Ramani lifted the police tape for Jo to slip under. The warehouse door's lock was too badly damaged to function, but the SOCO team had left a temporary padlock and bolt on the door to keep people out.

"Damn," muttered Ramani. "I didn't think."

"Let me handle it," said Jo.

She drew a ring of keys from the pocket of her fluffy coat, and began to test them one by one on the padlock.

"I'm going to have to pretend I didn't see this," said Ramani, and turned to watch the street.

"Now, hopefully," said Jo as she finally found a key that fit, "this means that the Master isn't inside."

She snapped off the lock and pushed open the door.

The orange glow that had been present earlier in the day had faded substantially, so the warehouse was very dark. Ramani switched on her torch and led the way inside.

"Perhaps I should go first," whispered Jo.

"You don't have to worry about my safety, Jo," Ramani whispered back.

"But you don't know the Master. I do - all too well - and he's not very friendly."

"Jo, I'm a police officer. I can handle myself, you know."

For some reason Jo giggled at this, and took Ramani's hand.

"Then we should go together."

Which was fine by Ramani, who happily let their fingers intertwine.

The place was utterly silent. They trod quietly across the stockroom floor to the back door, and stopped. Ramani turned off her torch. The only light left was a dull ambient glow from the back room that cast the white fluff on Jo's coat in an eerie blue.

Jo peered cautiously round the corner of the door.

"Come on."

They tiptoed, ever so slowly, into the room, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the light.

It was empty. The Master had not returned.

Ramani turned her torch back on and shone it around the room. Along the full length of each wall was a bank of fancy looking electronic equipment. Much of it was blackened with soot or melted, though one machine appeared to be in working order. It was this that created the ambient light.

"This way," said Jo, and pointed to a blue police box at the far end of the room.

"Wow," said Ramani, her heart sinking. "This is your wooden box?"

"I thought you'd be impressed."

"Is it a…real police box?"

Jo gave her a reproving look. "Of course not." She put they key to the double front doors to unlock them, while scowling at Ramani with melodramatic crossness. "Are you coming inside or what?"

"Inside?"

"That is what we're here for," Jo reminded her sternly. Her face was expectant and serious. "Ramani. Have faith in me."

Ramani found it hard to resist this. She had promised to try.

She followed Jo through the doors.

"Welcome to the TARDIS," said Jo.

Ramani found herself inside a large, white room. The most striking thing about it - aside from its inexplicable size - was how bright it was, how unbelievably immaculately clean looking. It gleamed pure white from every surface. "What is it?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Are you going to say it's bigger on the inside than the out?"

"No. Well, yes, that too. But it just looks so…alien."

She was drawn to the hexagonal console in the middle of the room. Lights flashed on and off all over it, and data panels lit up with streams of numbers. There were so many knobs and switches in such bizarre arrangement that Ramani could make no sense of it at all. It seemed to lack order entirely. Not that she had the first clue what the instruments were for, to have any idea of how they might be ordered better.

"Do you know how to work these?" she asked Jo.

"I've got absolutely no idea."

"So you can't make us go somewhere. Or sometime."

Jo shook her head. "You'll have to ask the Doctor for that."

Ramani turned her attention to the walls. They seemed to glow, as if something alive was gestating behind the strange round panels. She touched one - it was softer than she expected, though it wasn't yielding. It was felt the hard ball of fish roe she'd once found at the beach - at once firm and organic. The panel was also warm, though, like flesh. It vibrated ever so slightly beneath her fingers. Indeed, she thought she could feel the whole room tremble and hum.

Despite its strangeness, there was nothing intimidating about the room. It wasn't scary at all. In fact, she felt completely safe. Loved, even.

"I don't quite know what to think."

Jo was leaning back against the console. In this alien environment, her theatrical clothes no longer seemed out of place. Nor did she.

"You look like you're right at home," said Ramani, folding her arms lazily.

"I am," said Jo.

"You've even got a telly."

Jo followed her gaze to the far wall. "Yes, but I've tried, and it doesn't pick up BBC 1."

Ramani found this very amusing. It was a space joke, and yet it made perfect sense.

It seemed she had crossed the frontier.

"So," said Jo in a very sober tone of voice. "Is it enough to satisfy your forensic scepticism?"

The question was redundant, and Jo knew it. Her calm confidence was written all over her face.

Ramani pondered her. The girl simply oozed mystery and promise. At the same time, she made herself completely present and available. It was a very pleasing combination.

"Let's get your friend the Doctor out of my nick."

Jo smiled broadly. "Thank you, Ramani."

She hopped off her leaning spot on the console and planted a hefty kiss on Ramani's cheek.

As Jo made to leave the room, Ramani took one last look around. Something really had to be done. But it was bad. She wasn't sure if the criminal damage act applied in here, but even if it didn't, it was rude.

"Give me one minute," she said to Jo.

She rummaged through her jacket pockets, and after emptying her mints, a tissue, her warrant card, a bus ticket, a dying roll of sticky tape and a single woollen glove onto the console, she eventually succeeded in finding a pen. "Do you think the Doctor will mind?"

Jo's eyes were immediately filled with naughty pleasure. "I shan't tell him if you don't."

They searched the room for an appropriate spot. It wasn't easy amongst all that unnatural white.

"What about under here?" Ramani suggested, examining the bottom of the console.

"That's the first place he'll see it. He's always tinkering away on something down there."

In the end, they chose an anonymous round panel close to the floor. The lip of the panel was indented slightly, providing just enough cover to make a discreet shadow.

They knelt down by the panel. Ramani's unfocused gaze rested on Jo as she contemplated what to write. But it was a no-brainer really.

/Ramani was here with Jo September 2005/

Once she'd written it, she wished she'd misspelt it properly. She licked her finger and rubbed out some words to do it again.

/Ramani + Jo woz ere September "05" Peace/

She was tempted to write something about Tupac, but thought that was going a bit too far.

Then she had a brilliant idea.

/Elvis lives/

"Is Elvis dead?" asked Jo, a bit disconcerted.

"Oops. Sorry, Jo, I forgot." She placed a comforting hand on Jo's shoulder, though it was a bit hard not to laugh.

They were silent, walking back through the warehouse to the car. Ramani didn't dare look down, for fear of finding that she'd walked straight off the cliff into empty space. If she was walking on air though, it felt pretty damn fine.

The 'bipbip' sound her car made when she unlocked the doors with her remote key sounded freakishly foreign, and the indicator lights flashing were like a ridiculous parody of what flashing lights could be. She sat behind the steering wheel with the keys in the ignition, not at all sure that she was up to driving, nor even sure that she could remember how to drive this primitive machine.

"Do you want to drive, Jo?" she asked, and turned to look at her companion.

Jo's pupils were dilated in the dark. She was large as life, she was attentive, she was lovely and sexy and fun. And then, a moment later, she was kissing Ramani.

It was wet, and squishy. It was nice. Ramani could smell Jo's breath when she pulled back - it smelled of her own mints.

"You know what?" said Jo. "Travel does broaden the mind." And she giggled sweetly.

Ramani kissed her back.