Modory returned after a few minutes with a fistful of flowers. He held them up. "Are these what you wanted?"

The Doctor nodded. "Yes." He extended a hand through the bars.

The sergeant gave his prisoner the blooms, glancing at Nyssa as he did. "These'll help her?"

"Yes, quite a bit. Thank you." He sat down again and took the cup in his hand. "Do you want any more water?" he asked Nyssa.

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

The Doctor set the cup on the bench then began pulling the flowers off of their stems. He crushed the petals between his fingers then immersed them in the water. He lifted Nyssa's hand to remove the kerchief, asking, "Is the skin broken?"

Nyssa replied, "No."

He nodded at her then dipped the handkerchief into the ochre water. When it was saturated, he wrapped it gently around Nyssa's hand.

"How does that feel?" he asked somewhat loudly. His eyebrow twitched upward as he spoke.

"The same—"

He shook his head slightly and mouthed, "Better."

"Oh," Nyssa responded. "It... it feels much better."

Modory had returned to the cell; he stood watching his prisoners. "Is it working?" he asked.

The Doctor stood. "Yes. Thank you for bringing us the flowers."

Modory shrugged then cleared his throat. "Listen," he said slowly, "I didn't mean to hurt you." He directed his gaze toward Nyssa.

She nodded in acknowledgement. "I'll be all right," she said softly.

"Sergeant," the Doctor said, slipping his hands into his pockets, "I wonder if you could do one more small favor for us." He sensed the man's brief remorse.

Modory looked at the Time Lord. "What? I'm not unlocking the door."

"I wouldn't dream of asking. I understand that we've broken the law, inadvertently as it was. No, I was hoping that you could help us to understand just why it is that such a law exists. You mentioned that in the past people had been hurt at the ruins?"

"Not exactly," Modory said.

"No? What happened then?"

Modory walked back to his desk and sat in the chair. "People seemed to have a way of disappearing out there."

"Disappearing? Where did they go?"

The sergeant shook his head. "The last group to go out there was fifty years ago. I only heard about it second hand."

"Of course, but what did you hear?"

"There was a group of five or six archaeologists. One of them just vanished; the others couldn't find any sign of him."

"Was he with them when he disappeared?"

"How would I know? I told you, I wasn't there—I wasn't even born then."

"Are there any records of the event?"

Modory's eyes wandered to a file cabinet against the wall. "Could be. I've never checked."

"Could you check now?"

"Why are you so interested in this?" Modory's expression darkened with suspicion.

"We've told you that two of our companions are missing. If this has happened before, we may be able to learn something from accounts of the event."

"Huh." Modory swung his legs up to rest his feet on the desk. "The light's not good here after dark. I only run the generator when I'm using the radio. The records are old and faded. Maybe I can take a look in the morning."

"But our companions—" the Doctor began to protest.

Modory interrupted, "Aren't going to be found by you or anyone else tonight. Hell, if they're like the others who disappeared, they won't be seen again, ever."

"How many people have vanished from the ruins?" asked the Doctor.

Modory scratched his head idly. "I can't say—enough that the Ministry started requiring permits releasing us from liability." He shook his head. "Damn fools. They think it's our responsibility when their carelessness results in disaster."

"Is there any evidence that anyone was careless?"

"Look, I've told you all I know. I'm supposed to see that you get at least two meals a day while you're here—humane treatment of prisoners and all that." He stood and walked to a small cabinet against the wall then withdrew a large can. "But no one says it has to taste good."

With a small snort, he opened the can and poured a brown, gelatinous mass onto a plate then set a spoon on the edge of it. He carried this to the cell and slid it under the gap at the bottom. "You better eat it. It's all you're getting 'til tomorrow."

He returned to his desk and his paperwork. This time, however, he seemed to write something on a tablet.

The Doctor offered the plate to Nyssa. She shook her head.

"One of us had better eat at least a little," the Doctor said in a low voice, glancing at Modory. "We need him to take back this plate."

Nyssa gave the Doctor an inquisitive look, but he simply held the plate closer to her. She took the spoon and scooped up a bit of the concoction. With some hesitation she put the spoon into her mouth. She scowled faintly, but she managed to eat several more spoonfuls.

The Doctor was watching Modory, who still wrote at the desk. He had lit an oil lantern, and he squinted slightly in the wan light. The cell had grown dim as darkness fell outside. The Doctor took the cup in his hand and dipped a finger into the deep yellow liquid inside. He touched this to his lip and grimaced.

"Are you finished?" he asked Nyssa, still keeping his eyes on Modory.

Nyssa stood. "Yes."

He nodded. "Sergeant," the Doctor said.

Modory looked up.

"We're done with supper." He gestured toward Nyssa, who held the plate in her hand.

"So?" was the man's indifferent response.

"Could you take the plate away?"

Modory shook his head. "And I suppose next you'll want me to turn down your bed."

"That would require covers, and we don't seem to have any in here," the Doctor replied sardonically.

Modory looked back at the tablet on his desk. "I'll get the plate in the morning. Anyway, you may want some more of that."

The Doctor turned back toward Nyssa. She could see that he was momentarily disappointed; he had wanted Modory to take the plate from him, although she was not sure why. However, the tone of voice and facial expression he used when he asked her a question a moment later clearly told her to acquiesce to whatever he said.

"Are you thirsty?" he asked somewhat quietly.

"Oh—yes, I am, terribly." She spoke loudly. "I'd really like some more water."

The Doctor held the cup in his left hand and pressed in closely toward the bars. "Sergeant," he said, "I'm sorry to bother you again. But Nyssa needs some more water; today's walk has left her a bit dehydrated, I'm afraid. Could I trouble you to empty this and refill it with fresh water?" He pushed his hand through the bars, still gripping the cup.

Modory grunted. "Yeah, fine. But after this you're settling in for the night."

"Absolutely."

Modory walked to the cell and reached for the cup. The Doctor's right hand shot out from between the bars and grasped the sergeant's wrist while he flung the contents of the cup into Modory's face. The sergeant bellowed and pressed a hand to his eyes.

The Doctor gripped Modory's wrist more tightly and drew him toward the cell, dropping the cup and reaching out to clamp his left hand around the man's other arm.

"Nyssa!" the Doctor instructed, "get the key from his pocket."

Nyssa quickly stood and reached between the bars. Modory was cursing and groaning, still grinding his palm against his eyes, but he was aware that his prisoners were attempting to escape. He tried to twist away from the Doctor's grasp, but the Time Lord's hold was tenacious.

Nyssa's hand slipped into the sergeant's pocket, and she retrieved the key. Immediately she reached around to unlock the door.

Still holding Modory, the Doctor pushed his body against the door, and it swung outward. Modory kicked at the Doctor, landing a sharp blow to his shin. The Doctor stepped back, loosening his hold slightly. Modory's hand reached for his throat. Nyssa had slipped behind the Doctor and exited the cell. She stepped across the room and picked up the rifle.

As Modory gripped the Time Lord's throat, she cocked the gun. "Step back," she ordered.

Modory's eyes swam with tears, and his vision was blurred, but he recognized the click of the rifle. He dropped his hand from the Doctor's neck and took a step backwards. With a cough, the Doctor quickly moved out of the cell and pushed Modory inside. He turned the key in the lock then dropped it into his own pocket.

"Is this the only key?" he asked.

Modory was still pressing his hands over his streaming eyes. "Damn it! What was in that cup?" he growled.

The Doctor replied, "The infusion I made from the flowers. I'm afraid I mislead you slightly. The petals contain a highly astringent agent that does little to reduce swelling, but produces a considerable sting when coming into contact with mucous membranes or open skin. Nyssa, would you bring the sergeant a cup of fresh water so that he can flush out his eyes?"

Nyssa set the rifle against the wall then poured water into a glass and handed it to the Doctor. Modory reached for it, but the Doctor stepped back. "First I'll need you to empty your pockets so that I can be certain that this is the only key you have."

"Damn you!" Modory lowered his hands and turned out his pockets, cursing all the while.

"Thank you," said the Doctor, holding out the cup to him. "I'm afraid that your eyes will be quite painful for the next hour or so, but I assure you that there will be no permanent damage. You've still got most of the food you gave us, and I'll leave the water pitcher for you. I can't say that you'll be entirely comfortable in there until your colleagues arrive, but I'm sure you'll survive."

Modory continued to utter expletives as the Doctor set the pitcher just outside the cell, within easy reach of the sergeant. Taking the lantern, he said to Nyssa, "Come on."

"Doctor, shouldn't we check the files?"

"Oh, yes, Nyssa, we should."

He went to the file cabinet and set the lantern on top of it. He searched about for a minute or two then produced a thin, dusty folder. He flipped through it, his eyes skimming over the faded words.

"Is there anything helpful?" Nyssa asked after a minute, looking over his elbow.

"Possibly. Sergeant, we're going to have to borrow this, but I'll leave it for you at the ruins. Thank you for your hospitality, such as it was."

The Doctor tucked the folder inside his waistband and took Nyssa's arm to usher her out the door into the blackness of the desert night.

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The Doctor and Nyssa had walked for perhaps fifteen minutes when Nyssa asked, "Doctor, do you know which direction the mesa is?"

The Time Lord held the lantern in his hand; it flooded the ground around them with a circle of yellow light.

"I believe that the mesa lies in this direction; as long as we walk with our backs toward the sergeant's building we should find ourselves in the general vicinity. And if that should fail, we can always follow our own footprints."

He lowered the lantern slightly. Nyssa could see tracks on the sandy ground. In the distance she heard a mournful howl; she shuddered slightly.

"Maybe we should have waited until morning to return," said Nyssa.

"Hmm?" The Doctor seemed immersed in thought.

"Doctor, is it safe out here at night?"

"Safe? I should imagine so. It is considerably cooler than during the day, which makes the trip easier for both of us."

"But nocturnal creatures will be out."

"Yes. However, the poisonous reptiles and insects will be dormant, so we won't need to worry about them."

"Poisonous reptiles and insects?"

The Doctor waved a hand. "Really there is just one snake and one arachnid, as far as I know. Both are quite shy and only strike when threatened."

"What about the wild dogs?"

As if in answer to Nyssa's question, another canine cry floated across the open desert. The Doctor stopped walking to listen. A second cry, and then a third, came from different directions.

"Hmm," said the Doctor thoughtfully. "It sounds as though they're communicating with each other. Most likely they're forming a hunting pack; I imagine that they'll be out for most of the night."

"Is there any chance that they'll try to hunt us?"

"I should think it rather unlikely. They won't like our light, and undoubtedly they prefer smaller prey."

Nyssa and the Doctor walked quietly for several more minutes. The dogs' cries seemed to increase, and Nyssa felt that they were coming closer. To distract her thoughts from the canines, she asked, "Was there anything helpful in the file?"

The Doctor patted the folder in his waistband. "Perhaps. I'll need to study it more carefully, but I know now that fifty-six years ago a group of archaeologists from Earth came here; the year, in Terran time, was 2094. There were five of them, all from the University of Arizona, in America. They had been at the ruins for two days when one of the members, a graduate student named Adam Martin, disappeared. His colleagues reported that he was working near the base of the mesa alone. Several hours later, when the group met to discuss the day's results, they found that he had vanished. They searched for a day on their own, then they notified the authorities—Modory's predecessors—who conducted a search for five more days. No trace of the man could be found."

"But did they have any ideas about where he went?"

"No. There was something in the file about an injury he had sustained two days before disappearing—he had cut his leg, I believe. There was some conjecture that the wound may have become infected and caused him to become delirious, thus wandering away. But his colleagues did not believe this to be true. They said that he had seemed fine on the morning of his disappearance."

"And he was never found?"

"Apparently not. The file was stamped 'case closed: unsolved' three months after the disappearance. There didn't seem to be any additional information."

Nyssa shook her head. "If whatever happened to him happened to Adric and Tegan—"

The Doctor stopped her. "We mustn't presume that it has. We haven't yet made a thorough search, and we may have an advantage over previous searchers."

"What is that?"

"We have the TARDIS. I can scan the area for biosigns—"

"But you said you couldn't bring it any closer for fear of disturbing the ruins."

"That is true. However, I think that I can remove an element or two from the scanner to create a portable device."

They continued walking. The dogs' cries were growing closer; each wail sent a chill up Nyssa's spine.

"How much further are the ruins?" she asked after a time. A particularly eerie howl left a slight tremulous note in her voice.

"Perhaps a kilometer." The Doctor held the lantern up, but the light extended out only a few feet in front of him.

"Are you certain that we're going in the right direction?"

"Few things can be considered an absolute certainty, Nyssa," he replied cheerfully. "However, I believe that we are on the right track."

The next howl seemed very near by. Nyssa moved closer to the Doctor. "Perhaps we should have brought Sergeant Modory's gun with us," she said.

The Doctor glanced at her; her eyes were wide. "Nyssa, you're not one to use violence," he said mildly.

"Oh," she said, "I wouldn't shoot the dogs! I'd use the gun to scare them off; that's all."

"As I told you, I don't believe they'll harm us."

Suddenly Nyssa gripped his arm and stopped walking. "I think they intend to try."

Perhaps a dozen pairs of eyes glowed in the faint moonlight, outside the small circle of lantern light. Nyssa could hear the animals breathing, and a few growls arose from deep within their throats.

The Doctor held the lantern up again; the light spread out on the ground. The dogs backed away, but they remained just outside the ring of light. Several yipped in anticipation, and one particularly bold fellow stepped forward into the light, teeth bared, to stare at his prey.

The dogs were large; their heads rose nearly to Nyssa's chest. They were lean but powerfully built, with solid hind legs and muscular shoulders. A single dog clearly had the strength to overwhelm a human; a dozen canines possessed the power to kill a small group of people.

The Doctor swung the lantern around, distributing the light in a wide arc across the desert floor. The dogs continued to back away, but with each sweep of the light they seemed to move less.

"We need fire," the Doctor said crisply. "Quickly, Nyssa! See if you can find anything on the ground that will ignite."

Nyssa's eyes searched the sand. She bent to reach for a single small twig. One of the dogs snarled at her, darting out toward the light. The Doctor shook the lantern; the canine growled but took a step back.

"There's nothing here!" she cried in frustration.

The Doctor pulled the file from his waistband then opened the small door on the front of the lantern and ripped two sheets from the folder. He touched these to the flame; they ignited immediately. He dropped the paper to the ground. For a moment a flame leapt up into the air. The dogs yelped and ran back toward the darkness.

The Doctor grasped Nyssa's arm. "Run!" he shouted.

He and Nyssa bolted across the desert, the light bobbing in the Doctor's hand, splashing across the sand haphazardly in all directions.

"Can we outrun them?" Nyssa gasped out.

"I don't know, but we have to try."

Nyssa's legs burned with her exertion. The Doctor's stride was much longer than hers, and she fought to keep up with him; his hand on her arm continued to wrench her forward. The dogs' cries resounded behind them, drawing nearer with each howl.

The soft moonlight had shown open space before them for some time. Now, Nyssa thought that there was a change in the light ahead. There seemed to be obscurity before them.

"The light, Doctor!" she panted. "Up ahead."

He held the lantern up once again, but the light flickered. Nyssa looked up to see the flame growing smaller by the moment. Darkness began to surround them.

"Doctor!" Nyssa wheezed.

"The oil's burned up," he cried. "Keep running!"

Nyssa was gasping for air, and her legs threatened to collapse under her with each step. She did not know how much further she could go, but the howling behind her drove her forward into the darkness. Aware that she was tiring, the Doctor forced himself to slow slightly. His hand remained around her arm.

A sharp barking directly behind the pair told them that the dogs were on their heels. "Hurry!" the Doctor urged, pulling her along with him as his pace increased.

"I—can't," she gasped.

The Doctor wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her slightly as he ran. Her feet barely touched the ground. Nyssa tried to breathe. Her vision was blurred; she blinked dully, aware of the sand scraping at her toes and the dogs barking only feet behind her.

Suddenly the Doctor stopped. Nyssa felt herself released as the Doctor pressed her against something very large and solid.

"We've reached the mesa," he said, working to catch his breath.

"The—ladder?"

"I don't know. I think we're on the back side," he panted.

She saw his arms reaching upward; his pale shirt was visible in the moonlight. Less than ten feet away the dogs' eyes shone in the light, too.

"Up, Nyssa!" The Doctor lifted her. "Catch hold of that protrusion—above your left hand."

Nyssa reached up. She felt a section of rock jutting outward and grasped it, crying out in pain as the bones and muscles in her injured hand shifted with the movement. She looked down to see the dogs' eyes at her feet. She felt something grab her boot; she kicked her foot and lifted it, pulling herself upward despite the throbbing in her hand. Teeth scraped against her leg.

"Nyssa! Come on, pull yourself up!" The Doctor was beside her, pushing at her hips with his hands to urge her upward. With a final, excruciating tug Nyssa heaved her shoulders over the small ledge. She tried to swing her legs up, but they were restrained. Two dogs had caught hold of her; their strong jaws gripped at her ankles.

"Get down!" the Doctor shouted at the animals, swinging the dark lantern at them in an attempt to frighten them away.

Nyssa struggled to lift her legs, but the dogs' weight began to pull her down. She could see the animals' eyes glowing by the Doctor's feet; she wondered briefly if they held his legs, too. Suddenly a small flare of light leapt from the Doctor's hand then dropped toward the ground. She felt her ankles released and quickly swung her legs up onto the ledge. In a moment the Doctor had joined her.

Both sat panting for nearly a minute. The dogs cried in frustration six feet below them. They watched in silence as several of the larger canines tried to leap up or climb the rock face. However, the stone was slick and nearly vertical, and the animals' attempts were momentarily unsuccessful.

The Doctor began feeling about on the ledge, finally touching an old bird's nest. It was large and very dry. He struck another match and held it to the twigs. As soon as the nest ignited, he dropped it. The dogs yelped and skittered away.

"Will they come back?" Nyssa asked, finally able to breathe. She held her aching hand up on her knees; both she and the Doctor had folded themselves against the narrow rock shelf.

The Doctor looked down. "Yes, as soon as that burns out." The light from the flame permitted him to examine his immediate surroundings. Several feet above the ledge was an opening in the rock. He stood and peered inside.

"It's a cave," he told Nyssa. She stood as well, and he helped her to climb into the small shelter then scrambled in beside her. The cleft was narrow, perhaps five feet wide, and less than five feet high, but it permitted sufficient space for both to sit completely inside.

The Doctor shook the lantern and tilted it sideways, then he lit the wick with another match. A small flame illuminated the cave. "We should have at least a few more minutes of light," he said. He turned his attention to Nyssa, then. "Are you all right? Were you bitten?"

He was bending to look at her feet and ankles, running his hands over them.

"I don't think they broke the skin," she said. "My boots must have stopped them. Did they bite you?"

The Doctor looked down at his feet. A layer of reddish dust clung to his boots and pants, but there was no sign of blood. "No," he responded.

Nyssa let her head fall back against the wall, pulling her knees up once more to provide a surface on which to rest her hand. The Doctor noticed her movement and the way she held the wounded appendage.

"Have you hurt it again?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. I think it was just the motion of grabbing the rock. I'll be all right."

He nodded. "I'm sorry that the infusion I made didn't really help with the swelling or pain."

"It helped us to get away; that's much more important What was it?"

"The flower was in the calendula family."

Nyssa nodded tiredly in acknowledgement.

The Doctor looked out at the dark sky. "We'll have to remain here until dawn. The dogs won't leave us until then. Why don't you try to sleep for a while?"

Nyssa was utterly exhausted, but her hand throbbed. She doubted that she could sleep through the pain. She drew her knees in closer, wincing with the motion.

The Doctor was watching her. "It hurts quite badly, doesn't it?"

Nyssa nodded in defeat. "Yes. I don't think I'll be able to sleep."

The Time Lord took her arm in his hand. He placed his thumb on her forearm, just below the elbow. Nyssa watched his movements with interest. She felt his thumb press into her skin, painfully hard for the briefest moment, then his fingers seemed to reach through her arm from the other side. She gasped. He pulled his fingers away.

Nyssa lifted her hand. "The pain is gone," she said with genuine surprise.

"Only temporarily, I'm afraid," he acknowledged. "And I can only do that once without risking nerve damage. But the numbness should remain long enough for you to get some sleep."

"Where did you learn that?" she asked.

"It is a combination of techniques from various places—China, early Gallifrey.. ."

Nyssa permitted her head to lean back against the wall. "Will you show me how you did it?" She yawned.

"Gladly, but some other time."

"Mmm," she began to reply, but she had already drifted into sleep.

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