Ronson was sitting at his desk in the main laboratory, working on an analysis of the Dalek vision system. Davros was insisting on a new and even more stringent set of sensitivity levels to be met, impossibly soon.

What Ronson really wanted to do was examine the aliens' possessions, but the box sitting at his elbow might as well be in the Thal Dome. He had a schedule to meet, and the guards were watching, always. And even if the guards might be fooled as to what he was actually working on, Nyder would not be.

Something was tapped on the desk in front of him. He looked up and saw that the thing was his notebook.

The notebook that he had entrusted to the aliens, to take to the Dome. A notebook full of names of Davros' enemies, written in Ronson's handwriting. That notebook might as well be his execution order if Davros ever saw it.

He looked further up, sick to his stomach, certain he would be facing some guard, or worse yet, Nyder himself.

It was one of the Laboratory Assistants. Third, he thought, but he couldn't tell. She tapped the notebook on the desk again, to draw his attention, but his eyes were locked on her face. Pleading eyes.

Finally, she pointed down with her free hand, and Ronson's gaze fell back to the notebook as she opened it - and a few cinders dropped out. The notebook had been burned, only the cover was intact.

"Scientist Ronson," said the woman, with a charming smile. "There are procedures in place for the disposal of confidential laboratory information."

Ronson swallowed, and then gathered himself back together. Reprieve! She must have found the burnt notebook, and not seen the dangerous information it contained. Had contained. But that meant that something had happened to the Doctor.

"I understand." He didn't really, but it seemed the safest thing to say. He reached out for the notebook and she pulled it back for a moment. Then she relented and let him have it, but as he put it at his side, she said in a lower voice, almost a whisper, "Procedures for prisoner handling are also in place."

He froze, and closed his eyes.

"The prisoners are back in their cell. Quite safe."

Ronson opened his eyes and looked up at her, and whispered sharply, "They are not safe here!"

"They are safe." Over her shoulder, Ronson saw Gharman enter the laboratory. Instantly the Laboratory Assistant moved to another desk, helping Kavell sort through a series of delicate test results that needed comparison.

Ronson stared back at his work, the words and numbers a meaningless jumble to his eyes. He was keenly aware, though, of Gharman looking around the laboratory, as though searching for someone, and then leaving. Ronson and Gharman had had a very interesting conversation about the Doctor's information yesterday evening, in private, on one of the lower levels. Ronson wanted to talk to Gharman again, and soon. He thought that he could be trusted; more importantly, he thought that Gharman was as revolted by Davros' amoral twisting of their work as he himself was.

He swept the notebook cover into a drawer on his desk, reminding himself to take it down to the incinerator and have it destroyed at the end of the shift. Then he turned back to the work he hated.

# # #

Gharman was walking down a Bunker corridor, with a folder under his arm and a slightly strained look on his face. He saw Nyder walking ahead of him and, after quickly looking around to see that nobody else was in sight, hissed, "Nyder!"

The Security Commander turned, and said "What is it, Gharman?" but almost before he could finish, Gharman had taken him by the elbow and was turning him about, down the corridor.

"Have you been in Davros' office this morning?" asked Gharman, quietly.

Nyder dug in his heels, literally, stopping the larger man. "No. What's happened? What …?" and he started to dart forward - only to be held back again by Gharman.

Gharman muttered, "Something's happened, something I don't understand. I don't believe that Davros is in any danger, but you should judge for yourself."

They were coming up on the office door, and as Nyder was opening it, Gharman said, "I hope that you can explain this to me."

Nyder entered, and was immediately silenced by what he saw there. Gharman came up behind him, after making sure the door had closed, and said, "So you didn't know?"

"No!" answered Nyder, staring at the seated figures in front of the desk.

It was Davros and - by the armband, Security Liaison. Davros was motionless, with his remaining hand resting atop a metal box that was wired directly into his support chair. The top of the box had an illuminated grid and several mechanical dials, and Davros' twitching fingers moved over them in a deliberate pattern.

The Red Hexagon woman seated beside him had a metal band around her head, covering her eyes and nose. The band was studded with Dalek-style sensory hemispheres, and crowned with an irregular series of metal strands that seemed to be touching her scalp. A single bundle of electrical cables draped over Security Liaison's shoulder, and led to the box connected to Davros' chair; a second cable came out of the box and snaked into Davros' desk, where it presumably was wired into his computer terminal - and from there, the mainframe itself.

They both sat there, perfectly still; Gharman shivered inside when he noticed that Security Liaison's left arm hung limp at her side, while her right hand was cocked forward as though in imitation of Davros.

Nyder fumed; this was obviously the 'access device' that Second Laboratory Assistant had received permission to work on. But he, Nyder, had never given her permission to complete it, and certainly not to test it! And why should there be wires leading to Security Liaison?

"Davros," said Nyder in a normal tone, and then louder, "Davros!" There was no reaction, and he and Gharman looked at each other.

"What should we do?" asked Gharman. "If we just break the connection, I have no idea what would happen." He hesitantly waved his hand in front of Davros' optical implant; it stayed dark and there was no other response.

Davros had arranged that his own vital signs could be broadcast externally to any screen in the laboratory, as an emergency medical monitoring system. Nyder touched a control on the support chair, and both men turned to look as a wall screen came alight with a flickering jumble of lines.

"Biological functions normal. Mechanical functions as well. His brain waves indicate that he's awake. But he isn't responding to us, why?" said Nyder a little helplessly.

"Should I page his medical support team?" asked Gharman. Then he suddenly stiffened, and said, "Ronson!"

"Ronson what?" asked Nyder. He'd never liked Ronson, rather a weak reed for one of the Elite.

"Ronson said that the aliens recognised the metal implants that all the Assistants have. And her too," replied Gharman. "That it was a - a neural transmission array." He stared again at the metal band around Security Liaison's head, and the metal probes rising up from it.

Nyder's lips went white with anger. "She's tampering with Davros' mind, is that what you are telling me!"

"I don't know, I don't know," said Gharman, trying to calm Nyder down. "But the aliens might."

Nyder ordered, "Get a Laboratory Assistant in here - no, I'll get the Assistant. Get the aliens!"

When the Doctor and Sarah were shown abruptly into Davros' office, they found Nyder literally twisting a Laboratory Assistant's arm behind her back, pulling her up onto her toes. "Explain-" and he halted, turning to glare at them.

Gharman almost leaped forward, but restrained himself. "Let her go, Commander," he snapped instead. "The Doctor is here, question him."

Nyder let go of the Assistant's arm, and transferred his grip lightning-fast to her shoulder.

The Assistant spoke a little breathlessly. "Davros insisted that the access device be given to him at once, as soon as the mechanical testing was completed. You could not expect us to disobey him. Security Liaison was tasked to show him the device, and she is doing so."

She waited. Slowly, Nyder loosened his grip; as soon as the hand was gone from her shoulder, the Assistant moved out of reach.

She slipped out the door and the furious Commander rounded on the Doctor.

"What is she doing to him?"

"Hmm," said the Doctor, taking in the spectacle of the two immobile figures, and examining the bundle of wires going to Davros' desk and computer. "This looks like it's allowing Davros to directly access your computer systems."

Gharman shook his head in disagreement. "Impossible. We investigated that possibility years ago. A data access system would take a room full of equipment and Davros would have to be permanently connected to it. You can't expect me to believe that little thing," he pointed to the box under Davros' hand, "is a data access device."

"Maybe not." The Doctor looked at the box under Davros' hand, squatting on his heels. He was careful not to touch it. "But it might be half of one, with her brain as the other half." The Doctor rose and turned his attention to the seated woman, walking around her and staring at her hair, and the metal cables threaded through it, like a slightly demented barber. "Could be, could be - this would just be to interface with all of her contacts at once."

"Neural contacts?" asked Gharman.

"Yes, her neural transmission array. Surely you don't think she would drill holes in her skull for mere decoration?"

Gharman said thoughtfully, "So she can actually directly transmit thought?"

Nyder asked sharply, "What is she doing to Davros?"

"Well, she might have overridden his sensory inputs, but I doubt that she can directly influence his thoughts. His interface with his support chair is mostly through his motor cortex, correct?"

"It is impolite to talk about people as though they were not even present," said Security Liaison; at least her mouth moved as though she was talking, but her voice rang out through Davros' audio system in an eerie mechanical echo of itself. Everyone in the room instantly focussed on the seated woman - except for Davros.

Nyder spoke icily, "You knew we were here, why did you not reply?"

"You never spoke to me, you only addressed Davros. Who, as you may have noticed, is ignoring you."

"You will stop what you are doing now and let him go. That is an order," said Nyder, stepping closer and reaching for her head. Security Liaison's hand came up and gestured for him to stop; surprisingly, he did so.

She coughed, and this time when she spoke her voice came out of her throat, not through Davros' audio unit. "I am not holding him, Commander. It is Davros who is holding me, demanding that I let him access more and more data, faster and faster. Working his way deeper into the system, tapping more files simultaneously."

Security Liaison's left hand seemed to awaken, and reached over to touch Davros' dry and shivering wrist. A feather touch, and then she moved her hand away.

"He is not going to appreciate being parted from this connection. Are you absolutely certain, Commander, that I should stop the data flow, against Davros' direct orders?"

Gharman frowned. "Haven't you stopped it now?"

"No, Chief Scientist Gharman. I am coordinating Davros' data requests, collating and transmitting the information, and talking to you."

But can she rub her tummy and pat herself on the back? Sarah couldn't help but wonder to herself.

Davros had not reacted to Security Liaison's speech or actions, or to those of anyone else in the room; his right hand still danced its tiny patterns over the access device.

"If Davros orders it," Nyder paused, then continued, "but I must hear the order directly from him."

Liaison stood, still eerily blindfolded by the metal circlet. She reached out with her left hand towards the access device; then she paused, and said, "All things considered, I think I'd better give him the right hand to mangle if he does."

"Mangle?" said Gharman.

"As Davros pleases. Commander, the process to put this unit into soft shutdown, against Davros' wishes, is to slide your hand UNDER his hand," as she spoke she did this, " push the two buttons on the left and right side, and then try to get your hand away beforRRRR!"

RRRR! was in reaction to Davros' hand clamping down on hers, hard; Security Liaison's mouth grimaced in pain. The Doctor started forward to help; Nyder turned and shoved him back to stop him from interfering.

"Stop! You will reactivate the access device at once!" shouted Davros.

"Please repeat your order to Commander Nyder and Chief Scientist Gharman, that you are to be left in direct contact with the computer systems until you order otherwise," said Security Liaison in an icy tone much like that of Nyder. "You did not schedule a replacement Red Hexagon member when you initiated the connection last night, and I will need to take a rest period soon or the integrity of the transmitted data will suffer."

"Last night?" Davros' head bobbed, and he let go of Liaison's right hand, she took it back with a will and started rubbing at it, testing the fingers. "I have been here all night? Why did you not inform me!"

"I tried."

Davros seemed to come more to himself, and finally noticed that there were others in his office.

"Gharman. How long have … what are you doing here?"

"We - had a morning meeting, Davros."

"It is unimportant. Nyder, I have just discovered that there are large sections of data in the mainframe computer that have never been properly reviewed by me. Some of it has been brought from the Dome by the Red Hexagon. I will be reviewing it for the next … until I am finished with my review. Security Liaison."

"Sir," she said, as she twisted something in her hand back into place with a wet noise. Sarah winced.

"You will print out Section Three, Subsection K of these documents, and give them to Commander Nyder for review and processing. Instruct him on the personality wheel coding. Gharman, ask one of the Assistants to give you the Section Seven, Subsection C documents, they are to be printed out and distributed to the staff for review. Security Liaison, you will return here and recreate the linkage, or can another Red Hexagon member do it?"

"Any Red Hexagon member will be able to maintain the linkage for you, sir." She removed the metal circlet and put it on Davros' desk, and ran her fingers through her hair. Coils of silver wire fell in a clatter around her feet. She picked them up and started coiling them, using her wounded hand a bit awkwardly.

This was the first time that Sarah Jane had seen Nyder and Security Liaison in the same room, and she was struck by how perfectly alike they were. Not alike looking, though they both had dark hair and hazel eyes. Right now she looked rather peaked - understandable, if she had been kept awake all night. But posture, bearing, intonation: Security Liaison was either living proof that imitation was the sincerest form of flattery or - or something else.

"That wouldn't be the Threm personality wheel system, would it?" The Doctor smiled engagingly. "I've always thought it was a wonderful method of analysis. If somewhat vulnerable to atmospheric variations."

Security Liaison looked at the Doctor without the slightest flicker of recognition. "The Threm are alien?"

"Quite, they're a very hospitable folk-"

"Then the Kaled system will naturally be superior," said Nyder without the slightest trace of irony.

"Really? May I see it? I'm always fascinated by the superior way of doing things," said the Doctor.

Commander Nyder paused for a moment, clearly thinking of just stuffing them back into their cells. On the other hand, the scientific Elite had been very intrigued with the technical information given by this alien during interrogation; perhaps the Doctor could give more information now. Finally he snapped, "Come with me!"

In the main laboratory, Commander Nyder picked up a folder on what was presumably his desk and leafed through it, frowning.

"You will explain how you managed to get this printed out, when you have not left my side, nor spoken to anyone, since leaving Davros' office," he said, bending a most sinister gaze on Security Liaison.

"I was still linked to the computer when Davros made the request. I thought it would be simplest to send the message directly."

"These are all personnel files, Bunker personnel. With charts," said Nyder, holding up what looked like a colour wheel printed on clear plastic film.

"Yes," said Security Liaison. "The Kaled personality wheel system," she cast a sharp look at the Doctor, who looked blank-faced in return, "is a visual representation of the emotions and characteristics of a Kaled mind. By feeding information on a Kaled's background and habits into a computer program, you can instantly generate output that will allow you to visually analyse their personality structure."

Nyder was reading from a sheet. "Red, green, violet … this is ridiculous, a child's game!"

Security Liaison shook out another folder on the desk, and pulled out a transparency with a very complicated colour wheel on it: streaks of red and green, black bars, all focussing in on a dark centre. It was like the pupil of an eye. She carefully held her hand over the bottom of the page, obscuring some text there, and said, "Who is this, then?"

Nyder looked at the sheet, then down at the key in his hand. He reached out with one gloved fingertip to trace a pale-orange streak around the upper half of the wheel, and then said, "Frenton."

Security Liaison moved her hand from the sheet. "Frenton. Most impressive, Commander. The personality wheel is a tool for detecting emotional instability, potential for violence, and changes due to stress. Davros requested the system for use in the Dalek conditioning program; we tested the program's accuracy by feeding in data on Bunker personnel. The results were - interesting."

Sarah Jane wondered what the rest of the Elite were making of this; she turned her head, and saw them riveted on papers of their own that Gharman was handing out - presumably the mysterious Section Seven, Subsection C papers. Ronson was there, and was paying no attention to his paperwork. Instead he was looking at the two prisoners with a stricken expression. Sarah Jane made a 'shush' gesture, finger to lips, and Ronson looked back to his papers.

The Doctor was leafing through the transparencies on the desk, and came up with a rather startling one; the wheel shape was mostly empty, with a few sharp-edged wedges of yellow and purple. "This one doesn't seem to have printed out correctly, or else I'm reading it wrong," mused the Doctor. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it was-"

"Commander Nyder."

The Doctor looked startled. "Actually, I was going to say a Dalek with severe emotional repression. Are you sure this is a complete representation of Nyder's personality? There's not much here."

Security Liaison rocked one hand back and forth in the air. "Commander Nyder, shall we say, runs on very narrow gauge rails."

"But the trains always run on time," suggested Sarah.

Security Liaison looked at her. "Yes. The trains always run on time."

Commander Nyder was following this conversation with his usual expression, which is to say none at all. Sarah Jane wondered if he really was as empty inside as that transparent sheet of film implied.

"And where is your personality wheel, Liaison?" asked the Doctor. She extracted another transparency from the pile and handed it to the Doctor, who held them back-to-back to the light. "Now that's very interesting. That's the sort of perfect alignment I'd only expect from a synthetic personality. You could have been made for each other."

There was a choked noise from the laboratory behind them, as though someone had smothered a laugh. With identical cold glares, Commander Nyder and Security Liaison turned in unison to look at the scientists.

They were all hunched earnestly over their work, making notes on their papers. Not one of them looked up, or coughed. But out of the corner of her eye, Sarah Jane could just see that one of the guards looked a bit pinkish in the face.

# # #

Second Laboratory Assistant entered Davros' office. He snapped, "I require you to activate this device. At once!"

"Yes, sir." She slid into the chair beside Davros, and started to thread the silver wires into her own hair, where each end clung magnetically to the implants in her scalp.

"I wish to review all Red Hexagon data on the neural transmission arrays," said Davros. "Specifically, what would be required to have them implanted in the Elite staff."

"That may not be feasible. These," she touched her own head, "were implanted very early, so that my brain would form around them. The flowmetal can extend and shift in conjunction with living tissue, but to implant into a fully formed mind … There would be damage at the point where they were joined to the cerebral tissue, possibly extensive damage. I suspect that only one implant site per mature brain would be possible."

"I will schedule tests. If I can completely control the minds of the Elite, know exactly what they are thinking at all times, they will be infinitely more valuable to me. I will also want to investigate the possibilities for this technology to be incorporated into the Dalek program."

"As you command." Second Laboratory Assistant placed the metal circlet atop her head, and then slid it down over her eyes. She slumped backwards in her chair, limbs loose, as Davros' hand began its purposeful manipulation of the access device.

# # #

After a decent night's sleep and a disappointingly skimpy breakfast, Harry was spending his morning in one of the smaller rooms of the Women's Quarters. He was actually a bit glad that they hadn't decided to put him to work here as a doctor, he was a little out of his field of expertise.

He was busy answering the weirdest range of questions from the Kaled women, who all appeared to have the proverbial Elephant's Child insatiable curiosity about him and "island society." They were long-standing stories that deserters and Mutos (like Sevrin apparently, poor chap), had fled the Skaran mainland and lived on islands. In fact, Harry thought that if he had been able to conjure up a boat that would take them to England, half of them would have piled in.

He'd just finished a long recitation of everything he could remember about Romeo and Juliet, and as the women fell to discussing with each other what it all meant, he took a sip of water from the glass they had brought him.

"I don't understand why Juliet was allowed to choose at all, let alone an enemy," said one of the women.

Another woman raised her hand. "Tell us about schools, about women being allowed to go to school!"

"No, peace! He says they are not at war where he comes from. Tell us about how you stopped fighting!"

Koll raised her hand from the back and asked, sweetly, "Would you like to kiss me again?"

Harry sputtered; half the women were looking at Koll, and the other half were looking at him. With expressions ranging from anger to fear to, well, interest. Curiosity.

"Really, it wasn't anything like that," Harry exclaimed. "Now I have put my foot in it," he muttered to himself.

The door opened and a familiar woman in familiar attire entered. Harry rose and said, "Tenth Healer, hello! What a relief it is to see you again."

She came forward and clasped Harry's hands. "There you are, Doctor Sullivan. I'm pleased to see you too, but I'm actually Eleventh Healer."

"Oh. Then Tenth?" and Harry's voice trailed away

"She did not survive her injuries. Neither did the man who abducted you; we tried, but on top of the usual battlefield damage, he could not be revived. I am sorry," she said, and squeezed Harry's hands between hers. Two men entered behind her, and she turned.

"Doctor Sullivan, this is Doctor Serh, and Private Zo."

The Kaled women in the room scrambled to their feet and backed away from Zo, his head still bandaged. He looked harmless enough, thought Harry, why are they so frightened of him? He saw Koll raise her gun and said, "Koll no, stop!"

"He's a soldier!" she snarled.

Doctor Serh, a distinguished-looking older gentleman, said, "Please Koll, put that down. Please?"

She took her finger off the trigger, but the gun was still aimed at Zo's chest.

"Fellow Kaleds," said Tenth, no Eleventh Healer, "this man has been marked for culling, and if you do not give him refuge he will certainly be killed. We need a place to hide him, will you offer it?"

Dynna, who so far as Harry could tell was the leader of all the Kaled women here, came in and looked at Zo in shock. Serh turned to her.

"Dynna, please. This man is harmless; he only needs a place where the cullers will not look for a few days. A very few days."

One of the women in the back spoke, "All soldiers are mad! He will maul the first woman he can get his hands on!"

Serh's shoulders slumped. "And I have told you that is not true. It is a myth, which has been repeated to you so that you would be too frightened to leave the Womens' Quarters. It was a lie, and I am sorry to have been a part of it, but now I am telling you the truth. Here is the truth."

Serh took Zo by the arm, lightly, and led him forward a few steps. "Private Zo, let me introduce you to the leader here, Dynna."

Zo was smiling like a delighted child. He reached out a bandaged hand, tentatively, and after a long pause Dynna took it. Her face was stiff and hostile, and around her the other women were waiting, tense, looking ready to haul the blind man away and tear him to bits if he did anything untoward.

"H-hello," said Private Zo, sounding as awkward as a boy at his first dance. "I'm very hon, honoured to meet you." He smiled even wider. "I know that I've been marked for the cull, but please, there's vision prosthetics, radar boxes, there are still things I can do. I could, could work in one of the factories, my hands aren't so bad. Please let me stay. I won't hurt anyone, I promise!"

The other women murmured to each other, and Zo turned his head towards the sound. "I can't believe I'm really in a room full of women. All women!" He sounded - he sounded blessed, thought Harry.

Dynna was staring at Zo, still holding his hand. "You would have to obey our orders," she said, as though certain that he would refuse.

"Yes yes, of course!" he agreed, still turned towards the sounds of the other women.

"No fighting!" she warned.

He turned his bandaged face back to her. "I don't want to fight! I don't want to fight, I never did."

Koll came forward, her gun still in her hand; come to think of it, Harry had never seen her without a gun. Did she sleep with it? She asked the blind man harshly, "And if you happened to find a woman, alone anddefenceless, what would you do to her?"

"Um, um," Zo stumbled over his own words, "introduce myself?"

"Not attack her?" she asked suspiciously.

"Never!" he said. He let go of Dynna's hand and reached out both of his own hands to the sound of Koll's voice. "I could never fight you, I could never hurt any of you! Please, just let me stay." He put his hands down. "You don't have to talk to me or anything. Just lock me away in a room, if you're afraid.

With an abrupt gesture, Koll handed her gun to the woman next to her, and marched up to Zo. She came closer, closer, and shoved his uncertain hands aside. And pressed her lips to his in a kiss. Her eyes were wide open, and full of hate: she clearly expected him to do something dreadful, so that she would be justified in lashing back at him.

Zo's hands fluttered in the air helplessly, and then went limp. He went limp and collapsed backwards onto Serh and Harry, who caught him and lowered him to the floor.

"What did I do?" asked Koll, astounded.

Serh touched the fallen man's throat, felt his pulse. "I think he's just fainted."

"Fainted?" said Koll, with a hint of a cruel laugh in her voice.

"Yes, fainted," the Kaled doctor snapped. "Have pity, he's only a boy. He's probably never kissed a woman in his life."

"What, never?" Harry's eyebrows drew down in puzzlement.

"Never. So, are you satisfied?" Serh stared up at Koll and the other women. "So much for all soldiers being monstrous beasts, you can knock them out with a kiss!"

Dynna came forward and stared down at the fallen man. Then she seemed to come to a decision. "Eleventh Healer, we will hide him. For a few days, and he will be kept separate from us."

"Thank you, Dynna," said Eleventh Healer, formally taking both her hands. "Everything I know of him says that he will be a very courteous guest. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Doctor Sullivan for a bit with Doctor Serh."

Dynna nodded in agreement, and rounded up the women present; four of them carried off the limp Zo, one to each limb.

Harry turned to Eleventh Healer and asked the question that had been uppermost in his mind ever since he had seen the wounded soldier. "I thought that Zo was not to be culled?"

Eleventh Healer looked grim. "We will not, but unfortunately some of the military commanders took it into their heads to visit the medical area. It was almost two hours before Doctor Serh could convince them to stop for a snack."

"Snack. Ah, perro fruit?"

"Yes, but they still remembered some of what they saw. Worse yet, they remembered forgetting. They are paranoid, on the alert for anything or anyone suspicious - I spent those two hours under a stretcher. Our time is getting very short here, very short."

"Why?" asked Harry. "What's going to happen?"

"Our people have been at war with the Thals for a thousand years, Doctor Sullivan," said Serh. "War has been the centre of our existence for generation after generation. Everything has been devoted to winning this war, and we have destroyed ourselves to do it." He shook his head angrily. "This war must end, before we are extinct. Before we end all life on this planet. It does not matter if the war is won, it only matters that it ends. But everything is against that, of course: the military, the government, the Scientific Elite-"

"Not all of the Elite," Eleventh Healer broke in.

"No, thank all the Gods, some of the Elite still have some sanity about them. And with their help, it can all be over. The women are already on our side, and the Medicals as well. This is the tipping point. The next few days will either see this war ended forever - or it will go on, until the end of Skaro as an inhabitable planet, I fear."

"We can do it, Sullivan, Serh," said Eleventh Healer passionately. "We can give the Kaled people a real future, a chance to become a real people again. If we can break this war once and for all, we all live. That is the true victory.

"If we fail, the military will round us up, call us traitors and conspirators. You will be shot, Doctor Serh - or more likely hanged, to save on ammunition. I will be hamstrung and lobotomised. Then artificially inseminated, so that I can bear children for the war effort. Nine out of ten would be boys, to fight and die, the tenth a girl to be raised in the Women's Quarters, without education or employment, and to bear in her turn."

Eleventh Healer rubbed at her head. "And as it happens, I'm using most of my brain, and really would rather not have it cut out."

"Nine out of ten?" asked Harry. "That's a strange side effect of artificial insemination."

"No, it's a biological reaction to environmental stress for Kaled females," Serh explained.

"If you aren't from the Women's Quarters, er, then where did you all come from?" asked Harry.

Doctor Sehr's eyes lit up. "Davros, our greatest scientist, created these women in secret. He chose their genes, grew them in artificial wombs, and kept them in the Elite Bunker, away from the military. Every one of them was trained and educated to the highest level. They are the ultimate tools that he will use to end this conflict forever. We call them the Daughters of Davros."

"Davros must be a very, er, charismatic fellow," said Harry, a little daunted at the thought of all of these women having the same father.

"It is a spiritual title, not a genetic one," said Eleventh Healer, who had been listening with a smile. "We do honour to our creator by honouring his name." She gave a little bow.

Harry turned to Eleventh Healer. "Look, I realise that it's dangerous for you to move me around in the Dome, but couldn't you get a message to the Doctor and Sarah Jane in the Bunker?"

Eleventh Healer nodded. "Yes. What is the message?"

"Well," Harry pondered, "tell them that I'm all right. And ask when we will be able to meet."

She smiled. "You are concerned about them. Don't worry; they will be perfectly safe in the Bunker with the Elite. The message will be delivered."

Harry coughed, and when Eleventh Healer raised an eyebrow, he said, "Ah, and no need to mention about being in the Women's Quarters, right? I mean, it might not look proper and all, and…"

"You are safe here, at least. It is only for a little bit longer. We don't want anything to alarm the Kaled people, and most of them would find aliens extremely alarming. Nothing must stop us, not now. Not when everything is about to happen."