Neelam woke up, lying face down on the immaculate lawn of the institute. The last thing he remembered was pressing the button to remote-detonate the bomb. It had always been the resistance's intention to kill president Thomson, of course if it had been an accident then all the better, as it wouldn't point directly at them. He had known the bomb wasn't anywhere near the monster when it went off; but as far as he saw it, it was more important to have a live prisoner than a dead martyr. Then the bomb had exploded. Cautiously, he raised his head. This wasn't right. The amount of devastation was incredible, and far more than there should have been for the amount of explosives they had used. The sky was covered in huge ribbons of blackness, whipping back and forth in torment. Some reached the ground, flickering spasmodically as they scoured the life from it. The trails they left behind sparkled with frost and steamed with intense cold.
Inanimate objects seemed unchanged, other than being covered in a thick frost, but living matter... As the dark taint moved through trees, bushes and people, they left behind monsters. Rancid fungi bloomed, throwing foul smelling spores into the air. Huge, balloon like, slugs browsed immense rotting black leaves covered in spines. Spindly-legged predators hunted amongst them; using long proboscis to inject their chosen prey with digestive enzymes and toxins. Neelam listened to the screams of strange new life forms, intertwined with those of his fellow race. He had awoken in hell. Years of military training took hold in his mind. The mission parameters had been changed drastically. He looked around; he had five of his assault team left. Still armed, they were vastly more dangerous than the slow moving creatures around him, although the black air seemed to be moving quickly, and in a seemingly random way. That was the enemy now, Thomson and his cronies paled in comparison. "Jaxxson, get the others on their feet. We're going in to get Cassandra, and the president. Screw the assassination."

The console room was slowly beginning to look like its old self again. The view of the universe flickered in and out of darkness, as black tendrils weaved and curled across it. Fitz was drinking something that looked almost exactly like milk, except it tasted like spicy orange juice. He certainly didn't feel ill anymore, which was number one on his current list of things to tick off. He took another mouthful, and mentally ticked it, then thoroughly scribbled it out with a thick black felt tipped pen. Can't get much more ticked than that! He thought. The Doctor was fiddling around with some big machine that walked around on it own set of legs. Fitz had asked what it was, and as usual he'd been given a full explanation that went straight over his head, about three words in. He'd nodded as if he'd understood everything the Doctor had gone on about, and gone back to the TV chair with his new found drink.
The Doctor was finishing the remote manipulator unit's calibrations when he heard a gasp. Sam was staring straight up, mouth wide open. The Doctor rose from his ministrations, and went over to her. "What's wrong Sam?" She turned to look at him. "I saw a face! Clear as day. It was in one of the black threads." The Doctor smiled. "It was probably just a pattern that your brain interpreted as a face. Just like seeing animals in clouds." She shook her head. "I know what I saw." Fitz took this point to wander over to the pair looking up at the universe. "What's up Doc?" They both looked at him. He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, it was too good an opportunity and I couldn't resist."
"Sam thought she saw a face."
"What, like in clouds and stuff?" Sam scowled. "No. One of the big black things made a face. It looked like it was looking for something." Fitz looked up at the swirling morass. "Can't see anything now."
"Of course you can't see anything now, it's gone! Look, if you don't believe me, just say so." Tight lipped, she stomped away; leaving the Doctor and Fitz watching her go. Fitz looked at the Doctor. "What did I say?" The Doctor turned to him. "I think we're going to have to work on your timing Fitz." He looked at the disappearing back of Sam. "I think mine could do with a tuning as well." He returned to the remote manipulator unit. Fitz followed. "So run this by me again?" The Doctor opened his mouth. "Simply this time? I'm still getting used to the TV's remote control remember." The Doctor knelt down next to the tube like machine. "Maybe it would be better to show you." He played with some controls on the side. The short legs on the bottom of the seven-foot tube retracted, like quicksilver running into the base. The brushed metal gradually turned silver, and then the tube split up the middle forming legs. Two branches split away from the sides, and the next thing Fitz knew, there were two Doctors standing in front of him. "What do you think?" said one of them. Fitz stepped back. "Okay, I'm freaked. What next, a copy of me?" The real Doctor stepped forward. "Yes actually." He turned back to his duplicate. "The TARDIS is equipped to handle all types of environment. When pressure suits aren't enough, the researchers would send in an r.m.u. Basically it's an advanced version of early twenty first century Earth's tele-presence technology. The strange matter environment is inimical to us, so we'll remote pilot one of these into the trouble zone, seal it off and get rid of it. Simple!" Fitz looked at him. "I was doing fine until tele-whatsit."
"Basically Fitz, it's a puppet. Everything it senses will be fed directly to you, so that you'll think your actually there, when you'll be sitting comfortably in a chair here."
"Does that mean we're not going anywhere, but the robots are?" The Doctor nodded. "That's cool. What are they called again?"
"Technically they're remote manipulation units, but I like to call them avatars. This is the first time I've used them. Usually I prefer to go and see for myself. However, in this case there is a very clear danger. Using an avatar we should be able to pass through a low-energy interface without harm." He busied himself with the controls on the sides of two more of the units, lying in their boxes next to each other. "Stand right where you are, the units need to copy you." One of the cylinders rose vertically out of its box, and tottered over to Fitz on its spindly legs. Fitz stood there, waiting for the towering tube to do something. "That's it. Could you send Sam over here so we can bring her avatar online?" Fitz paused. "What, that's it?" The Doctor nodded. "Off you go; I have to finish you off." He strode over to Fitz's avatar and started to fiddle with its control panel.

Neelam's day was slowly progressing from just plain bad, through worse and rapidly into the nether realms of atrocious. Moving quickly across the compound to the hole in the side of the accelerator lab's wall, they had moved in. Only to run straight into president Thompson's personal, and very heavily armed, guard unit. Fortunately for both sides, Thompson had called a ceasefire before anyone had a chance to react. Now he was standing opposite the person he had been sent to kill. Parts of him were screaming 'Shoot him! Shoot him now! While you have the chance!' while his training firmly whispered in his ear that they needed Thompson's guard unit, badly. He'd sent two of his men into the lab to search for survivors, and Cassandra. That's when he heard his men screaming. He'd never heard that before. He'd seen plenty of his men die, but usually it had been during an explosion or a firefight. This time, they'd been standing quietly in the accelerator corridor, when the screams had echoed down to them. Chilling everyone to the bone. They had created a subtle shift, and the two separate groups suddenly became a single pack of very frightened men. The fear was heightened when they arrived at the control room; to find a huge creature, calmly tearing Neelam's men apart, and crunching through the bones like they were some kind of marshmallow coated biscuits. They had stood there watching the elephantine monster, wrap its tentacled arms around an arm and raise it to the grinding mandibles of its maw. Then they opened fire with everything they had. Blue blood spattered the walls, mixing with bloody red carnage it had already wrought.
They staggered out into sickly red sunlight, which drenched everything in crimson. They were low on ammo, and the only person with legitimate access to the arms they needed to protect them, let alone find Cassandra, was president Thompson. Now Neelam was making a deal with the devil, but when he looked around at the devastation he couldn't help thinking 'Better the devil you know.' They had commandeered the only undamaged vehicle they could find, which just so happened to be a campus security four-by-four. Thompson's head guard was riding shotgun, with the president in the back holding on for dear life, as they avoided trailing bands of blackness and the gruesome results of their passing. "Why do you do it?" He shouted over the roar of the wind hurtling past. Irons, the chief security officer looked at him. "Pays good." He rumbled. The pays good; Jesus is that it? He protects the planets most hated dictator because the pays good? The 4x4 banked around a withered tree covered in a light grey ichor. "It'd have to be!" He shouted back. The man obviously didn't have any political inclination, didn't care whether the military budget was given precedence over the water distribution budget for the central provinces, didn't care that because of drought over twenty five thousand people had died over the last two years. The only reason the military existed, was to keep the populace in line. There were no other habitable worlds in this solar system, and all passing ships were FTL freighters selling their wares as they travelled from system to system. The orbital defence platforms were pointed at the planet's surface, allowing Thompson to surgically vaporise anything he wanted to. Not to mention he was the only one with the system codes, which was probably why there hadn't yet been a military coup. He couldn't help dwelling on the fact that the man was in arms reach. But Neelam needed weapons, and right now they were better off together than apart. He could deal with Thompson when they got out of this mess.
He didn't see the tentacled outrage until one of its arms lashed out; smashing through the windscreen like it was made of rice paper. He was already dropping to one side as the feeler caught the armour of his right shoulder, ripping it clean off and covering him in foul smelling mucus. One of the guards, who had been hanging onto the outside of the little vehicle, was as lucky as the barbed suckers lodged in his skin and clothing. He was torn away from the vehicle so quickly all he managed was a look of surprise as he disappeared out of sight. The 4x4, now effectively driverless, careened into a ravaged tree throwing everyone to the ground.
Viscous fluids pumped spasmodically from the frame, as it leaked battery gel into the torn earth beneath it. Neelam pushed himself upright. No one appeared hurt, barring scratches and bruises. "Sir, stay absolutely still." Came a hissed voice. Jaxxson was slowly reaching for his plasma carbine, his hand searching for the weapon next to him, without his eyes leaving a point above and behind Neelam's head. The hairs on the back of Neelam's neck were beginning to slowly rise, as he realised something large and nasty was directly behind him. Something large, and heavy shuffled behind him, and he felt something touch his back. Suddenly Jaxxson's slow movements accelerated to viper-like speed. Smoothly he picked up the carbine, swivelled and let off five clean rounds. As the thing behind him started making screaming, bubbling noises, Neelam was already over a metre away and still accelerating. Seconds later he was at Jaxxson's side, and stole a look at what had nearly had him for lunch. It was one of the elephantine predators. A large pear shaped body, supported by six barrels shaped legs. The body was covered in thick, black, scales. The mouthparts were obviously designed for crunching through armoured hides, and were surrounded by a thick nest of octopus-like tentacles. The creature was still moving, albeit sluggishly. Even after five shots from an armour-piercing carbine, the thing was still heading towards them, waving its multiple arms at them. Jaxxson fired five more shots, straight down the creature's gullet. It simply stopped; supported by its legs, the tentacles drooped and it was dead. Neelam suddenly realised he wasn't breathing and heaved a sigh of relief. "How many is that I owe you now?" Jaxxson grinned. "Too many to count. Let's just make sure you're paying for the grog the next time we see a bar. If we get to see one." Neelam took the moment to take control of their rag-tag group. "We're going to have to walk the rest of the way. If we're lucky, it'll only take twenty minutes to get to the arms depot if we stick to the main route. If we're not, it'll take longer."

Cassandra was feeling faint and somehow diminished. Inside her little bubble of reality, she kept hearing whispered voices. Shadows flittered past, keeping to the periphery of her vision, never allowing her to fully look at them. She saw strange creatures roaming the altered landscape, predating off one another in a seemingly unending orgy of carnage. The strangest thing was that it happened in slow motion. The creatures were obviously moving at the right speed for them, for where they came from, but it was like watching a film at one-quarter speed. They trundled across mats of blackened fungi and withered, dark blue leaved, trees; and always the incessant whispering behind her head telling her where to go. She clutched the small sphere in her hands, drawing comfort from its solidity in a world going to pieces at the speed of light. She was nearing her destination though. Maybe then the voice would stop.
The small sphere had been difficult to manoeuvre after all. Like a gyroscope, it didn't like moving up and down. It had started at a certain height, and wanted very much to stay there. Moving it horizontally had been fine. The University campus had been built on a five-kilometre plateau that had been levelled to within a millimetre variance. It wasn't until she approached the edge of the plateau that she realised the sphere was locked into one plane. It had two implications. The first was how the hell she was going to get it down, and secondly it gave her some information about the nature of the object. She knew it wasn't a pocket Universe. They had been created in well-documented experiments on many colony worlds. No, this was something very, very different. Being locked in a single plane implied the object had spin. Even though she could hold it in her hands quite safely. Her old professor had described the experiment in full, so a macroscopic quantum particle was not out of the question. It could also be a wrapped string that had become partially unbundled from the firmament. The possibilities were beginning to fizz in her mind, as she manhandled the object into a tourist elevator to take it down. The hope was, that the roof of the elevator would force the object down. Of course, it was just as possible that it would simply punch a whole through the roof, but she didn't think that was likely. Especially as she had been able to force it down with whatever brute strength she could muster. With the sphere finally inside the elevator, she took a moment to relax. Around her the scene was remarkable. The elevator was a tourist, all glass, affair giving a full view of the dizzying drop below, and the mountains in the misted distance. The sphere clanged against the ceiling, as the elevator started on the thousand foot drop to sea level. Inside the quiet elevator, the whispers gathered around her like a cloud of mosquitoes. Half-words flew around her head, with the occasional hint of something monstrous laughing demonically. She pressed her face against the glass and tried to block them out. "Over soon" She whispered to herself. "Over soon."