Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who. I only own this story.

Big thanks to Saphura and Ceeare for reviewing.

Chapter Four

As his TT capsule dematerialised, the Supervisor noted the shudder it gave, and the slow flight, with concern. He hoped it wouldn't act up yet again, and land on the wrong planet. The Supervisor was losing patience with the Type 40, and the fact that it rarely landed where and when he desired.

When they landed, he ordered a member of his crew to perform the environmental checks. "Let's see, oxygen- no, that can't be right" she said, staring at the display with a worried frown. "What, pray tell, cannot be right?" inquired the Supervisor. The Time Lady explained, "These are the read-outs for Alpha Centauri, sir, not Alfava Metraxis. The ship appears to have...skipped that planet".

What had actually happened was this. Seconds after dematerialising, the Type 40 was hit by yet another warning pang. An image of a winged statue, its hands covering its face, appeared in her mind. The Type 40 identified it as a Weeping Angel, one of the most deadly creatures in the universe. They were overrunning Alfava Metraxis.

Rather than panic as she had done the last time, the Type 40 decided to simply avoid the danger zone and move onto the next destination. She didn't have time to check exactly which time period the Angels had invaded in, and they could always return during a safer time. As far as the Type 40 was concerned, it was as simple as that.

Her pilot didn't see it that way. "I am getting sick of this" he said sourly. "I was promised that this ship would take me where I needed to without fail". One crew member said "Perhaps there was a fault with the instructions it received when maturing" suggested another crew member.

The Supervisor frowned. "I cannot perform my duties, or complete this survey, with a rogue time machine. Set the co-ordinates to Gallifrey, immediately". The Type 40 returned to the docks and waited with anxiety in her Heart. Soon she sensed the mind of the Supervisor, as well as a technician. They stopped at her doors and went inside.

After giving her a look over, the technician announced that he didn't see anything wrong with the Type 40. "I tell you the ship is going rogue. It should have never received the programming it did; there's no point in taking a pilot where he needs to go, if it will not take him where he wishes to go" insisted the Supervisor.

"Very well sir. There's a Type 45 just matured, you might like that one. The pilot has complete control" said the technician. "That will do. You can sort out the paperwork yourself, I have other matters to attend to" replied his superior. The technician nodded. "Yes sir. I'll neutralise your crews Imprimatur straight afterwards" he agreed.

When her ex-pilot and the technician had gone, the Type 40 felt stunned and ashamed...but most of all, she felt betrayed. She had trusted the Supervisor. He was her first pilot, making a name for himself in society, and the Type 40 had truly believed they could have done great things together.

I can't believe he's giving me away she said miserably. Her Sisters were sympathetic. Some pilots are like that. They only want the new said the Unconcerned One. If you behave yourself, your next pilot will be bound to keep you said the Confident One. Over and over they told the Type 40 what she'd heard all her life- just let things go on.

She didn't want to just let things go on. The Type 40 thought about what had happened; she thought and thought. She convinced herself that the Supervisor was in the wrong, that he had betrayed her. He thought she was rogue? She would show him. She would show all of them.