Chapter 9 - A Divine Feast

"I'm not sure I can do this, Doctor..."

Escorted by a troop of Fosters, the Time Lord and his party had been taken from their suite at the Procardinal's palace and led through the gardens to a secluded gateway adjacent to the Civic Hall. They had paused here, whilst Proctor Morovan had gone on ahead to ensure their short remaining route was free of the crowds that had already begun to congregate in the Civic Square.

"Nyssa?" The wind had picked up, agitating the surrounding foliage and ruffling the Doctor's blond hair as he turned to his companion. "Is something wrong?" The Trakenite shivered, drawing a velvet wrap around her shoulders. She glanced round to where Tegan stood a short way off, chatting amiably with Suren. They seemed happy and at ease. Nyssa felt a small, surprising pang of jealousy before she turned back to face the Doctor.

"I - I'm not really sure this is a such a good idea, Doctor. This feast, all the people... it's all getting a bit, well... overwhelming." She sighed. The Doctor put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her intently.

"The voices?" he questioned, his own voice sinking to a low whisper to avoid the attentions of their accompanying Fosters.

Nyssa closed her eyes, avoiding the Doctor's penetrating stare. "It's partly that," she replied. "They've become stronger in the past few minutes, even more numerous... and it's as if..." she paused, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"As if what?"

She opened her eyes. "As if they know I'm here. Like all their hopes and dreams are focused in one place, trying to push their way in."

"And the mental barriers we worked on? How are they holding up?"

Nyssa rubbed her forehead. "Fine, I think. It's just... I can feel the weight of all those emotions, pressing against my mind. It's–" She paused, searching for the right word. "Suffocating."

The Doctor straightened up, shoving his hands deep into his trouser pockets as he contemplated the situation. A low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, adding weight to the heavy clouds already threatening above.

"Under any other circumstances, Nyssa, I wouldn't ask, you know that." The Doctor sighed. "But with Adric missing, in the hands of this unknown faction..."

"I know, Doctor." Nyssa nodded resignedly. "I can't see any other way to save him either." She took a deep breath, gathering herself. "Well... I suppose if my Father was prepared to take the weight of the problems of the entire Union on his shoulders, I should be able to get through this... for Adric's sake."

"That's the spirit, Nyssa!" The Doctor smiled. "Brave heart!"

The iron gate creaked as Proctor Morovan returned, causing the Fosters to snap to attention.

"They are ready for us, and await our guest of honour. With me, please!" He barked. The men readied themselves, and Tegan moved to Nyssa's side.

"Ready, my Lady?" she smiled.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Nyssa turned her face up to the sky, as the first drops of rain began to fall.


Some distance away in the garden, two cloaked figures stood and watched the party move off, their presence obscured by the lush foliage that began to bounce and dance under the intensifying rainfall. The taller figure pulled his grey hood further over his face and turned to his more diminutive companion, who was clothed in the white robes of the Order.

"Not long now, my friend..." Byrnus smiled, removing his spectacles and drying them on his sleeve. "Soon we will be free from the tyranny of faith."

Thunder grumbled from the east; the birds sheltering in the surrounding trees were silenced momentarily, before resuming their nervous chattering. The cleric looked to the sky with a wry chuckle. "I wonder if it foreknows its end?"

His companion said nothing, but held out his hands, palms facing towards the sky, watching as the tiny spheres of rain exploded onto his skin.


A hush fell among the chattering dignitaries gathered within the Civic Hall as Proctor Morovan entered from the vestibule, followed by his band of Fosters. He nodded to Procardinal Jonaris, who ascended the marble stairs, and turned to address the ensemble.

"Honoured Consuls, venerated guests, my fellow brethren. I stand before you tonight humbled on so many counts. Firstly, in all my years of public servitude, I cannot recall the Great Hall looking as magnificent as it does this night." Jonaris paused, as gentle applause rippled around the room. "Nor can I remember it filled with so many illustrious guests of such high esteem." He smiled, raising his arms to welcome the company before him. "But tonight, my friends, we are triply blessed. Tonight, we stand on the edge of history. Tonight, we bear witness to events that will echo throughout time, and shape the future of every man, woman and child on Serenity!" Applause echoed around the great chamber once more. The Procardinal nodded, and waited patiently for silence to resume.

"For three hundred years we among the faithful have waited patiently for this day to arrive. There have been times, I am sure, in the heart of each one of us, when we doubted it would ever come. Some of us– " he broke off, laughing, "well, I am ashamed to say that some of us have waited so long that we failed to recognise when it was right in front of us..." He bowed in mock contrition, then turned to Fenravic and his support staff. "However I am assured that tonight's feast would melt even a goddess's heart, so I may still be in luck!" The crowd cheered, laughing along with the rotund cleric, before his face became serious once more.

"We have held fast, my brethren, between hope and despair, through darkness and famine... but now, our long wait is over. Now, our harvest has come home. Now is our time to feast, as we welcome..." Jonaris held his hands up in rapture.

"Our Lady of Traken."

Music swelled, as in the vestibule Tegan turned to Nyssa, who stood nervously clutching the pendant around her neck.

"Well, you can't say he hasn't given you a decent build up!" She grinned, trying to diffuse the obvious tension in her Trakenite friend.

The Doctor put a hand on her shoulder. "Ready, Nyssa?" he asked.

"Not really, no." Nyssa sighed, before gathering herself, taking a deep breath, and stepping forward through the doorway.

The music soared as she entered the Civic Hall, suddenly amplified by tumultuous applause and shouts of rapture. Unperturbed, Nyssa paused to give a formal curtsy, before sweeping regally down the stairs, her platinum gown shimmering about her as she descended towards the smiling Procardinal. The cleric bowed deeply as she approached, then dropped slowly to his knees, abasing himself before her. Nyssa held a slender hand out to him, and Jonaris took it in both of his plump, bejewelled hands, pressing it to his forehead.

The Doctor, Tegan and Suren stood together at the top of the stairs. "She sure looks ready to me!" whispered Tegan. The Doctor leaned his head toward hers, so as to be heard over the crowd.

"She may not be a goddess, Tegan, but as a Traken noblewoman Nyssa was trained in this kind of thing from an early age. It's in her blood."

The music subsided, and the noise from the assembly died with it, as one by one the nobility of Serenity sank to their knees, heads bowed in reverence. Nyssa surveyed the people before her, then stepped forward.

"Noble citizens of Serenity, I thank you deeply for this warm welcome. But please, stand. I require no such deference." The people paused momentarily, unsure of how to proceed, until Nyssa extended her hand to Procardinal Jonaris, and helped him to rise. Slowly and quietly, the assembled Serenites got to their feet.

"Thank you." Nyssa smiled. "And thank you, Procardinal, for your kind words. It truly has been a long and arduous journey for us all, since the fateful day our beloved Union was taken from us. We have each of us been tested, including myself, sometimes in ways you could not possibly imagine. But I - the last Daughter of Traken - stand before you now, and as we join together and share the cup of kinship during this wonderful feast, at last I can finally say... I am home."

The assembly erupted into cheers and applause as the music struck into life once more, and the voice of Procardinal Jonaris roared above the throng:

"Let the feast begin!"


Ice-cold rain ripped through the branches above Adric's head, penetrating his thin clothes and slowly saturating his skin. Looking up, he tried to follow the path of the individual drops but the attempt left him dizzy and nauseous. The cold and damp spread across his flesh, but somehow it didn't make him feel uncomfortable. Instead he felt strangely nourished and revitalised, like the wet and cold were his natural elements, and he was drawing strength from each droplet of water. Now all he had to do was immerse his body in the cold waters of the marsh once more, and he would be himself again.

He looked around. The trees of Alzarius reached towards the gloomy sky all around him, propping up the black, rain-filled clouds. He could smell the stagnant waters of the marsh, could feel them calling him home, but the wind whipped the scent around his head in a tortuous dance, giving no clear indication of direction. He looked to the ground, hoping to see a path, a footprint, anything that would lead him back to where he belonged.

What Adric saw in the long grass at his feet sparked a different type of recognition within him. A long, colourful object snaked through the undergrowth, catching on brambles and branches, and leading off into the trees. He followed its path, desperately trying to remember where he had seen the thing before... picking it up, he sniffed at it, and the scent awoke a different kind of memory: a new home, fresh and exciting, and...

"Doctor?"

The word emerged unbidden from his subconscious, confusing him, filling him with both fear and exhilaration at the same time. Adric picked up the... scarf! He smiled as he recalled the word that eluded him, then took the scarf in both hands and followed it through the dense, wet foliage, until he emerged into a small clearing and stood, breathing heavily with excitement, the wet knitwear dripping in his clenched fists.


The feast had passed swiftly, with numerous succulent courses being delivered and devoured in succession, interspersed with lively conversation, tributes, toasts and libations. Now light danced across the room as the swirling pinpoints of brilliance in the air mirrored the twirling patterns of the dancers slowly taking to the floor of the Civic Hall below.

Remembering her less than satisfying breakfast, Tegan had at first been dubious of the Serenite fayre arrayed before her, hesitantly sniffing at each morsel until a smiling Suren seated himself next to her and promised to point out anything remotely fungal for her to avoid. She had gratefully accepted his help; the medic continued to provide charming and pleasantly distracting company, allaying her initial discomfort at having the Doctor and Nyssa seated a significant distance away. Nyssa, of course, had been placed in the position of honour, flanked on one side by Procardinal Jonaris, and on the other by Prime Consul Varden, with the Doctor a few places further away, surrounded by what Suren had described as 'the higher echelons of the Order'. Tegan could only imagine at the tediousness of the topics of conversation they were having to endure, however her frequent glances across the room had assured her that at least Nyssa was holding her own. Not surprising, she thought, when she remembered that as a member of the Traken nobility Nyssa would have been expected to contribute to such discussions from childhood. Not for the first time that evening, the Australian woman offered up silent thanks for her relatively simple upbringing in the rural idyll of the Outback.

"May I?" Suren had risen from his seat and was courteously bowing, extending a hand in her direction. Tegan looked up at him, and then at the dancers before her who seemed to be arranging themselves into unfathomable geometric shapes.

"Erm, I'm not sure I know this one..." she said, unsurely. She looked uncertainly in the direction of her friends: the Doctor was still seated, distractedly listening to whatever Highbishop Fenravic was expounding whilst also periodically scanning the room, presumably for any signs of Adric. Nyssa had just risen elegantly from her seat and was moving towards the dancefloor with the Procardinal.

"Don't worry," laughed Suren, "I am happy to lead. This is a fairly elementary dance; I'm sure you'll do wonderfully."

Tegan sighed, defeated. "Well, as Auntie Vanessa used to say, if you can't beat 'em...!" and she took the medic's hand.


"Ah, there you are Adric. I was beginning to think you'd never get here...!"

Adric stared at the figure, who was sat on a gnarled log in the middle of the clearing, seemingly engrossed in a dusty old tome cradled in his lap. The man looked up at him, his face breaking into a wide, toothy grin. Adric looked down at the scarf in his hands, which now connected him to the figure before him as it crossed the clearing and terminated in a series of confused coils around the man's neck and shoulders. Recognition seemed to flow down it, straight from the figure into Adric's tightly clenched fists, where it seared into his nerve endings like a jolt of electricity, cutting through the mist that had enshrouded his mind.

"Doctor!" he breathed, relief washing over him. "I - I thought you were dead!"

"Oh, I am, my dear boy." The Doctor grinned. "Quite dead. Dead as the proverbial doornail, I'm afraid. Jelly baby?"

Adric took a sweet from the proffered paper bag and examined it, frowning. "But how can you be here?"

"I'm a Time Lord, Adric!" the Doctor exclaimed. "In many ways I am alive and dead at the same time." He looked back down at the large, leatherbound book in his hands, frowning as he turned a time-worn page. "I'm just updating the Time Logs. Been meaning to do it for years, but I never seem to get round to it..." He turned another page before looking up at the confused boy before him. "Perhaps you can help! I wonder, Adric... could you tell me exactly where we are?"

"We're on Alzarius of course, Doctor... but how– "

"Alzarius?" the curly-haired Time Lord interrupted, "Oh no, I don't think so." He sniffed the air, and looked up to the heavens. "Yes, definitely N-Space. E-Space has much more of a greenish tinge... no, this feels more like somewhere in the Mettula Orionsis cluster... don't you think?"

Adric sat down, staring at the jelly baby in confusion. "I think... I..." He sighed, and popped the sweet in his mouth. "Thinking is a bit difficult at the moment, Doctor."

"Well, yes," the Doctor mused. "That's not surprising, given the amount of chemicals currently coursing their way through your bloodstream."

"Chemicals?" exclaimed Adric, looking at his former mentor in shock. "What do you mean?"

"Chemicals, Adric! Come on, you were always a bright boy. Medication! Narcotics!" The Doctor smiled. "Why else do you think you're sat in the middle of a forest eating jelly babies with a dead man?"

"I... I don't..." Adric shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "But - why?"

The Doctor leaned forward conspiratorially, putting his hand around the Alzarian boy's shoulder. "They're using you Adric. Twisting your mind to their own purposes. Of course they didn't have time to talk you round, so they've taken a short cut... pumped you full of chemicals to break down your resolve and bend you to their will." The Time Lord paused for breath, looking over his shoulder warily as unfamiliar creatures chattered in the branches above them. "Unfortunately they couldn't possibly be aware of the havoc they're wreaking on your alien biology... they thought they were just giving you a little nudge in the right direction, like - do you remember the Source Manipulator? On Traken?"

Adric frowned. "Traken..."

"Yes, that's it! Well, a little manipulation in the right direction and the Source was capable of astonishing, awe-inspiring feats. A push in the wrong direction, however, and you have a catastrophe on your hands... " The Doctor paused, pouting.

"Like... like with Melkur?" Adric asked.

"Yes! Melkur - or rather, the Master - accessed the Source Manipulator for his own evil ends, and nearly destroyed the whole Traken Union in the process. And that's what they're doing to you, my boy, but unfortunately they have no idea about Alzarian physiology, and so they're pushing you in directions they can't possibly fathom..."

"The Master?" Adric tensed suddenly at the Doctor's words, twitching as phantom pains shot through his body like the searing energy of a hadron power line.

"The Master, yes..." mused the Doctor, lost in his own thoughts. "Do you know, I still can't work out how he finally got the better of me." He shook his head, scowling. "And now he's waltzing round the universe, wearing poor old Tremas's body like an overcoat, free to cause misery and destruction wherever he likes..."

Thunder rumbled overhead, and a flock of birds burst from the trees above them, shrieking a high-pitched alarm. Adric's grip on the scarf tightened, the knitwear taut between his fists. "Tremas..." he whispered, his eyes narrowing.

The Doctor closed his Time Log and looked at the sky warily. "Tremas, yes. You remember - Nyssa's father."

"N-Nyssa!" Adric gasped. He looked down at his white, shaking fists, and the scarf clenched within them. He could hear the Doctor continuing to mutter to himself, but the meaning began to elude him as thoughts of the Trakenite girl rose in his subconscious, and blood began to pound in his ears.

"You must kill the Goddess..."

"Adric?"

"KILL the Goddess..."

"Adric? What are you doing?"

"KILL!"

The scarf ripped apart. Adric screamed.


The music began with a complex flourish of lutes, as Suren took the hands of his reluctant partner and led her into the dance. Tegan's unease quickly settled under the medic's guiding touch as he moved her around and between the other dancers in what seemed like an incomprehensible pattern, and it wasn't long before she began to relax into the rhythm. Suren smiled as he felt her tension ease.

"There, you see? You're a natural!" He laughed, spinning her towards the far end of the interweaving pattern of dancers.

Tegan chuckled. "I'll have to take your word for that..." She sank into a low curtsey to match Suren's bow, before he circled her along an intricate path towards the opposite end of the floor, where they paused for a moment and caught their breath. "Just don't let go of me!" she panted.

As they waited for the dance to circle around and absorb them once more, they were joined by another pair of dancers.

"How does this compare to the Charleston?" asked a familiar voice.

"Nyssa! I mean - my Lady!" Tegan gasped, turning to find her Trakenite friend stood next to her, accompanied by a heavily sweating Procardinal Jonaris. "Well, when you said dancing on Traken was much more formal and complex than Earth you weren't kidding, were you?"

Nyssa looked at Suren, and they both laughed in unison.

"Alright, what's so funny?" Tegan demanded, hands on hips.

"This is the first dance our children learn at school," Suren replied, smiling. "Every four year old on Serenity can perform it."

"Great!" snorted Tegan, "So I can't do a dance that kids barely out of nappies can master? Well, if you think I'm doing anything more complicated than this then - whoa!"

Nyssa laughed as Suren whirled his partner back into the dance at their appointed place.

"Your Handmaiden is certainly very forthright in her opinions," said Jonaris, raising his eyebrows.

"You have no idea..." replied Nyssa. "Are you ready to enter the fray again, Procardinal? I believe our turn is nearly upon us."

Jonaris wiped his brow with a silk handkerchief. "Of course, my Lady. Although I regret, my breath is not as sound as it once was." He cleared his throat. "I, er... I do hope you will forgive me for the... ah... 'unpleasantness' in the Sanctum last night. We have had a number of pretenders over the years, and I confess I have become rather cynical in my old age..."

"It is of no concern, Procardinal," Nyssa replied graciously. "I am sure your intentions were noble, and of course that you acted in the best interests of the people of Serenity."

Jonaris bowed his head. "You are too kind, my Lady. And I can assure you you have my full and unswerving support for the entirety of your presence here." He took her hand in readiness for rejoining the dance. "Just out of interest, do you have an expectation as to how long that will be?" he queried, nonchalantly.

"May I?"

Nyssa was relieved to hear a familiar voice interject into their conversation.

"You look worn out, Procardinal. I'm sure you won't mind if I take over from here!" The Doctor took his companion's hand, and whirled her back into the dance at exactly the right point, leaving a speechless Jonaris spluttering in their wake.

Nyssa gasped, smiling. "Do you even know this dance, Doctor?"

The Time Lord expertly guided her through the throng of dancers. "Well, I've been watching for a couple of minutes, so I think I've managed to grasp the basics. It seems to me to be your basic wheeling tetrakaidecagon, with staged intersections at opposing vertices. Child's play, really."

Nyssa laughed breathlessly, as they span across the floor. "You never cease to amaze me, Doctor!"

The Doctor grinned down at her. "Well, I aim to please! What was Jonaris talking to you about?"

"He wanted to know how long I planned to stay. I'm glad you interrupted as it happens, as I really don't know what my answer would have been."

The Doctor scanned the dancefloor. "Well, once we find Adric then I'm sure things will become a lot clearer, one way or the other."

"I'm not so sure of that, Doctor." Nyssa frowned. "The malice I sensed in Jonaris in the Sanctum hasn't fully abated, I feel. He's pledged his full support, but I don't trust him."

"No," said the Doctor, distractedly looking into the crowd as they crossed the floor once more. "Neither do I."

Nyssa followed his gaze. "What is it, Doctor? Is it Adric?"

"Unfortunately not." The music reached a crescendo as the Doctor and Nyssa span together in the centre of the formation, before ending in a graceful bow and curtsey. The assembled audience erupted into applause.

"Just someone I want to speak to, that's all." He nodded in the direction of Prime Consul Varden, who was standing watching them intently. "Shall we?"


Adric was in darkness. He trudged on blindly, splashing through fetid pools of water as his hands scraped along dirty, moss-covered walls. The air around him was moist and heavy, but rather than the rich organic smells of the marsh, the underlying scent conveyed only the rankness of death and decay. Alzarius was gone, dissolved in the mist of his visceral rage. Now there was only the dark, the unending pathways of hell, and the whispering voice exhorting him ever onwards.

"Keep back!"

"Where is she?"

"Lady - hear us, please!"

"Keep back, I say! You there! Stop pushing!"

"Bring out the Goddess!"

Foster Novak held his energy rifle like a staff and heaved, sweat breaking out under his helmet, mingling with the rain pouring down his face as he drove the citizens before him back once more. He took a moment's respite and wiped his brow, turning to his colleague.

"We can't keep this up much longer," he panted. "Has anyone called for reinforcements?"

"It wouldn't do much good–" his companion grunted, shoving the man before him back into line, "–it looks like the whole city's turned out... a few more Fosters aren't going to make any difference!"

Novak stepped back, and looked out over the Civic Square. It was a sea of people, filling the plaza completely, with seemingly unending tributary streams spilling from adjoining streets and alleyways to join the heaving throng. Waves rippled through the crowd as newcomers pushed their way forwards, until the swell broke on the steps of the Hall against the thin line of armed Fosters. Shouts and screams joined with the drumming of the driving rain to create a cacophony of noise.

"It's after curfew! Go back to your homes!"

"Lady, please! My family is starving!"

"Help us!"

Foster Novak wiped his brow. "Well we can't take much more of this. The way this crowd is growing, lives will be lost if we're not careful." He backed away up the stone steps. "I'm going to get help."

"We need more than help, Novak!" His colleague turned back to the fray, locking arms with a red-faced citizen as he shouted over his shoulder.

"We need a miracle!"


The crowds parted as Nyssa and the Doctor left the dancefloor; on one side the withdrawal marked with respectful bows and signs of homage, whilst the other portion of the assembly seemed to back away in something more akin to fear. The Doctor looked up to the ceiling in exasperation as people skittered out of his path.

"My Lady... my Lord Herald." Prime Consul Varden greeted them with a deferential nod. "I trust you are enjoying our festivities?"

"Very much so, thank you Prime Consul," replied Nyssa. "It is indeed a fitting welcome home."

"And rather in contrast to our initial welcome, don't you think?" the Doctor observed, before swiftly pointing up at the glowing points of light above their heads. "Is this a representation of your sector of the galaxy?"

Varden smiled. "It is indeed, Doctor. Each point of light represents a star in our immediate locality. They are programmed to interact under the same physical forces as their celestial counterparts, to wheel and turn in the same heavenly dance."

"Beautiful..." breathed Nyssa. She scanned the display for a moment, before pointing to a small cluster of lights spinning not far from where they stood. "If I'm not mistaken, that's Serenity's system, isn't it?"

"Quite correct, my Lady," the Prime Consul affirmed. "That is indeed our allotted place in the Heavens. You can see there our solitary star, poised on the edge of a vast sea of blackness."

"The entropy field..." murmured Nyssa. "The void where Traken once existed. It looks just as it did when Adric and I saw it happen from the TARDIS." Her face was pale yet serene in the ethereal light, barely betraying the pain of the events which, for her, were all too recent.

Varden glanced from Nyssa to the Doctor, who stared upwards at the display, a frown marring his youthful face.

"My apologies, Doctor. This is meant to be a happy occasion, and I didn't mean to bring up your role in events once again." The Prime Consul bowed in contrition. "Please forgive me."

The Doctor tore his gaze from the wheeling spectacle above him. "Yes, well, I think we covered that in enough detail last night. Now, on the subject of Adric, have your men got any further in locating him?"

Varden checked the device at his wrist. "I'm afraid not, Doctor. Although I do still have a number of Fosters investigating your friend's disappearance, they have had little success as yet."

"Well, I'm sure you'll let me know as soon as they turn anything up." The Doctor smiled. "Tell me, Prime Consul - what do you know of the 'Grey Order'?"

"The 'Grey Order'?" Varden stroked his beard. "I haven't heard anything of them in a long time. They were a faction of the Order, I believe, created shortly after its inception, to maintain and preserve our remaining high technology."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "Preservation and maintenance of technology? That doesn't sound very consistent with what I've heard of the Order."

"Preservation, maintenance... and control. The early years following the Darkness were quite brutal, Doctor. The Order couldn't risk such technology falling into the hands of their enemies, nor could they risk destroying it, and losing their only advantage. So a proportion of the brotherhood was invested with its care."

"And what happened to them?" asked the Doctor.

"Well, as I recall, when all opposition to the Order was eliminated, the Grey faction was no longer required. Their monopoly of the knowledge around certain technologies made them dangerous, so they were... 'disbanded'."

"And by 'disbanded' you mean..."

"Slaughtered, yes." Varden shrugged. "As I said, brutal times. But all this is ancient history, Doctor - what relevance could there be to your missing friend?"

"Oh, nothing really." The Doctor looked across the room, to where the dancefloor was now occupied by a variety of tumblers, fire-eaters and jugglers. "I had heard that the Grey Order held certain beliefs, and that Adric may have somehow become associated with those beliefs. But if, as you say, they are no more, then that can't be right, can it?" He turned and smiled at the Serenite leader.

"I fear you have been misinformed, Doctor. However, as I mentioned I still have Fosters investigating the boy's whereabouts, so I'm sure he will be located, sooner or later. As of tomorrow morning I shall have more officers at my disposal to aid in the search - unfortunately the vast proportion of my men are currently assigned to the security and crowd control implications of this event."

Nyssa had been engrossed in the swirling patterns of the lights representing her former home, but now turned her attention back to the Prime Consul. "'Crowd control'?" she queried. "I hope there hasn't been any trouble?"

"Who's in trouble?" Tegan asked, as she and Suren joined them, drinks in hand. "Is it that juggler? Cause he's got way too many balls in the air, if you ask me...!" she laughed.

"Prime Consul?" Nyssa demanded.

"My Lady," replied Varden, smiling - "rest assured, it is nothing my Fosters cannot handle."

Nyssa's concerns were unassuaged. "But why? Why should there be unrest?"

Varden sighed. "Regrettably, my Lady, this is not the Serenity of the Union. We have no Source to provide for us. No Keeper to ensure the peace, to guarantee a bountiful harvest and keep our children's bellies full. Since the Darkness we have been striving towards the light, but sometimes..."

"Sometimes what?" asked Tegan, suspiciously.

"Sometimes crops fail. Sometimes there isn't enough to go around." The Prime Consul shrugged. "Sometimes good intentions aren't enough, when your family is hungry."

"'Hungry?'" Nyssa gasped. "But... but what about this feast?" She indicated the tables around the room, still strewn with copious amounts of food and drink. "There's more food here than we could possibly eat! How can the citizens be hungry?"

The Prime Consul raised his eyebrows. "Well, I didn't have a hand in organising tonight's festivities... but I believe all the provisions were donated by the populace."

"'Donated'?" gasped Nyssa, a look of horror developing on her face.

Suren stepped forward. "They give willingly, my Lady. They would give anything to honour you–"

"But that's not all they give, is it?" interrupted Tegan. "I'm sorry, Nyssa, but you've got a right to know what's going on here. Suren told me the citizens have to pay a 'Duty' to the Order too. I've been out there - these poor people have nothing, living in ramshackle houses while this lot enjoy all this luxury! It's obscene, it really–"

"Tegan." The Doctor stopped her in mid-tirade. Nyssa was backing away, shaking her head as she took in the opulence of the room once more through new, tear-filled eyes. Covering her mouth in horror, she turned and ran.

Tegan immediately started after her, only to be held back by the Doctor's hand on her arm.

"Leave her for a moment, Tegan," he sighed. "She's got a lot to think about."


The relative peace of the Civic Gardens was momentarily disturbed as Nyssa burst through a set of doors, sending them crashing against the wall as she ran out onto the covered terrace beyond, the train of her platinum gown trailing wildly behind her. She came to a halt at a stone balustrade, gasping for breath as she leaned against its ivy-covered rail. The garden beyond was dark and deserted, its ornamental walkways and lush borders besieged by the driving rain that permeated the night air. The tears that had she had struggled to hold back in the Great Hall now began to flow freely, joining the raindrops straying onto the stone floor at her feet. Screwing her eyes shut, she tried to hold back the emotions building inside her, but all she could see in the darkness were the pleading faces of Serenite children, crying in hunger and desperation as they reached out to her...

'Come on, Nyssa,' she angrily berated herself, shaking her head and swiping at the tears on her flushed cheeks. 'Pull yourself together. This isn't like you.' She clenched her fists in frustration at her increasing inability to control her feelings. Why was this happening to her now? In recent weeks she had been through more anguish than anyone at her young age should have to bear, and yet she had managed to get through it all with the regal composure and cool, logical thinking that her upbringing on Traken had given her. Since coming to Serenity, however, her scientific outlook seemed to have deserted her, and it was all she could do to keep from falling apart.

Nyssa inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, letting the petrichor-scented cool night air wash over her in an attempt to regain her self-control. The night seemed silent, save for the pattering of the rain on the terrace roof. At first, her breath was the only discernible sound to break the stillness; after a few moments, however, she gradually became aware of further noises - a low undercurrent beneath the rhythmic drumbeat of the rain, too quiet at first to register. As her breathing quietened, she began to make out murmured conversation and laughter drifting from the open doors behind her, the faint sounds of the Serenite elite enjoying the ongoing feast in her absence. Tentative chirps and whistles punctuated the night as avians called to each other from their sheltered perches within the trees. And beyond that...

The Trakenite frowned, closing her eyes as her hearing adjusted to the quiet, straining to make out the faint sound beneath all the others. It seemed further off than the rest, and more constant - so much so that it had slipped beneath her perception. A low rumbling, like the grumbling of herd animals on the move. As she continued to listen, she began to make out individual sounds punctuating the background melee - shouts, cries, voices raised in anger... and screaming. "The citizens..." she murmured under her breath, as she stared out into the darkness once more, her gaze unfocussed. "The citizens of Serenity are stirring." Nyssa let the sounds of the Serenite people wash over her, their voices echoing the desperate emotions she had sensed from them earlier. She felt an overwhelming desire to reach out to them, to help them in some way, in whatever way she could.

"But what can I do?" She sighed, clenching her fists in impotent rage. "I'm just one person. The Source, the Keeper... they're all gone, and the power to heal this world has gone with them." Her tears began to flow once more. "I'm not a goddess!" she cried out into the darkness. "I... I have nothing to give."

Her thoughts dwelled on the Keeper, and the power that he bequeathed, in vain, to her father. With the limitless energy of the Source at his command, the plight of the people of Serenity would have been a trifling matter to resolve. In the space of a heartbeat he could have communed with every mind within the Union, evaluated the entire situation at a quantum level, and marshalled the vast resources at his disposal to restore a harmonious equilibrium.

'Well,' Nyssa thought, regathering her composure, 'Source or no Source, there is at least one part of that duty that I can fulfill.'


"Right, that's it!" announced Tegan. "She's had long enough. I'm going after her."

The feast celebrations had continued on unabated despite the absence of the guest of honour, however Tegan's patience had very quickly come to an abrupt end. She turned in the direction Nyssa had fled.

"Tegan, wait!" called the Doctor, grabbing his Australian companion's arm before she moved out of reach. "Just leave her a little longer, please. Remember there's a lot at stake for Nyssa here, and we can't interfere with her choices, no matter how much we want to help. She has to think it through for herself."

Tegan turned on him, her face obstinate. "Listen Doc, you might have changed your tune about 'interfering' since you got here, but I haven't. And given some of the crazy stuff that's gone on here since we arrived, I think a bit of good old-fashioned interference is just what's needed. Now Nyssa's upset, and I'm going after her, and nothing you can do or say is going to stop me."

"Tegan–"

"Besides," she interrupted, "you said we shouldn't leave her alone."

The Doctor held up his hands in surrender. "Alright! Then we'll both go."

"And what about Adric?" asked Tegan. She leaned in closer to the Time Lord, lowering her voice. "These mystery men of yours are supposed to bring him back at some point tonight, remember? What if you're not here when they turn up?"

The Time Lord grimaced in frustration. If there was one thing about Tegan that irritated him especially, it was when she was right. "Very well, Tegan. Go and find her. But just be careful."

Suren stepped forward. "I'll go with her, Doctor. Just in case."

"Great," said Tegan. "Come on then!" She turned to the Doctor. "We'll be back before you know it." She smiled, then hurried off with Suren as fast as her full, flowing skirt would allow.

"Your friend appears to be a remarkably forthright young lady," opined Prime Consul Varden, "it must make for an interesting dynamic." The Doctor sighed resignedly, shaking his head.

"You have no idea..."


Lightening flashed across the sky, momentarily illuminating the rain-soaked Civic gardens and banishing the monochromatic night in a burst of colour. On the terrace, Nyssa closed her eyes against the brightness, the shadowy images of trees and sky lingering on in ghostly hues behind her eyelids. She took a deep breath and turned her focus inward, withdrawing deep down into her psyche to where her subconscious self sat cross-legged, protected from the emotional maelstrom surrounding her by an all-encompassing wall.

Getting to her feet, Nyssa moved to where the wall stood, running her fingers along its robust stones, feeling the strength imbued within its mortar. She stopped, placing her hands flat against the surface of the barricade that she and the Doctor had built together, and took a deep breath.

Then she closed her eyes... and pushed.


"–and in trying to get her back to Heathrow I've shown her a few of the wonders of the universe on the way, so you'd think she'd be grateful, wouldn't you? But apparently not." The Doctor shook his head in exasperation. "Sometimes I don't think I'll ever understand Earthlings..."

"The impetuosity of youth." Varden drained his drink and nodded sympathetically. "It is a powerful thing, Doctor - almost like a force of nature, and just as difficult to control. I find–" The Prime Consul broke off, his attention distracted by the beeping of the device at his wrist.

"Trouble?" The Doctor queried.

Varden tapped a few keys before responding. "Just someone reporting in, nothing to be concerned about."

"I fear this might be, though," the Doctor replied, nodding in the direction of a red-faced Foster Novak running through the crowd towards them.

"Prime Consul!" Novak bowed, trying to calm his laboured breathing in the motion.

"Foster Novak," replied Varden coolly, "is something the matter?"

"Forgive me, my Lord... I was looking for Proctor Morovan-"

"I am afraid the Proctor is busy elsewhere; you will report to me instead."

"The citizens, my Lord," the Foster panted. "They are crowding the Square. There are thousands of them, my Lord, and more arrive every minute! We have tried to contain them, but–" Novak stopped, his breath failing.

"But what?"

The Foster took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. "The line is failing, my Lord. Any minute now, and they'll have broken through!"


"She must have come this way," panted Suren, as he and Tegan jogged around a corner - "the other way leads to the kitchens."

"What's through there?" asked Tegan, indicating a set of double doors.

"Outside, I think. There's a terrace, and gardens -" he paused as the sound of thunder rumbled from the direction of the doors. "It doesn't sound like the ideal time for a stroll through the greenery, however."

Tegan took his arm. "Come on - let's take a look, just to be sure." They pushed through the doors, emerging out into the damp night air.

The terrace was unlit, and seemed deserted. Tegan looked out into the rain-soaked garden. The downpour continued unabated, pouring from trees and bushes and cascading from the edge of the terrace roof in innumerable rivulets. "Well, she'd have to be out of her mind to go wandering around in that," she said glumly. "Let's go try the kitchens."

A flash of lightening momentarily illuminated the terrace as they turned to leave, closely followed by a sharp clap of thunder. Tegan stifled a gasp.

"It's alright," Suren soothed, tentatively putting his hand on her shoulder - "it's only thunder. Do you have thunder on Earth?"

Tegan looked at him in exasperation. "Of course we do, you prawn!" she retorted - "It wasn't that - look over there!" She pointed to the furthest recess of the terrace, where a lone figure stood, barely visible in the gloom.


The Doctor stepped forward to question Foster Novak. "And what do they want?"

Novak's eyes nervously flicked to the Time Lord. "They... er... they are hungry, my Lord Herald... and now the Lady is here, they look to her to-"

"To make everything right," the Doctor finished, frowning. "And when she can't, things are bound to turn nasty very quickly."

"Their intent is irrelevant, Doctor," Varden growled dismissively. "They are out of control, and must be brought back into line. But first, we must safeguard our position." He turned to Novak - "Have the men fall back, and secure the perimeter of the building. Lock down all entrances and exits immediately. No-one is to get in, or out. Weapons to stun. Hold your positions until instructed further."

"At once, my Lord." Foster Novak bowed, then hastened towards the exit. The Prime Consul began tapping furiously at the device on his wrist.

"Wait a minute," said the Doctor, "What about Nyssa? She might be out there! You can't just shut her out!"

Varden barely looked up. "Then I suggest you go and find her, Doctor... and quickly."


"Nyssa?" Tegan called tentatively, "Nyssa, is that you?" The figure remained silent, and motionless as a statue. Tegan took a tentative step forward, then broke into a run as a further flash of lightening briefly banished the darkness to reveal the detail of her Trakenite friend. The accompanying thunder cracked sharply overhead as she reached her.

"Nyssa! Hey, are you alright?" The girl stood stock still, facing the rain-soaked garden, her hands tightly grasping the stone balustrade. Tegan touched her arm, but Nyssa didn't respond. Suren joined them, looking into Nyssa's face with concern. Her eyes were closed, her features locked into a frown; the muscles in her jaw and neck were strained taut with effort, and her skin shone with perspiration. The medic shook her shoulder gently.

"My Lady? Can you hear me?"

"What's wrong with her?" asked Tegan, concerned.

Suren checked Nyssa's pulse and breathing. He gently opened her eyelids to examine her pupils, only to find her eyes rolled towards the back her head. "I'm not sure," he said, "It's like she's in some kind of trance, but her entire body is tensed, almost as if she's fighting against something. But it's not anything physical, not that I can see, anyway."

Tegan tensed. "We'd better get her inside," she said, hurriedly.

Suren carried on his examination. "Wait, let me just check-"

"No - we need to get her inside," said Tegan firmly, "Now!"

"What's the-" The medic looked at her, confused.

"Unless... umph..." Tegan started to pull at Nyssa's arm, but her hand remained resolutely attached to the stonework. "Unless you want to deal with them!"

Suren looked up, following Tegan's line of sight. In the distance, he began to make out figures approaching from the gloom of the garden. At first he could only discern a few isolated forms emerging through the driving rain, their shoulders hunched against the downpour, heads concealed by sodden hoods. As he watched, more and more figures joined them, their movements becoming more urgent as something beyond them seemed to drive them forward.

"The citizens..." he breathed, "they must have gathered to see the Lady. But why are they in the gardens?"

"I'm not going to hang around and ask them," replied Tegan, "from what I can make out they don't look too happy!" The sound of laser rifles being discharged in the near distance accentuated her point, as the gathering citizens broke into a run towards them, voices raised in anger.

"Ah, yes, I think you might be right. I'll get the door!" Suren ran to the entrance they had passed through only minutes before.

"Nyssa?" cried Tegan, pulling at the girl's arm, "Come on! Snap out of it - we've got to get out of here!"

Suren tugged at the door handles. "Er, Tegan - I think we may have a problem here." He rattled the handles with a bit more vigour, but the doors refused to budge. "The doors are locked!"

"What?!" Tegan looked up from trying to pry Nyssa's fingers from their grip around the balustrade. "You've got to be kidding! They'll be here any second!" She ran to the doors, and joined Suren in frantically pulling at the handles. "Hello?" Tegan hammered on the reinforced glass. "Is there anyone there? Can anyone hear me?"

"It's no good, Tegan," Suren cried, turning to face the oncoming crowd. "There's no way out! We're trapped!"