NINE

Martha stole round the back of the police headquarters, noticing it had a rather familiar layout.

Did they copy Hope Hospital, or did the hospital copy them?

She prayed the back entrances would all be as easily accessible as the ones back in London. She was disappointed.

"Typical!" she tutted, trying the fourth door in a row and finding it tightly sealed from inside. She stood back, folding her arms and thinking. She looked up, stepped back one, and spied the window above the door.

"Just like old times," she smiled wickedly, turning and hurrying to the large waste containers against the wall. She rolled one over and then jumped up, scrabbling for purchase against the rough wall.

She pushed at the window, opening it easily enough, then put her hands on the ledge and jumped.

She slid through and eyed the floor on the inside, realising she was about to drop with nothing to stop her.

She hit the floor with a muffled thump and collected herself. She looked around quickly, wondering why she could hear alarms, running and orders being barked. She hurried to the door and looked out of the window, watching people hurrying past.

She shrank back and looked around the store room, then looked back at the door. She opened it confidently and stepped out, going with the tide of people as she looked up and around.

She spotted an information map on the wall, veering free of the crowd and reading it quickly. She took off in the opposite direction.

Ten minutes of walking and avoiding the eyes and ears of taller police officers got her to the detention cells. She ignored the calls of the officers and under cover of retreating or herding people, slipped into the Interview Room.

She looked around, finding the computer and hurrying over to it. It appeared to be left on from some worker's quick exit. The alarm bell stopped ringing abruptly and instead a voice came over the PA system.

"All staff will evacuate. This is not a drill. Terrorists are inside the building. All staff will evacuate. This is not a drill. Terrorists are inside the building."

She just looked up, surprised, and then back down at the computer, displaying the layout and new day's codes for entry to the cells and bays. She ran her eyes down the list of inmates, and stopped.

"Malaradarr'jin and… Palaradarr'jin?" she whispered, then noted the cell number. She leaned over to scroll round the map, but heard voices and boots outside the door.

She ducked down and disappeared behind the desk swiftly.

"I'm sure she came this way," a voice said, travelling closer with each word. She held her breath and waited.

"We should be back at the ship. We're not supposed to be checking for some lost Sol Three. It's just a girl, anyway. As if she'd be clever enough to do any damage in here."

"Yeah, you're right," the original voice said. "What's the rush on the ship, anyway? I heard they couldn't get it to work." The voice started to grow fainter. She let out a breath.

"Some big chief scientist came down, said he'd have it going in a hour or so," the other voice said. "I've got a hundred darrik on him freaking out over the engines, like that last idiot."

"You're probably right. Let's get back to the hangar."

"Bit weird though, that wall in the detention area blowing out like that," the other voice continued, as they reached the door.

She heard it close behind them and relaxed, slumping against the inside of the desk gratefully.

"Some big chief scientist thinks he can fly a ship?" she said to herself with a wry smile. "If that's not you, Doctor, I'm in the wrong job here."

She crawled out and got to her feet, making for the doors. And the map.

-------------------------------------------------

The Doctor screwdrivered the door and swung it open quickly, looking in. He found three similarly tall, pale Eridanians lounging on matching bunks.

"Are you – yeah, you must be," he said dismissively, stepping in and hanging loosely from the doorframe. "Sorry, you are Palaradarr'jin?" he asked the furthest one.

He put down the electronic book he was reading and sat up.

"Depends what you think I've done," he said mildly, then sat up straighter as the Doctor walked over swiftly, standing by his bunk.

"Look, it's really important that –"

"Who are you?" Palaradarr'jin said quickly. "No… what are you?"

"What do I look like?" he asked gamely.

"A Sol Three. But something tells me… you're not," he said, mystified. "Why is that?"

"Probably because I do look like a Sol Three, but I'm not," he said helpfully. "And you look like Malaradarr'jin, but you're not."

"How do you know him? In fact, if you're not a local or are here to execute me and my band of technician rebels, how do you even know me or where to find me?" he asked, completely baffled.

"Registry. Out in the main reception. Has lots of this really useful stuff called information if you only read the right pages," he said cheerfully. "Anyway –"

"And my brother? You've seen him?"

"Yes."

"Good. I hear he's coming back after they've finished trying to fry his memories," he said vehemently.

"I'm afraid he isn't," he said heavily. The other two inmates got up quickly, gathering round. The Doctor didn't even look up. "Look, if you and your lot want your ship back you'd better round up your faithfuls and get to it. That ship's leaving in an hour," he said plainly.

"The ship?" he demanded. "How? Why now? Who are you?"

"I'm the man that's going to help you steal it back," he said simply. Palaradarr'jin looked at the others briefly.

"How can you do that?"

The Doctor pulled the TARDIS key from his pocket slowly, dangling it on front of Palaradarr'jin.

"Recognise the material?" he asked cheerfully. "You need this to start your engines, sir!"

"You sure?" he asked, looking at it. "Wait, that's… that's the same as the metal we found in the old computers, the grown ones!" he gasped. "So you're –"

"The man that's going to start the engines, now come on," the Doctor urged, turning for the door.

Palaradarr'jin and the two men followed quickly.

"Wait!" he called as he spotted the Doctor heading left down the corridor, "I have to get my brother!"

The Doctor stopped and turned. He looked at Palaradarr'jin for a long moment. Palaradarr'jin walked up to him.

"What?" he demanded. He watched the man who looked like a Sol Three but wasn't, as he studied his shoes. Eventually he looked back at him.

"Palaradarr'jin," he said gently, and he couldn't help but stare at him. His face was so sad, his eyes so sympathetic, and yet it was an anguish fuelled by something greater than what he had to say.

"Where is my brother?" he asked quietly.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said quietly. He held his gaze for a long, painful second. "I'm so sorry."

Palaradarr'jin stared at him, swallowing. "Are you… Are you sure?" he dared. The Doctor just gazed at him, prompting him to nod slowly to himself. "Who did it?" he asked, closing his eyes.

"Your chief of police," he said, an edge to his voice. Palaradarr'jin opened his eyes and looked at him.

The eyes, the bottomless, raging pools of experience, looked back at him for a long moment. The hair on the back of Palaradarr'jin's neck stood on end swiftly, every fibre in his body telling him to back away from the strange man, get distance between them, just run away, get away from him

"Don't worry about Barrak'jin," he said heavily. "He saw to himself."

"He did?" he asked suddenly, "Or you did?"

"Me? I was unarmed," the Doctor said mildly. "Come on." He turned to go.

"Wait," Palaradarr'jin said quickly. The Doctor turned back and looked at him. "That material could only have come from one place. Are you… Are you from G-" He appeared to swallow his words, then took a deep breath. "Gallifrey. Are you from Gallifrey too?"

"I am," he said, feeling his shoulders widen just a little with the admission.

"And you saw Barrak'jin die?" he asked.

"I did."

"Then… I'll follow you anywhere," he said helplessly.

"Then do it quickly, we're running out of time!"