Chapter 7 - Playing Parts

The doors at the entrance to the Infirmary crashed open, startling the attending Fosters and sending them urgently leaping to attention. Suren approached the senior Foster as the Doctor followed him in, Tegan struggling to keep pace with his lengthy stride.

"So, did you manage to find Adric?" she panted, jogging at his elbow.

"No," said the Doctor distractedly, watching as Suren spoke quietly to the guard. "But I know who has him."

"Who? Is he safe?"

"They gave me their word. He's going to be returned to us at the feast tonight."

Tegan frowned. "But if these people are the ones who kidnapped him in the first place, how do you know you can trust them?"

The Doctor sighed, turning to his human companion. "I don't, Tegan. But I'm afraid at the moment we don't have much choice in the matter." He looked back to Suren as the medic returned from his conversation with the guard.

"I've checked the duty log and spoken with the Fosters, and according to them no-one has entered or left the medical bay since our departure this morning." He smiled. "It looks like we were worried over nothing."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Yes, well, I'll be the judge of that, thank you..." He moved past Suren in the direction of the medical bay, Tegan at his heels. Keeping his voice low, he leaned over to her: "Fosters or not, I'm getting the impression there are several parties at work here, and most likely the Fosters - or whomever they answer to - are part of that equation." He gave her a significant look. "We should be careful who we trust from now on." Tegan nodded solemnly, and together they walked through the doors, followed by Suren.

The room was still darkened, and remained so despite their entrance. Suren walked forward, waving a hand in the air. "That's odd... the lights are programmed to come on when the sensors pick up movement..." He moved to the nearest terminal and tapped a few controls. "It looks like the environmental controls have been adjusted, but who...?"

"Is Nyssa okay? Ouch!" Tegan moved towards the faint outline of her friend's slumbering form, only to clumsily walk into a freestanding console as she shuffled through the darkness.

"Hold on, I'll try and bring up the lights." Suren worked at the terminal for a few moments longer, until the darkness slowly began to retreat into the far corners of the room as the ambient lighting gradually brightened. Tegan, rubbing her shin, hobbled to join the Doctor at Nyssa's bedside as Suren switched monitors and began to assess his patient's condition.

"She seems alright, still sleeping like a baby," Tegan whispered, then moved to join Suren at the medicom. "Does everything check out ok?"

The medic paused, frowning. "Her condition is fine," he muttered, "the bone cycle is complete and everything seems to have healed satisfactorily. It's just..."

"What?" The Doctor looked up, concerned.

"She's sleeping a little too peacefully." His fingers moved swiftly over the keypad, accessing the medical log. "Hold on... there." Suren pointed to a log entry half way down the screen. Tegan tried to decipher the string of technical information unsuccessfully.

"I was never any good at chemistry. What does it mean?"

The Doctor joined her at the terminal, put on his spectacles and frowned at the display. "Hmmm... if I'm reading this correctly, the medicom has detected a small amount of sedative in Nyssa's bloodstream. Enough to render her unconscious for a short while, but not enough to harm her in any way. The effects have all but worn off now, so she should wake with no ill effects."

"Sedative?" questioned Tegan - "Like an anaesthetic? But who would have done that - and why?"

Suren shook his head. "I can't tell - it seems to be an incomplete entry."

"An 'incomplete entry'?" Tegan looked at him in confusion. "So you mean someone's erased some information?"

"There's no way to tell." Suren sighed, thumping the side of the unit in frustration. "This equipment is hundreds of years old, and not always entirely reliable. It could just be that the medicom administered the sedative itself, perhaps in response to my Lady moving in her sleep and jeopardising the bone-knitting procedure."

The Doctor's brow furrowed. "Or someone could have given it to her - the same person who turned off the lights perhaps?"

"Maybe." Suren frowned. "But equally there could have been an electrical fault causing the lights to short, and maybe that disturbed my Lady enough for the medicom to sedate her." He shrugged his shoulders. "Either way, there's no harm done, she's absolutely fine."

Tegan folded her arms, unconvinced. "All the same, I don't like it." She looked down at her sleeping friend. "I'm sorry, Doctor - I should never have left her here on her own."

The Doctor patted her arm awkwardly. "Not to worry Tegan - as Suren said, there's no harm done."

Suren was still studying the readout. "You know, the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced it's a system error," he said decisively. "It's the only rational explanation."

"In my experience, there's no such thing as a 'rational explanation'," the Doctor sighed.

Tegan rolled her eyes. "In my experience, there's no such thing as 'reliable technology', either!"

The marble concourse of the Civic Hall was buzzing with activity as Prime Consul Varden strolled through into the large banqueting chamber, slowly working his way through the numerous servants, citizens and Order members as they bustled back and forth, laden with varying items of food, drink and decoration.

Varden cast his eyes around the large room with interest. He had seldom seen the Hall trimmed with such sumptuosity: the polished walls had been hung with rich tapestries, and he noted with surprise that there were a number he did not recognise - obviously, he assumed, from the Procardinal's private collection. Long trestle tables had been aligned with the walls of the room, and servants were covering them with white silk cloth and placing intricate arrangements of orchids along their length, their delicate fragrances perfuming the air. A large space had been left in the centre of the room - presumably for dancing, but currently occupied by a busy crowd of people being nervously directed by Highbishop Fenravick. The Prime Consul smiled and approached the throng.

"Highbishop!" he called, as several acolytes were dispatched to carry out their respective duties, thinning the crowd temporarily. "How are the preparations going?"

Fenravick's head snapped up from his notes as he became aware of the Prime Consul's presence, his eyes widening in nervous surprise. "Prime Consul!" he gulped - "I - I wasn't aware you were honouring us with a visit!"

"Relax, Fenravick. I'm not here in any official capacity. Just interested to see how one goes about welcoming a deity, that's all." He stood with his hands behind his back, taking in the activity around him. "You seem to have everything under control," he said, a hint of surprise escaping into his voice.

The Highbishop sighed exhaustedly, blinking the sweat from his eyes as he consulted his itinerary. "Well, mostly, yes... but if you can offer any help that would be - "

"My dear Fenravick," Varden cut in, a wry grin on his face - "this is a religious event, and I'm sure the Procardinal wouldn't thank me for interfering." He looked round once more, and picked up a particularly fine goblet from the table next to him, studying the gilded detail with interest. "I must say you're doing an excellent job - everything is looking particularly lavish. In fact I'm quite relieved this is all coming out of the Order's budget, and not the Civic coffers..." He looked at the clergyman, raising an eyebrow. Fenravick squirmed under his gaze.

"There... there is no budget, Prime Consul," he muttered. Varden feigned surprise.

"No budget? But how can that be?" The clergyman visibly shrank at his words while Varden shook his head in mock astonishment. "I must admit I am confused, Highbishop. Do you mean to tell me that the celebration of the coming of the Lady - which has been prophesised by the Order for nigh on three centuries - is finally here, and the Order hasn't saved a single credit to fund it?"

"I - we... I mean..." Fenravick stammered, before taking a deep breath. "We are commandeering services and provisions from the people, Prime Consul. They are more than happy to provide all they can to please the Lady."

"I'm sure they are, Fenravick." Varden smiled. He turned to leave, then paused, looking back over his shoulder at the flustered clergyman. "I just hope the Lady is grateful for her meal, given that her faithful subjects are going without in order to provide it ..." Allowing himself a final, satisfied smile, he strolled towards the exit.

"Nyssa? Nyssa, come on - it's time to wake up..." Tegan shook the sleeping girl's shoulder gently, and was relieved to see her eyelids eventually flutter open. The Trakenite yawned and stretched, before opening her eyes fully to see the concerned faces of Tegan, Suren and the Doctor looking down at her as she lay cradled in the medical couch.

"How do you feel, Nyssa?" asked the Doctor, looking at her over his half-moon spectacles as Suren studied the medicom next to him.

Nyssa frowned, blinking the sleep from her eyes. "Fine, I think. A little tired," she said, groggily. She rubbed the back of her neck, looking at them in confusion. "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all, my Lady." Suren smiled, looking up from his readouts. "The bone-knitting cycle is complete, and your injuries are fully healed. Aside from some residual bruising, you are in perfect health."

Nyssa flexed her arm experimentally, then tentatively felt down her side, running her fingers over her ribs. The skin was still fairly tender and bruised; beneath that she noted a slightly warm, tingling sensation, but surprisingly no pain. She took a deep breath, and was relieved to find she could breathe normally once more.

"Thank you, Suren," she said, with a weary smile. "I am greatly indebted to you."

Suren flushed, then bowed deeply. "It was my honour to serve you, my Lady." Returning to his full height, he noticed one of his medical staff signalling silently from the doorway. "Forgive me, my Lady, I am needed elsewhere." He bowed once more and hurried over to the door.

The Doctor watched him go, then moved to Nyssa's bedside, studying her intently. "And how is your head, Nyssa?"

The young girl closed her eyes for a moment, tilting her head and silently listening for the unwelcome intrusions that had troubled her previously. She furrowed her brow in concentration - they were still there, but peripheral... off in the distance and safely contained by the mental barriers she and the Doctor had constructed. She smiled, opening her eyes once more.

"It's fine, Doctor. Much better, thank you."

"What's the matter with her head?" asked Tegan, confused.

The Time Lord turned to her abruptly. "Nothing for you to worry about, Tegan. In fact, now that Nyssa here is on the mend, what we should be worrying about is Adric."

Nyssa looked concerned. "Adric? What's wrong? Where is he?"

"That's what we'd all like to know," said Tegan.

The Trakenite sat up in alarm. "You mean he's missing?"

The Doctor started to pace, his hands in his pockets, and his brow furrowed. "Well, not technically, no..."

"'Technically'?"

"The Doctor's tried to track him down," explained Tegan, "he knows who's got him, but not where. Apparently he's going to be returned at the feast tonight." She looked at the Doctor - "In one piece, hopefully...?"

"Yes, thank you Tegan!" the Doctor sighed, turning back to Nyssa. "He'll be fine, I'm sure of it. From what I could glean his captors seem to hold him in some form of reverence..." He tailed off, lost in thought.

Nyssa sat back, only partially reassured, until something Tegan had mentioned struck her. "What's this about a feast tonight?"

"Ah, yes. Well, it seems events have moved on somewhat while you were sleeping - apparently the Serenites are organising a feast tonight," the Doctor raised his eyebrows significantly - "in your honour, my Lady."

Nyssa appeared less than thrilled at the prospect. She looked towards Suren, still conferring with his colleague across the room, and said in a hushed voice: "I'm not sure I can go through with this, Doctor. I'm still undecided about the whole situation, and if I go to this feast as 'the Lady' tonight, I think that will set me on a path that I'm not sure I want to travel."

The Doctor sighed. "I appreciate that Nyssa, but I'm afraid we don't have much choice at the moment. The only way we can ensure Adric's safety is by attending the feast, and if we were to reveal the truth now that would put everyone in danger." He shrugged, resignedly - "I'm afraid we're all going to have to play our respective 'parts' for a while longer."

"Ahem!" - Tegan coughed conspicuously; the Doctor turned to see Suren making his way back across the medical bay, flanked by two white-robed members of the Order. The Doctor looked back to Nyssa, raising his eyebrows questioningly. She hesitated momentarily, before nodding her head in silent assent.

The three Serenites approached, each dropping into a deep bow as they neared Nyssa's bedside. The two acolytes remained prostrate as Suren returned to his full height.

"My Lady," said the medic - "I have a message from Procardinal Jonaris. I am instructed to extend a formal invitation to yourself, my Lord Herald, and of course your lovely Handmaiden..." - he glanced at Tegan, blushing - "to a Grand Feast tonight, in honour of your divine presence."

Nyssa took a deep breath, composing herself before answering. She smiled, regally. "Thank you, we would be delighted to attend. Although... " She looked down at the flimsy sheet covering her, and then at her unusually-attired companions - "I'm afraid we may be a little underdressed?"

A nervous voice came from inside the hood of one of the prostate acolytes: "Forgive me, my Lady, but that is all taken care of. My Lord Procardinal has provided quarters at the Palace, where your every need shall be taken care of. We are to escort you there immediately."

"Right then." Tegan stepped forward with an air of authority. "If you gentlemen could give us some privacy for a moment...?" The acolytes looked up at her questioningly, and Tegan raised her eyebrows. "Unless of course you want the Lady to walk through the streets clothed in a bedsheet?"

"Er - yes... yes of course. We will wait outside, my Lady." Suren backed towards the door, hurriedly followed by the two red-faced acolytes, their eyes fixed firmly to the floor. Tegan ushered them out of the medical bay, turning back to the Doctor and Nyssa as the doors closed. Her baleful glare fixed upon the Doctor.

"And you, Doctor!" She hiked her thumb - "Out!"

For once the Doctor didn't bother to argue, but instead turned to Nyssa. "I will see you both at the feast. Once we have Adric back safe and sound, then we can consider our options around your future here. Until then," he walked over to Tegan, giving her a meaningful look, "stay together." And with that, he stalked out of the door.

Tegan looked over to her Trakenite friend. Nyssa was frowning, deep in thought. The Australian woman walked over to her, and took her hand.

"You sure you're ok with this?"

Nyssa sighed despondently. "It doesn't seem like I have much choice."

Tegan thought for a moment, and then grinned. "Well, look on the bright side - we haven't been to a party since nineteen twenty-five!"

"My Lord Herald? Excuse me... Doctor?"

The Doctor was halfway across the Civic Square before Suren caught up with him. He turned impatiently, looking at the medic for several seconds before registering who he was.

"Ah, Suren. Sorry, I was lost in thought for a moment there." He smiled broadly. "How can I help you?"

Suren coughed nervously. "I, er..." He nodded in the direction the Doctor was traveling. "Are we going somewhere?"

"Oh, nowhere in particular." said the Doctor dismissively. "Just a couple of errands to run before tonight. I thought I might spruce myself up a bit..." He looked down at his celery, which was wilting considerably on his lapel, and frowned. "Ah, water the greenery, so to speak... so I'll see you at the feast?" The Doctor turned and strode on, not waiting for an answer. Suren stared speechlessly after him for a moment, before following in his wake.

"Doctor?" The Serenite had to jog to keep up with the rapidly departing Time Lord. "Doctor! Wait a moment!"

The Doctor stopped abruptly once more - nearly causing Suren to collide into him - and thrust his hands into his pockets. He sighed impatiently, before turning to face his pursuer.

"Yes?"

"Well, under the terms of your, er... 'freedom', I am somewhat responsible for your actions."

"Absolutely right Suren!" The Doctor beamed, punctuating the air with his finger. "And you can rest assured that I will take that responsibility seriously." He turned to leave once more. "See you later!"

"Doctor!" Suren caught the Time Lord's arm, spinning him round. The Doctor looked down at his arm in surprise, then at Suren, who retracted his hand as if his fingers had been burnt.

"I'm sorry, my Lord Herald, but I must insist on coming with you. My life is at stake here, too."

The Doctor considered the young physician for a moment, then turned on his heel and began to stride off once more. He had taken a number of paces before he hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder in puzzlement.

"Well, come on then, what are you waiting for?"

Torchlight flickered in Adric's vision as he sat upright on his pallet. He swayed slightly, his pallid face shining against a backdrop of dancing shadows. Blinking stinging sweat from his eyes, he tried to focus on the flame as it spat and burned across the darkened room, but the more he stared, the more his head span. He screwed his eyes up tight, shaking his head and trying to collect himself, but coherent thought seemed to drift elusively out of his reach, dancing tantalizingly on the periphery of his consciousness, whilst waves of base, primeval anger washed over him, threatening to overcome him and send him roaring over the edge into oblivion.

He looked down at his hands. They were clenched tightly into fists, his curled fingers almost bloodless. Desperate not to lose himself, he fought to open them, his arms shaking with the effort. He took a deep breath, focussed on his trembling palms, and tried to form some semblance of a logical thought.

His name... what was his name?

He searched his mind for the syllables he must have heard uttered from the moment he was born but try as he might his thoughts whirled by in an incomprehensible, seemingly alien pattern, and he just couldn't grasp it. A low growl escaped him as his frustration boiled over into anger, and he raised his fists, tightly clenched once more, and covered his eyes.

"Adric."

Adric's eyes snapped open. A face swam before him, looming eerily out of the greyness. He reached out, and the visage before him seemed to steady slightly as he felt someone take his hand.

"Adric - can you hear me?"

Recognition sparked somewhere deep in his consciousness.

That was it! Adric breathed heavily in excitement as his mind clung on to those two precious syllables like a drowning man to a life raft.

Adric. Ad-ric. My name is Adric...

"But... how?!"

Suren's voice drifted from the TARDIS interior into the console room, where the Doctor stood tinkering with a small metal box, several components of which were strewn across the control panel in front of him.

"Hmm?"

The Serenite's head popped back through the door, his face a picture of disbelief. "How is all this possible?"

The Doctor looked up at Suren, but before he could answer his attention was drawn by a melodic chime emitted by the time machine's console. He checked a nearby monitor, frowning intently.

"How indeed... that really is the question..."

"You mean you don't have an understanding of how your own craft works?"

"What? Well of course I have!" the Time Lord retorted, glaring at Suren over his half-moon spectacles. "What I don't have at this moment is time to explain dimensional transcendentalism to the uninitiated yet again, whilst there are much more interesting quandaries to investigate!" He flicked a switch on the device he was holding, only for it to emit an unpromising fizzing noise and start to smoke. The Doctor hurriedly shut it off, before pulling out a smouldering component and throwing it over his shoulder.

"Such as?" Suren stepped over to the console, his curiosity piqued.

"Such as," said the Doctor, indicating the monitor across the console, "why, on a planet that professes to have shunned high technology, is there so much of it about?"

Suren stared at the monitor, trying to interpret the readout. "I'm sorry, Doctor, I don't understand."

"Well, earlier today I met a member of a religious sect. He claimed to be holding my companion Adric, who, I'm told, will be returned unharmed at the feast tonight. Now, I have my doubts about that, but he also gave me this– " the Doctor held up the partially dismantled transmat control, "– and indicated that it would have been used to teleport me from my impending execution at the Sanctum to some unknown 'safe location'."

The medic frowned. "So you think that this 'safe location' is the same place they're holding your friend? Is that what this readout is showing?"

"Unfortunately not." The Doctor shook his head. "I was trying to use this control box to triangulate back to the transmat destination point, but it appears to have some, er... 'security measures' built in." He wafted away the smoke that was still emanating from the device. "So I set the TARDIS scanners up to detect any nearby pockets of functioning advanced technology... specifically looking for the sophisticated compounds and chemicals that are likely to be used by a group that are obviously experimenting in teleportation."

"And I take it the results were positive?"

"More so than I expected." The Doctor moved next to the young Serenite, indicating several highlighted areas on the monitor readout. "There are a number of very small, but very concentrated areas that the TARDIS has identified, which means..."

"Serenity is not as primitive as the Order would have us believe," Suren finished, frowning.

"Exactly," agreed the Doctor, his fingers flying over a keyboard on a nearby panel. "And it's interesting you mention the Order, because if I'm not mistaken..." He tapped the final key with a flourish, and the scan results appeared on the TARDIS internal screen, overlaid with a map of the local area.

Suren's mouth dropped open as he deciphered the image before him.

"But... how?!"

"How indeed, Suren," said the Doctor, smiling, "how indeed!" He flicked another switch, and the time rotor kicked into life.

"Let's go and find out, shall we?"

"I am perfectly capable of dressing myself, Tegan," Nyssa protested, trying to look over her shoulder to where the Australian woman was fussing behind her.

"I'm just performing my Handmaidenly duties!" Tegan retorted. "Now keep still! These buttons are fiddly enough without you fidgeting!"

Sighing heavily, Nyssa turned her gaze back to the room in front of her. They had been escorted from the Infirmary by a cohort of acolytes, both of them clothed once more in the garb of the Order to conceal them from the view of the numerous Serenite citizens going about their business in the warm, midday sunshine. The Procardinal's Palace was a short walk from the civic centre, and on reaching it the two women had been hastily ushered through its polished halls to the chamber they now occupied, where they were served refreshments before being left to bathe and dress for the feast.

Rays of afternoon sun now streamed through the windows as Nyssa took in her surroundings once more. To say their room was lavishly appointed was an understatement; despite her aristocratic background the Trakenite had seldom seen such opulence gathered in once place before. Gold abounded everywhere she looked - it shone from the various precious objects scattered on gilded shelves and mantles, and threads of it sparkled from curtains and plush upholstery. Tegan had commented that it must have cost 'a king's ransom'. Nyssa frowned as she wondered who exactly had paid the price.

"There - all done!" Tegan stepped back to admire her handiwork. The Order had provided an array of garments - Tegan had chosen a long, full-skirted purple velvet dress which perfectly complemented her auburn colouring, whilst Nyssa was now clothed in a beautifully cut silk gown, enveloped in pale silver folds that flowed from a fitted bodice, the silk shimmering as it caught the light and cascaded down to her feet. Her arms and shoulders were bare, but encircling her wrists there shone a pair of delicately fashioned platinum bracelets, winding in an elaborate pattern interlaced with opaque white gemstones, matching that within a similar pendant that hung around her neck. Tegan had been given jewellery of pale gold, which glistened as she stepped back into the sunlight, bringing out the reddish tones in her short hair. Nyssa's lengthy tresses were pinned up at the sides; curly tendrils escaped and framed her face, whilst long curls tumbled down her back.

"Well, I think we scrub up quite nicely, don't you?" said Tegan, grinning. She twirled so that her skirt fanned out around her. Nyssa gave a half-hearted smile, before turning to look at herself in the mirror, her face falling.

"What's the matter?" Tegan appeared, reflected behind her. "Is it the hair? I can do it differently if you want...?"

"No, Tegan - it's lovely, really." The younger woman turned to her companion and forced a smile. "You've done a wonderful job, much better than I could do, I'm sure."

"Well, much as I like to blow my own trumpet, you really can't go wrong with clothes like this." Tegan gathered up the folds of Nyssa's skirt and let it fall through her fingers, the silver material shimmering like water. "This silk is almost white when it catches the light... you know, on Earth, if you were wearing a dress like this you'd be about to get married." She smiled, but then frowned as she saw Nyssa's face fall again. Tegan took her hand.

"What is it?"

Nyssa sighed. "That's just the point, isn't it? Marriage, a family - it's something I never really considered before Traken was... before I left. Not seriously, anyway. And now..." She dropped Tegan's hand and sat heavily on a nearby sofa.

"And now," said Tegan, "well, now you've found a whole planetful of possibilities. So what's the problem?"

"The problem is all this," she said glumly, indicating their attire and the room around them. "I know we have to 'play our parts' if we're to save Adric, but I can't help thinking that... well, the longer I'm 'the Lady', the more my chances of a normal life here will slip away."

Tegan sat down next to her friend. "And is that what you want? The marriage and kids thing?" Nyssa looked at her, her eyes shining with tears.

"Tegan, I'm the last Trakenite in the whole universe. If I didn't want that, then... well, I'd be betraying everyone I ever knew and loved... and the Master would truly have won."

"Well, we don't have to stay here. We could find Adric, and leave." Tegan put her arm around the young girl's shoulders. "You could find a home and a family somewhere else, or maybe even get the Doctor to put the TARDIS to good use for a change and come back here in the future, when all this is ancient history?"

"But wouldn't that be incredibly selfish of me?"

Tegan looked puzzled. "In what way?"

"What about all the good I could do here? What if just my being here brings hope to thousands of people - people who have no-one else to turn to? What if I used this opportunity to try and guide Serenity towards a more balanced society? Or found some way to rebuild the Source?"

"Do you think you could do all of that?"

"I could try." Nyssa sighed. "I should try."

Tegan thought for a moment, then got up and went back over to the mirror, smoothing her hands over the folds of her skirt before looking back at her friend's image reflected in the polished glass.

"You know, my dad used to say to me: 'Tegan, you only get one chance at life, so make sure you live it.' And I'm beginning to see his point."

"What do you mean?"

"Last Trakenite in the universe or not, you're only one person, Nyssa. And as much as you want to, you can't save everyone." Tegan smiled sympathetically. "You've been through so much, I think you can be forgiven for thinking of yourself for a while."

"And leave all these people in misery?"

Tegan turned and looked at her. "Oh come on Nyssa, how do you know they're 'in misery'?"

"Trust me Tegan, I know." Nyssa absent-mindedly rubbed her temple.

The Australian woman frowned, then shook her head. "Well, even if they're miserable now, they won't be forever. What was it Cwej said? In his time Serenity is held up as an example of a 'perfectly just society'. So don't worry - they'll get there, eventually!"

"How, Tegan? How will they get there?"

"What does that matter?" Tegan rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"It matters," Nyssa explained patiently, "because we are here, now, walking around in the history of the Serenity that Cwej described. What if that perfect future only exists because of the choices that I go on to make, here, in the past?"

Tegan thought for a moment, before sighing heavily. "I'm sorry, Nyssa. I'm not very good at all this 'time-travel' stuff, am I?" She returned to her seat on the sofa, running her fingers through her hair. "It still makes my head hurt."

Nyssa leaned forward, taking her hand, her smile returning. "Tegan, you're very good at being a friend... and that's what matters."

"There!" the Doctor exclaimed, holding the transmat control aloft. "All done!"

"You've fixed it?" Suren questioned.

The Doctor slipped the device into his pocket, then patted it through his coat. "As good as new!" He smiled. "Well, better than new, actually, I've made a few modifications of my own... now, if I could only test it..."

The time rotor came to a halt, distracting the Time Lord from his contemplation. "Ah! We're here!" He checked the console, patted his pockets once more, and reached for the door control. "Are you coming, Suren?"

"You mean we've actually travelled somewhere?" The medic looked at him in disbelief. "But we didn't... I didn't feel any..."

The Doctor pulled the lever, gesturing for Suren to walk through the slowly opening doorway. "See for yourself!"

To Suren's consternation they emerged, not into the lush surroundings of the Grove of Tranquility, but within a dark, windowless room. Light spilled down from behind a heavy, half-open door at the top of a stone staircase, partially illuminating the space below. The walls of the room were covered from floor to ceiling with racks of opaque bottles, and the air smelled damp and old, as if no-one had disturbed anything for decades. Dust clung in a thick layer to everything, apart from a pair of smooth metal doors that dominated one wall. The Doctor was immediately drawn to them.

"Now these look rather out of place with the rest of the architecture, wouldn't you say?" He ran his hands over the cold, featureless surface. Suren stood in the centre of the room, scratching his head whilst looking back and forth between the TARDIS and the door above, which was blatantly much too small to admit the large blue box.

"Suren?"

The medic turned, shaking his head. "Sorry, Doctor... what did you say?"

"Never mind." The Doctor stepped back from the doors. "Do you know how to open these?"

"I - I've never been down here before, Doctor." He looked anxiously up at the half-open door above. "I'm not sure we're permitted to be here at all, actually, especially if we are where you say we are..."

The Doctor ignored him, extending his investigation to the surrounding area. "There's no visible handle or keypad..." Moving to a blank area of wall at the side of the doorframe, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder..." he mused, and began to randomly prod at the roughly-hewn stone blocks.

"Doctor, I don't think we should - "

"Ah! Got it!" exclaimed the Time Lord, and Suren turned in surprise to see the Doctor's hand somehow penetrating the solid stone wall, his arm surrounded a by square of glowing white light. "Now, if I just... there!" He withdrew his hand triumphantly, as the doors silently slid open in front of them.

Suren looked on bewilderment. "But how did you know the control was there?"

The Doctor had already passed into the room beyond. "I saw something similar to it on Traken," he explained, his voice echoing back into the antechamber. "Atmosphere safe, invisible to the naked eye... unless you know where to look, or course." He popped his head back through the doors and grinned at the medic, who was still rooted to the spot. "Come on then! Lots to see in here!"

Suren looked nervously up at the door above once more, before hesitantly following the Doctor.

He emerged into a much larger chamber, the contents of which contrasted sharply to those of the antechamber. As they moved further into the room bright lights suddenly activated, rebounding from the metal walls and floor, temporarily dazzling them.

"Must be motion activated," said the Doctor, rubbing his eyes as he regained focus. "Now, this looks interesting...!" He moved towards a nearby bank of controls, drawn by its blinking lights and glowing display screens.

As Suren's vision slowly returned he looked around the room, growing more and more perplexed as his eyes travelled over the unfamiliar array of scientific apparatus contained within, all of which appeared more advanced and in a much better state of repair than his own at the Infirmary. The wall to his left was covered with a complicated array of pipes and valves, some of which were translucent and appeared to be conveying an amber liquid of some kind. The centre of the room was dominated by a large metal table, around which were arranged a number of free-standing items of equipment; more machinery hung from the ceiling above its surface, and some of the pipes appeared to feed into this arrangement, whilst others travelled over the ceiling to the opposite wall, connecting to a number of large, cylindrical tanks which were located along its length. The transparent glass of the tanks revealed that they were filled with more of the straw-coloured liquid from the pipes, which bubbled ominously as the Doctor tinkered with the control panel in front of them.

"Doctor, what is this place?" Suren moved over to the tanks, placing his hand on the polished glass. It felt pleasantly warm.

"I have absolutely no idea," the Doctor muttered, concentrating on the panel before him, "but this is what the TARDIS picked up on. Complicated groupings of amino acids and synthesised enzymes that can only be created using advanced techniques of molecular biology." He looked up at Suren. "But for what purpose?"

Their discussion was interrupted by the sound of faint voices emanating from the antechamber.

"Quick, out!" hissed the Doctor, grabbing Suren and shoving him towards the doors. They ran for the antechamber at breakneck speed, the Doctor tore around the corner, fumbling for the hidden control, just managing to activate it. The doors slid silently shut behind them just as the one at the top of the steps was flung open.

Proctor Morovan burst into the room, flanked by a number of armed Fosters. He smiled, cruelly.

"I might have known," he sneered, levelling his pistol at the Doctor's head.

"Move a muscle, Herald, and you're dead."

"Adric." The face was speaking again. Adric, panting, tightened his grip on the hand holding his own, clutching it as if it were a lifeline to sanity, and desperately tried to concentrate on the words emanating from the being in front him.

"Who are you?"

The Alzarian froze, looking into the piercing eyes dancing before him. Something flared in his mind, breaking its way through the chaos and confusion.

"Who are you?"

Familiarity flooded Adric's brain, his visceral frustration and anger giving way to blissful, sentient relief as he recognised the words being spoken. He clasped the hand before him in both of his own, clinging on to this physical link to his psyche, as synapses fired involuntarily within his mind.

"I... I am the Boy. Ad... Ad-ric."

The words came out unbidden, and their delivery left Adric gasping. The face smiled, rewarding him for his efforts. The room began to slowly settle around him, as the sweet ecstasy of ordered thought shone like a beacon, sending the nightmarish turmoil of his instinct scuttling into the shadows.

"Why are you here?"

Adric smiled in relief as the world began to slot into place around him, shaped by the life-giving words echoing through his mind.

"To bring..." he gasped, "I must bring order to Serenity..."

The face smiled once more, the affirmation sending endorphins flooding into the Alzarian's bloodstream.

"Good, Adric. Very good." The face resolved into that of a bespectacled man, cowled in a grey hood. He hesitated, licking his lips.

"Now... what is your task?"

"I must..." Adric stared blankly into his saviour's eyes. Nothing else mattered to him, save the face before him, and the words that brought order from insufferable, unbearable chaos.

"I must... kill... the Goddess..."