Kerry woke to a tiny squeaking noise from somewhere nearby, and heard someone whispering her name.

Kerry, Kerry…

She sat up and gazed around her, bleary-eyed. Her eyes soon showed her the source of the squeaking. A small group of large, oversized rats sat a short distance away, their whiskers quivering. One of them sat at the head of the group.

Kerry… said the voice in her head. She looked for the speaker but the only sign of life were the rats. She looked sharply at the leader rat and found him gazing back at her patiently, curiously, expectantly.

Kerry?

"Is that you?" Kerry asked loudly.

Please, think your words, don't say them, said the former rat without moving his mouth, and yes, it was me. The rat was concentrating intently on her face, and Kerry decided they were harmless.

"Wha…" she began, then stopped and thought her question. What are you?

We are rats, native to Gallifrey. Like Gallifreyans, we have the power of telepathy. Thought communication, explained the rat.

What is your name? Kerry asked. And how do you know my name?

My name is Ratticus, a simple name. And we also have the power to gain information through mind-reading.

I see. Kerry was silent, listening to the rumbling around her. Then she noticed that the rats were beginning to get agitated.

What is the matter? she asked in her mind.

The destruction of these Caves is near, you must escape, squeaked one of the rear rats.

We have something; we believe it is yours, Ratticus added, and scurried to the side. Two or three rats approached her, struggling to drag a long, familiar object between them.

"The sonic screwdriver!" Kerry exclaimed, disbelieving, as the three rats dropped it at her feet. She picked it up.

Thank you! she thought, returning it to her pocket. Do you eat sandwiches that have gone off?

Yes, we do. We are rats.

Then take these. Kerry tossed a couple of sandwiches to the rats, who grabbed them up eagerly.

Now go, said Ratticus, you must escape while you can.

What about you?

We will survive – like the Time Lords; we can regenerate if necessary…

The rumbling grew louder, and bits of rock began to fall from the walls and roof around her.

Go, repeated Ratticus, and may you escape alive.

Thanks whispered Kerry, standing. Hauling the boy onto her back once more, she ran for her life for about the umpteenth time that day.

The relentless roaring pounded the Doctor's ears, and he had the strangest feeling that he was being rained on. For a moment, he was somewhere else; he was in danger. The throbbing in his head increased from a dull pain into a full-scale bashing, then his head felt like it had exploded and everything faded once more into oblivion…

Kerry navigated her way across the deep, stepping-stoned hole in the floor with no difficulty at all. Even though she had the extra weight of the boy on her back, she was nimble enough to be able to hop from one to the next just before the one directly behind her crumbled as she left it. Replenishing herself with a swift draught of water, she was running the final stretch of the Caves. The torch was no longer necessary; it was clipped onto the waistband of her trousers. She was nearing the entrance of the tunnel – she could see a spot of daylight ahead. The rockfall seemed to have gained momentum; Kerry could hear the crashing growing in a rapid crescendo behind her. As she hurtled towards the last tunnel, she watched the walls and ceiling for the first signs of it crashing down on her. The boy was now getting noticeably heavy, Kerry noticed absently, as she concentrated on getting out alive. She was tiring, slowing down; her legs were beginning to burn. The ground was now shaking as if in an earthquake, and she felt several pieces of roof bouncing off her as she ran. The collapse of the Caves was catching her up, overtaking her… Kerry had hoped that she would get out of the Caves before the rockfall, but she saw this was not to be safe. Because the force of the fall had already reached it. As Kerry ran into the last tunnel, a loud cracking began above her, and seconds later one of the giant spokes hanging from the ceiling plummeted to the ground, missing her by an inch. This impact set off another domino effect and soon the spikes were raining down around Kerry like a giant shark shedding all its teeth at once. Kerry, small for her age, managed to dodge most of them, but then, she felt a spike, (or a least part of one), glance off the back of her head, stunning her. Though dizzy and disorientated, she managed to throw herself out of the Caves and throw out one of her arms to protect her head. She kept hold of the lad's hand with the other, and the two of them pulled away from the Caves, stopping only when they came up against the solidness of the TARDIS. Her legs and hands were shaking as she fumbled for the TARDIS key, but she finally found it and pushed it into the keyhole. She thrust open the door and dragged the boy inside, pausing briefly to pick up the torch (which had fallen off her wrist while they were rolling). As she turned to close the door to the devastation behind her, she saw the entire roof of the Caves cave in with an almighty crash, accompanied by a great cloud of dust. Not wishing to see any more, she slammed the door and locked it. She stood for a moment by the door, shocked by her ordeal, and then an overwhelming sense of relief washed over her, calming her. Now that she was safe, now that she had achieved her goal, she could rest her tired limbs, her fatigued brain, her throbbing person, and she fell backwards onto the cool floor of the TARDIS and let herself sink into a welcome sense of nothingness….

"She lives! She has succeeded!" cried the old man to the hologram of Valstrem, which he had summoned back. "But do not tell the people yet; let her show her victory herself." commanded he, waving his gnarled old arms with delight. Behind him, the candles were joining in, their flames breaking up into tiny Catherine Wheel shapes and going off with tiny 'pop's, like miniature fireworks. The inkwell was doing an excited little dance, sloshing ink all over the desk as it went. The old man didn't mind this; the table was very old and inkstained anyway.

"The people will want to celebrate, though." said Valstrem, though respectfully.

"Then tell them to prepare themselves for a pleasant surprise!" responded the old man, chuckling happily.

"Your Honour."

"And prepare the transmit beam in the Panoptican; I'm coming up!"

"As you wish, Sir." Valstrem bowed and vanished.

The old man picked up his inkwell and a small, flat device from his desk drawer. Grinning around at the room that had been his home for so long, he settled himself into his armchair – it was by now awake and alert, and moulded itself to support its master in his preferred position – and pressed the flat device. And in a blinding flash of blue, he and the chair vanished.