the rarely used but unshakeable authority of a former Lord President of Gallifrey: "Tegan! Neither you nor I can argue against twenty armed guards! Now move back before you get hurt too!" His voice softened as Tegan crumpled against his shoulder. "There's nothing you can do for her…please trust me." Tegan continued to sob quietly but didn't protest when the Doctor gently steered her back, a safe distance from the bristling weapons of the increasingly nervous guards. Adric was still trembling with impotent rage, but he managed to control himself and follow the Doctor's lead.

The head guard, who had followed this exchange with barely concealed contempt, nodded to his men, a number of whom moved forward and unceremoniously cuffed the three upright offenders. A second gestured command sent a further contingent forward – shouldering their weapons they lifted Nyssa up and bore her slender form between them.

"Foster Novak!" the leader shouted. Novak hurriedly stepped forward from the party surrounding the TARDIS crew and stood to attention before his commanding officer.

"The prisoners are secure, Proctor Morovan – awaiting your orders." Novak nodded curtly.

"Excellent. Take these three to the Penal Wing, and the girl to the Infirmary. And inform Prime Consul Varden that the situation has been contained!" The Proctor surveyed his captives with disdain as they filed past. "Savages are we?" he sneered, turning towards the group of Fosters at his back – "Let's see how they enjoy some sophisticated Serenity hospitality!"

- o O o -

A loud hammering at his office door interrupted Varden from his thoughts and quieted the slow, deliberate pacing back and forth he had commenced as soon as Novak had left the room. Before he could voice his authorisation the door opened, and a small, rotund, elaborately adorned man entered the Prime Consul's chamber. He wore long, flowing emerald green robes, his hairless head was capped with an ornately brocaded black skullcap, and he was accompanied by two attendants, who were clad head to toe in all-encompassing hooded white robes. Without taking his eyes from Prime Consul Varden he lifted two plump fingers and indicated towards the still open door. His attendants silently turned, exited the chamber and closed the door behind them, before taking up position on either side of the entrance.

The Prime Consul turned and approached his guest, making the customary greeting by raising a closed hand to his brow. "Procardinal Jonaris, what an unexpected pleasure to see you at this late hour." He nodded his head in deference to the clergyman before him and smiled – "Please, make yourself comfortable."

The Procardinal returned the greeting but failed to reciprocate the Prime Consul's smile. "You may dispense with the pleasantries Varden," he intoned in a low, melodious voice – "we haven't the time. Now would you be so kind as to tell me the whereabouts of the Herald?"

Varden frowned, all pretence of cordiality abandoned. "What do you know of the Herald, Jonaris? It appears someone has been speaking out of turn." 'And whoever it was will be appropriately punished', he thought to himself. "As far as I know the Herald has not been seen for centuries, presumably by the good graces of the Lady," – he touched his brow once more – "and hopefully she will kindly see to it that he is never seen again, given the consequences of such an appearance." He turned and casually took his seat behind his desk, his long fingers steepled in front of him, his calm exterior not hinting at the frantic deliberations going on behind his eyes.

The clergyman, who had been absent-mindedly playing with a bejewelled symbol that hung around his substantial neck by a thick chain, looked at the Prime Consul with increasing irritation.

"Don't play games with me Varden!" he growled, his complexion growing more purple by the second. He dropped the pendant – an opaque jewel surrounded by a single circle of gold – from his grasp and leaned over the paper-strewn desk. "We both know there is nothing happens on Serenity that escapes the notice of the Order. I know that off-worlders arrived in the Remembrance Gardens tonight, and I know their method of 'transport'. Also, as Procardinal of the Order, I am fully aware of the protocols governing this eventuality as, I know, are you." His face was inches away from the Prime Consul's now. "This is a religious matter Varden, and you know full well you have no jurisdiction here. Now I DEMAND that you turn these off-worlders over to the Order!" Papers and styluses jumped into the air as Jonaris thumped his meaty fist onto the desk.

Varden quickly rose to his full height, forcing the clergyman to step back in surprise. "Protocol WILL be followed, my dear Procardinal, as soon as we have fully established the identities of the prisoners! Now I absolutely refuse to cause a colony-wide panic until that process is fully completed to my satisfaction, and I will NOT, under any circumstances, be browbeaten into handing these people over to a bunch of narrow-minded zealots until I am certain of the facts! Is that clear?" The Prime Consul took a deep breath, resumed his seat, and lowered his voice to its usual level. "Now, as a concession to your undisputed religious authority over Serenity, I will permit you to attend the inquisition. You will, however, agree to defer to my authority in this matter." Jonaris' complexion deepened once more and he took a deep breath in order to retaliate, but was silenced by Varden's quickly raised finger – "Should it become clear that we are, indeed, in the presence of the Herald I will of course comply with the protocols immediately, and the prisoners will be yours to deal with in accordance with scripture. Agreed?"

The Procardinal's cheeks returned to their usual colour and he reluctantly relaxed his aggressive posture. "It seems I have little choice in the matter. However a short delay in the fulfilment of the prophecies will not cause undue hardship. Indeed, it will give the Order time to make the necessary preparations!" And with that he opened the heavy door and swept out of the chamber, quickly followed by his startled attendants.

Varden sat back in his seat, deflated. "Yes, Jonaris," he muttered, shaking his head. "Go and sharpen your blades."

- o O o -

The Doctor, Tegan and Adric stood rubbing their wrists after being unceremoniously thrown into a barred cell, where their cuffs were removed. A Foster completed their incarceration by slamming the cell door shut and entering a code into the electronic lock.

"Thank you so much!" smiled the Doctor, raising his hat. "Absolutely the best cell I've ever been in!" The Foster made no reply, and exited the cell block, leaving the trio alone. "And I've been in a few, I can tell you…." the Doctor murmured as he surveyed their new surroundings. As they had been marched through the Penal Wing they had gone past a great number of fully occupied cells, however they had ended up in a block separated from the rest, and noticeably less densely populated. The large room they were in housed only two cells, and they were the only residents. Their own cell was quite spacious, with four bunks, a table and chairs and rudimentary washing facilities. They were separated from the other cell by sturdy iron bars, which also formed the front of their 'accommodation'. A small barred window gave scant access to the night air. The Doctor laid down on one of the lower bunks, put his hands behind his head and smiled. Adric glumly sat at the table, his head in his hands.

Tegan stood and looked at the Doctor in confusion, unable to understand how he could appear to be so relaxed and happy following the events of the last hour. They had been shot at, arrested, manacled and imprisoned, but this of course paled into insignificance next to the total despair that Tegan was feeling at the loss of Nyssa. She turned to face the Doctor with tear-filled eyes.

"Would you be so kind as to tell me what you're smiling at? Need I remind you, Doctor, that Nyssa is dead?" she sobbed, "And that we have been taken prisoner and locked up for the umpteenth time since I had the misfortune to meet you? Because at the moment it's quite hard for me to believe that you have ONE heart, let alone two!" She sank onto the opposite bunk, her face in her hands.

Adric quickly moved to sit on the bunk next to Tegan, and awkwardly put his arm around her in comfort, whilst glaring mutinously at the Doctor.

The Doctor sighed, and then quickly sat up to face his young friends. "Nyssa will be fine, Tegan," he said quietly, "I'm sure she's in good hands."

Tegan looked at the Doctor incredulously, but it was Adric who replied. Up until now he had always had complete faith in the opinions and abilities of his mentor, but this particular opinion required a suspension of disbelief that even he was incapable of. "How can you say that Doctor?!" he cried, his voice wavering. "Nyssa wasn't breathing. And you…..you just gave up on her. The Doctor I met on Alzarius would never have done that. Never!" Adric angrily looked away, trying to hide the fact that he was verging on tears.

The Doctor rubbed his face wearily. "I did no such thing Adric, and I'm frankly a little hurt that either of you could even think that." He got to his feet and peered out of the tiny window. "As you both get older, you will hopefully realise two things: the first of these is that there are some battles that cannot be won. The second is that emotion is the enemy of reason – had you both been slightly less concerned with your own feelings and paid more attention to the facts of the situation then you may have noticed the slight time distortion that occurred immediately after Nyssa was shot, and which diminished as we stepped back from where she lay." He turned back towards his companions, his hands in his pockets. "This indicated to me that Nyssa was hit, not by an energy weapon, but by a beam that caused very localised temporal deceleration."

Adric frowned. "A stasis beam?"

"Exactly, Adric!" The Doctor's face broke into a broad smile once more. Tegan however remained despondent.

"Would anyone like to explain this to me in English?" she pleaded. The Doctor jumped in before Adric could begin to explain the workings of the TARDIS translation field.

"A stasis beam, Tegan, slows time to almost a standstill within a very small area, in this case Nyssa's body. That's why, just after the blast, a few seconds seemed to span an eternity – our close proximity to Nyssa meant we felt the effects of the stasis field, albeit to a much lesser extent. That's also why she appeared not to be breathing – she was, just at an incredibly slow rate, imperceptible to us outside the field."

"So it's as if she's 'frozen in time'?" asked Tegan. The Doctor nodded. "So how do we unfreeze her?"

"Well," pondered the Doctor, "the initial burst only has a limited effect, so Nyssa could be waking up any time soon. There should be no ill effects….however stasis weaponry has proven to be quite unpredictable...it was banned on Gallifrey, and the Rutans…"

Adric, sensing the Doctor was about to head off on one of his rambling historical tangents, decided to interrupt. "So what do we do now, Doctor?" His youthful grin returned, his concern for Nyssa appeased and faith in the Doctor restored. "Escape? I could get to work on that lock!" he said, eagerly jumping to his feet.

"I think not Adric, at least not for the moment. Remember our purpose here – Nyssa wants to settle on Serenity, so this isn't something we can just run away from. However we do have a problem we need to attend to." The Doctor's brow furrowed as he thought out loud. "Nyssa will regain consciousness, and within the next hour I should think."

Tegan looked up. "And that's a problem?"

"A potential one, yes. She is likely to be somewhat disorientated, and if she happens to mention that she is actually a native of a planet that was destroyed over three centuries ago that may just raise some rather awkward questions, wouldn't you say?" He thrust his hands into his pockets and strode over to the bars, looking out through the door of the block to the guard station beyond. "Aside from that, I would really like to make sure she hasn't suffered any harmful effects from the stasis beam. Now, what I suggest is this…."

But before the Doctor could turn round and elucidate his plan he was startled by a dull thud from behind him. He whirled round to find Tegan, sprawled unconscious on the cell floor.

- o O o -

Nyssa was floating.

That is, she thought she was floating, but what she was floating in was an entirely different matter. Her eyes were closed, but opening them had made little difference, she had found. There was just blackness – no, not blackness, she thought, as the description of colour denoted the existence of something. This was more like nothingness, emptiness. At least it had felt like emptiness at first. Recalling the events in the garden she had wondered if she had actually died, and passed into some form of 'afterlife'. She had quickly dispelled this notion however; although never a believer in a structured religion Nyssa had entertained some notions of spirituality, particularly after the death of her father. She felt certain that, if there were an afterlife, she was certain to be reunited with him there. But there was no echo of Tremas here, in the emptiness. And the presence she felt was certainly not that of a beloved father.

She had, after a while, become aware of voices in the nothingness – they had crept into her consciousness so gradually that it seemed as if they had always been there, and yet the recognition of their existence still took her by surprise. They were, she thought, the same voices she had heard in the garden, but where those had been indistinct whispers, words lost on the breeze, the voices here had become louder, more pleading in quality. Yet she still couldn't make them out – she had tried to isolate different threads, patterns, but there were just too many, and the words seemed to be slowed and distorted in some way.

It was after concentrating for what seemed like hours on trying to identify a single word in the confused muttering that Nyssa's mind touched upon the presence.

It was fleeting initially, a momentary touch in the middle of that all-encompassing void. After so long listening to unresponsive, disembodied voices the contact shocked Nyssa like a jolt of electricity. Then it was gone, and Nyssa wasn't even sure if it – whatever it was – had even noticed her. Realising that this communication could be her only way out, she tentatively called out.

"Hello? Is there someone there?" Her voice seemed to dissolve into the inky darkness. "Please – can you help me?"

There was no response, nothing but the unrelenting intangible chatter out in the void. In desperation she tried reaching out with her mind, sending her thoughts out into the abyss in the vain hope that the presence – whatever it was – might be able to communicate on a telepathic level. But there was nothing, no connection, just the infinite night. Nyssa curled up tightly into a ball as she floated, and silently wept.

"Tegan!" Adric shouted in alarm and rushed to where she lay, crumpled, on the floor of the cell. The Doctor was quick to join him, crouching by the head of his fallen companion, his fingers searching her neck for signs of a pulse. He lowered his ear to her mouth to check for respiration.

"There's no need for that – I'm alright!"

Tegan's whisper, though barely audible, took the Doctor by surprise. "I'm going to find Nyssa. Now stop looking down my blouse, and get the guards!"

The Doctor allowed himself a brief grin before springing to his feet and banging on the cell bars to gain the attention of the Fosters stationed just outside the room. Tegan half opened her eyes, saw the concerned face of Adric hovering above her, and gave him a wink before returning to her feigned unconsciousness. Realisation dawned and Adric joined the Doctor's efforts.

Alerted by the commotion, two Fosters ran into the room, weapons in hand. The Doctor quickly indicated where Tegan lay.

"Please, my companion has collapsed. She needs medical help, quickly!"

The Fosters looked at each other, unsure as to how to deal with the situation. "Stay here," said one eventually. "I'll contact the Proctor." He returned to the guard station outside the cell whilst the other shakily covered the prisoners with his rifle.

"It's a DOCTOR we need, not a Proctor!" shouted Adric angrily – "Can't you see she's ill?!"

The first Foster quickly returned, followed by a number of his fellow guards, all armed and eyeing the Doctor and Adric with intense suspicion.

"Proctor Morovan has agreed for the girl to be removed and examined," he told his companion – "she is not the threat here." He turned and addressed the cell occupants: "You will turn and face the back wall, with your hands on your heads!"

The Doctor and Adric hastily complied, and half of the company entered the cell and unceremoniously picked up the motionless Tegan, placing her on a stretcher before carrying her hurriedly out of the block, all the while covered by the weapons of the remaining Fosters.

The cell door banged home again, and the code was re-entered before the Fosters once more retreated to the safety of their station, leaving the Doctor and Adric alone.

"A slight element of overkill, don't you think?" said the Doctor, returning to his bunk. "I wonder what it is we've done to deserve such treatment?"

"Who knows?" said Adric glumly. "Where you're concerned Doctor, it could be anything."

The Doctor frowned. "I am beginning to resent the implication that I cause trouble wherever I go! I have visited a great, great many places, and not all those visits have resulted in my being taken prisoner or shot at!"

Adric rolled his eyes. "Of course not Doctor. Just most of them." He sat on the opposite bunk and quickly changed the subject before the Doctor could reply: "So what do we do now? Shall I get to work on that code?"

"Well, with Tegan gone…" the Doctor relaxed back onto his bunk and placed his hat over his face – "I suggest we enjoy the peace and quiet!"

- o O o -

In a darkened, underground chamber a small distance from the Penal Wing, a clandestine ceremony was taking place. Torchlight flickered as a dozen acolytes, dressed in the flowing hooded robes of the Order, sat in a circle on the stone floor and engaged in muttered prayer, their heads bowed.

Shadows leapt, and the acolytes looked up as someone entered the chamber, flanked by two additional white-robed youths. The man they accompanied was taller than the rest, which gave the impression of seniority of age and rank. He too was swathed head to foot in loose robes, but his were a deep grey in colour, contrasting against the pure white of his companions. His face was partially covered by the hood of his robes, the rest hidden in shadow. He came to a halt in front of the circle of acolytes, who ceased their invocations and looked up at him expectantly. The grey priest raised his arms to address them.

"Brothers – the time is now." His voice resonated across the chamber, echoes dancing like the torchlight.

"The moment we have long prepared for is here. I have word that the Herald is in our midst. Our time-worn shackles will soon be broken!" He raised his arms in exultation, his movements mirrored by his awestruck congregation.

"But even now, my Brothers, there are forces at work against us. We must move quickly to ensure that all is not lost. Come Brethren – follow me and we shall fulfil our sacred trust or perish in the attempt!" The stone walls reverberated with the clamourous cheers of the devout, as they followed their leader out into the darkness.

- o O o -

Nyssa had lost all comprehension of time. Had it been days since she had awoken in the darkness, or a matter of minutes? It felt as if she had been curled up in her foetal ball for hours, her mind sinking further and further into a well of hopelessness. She had gone through the events of the past day in her mind a thousand times, each time pointing the finger of blame squarely upon herself. Why had she pressed the Doctor to bring her to Serenity? She had created a home, a family of sorts in the TARDIS, why couldn't that have been enough for her? Why had she felt the need to confront the guards, armed though they were? She could only come to the conclusion that she was in this mess due to her own selfishness and naivety. And with these thoughts the blackness of the void seemed to creep into her mind, filling her heart with despair.

It was in the midst of this depression that she felt the presence return.

At first it was as if something moved past her in the darkness, and she almost felt a ghostly draft on her cheek as it went by. In her distress she instinctively reached out for whatever it was, and in that instant she sensed that the entity had noticed her, because within seconds it had returned, reaching out to touch her mind, encircling her in the emptiness. Nyssa began to feel cold as the realisation dawned that this was no benign contact, and her desperate hope of help in the darkness began to evaporate. She felt an increasing pressure in her mind as the presence forcibly pushed it's way into her thoughts. She got the impression it was revelling in her anguish, that it had been attracted back to her through the void via her misery. Gasping in horror, she closed her eyes tightly as she heard a faint, chilling laugh weaving through the back of her mind, getting louder as it examined the depths of her depression. Once she had felt it rifle through her most treasured memories, her most intimate thoughts and fears, she finally heard it's voice inside her head – a deep, guttural voice unlike any she had heard before…

"Fear not, last daughter of Traken. The time is not now. But we shall meet again, you and I, in the darkness. Until then, open your mind and receive my gift…."

The voice tailed off into the emptiness, and Nyssa's skin crawled in terror as she felt the inexorable pressure build up in her mind. She felt the entity reach down into the deepest, primordial regions of her brain….

Nyssa screamed as the darkness exploded into pure, brilliant light.

- o O o -

Suren rubbed his neck and sighed. He had spent the last three years working in the Infirmary, and the five before that in apprenticeship to his father to enable him to qualify as a medic, but in all those years he had never experienced a stranger sequence of events or range of patients than those he had been presented with in the last few hours.

The latter of the two patients was the stranger of the two. She had been brought in on a stretcher by two armed Fosters, who explained that she had collapsed in the Penal Wing before leaving the treatment room to take up residence outside the door alongside a number of their colleagues, who had been stationed there since arriving with the first patient an hour earlier. This woman was dressed in extraordinarily strange attire the likes of which Suren had never seen before, and the enigma that she presented deepened when the medicom revealed that it could find no match for her DNA pattern within its extensive databanks. After a cursory examination Suren was also at a loss to find out what was causing her unconsciousness, and so had set the medicom running on a full diagnostic analysis. However given that the antiquated machine could not even identify her planet of origin he had little confidence in its ability to pinpoint what was actually wrong with her. Unable to do more, he returned to his first patient.

Although puzzled by the exotic nature of the second woman, Suren found the first a great deal more intriguing. Her attire, though somehow antiquated, had been much more familiar to Suren. However the burgundy velvet garments now hung in the storage bay next to the treatment bed where she lay, still insentient, her modesty preserved by a white linen sheet as the treatment arch hummed above her upper torso. Unlike the other patient, the cause of her unconsciousness was immediately recognisable to Suren, and although her attendant Fosters had divulged very little about the nature of her injuries he had (unfortunately) extensive experience in dealing with the after-effects of their stasis weaponry. The large and livid bruise on her chest was diagnosis enough, and Suren had instructed the medicom to begin treatment on this within minutes of her arrival, along with the hairline fractures to two of her ribs that the diagnostic function had detected a moment later.

However there were two things that the tall, dark-haired young medic had found intriguing about the young woman laid out in front of him: the first being the wildly erratic brain waves recorded by the medicom within the last few minutes, and the second being the impossible results of her DNA scan.

Her brain function seemed to have settled now however, and the unprecedented spikes of activity within her parietal lobes that had occurred moments ago had now settled into a more rhythmic, albeit still unusual, pattern. Satisfied with her renewed stability, Suren turned his attention to the DNA report flickering on the viewscreen in front of him, his brow furrowed in bewilderment. He had checked and rechecked the results, but the outcome had remained the same - inexplicable. Finally, unable to comprehend what the consequences of his findings might be, and prevented from further investigation by a deplorable lack of equipment, Suren decided that he had better inform the Prime Consul of the situation.

He was just heading towards the door and the Fosters beyond when a slight noise from across the room stopped him in his tracks.

"Wait."

Suren span on his heel. The second woman was awake. Not just awake, but upright, and methodically disconnecting herself from the medicom. She looked at Suren's shocked expression and smiled.

"Let's have a little chat, shall we?"

- o O o -

Adric was bored. The Doctor had indeed taken full advantage of Tegan's absence and the resultant tranquillity, as evidenced by the loud, reverberating snores coming from underneath his hat. However the young Alzarian, hampered by his teenage exuberance, began to find it impossible to sit still. He had finally taken to pacing around the walls of the cell, until his eyes fell upon the electronically coded lock securing the door. 'Well, it wouldn't hurt to try…' he thought, as he put his arm though a gap in the bars and started to tamper with the mechanism.

"Do you ever do as you're told, Adric?"

The boy whipped his arm back through the bars as though his fingers had been burnt, managing to bang his elbow in the process. He petulantly turned towards the Doctor, and was surprised to see him still laid on the bunk, his face covered by his hat.

"Well I'm bored Doctor, and there's nothing else to do! I was only going to see if I could crack the combination, I wasn't going to go anywhere!" Adric rubbed his arm, his face betraying his frustration at their enforced lack of activity.

The Doctor uncovered his face and sat up. "And how exactly would you have explained our unlocked door to our friendly neighbourhood captors out there, hmmm?"

Adric said nothing, and just moodily returned to his bunk, sat down heavily, and folded his arms. "I don't know why Nyssa wanted to come here anyway," he grumbled. "Traken was dull enough as it was, and this place hasn't even got a Keeper or the Source to liven things up!"

The Doctor sighed, trying to be patient with his young friend. "Home is where the heart is, Adric. I'm sure Nyssa wouldn't think much of Alzarius either, unless she has a particular penchant for enormous spiders and homicidal marshmen…"

Adric glared at the Doctor in indignation and had opened his mouth to defend his former home, but was cut off before he could begin:

"You didn't really want her to leave in the first place, did you?" The Doctor raised his eyebrows and looked at Adric sympathetically. "Listen Adric, it's only natural that you might be experiencing certain, um, feelings towards Nyssa, you have lots in common after all, but you can't blame her for wanting to leave the TARDIS and make a life elsewhere, and you shouldn't allow your – ahem – feelings get in the way of her happiness…." The Time Lord's awkward ramblings were cut short by Adric, blushing furiously and getting to his feet. He turned his back on the Doctor and began to fervently tamper with the electronic lock once more.

"Don't be silly Doctor! I can't wait till her and Tegan have gone and it's just you and me again, visiting interesting places for a change without having to put up with irritating females!" he spat, trying to distance himself from the conversation as far as possible.

The Doctor smiled, guessing he had hit a raw nerve. Though many centuries had passed since he had exercised his parenting skills with respect to adolescents, he still knew instinctively when to leave well alone. He sensed a change of subject was in order.

"You know what I'm wondering Adric?" The boy was still intensely focussed upon the door lock, unwilling to make eye contact with the Doctor. "If the Source was indeed created on Serenity, why haven't they reconstructed it, hmm?"

"You, of all people, should know that."

The Doctor leapt to his feet in surprise as Proctor Morovan strode into the cell block.

"Cuff them." As his attending Fosters entered the cell and bound the prisoners, Morovan sneered at them. "You'll be pleased to know that your inquisition awaits you. Fosters! Escort the prisoners to the Sanctum!"

The Doctor winced as his wrists were secured tightly together in front of him. "And are we permitted to know the nature of our crime?" he enquired politely.

"As if you didn't know!" the Proctor replied, shaking his head in disgust. "MOVE OUT!"

The Doctor began to wonder whether his current policy of friendly co-operation was working out as, for the second time in as many hours, they were surrounded by armed guards and frogmarched at gunpoint.

- o O o -

"How is she?" Tegan asked as she stood over Nyssa's bed, surveying the medical equipment her friend was attached to with concern.

Suren rechecked the medicom readouts. "She'll be fine," he reassured her – "there's some localised bruising and a couple of cracked ribs where the beam impacted, but nothing the medicom can't handle. There should be no long term damage." He looked at Tegan in confusion. "You, on the other hand, seem to have made a remarkable recovery."

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that." She smiled disarmingly. "I had to make sure she was OK." She returned her attention to Nyssa and stroked the hair back from her forehead tenderly. Suren watched the interaction with fascination.

"What is she to you? A friend? A sister?"

Tegan smiled without taking her eyes from Nyssa's sleeping face. "Neither... and both, I suppose. We travel together. I've only known her a few months really, but we've been through a lot. We've become quite close, I guess."

"That's obvious." Suren returned his attention to the viewscreen, apparently engrossed in the readouts displayed. "So where are you both from?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, my planet is so insignificant I doubt you've ever heard of it. And Nyssa here, well… I'll let her tell you when she eventually wakes up. When do you think - "

Tegan's voice trailed off as she looked at Suren. He was backing away from her, the colour drained from his face.

"W-what did you say her name was?" he stammered, bumping into a console on the far side of the room.

Tegan looked at the young medic in bewilderment. "It's 'Nyssa'... why are you looking at me like that?"

Suren merely stared at her, open mouthed, unable to reply.

The silence was broken by a groan from the direction of the bed, as Nyssa's eyelids began to flutter.

Tegan's face lit up. "She's waking up!"

- o O o -

The short march from the Penal Wing to the Sanctum had turned into somewhat of an unexpected ordeal for the Doctor and Adric, and also for their escorts. Word had evidently got round as to who they were and what they had done, (even though this was still information that the prisoners themselves were blissfully unaware of) as on exiting the prison block the party were greeted by a hostile, baying crowd, several hundred citizens strong. The Fosters, despite calling for reinforcements, were having trouble keeping the crowd contained, and the Doctor and Adric were hurriedly marched past leering, angry faces, hurling obscenities that even the TARDIS couldn't translate, along with the odd stone and mouldy vegetable. The Doctor moved closer to his young friend.

"Adric," he hissed, trying to make himself heard over the clamour, "I am beginning to rethink my policy against escaping from our current situation."

"You don't say!" Adric ducked to avoid a flying missile. "So what's the plan?"

"I'll try to cause a diversion in a moment. Try and use the opportunity to disappear into the crowd. Make your way back to the TARDIS, where we'll regroup and formulate a plan to rescue Nyssa and Tegan. Got it?"

"Got it." Adric nodded grimly, clenching his manacled fists.

The 'diversion' took even the young Alzarian by surprise as a few strides later the Doctor abruptly disappeared from view. When Adric looked, however, he had merely crouched down and appeared to be fumbling with his shoes.

"Sorry! Shoelace!" The Doctor shouted as the Fosters behind nearly fell over the hunched over Time Lord.

Adric rolled his eyes as the Fosters in front slowly realised what was happening and began to bring their weapons to bear on the situation. "Ingenious!" he muttered under his breath, before scanning the surrounding guards for an opportunity to flee. Before he could make his break however, a loud, piercing scream came from somewhere in front of their party. Adric turned to look, to be confronted by a dishevelled, wild-eyed woman who was running towards them, a knife raised above her head as she emitted a banshee-like wail.

The next few moments were a blur as pandemonium erupted. Adric watched as the Fosters turned their energy rifles on the woman, cutting her down in a hail of fire before she could reach the escort party. A moment later he felt a sharp pain to the back of his head, and the world turned black.

"What on Gallifrey was that?" The Doctor's head popped back up from his crouched position, too distracted by events to take advantage of his own diversion. "Adric? What's going on? Adric?" He turned round to be confronted by a dozen energy rifles pointed at his face.

But Adric had gone.

- o O o -

"Nyssa? Can you hear me? Are you OK?"

Tegan waited anxiously as her friend continued to moan, before opening her pale green eyes to eventually focus on the Australian woman's face. Nyssa's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Tegan? What happened? Where are we?" Nyssa put a hand to her head and attempted to sit up. "I feel awful."

"Whoa there! Steady Nyssa, you might want to stay where you are for a minute." Tegan gently helped her friend lower her head back to her pillow as she winced in pain, clutching her ribs. "Besides, you're not really, erm, suitably attired for walking around yet!"

Nyssa looked down at the flimsy sheet covering her torso. "Where are my clothes?" she gasped. "Tegan, what happened? The last thing I remember is walking through the gardens…" She closed her eyes and frowned. "My head is buzzing. I can't seem to concentrate…"

"Don't worry Nyssa, you're going to be fine. The Doctor said you might feel a bit disorientated. And Suren here has been fixing your ribs, isn't that right Suren….?" Tegan looked round to find the medic on his knees, his eyes closed tightly as he murmured to himself. But just as she was about to question his increasingly strange behaviour she was interrupted by one of the Fosters on guard duty bursting into the room.

"Suren! All hell's breaking loose near the Penal Wing – we're being called up as reinforcements. You're in charge of these two – don't let them leave the medical bay!" And without further ado he turned and left, taking the remaining Fosters with him.

"You know, for a place called Serenity, it's not particularly 'serene' round here!" Tegan confronted Suren – "What the heck is going on?!"

The kneeling medic turned to look at his patients-cum-captives in stunned silence. He had definitely had better days.

- o O o -

Proctor Morovan had managed to rally his reinforced Fosters and make it to the safety of the Sanctum with his one remaining prisoner, before barring the doors to keep the angry mob at bay.

"Drevus!" he barked quickly to his second-in-command – "take a squad out by the postern gate and start a search for the Boy!" Fighting to regain his composure, he turned to the austere panel arranged before him as a number of his men disappeared into the shadows towards the rear of the Sanctum. "Word has somehow got out of the nature of our prisoners, your Worships, and a crowd has gathered. The Boy managed to escape in the melee, but my men will soon track him down." The Proctor bowed deeply.

"See that they do, Morovan. Considering what is at stake."

The Doctor took in the relative calm of his new surroundings. The stone-walled chamber was large and imposing, with sculpted, high vaulted ceilings and tapestry-hung alcoves. Seven ornately carved chairs were arranged in an arc in front of what appeared to be a smaller inner chamber, which housed an impressive throne encased by translucent walls on each side. The throne was empty, but the chairs in front were occupied by a number of imposingly-attired men and women. The Time Lord frowned, experiencing a strong sense of deja-vu. Then he realised – he was standing in an exact copy of the Keeper's Sanctum, as it had stood on Traken. Here though, the inner chamber was dark, and where once on Traken a flame had burned brightly with the vitality of the Source, here the hearth was cold and lifeless. He turned his attention to the people ranged before him, to find seven pairs of eyes fixed upon him, expectantly.

The Doctor stepped forward, his face breaking in to a broad smile. "Ah, good evening. A pleasure to meet you all, I'm the Doctor. I presume I have the honour of addressing the Consuls of Serenity…?"

"I am Prime Consul Varden, and you, Sir, will remain silent until I permit you to speak." His voice was calm and collected, but it resonated around the Sanctum with an unmistakable sense of power.

"Absolutely. However, could I just enquire – are the manacles strictly necessary? Surely whatever the problem is can be cleared up without the need for physical restraint…"

Varden signalled to the Proctor and the Doctor's address was cut short as a jolt of pain shot down his arms and forced him momentarily to his knees.

"Ah. Stun cuffs. I see." The Doctor slowly got to his feet. It was going to be a long night.

- o O o -

Nyssa had finally managed to struggle to a seated position with Tegan's help, one hand clasping the sheet to her chest to preserve her modesty. She looked towards where Suren still knelt, stammering and stuttering in response to Tegan's insistent questioning. For a brief moment his eyes met her own, but he immediately looked away, seemingly unable to hold her gaze. "What's the matter with him?" she asked – "Why won't he look at me?"

Tegan shrugged. "Search me. One minute he's asking where we're from, and the next he's on his knees! I tell you what Nyssa, you might want to have a rethink about this place… from what I've seen so far I'm not entirely sure everyone's playing with a full deck of cards, know what I mean?"

It was clear Nyssa didn't, but for once she chose to ignore Tegan's strange turn of phrase. "Tegan, you didn't tell him about my homeworld, did you?"

Before Tegan could respond Suren spoke, his eyes fixed upon the floor.

"Traken. Y-you're from Traken."

The two girls looked at him in shock. "How…?" Nyssa gasped.

"I-I did a routine DNA scan after you were brought in," he stammered. "I thought the medicom was mistaken at first…I mean…the results were…well… impossible! B-but then she said your…your name."

- o O o -

Several jolts of electricity later, the Doctor had finally been subdued into an uncharacteristic silence. Prime Consul Varden rose to his feet, straightening his long, velvet robes as he turned to address the assembly.

"In the glorious days of the Keeper, our task here tonight would have been a simple one. Through the trial of Rapport the almighty power of the Source would have revealed the truth, and justice would have been swiftly executed. Now we are not so fortunate, yet still we may call to a higher power. Hence I invoke the beneficent Lady – guide us in this Inquisition, lead us to the truth so that your bountiful peace may be restored." The Prime Consul raised his arms in exultation, and his co-inquisitors touched their brows in accord. He then fixed his baleful stare firmly upon the Doctor.

- o O o -

Nyssa closed her eyes and frowned as the buzzing in her head momentarily swelled, but the surge was short lived and she immediately returned her attention to the trembling Suren, who was again being questioned by an increasingly irate Tegan.

"What's wrong with her name?" she asked, hands on hips.

"It… it is forbidden to even speak it." He looked at Nyssa, eyes wide in fear. "Forgive me my Lady, please! I didn't know! I didn't know who you were!" He fell forward, and lay prostrate in front of the astounded Trakenite.

"And who, exactly, is she?" Tegan crouched next to the medic, but even so could barely hear his response as he pressed his face to the floor.

"Sh-she…she is the Goddess!"

- o O o -

Varden raised his finger and pointed accusingly at the Doctor. His voice echoed ominously around the Sanctum.

"Doctor…Herald….however you choose to title yourself. You are hereby accused of the genocide of forty-five billion people. How do you plead?"