The call rippled through the group fast as rumor.

"It's him." — "It's just as she said." — "We're safe!" — "I thought he'd be taller." The crowd seemed to press forward and back away all at once, torn between meeting him and fleeing for their lives.

Rory was horrified. Amy felt a fine tremor start in his hand. He went paper-white and started shaking his head vigorously. "I'm sorry," he started, "there's been a terrible—ow!"

River trod heavily on his foot. She smiled stiffly at the gathered crowd and clapped her hands vigorously. "Back to work, everyone," she said. "We've got a long night ahead. I want to see Mr. Belkin right away. And we could do with some tea."

The group stared at her with wide eyes.

"Now," said River. She bared her teeth in an expression that had only a casual resemblance to a smile.

Gradually the group returned to their various tasks, though they were markedly more silent than before, and kept sneaking sideways glances at Amy and Rory.

"River," Rory murmured.

"Just keep smiling," said River, whose own tense grin stretched her face.

The man who had first identified them was also the first to approach. He was a very young man—perhaps Amy's age, maybe a little older, though it was hard to tell in this situation. Everyone looked older than they were. He smelled of hard work and engine oil. His skin was the color of stained mahogany, and he had the whitest teeth Amy had ever seen. He pumped Rory's hand and bowed to Amy.

"It's a real honor, sir, a real honor," he enthused. "Especially in this time of need. Everything they say about you is true. 'Answers all calls.' And look at you. Wow! If I may say, you look almost entirely human, sir. Very clever, sir."

"Um," said Rory.

Amy snickered. She was as confused and badly worried as her husband, but the man's spirit was so infectious that she and River were both on the verge of laughter. She felt as if she was meeting an old friend.

River said, "May I introduce Patrick Belkin, our computer expert. He's the reason I was able to find you so quickly."

"Well," said Patrick. He almost blushed, then warmed to the praise. "I suppose that's fair enough. Eyes on you the minute you arrived, and let-me-tell-you, that box of yours sends out a damned weird energy signature." His expression darkened momentarily. "On that note: I'm sorry. I couldn't shield it. I wasn't the only one watching. It's prob'ly been taken up by now, sir. Sorry, sir."

Rory said, "Um."

"They've got the TARDIS?" Amy said, at the same time. "Where?"

"Oh, I'm sure it'll turn up, miss."

Amy's heart was in her throat. Of course, there was no way for anyone to get in, but on the other hand, if the Doctor got any better, there was no chance he would leave them. She imagined him rushing out into this disaster, knowing even less about it than Amy and Rory. And he didn't even have the psychic paper. What would those robot guards do to him?

Rory seemed to be recovering. "Who are they, exactly?"

"You don't know?" said Patrick, astonished.

River glared, but Rory had had enough. "No," he said. "We've been tossed, tracked, taken prisoner, lied to and apparently-" He glanced around at the steel hideaway. "Buried alive. And if somebody doesn't tell me what we're involved in, right now, I'm going to..." Here he trailed off. The truth was that he and Amy were surrounded by armed convicts who thought he was the Doctor. Rory wasn't going to do anything at all. "I don't know yet," he finished weakly. "But it will be very severe."

"Of course, sir," said Patrick. "I expect you've been busy. It's Gorgorans killing us, sir. Well. Just the advance guard now. But we expect them any day."

"Right. Good. And who are the Gor—ow! Will you stop doing that?"

River lifted her foot off Rory's, but the damage was already done.

Fortunately, Patrick didn't seem to have a problem with the idea of the Doctor not knowing the Gorgorans, as unlikely as it was.

"Don't know them, sir? Well, I'll do better than tell you. I'll show you."

###

The first clip looked like every bad UFO video Amy had ever seen—blinking lights descending through the storm. When the lights reached the bottom of the screen, the image fuzzed and began again. It meant nothing to Amy, whose mind was still on the TARDIS and its sleeping occupant, but to Patrick it was the most significant video footage of his life.

"They came two days ago," said Patrick. He tracked the descending lights with his finger. The flickering images illuminated his dark face like the lights of a campfire. "The first wave is just one ship, no living crew, all shooters and Scarecrows. That's their method. They use the robots to take over, and the Scarecrows copy faces of the authorities. The warden and them." He shook his head sadly. "We're being murdered, and out there... they doesn't even know anything's gone wrong. There's no one to help us." The screen began to fuzz and show vertical lines. Patrick banged it vigorously. "The Gorgorans themselves follow-up the invasion force. Take over after the threat has been neutralized. We expect them very soon."

The four of them were crammed into a tiny shaft that had been jerry-rigged into a weird sort of computer lab. The room was so small that you couldn't stand up; Rory and Amy sat together, while River crouched next to them, studying her fingernails and pretending not to pay attention. The room was filled with electronic gear, most of it damaged. There was a spot with a thin mat where Patrick obviously slept. The shaft itself was in disrepair; scorches and smears of oil on the walls. Most of the stuff was in boxes and bags; Patrick was either moving out or moving in.

Only one screen was working, and it was cracked. Patrick had to keep pounding it to get the image to settle into something they could see. Still, Amy figured he must have pretty high status around here; it didn't seem like anyone else had private quarters.

Patrick tapped a code into the keyboard on his lap. The screen switched to a series of black-and-white CCTV images. She saw the motorcycle cops Amy and Rory had met up above—and a series of men and women and aliens, all in the same uniforms as River and Patrick. The mechanical guards were eliminating people, just as River had killed the faux warden. Except these victims didn't come back.

"You see? They don't need us," said Patrick. "They're interested in the prison. Just the physical building."

Amy watched two prisoners run down a corridor, only to be cornered by one of the guards. There was no sound, but Amy could almost hear them begging. The guard raised its gun—

Amy buried her face in Rory's shoulder, and he hugged her.

"But I thought..." Rory swallowed. He looked at River. "I thought you said they were fake."

"Only the ones that look human." River did not meet his eyes.

"Then why didn't they kill us?"

Patrick said, "I think I can answer that one, sir." He pounded another code into the keyboard. A new image appeared. Rory and Amy, showing the guards the psychic paper. "You showed them some kind of ID, yeah?" said Patrick. "They're programmed not to draw attention to themselves. It's too soon. They thought to put you off."

Amy said, "So how did you survive?"

"Well," said Patrick carefully.

"It's all right," said River. "It hardly matters anymore."

Patrick nodded. "You have to understand, secure as this place is, its strength is its isolation. Even if I managed to get out, where would I go? It's not safe outside, simple as that. So internal security is not quite up to par, if you know what I mean. Plenty of us used the vents even before this. Nobody cares. After all..." Patrick patted the metal affectionately. "It's just another cell in the end."

"Except now it's a refuge," said Amy. "Like a secret base."

"If you were quick enough," said Patrick, smiling a little.

The Doctor would love this, Amy thought. It was just his sort of thing. Once again she missed him deeply, not only because he'd know what to do, but because he'd cheer them on. Criminals or no.

Rory's concerns were more practical. "Are we safe here?"

Patrick scoffed. "Not a chance. They know we're here." He shrugged. "But they can't get down here. Too heavy. They fall right through. So they do things to annoy us. You know: cut off the air, flood the shafts with gas or bees, that sort of thing. There were a few hundred of us to start. Now we're the only ones left."

"Bees?" Amy blurted.

"Oh, they're not proper bees," said Patrick, as if that was reassuring.

"Can you predict when that will happen?" said Rory.

"Nope," said Patrick cheerfully. "Exciting, isn't it?"

Amy heard a loud clatter from the end of the hall. Both she and Rory gasped. Patrick looked up casually and smiled. "Oh," he said. "Tea."

Patrick climbed over them to a pair of men who stood at the end of the shaft. They handed tea and sandwiches through the tiny doorway. He passed them back like it was a bucket brigade.

When they had all been thoroughly supplied, River gave Patrick a sharp look. Patrick sort of frowned and squinted back. River tipped her head, and Patrick glowered and shook his head. Amy and Rory looked back and forth, watching a silent argument being conducted entirely by stare.

Finally Patrick sighed. He saluted Amy and Rory, tapping his head like he was touching the brim of an invisible cap. "I think I'll leave you lot for a bit. I'm sure you have things to talk about. Plans to make." He looked at Rory with perfect trust. "Let me say again, sir, that we're really very glad you beat the Gorgorans here. We're all counting on you."