Commander Nyder and Security Liaison were poring intently over the personality readouts. Neither of them was paying any attention to their prisoners, and the Doctor looked around, casually. This certainly wasn't the time or place to make a break for it: even if the Commander was distracted, there were guards at both ends of the laboratory. His eyes flickered to Ronson's desk, wondering if he dared ask to have his possessions back.

Gharman caught the Doctor's eye and gestured him to approach: he did with Sarah Jane behind him.

"Doctor, these papers are truly extraordinary. Did you have any input into them?" asked Gharman.

"No, can't say that I did, actually."

Gharman shook his head in astonishment. "There are things here that I never dreamed possible, and other things that I say 'Yes, of course, why did I not see that before?' The Red Hexagon never ceases to amaze me. Amaze us all, really." He lowered his voice and said, "Last night I talked with Ronson. I share his concerns about the Daleks. I am relieved to see that he did not make good on his attempt to have you escape to the Dome-"

"Actually he did," Sarah whispered back. "Security Liaison brought us back before we got there."

Gharman stared at her. "Impossible. She tells Nyder everything that happens in the Bunker. Ronson would be under arrest already."

"Then I think that Security Liaison might share your concerns," said the Doctor.

At Nyder's desk, Security Liaison looked up casually and said, "Sir, should we really have prisoners wandering around and distracting the Elite?"

Nyder looked up as well, and his eyes narrowed at the sight of the Doctor and Gharman in conversation.

"Security Liaison. You will remain here and summarise last night's reports." Nyder gathered up the prisoners and left the main laboratory, and Security Liaison sat in Nyder's chair and started reading through his paperwork. She looked up, as though to make sure that Nyder was gone, and then started turning over the pages, fast, faster, writing with her undamaged hand, her pen blurring across the pages.

# # #

As they walked down the Bunker corridor, the Doctor took this opportunity to talk to his captor. "Do you really think it's a coincidence, Commander, that the Red Hexagon show up and offer Davros and the Elite information that sends them into a tizzy, just as the Dalek project is about to be completed?"

"Tizzy?"

"And they offer you the personality wheel: a way to winnow out the disloyal, the panicky, the incompetent. Is there anything they could offer you that would be more likely to distract you?"

"No," Nyder seemed to search his memory, "I think not." He stopped, and looked at his prisoner sceptically. "And you are offering?"

"I'm offering you the theory that there is more going on with the Red Hexagon than you imagine. That these distractions are part of a deliberate pattern."

"Oh really? Five women, constantly under guard, are a threat to the Elite? My - contacts - within the Dome have confirmed that Red Hexagon was a top-secret government project." Nyder took a few steps down the corridor. "And I suppose you think they are plotting against Davros - in here?"

Nyder opened a door, and showed them a narrow room with two bunks on each side of it. When all three of them entered, it got decidedly crowded.

"They all sleep in here?" asked Sarah incredulously. "It's no bigger than a closet!"

"It is a closet - was." Nyder pointed over Sarah's shoulder to the back of the room, where there was another door. "Through there is Laboratory Nineteen; there was a hot mutagens accident some years ago, and the entire laboratory was sealed and pumped full of concrete. We cut through the corridor wall to get into this closet, after testing that the room was clean."

"Was anyone inside that laboratory when the accident occurred?"

"Yes." Nyder tilted his chin up an imperious fraction. "That laboratory is their tomb as well."

"Four bunks," noted the Doctor. "Four Assistants?"

Nyder blinked. "Plus the Security Liaison, who is personally assigned to me." Nyder looked around. "I presume she sleeps on the floor."

That hadn't been what Sarah was presuming, but under the circumstances she thought it best not to make a crack about it.

The Doctor had squeezed to the back of the room, and experimentally knocked on the door; it rang hollowly.

"Hmm, doesn't sound very solid. You would think, Commander, that if the room beyond was full of concrete this wouldn't wobble so when I knocked on it." He demonstrated, and all three of them watched in fascination as the door shivered under his blows.

Nyder stepped forward, and touched the small box mounted beside the door. Nothing happened. "Everything through that door is powered down, sealed off and completely dead, Doctor - in every sense of the word. Now -"

"The Red Hexagon, that's what - Gharman said these women were called." Sarah Jane caught herself; if she'd said Ronson had told her, it would lead to more questions.

"Correct."

"Well, I couldn't help but notice the little red hexagonal button here, on the side of the lock. I supposed that if I pushed it, nothing would happen?" said Sarah, suiting action to words. At her touch the door to the 'sealed' section next door opened, but there was nothing but blackness on the other side.

Sarah smiled at Nyder. "Ta-dah!" She took in his lack of reaction and said, "No?"

Nyder stepped back from the opening, and when Sarah Jane moved in front of him to look, he deliberately pushed her forward, into the darkness.

"Hey!" she said indignantly.

The Doctor glared down at Nyder. "That was uncalled for, Commander. Haven't you ever heard the expression, an officer and a gentleman?"

"No," he said flatly. Then they both turned, as light came streaming out of the laboratory door. Sarah was standing there, silhouetted by it.

"Found the light switch," she said unnecessarily. Then she turned around and said, "Wow!"

Wow was indeed the appropriate word. Far from being full of concrete, or even sterile laboratory equipment, the room was packed to the brim with mechanical gadgets, books, cans of food, piles of clothing, and boxes upon boxes of other mysterious items. The Doctor, Sarah Jane and the stunned Nyder couldn't begin to take it all in. The walls were covered with diagrams that looked like gene maps, and personality wheels: Sarah noticed several Dalek blueprints in there as well. Narrow paths wound through the piles of boxes that covered the entire floor and reached almost to the ceiling.

"It's like Aladdin's Cave," said Sarah, working her way gingerly through the piles of material; some of them tended to sway when touched.

"How did they get this? And how did they get all this in here?" said Nyder, bitterly astounded. "Where did the concrete go?" he added.

But not all of the concrete was gone. Nyder walked across the laboratory, moving around several pieces of equipment, and stopped at a pair of low concrete slabs that were sitting beside one wall, at an angle. There was a candle burning atop each one of the slabs, in front of a picture.

Nyder picked up one of the pictures, and read, apparently from the bottom of the frame, "Scientist Osr, died here so that his people might live. Honourhim." With a touch more respect, he put the picture down exactly where it had been. Then he tested the lock on one of a series of black filing cabinets that lined the wall to one side.

"To gather this material, build this equipment, it must have taken hundreds of man-hours of labour. Women-hours," Nyder corrected himself. "How did five of them do it?"

"I think there's more than five of them. Come and see," said Sarah Jane from where she had gone exploring, and the Doctor made his way to her side, and saw a long table with a white glass top. There were twenty chairs drawn up around it, and piles of paper. Printouts, more blueprints, hand-written notes, and personality wheels. The Doctor started looking through the papers, and Sarah Jane took her chance to lean close and whisper, "Do you think there's a way out of the Bunker from this room?"

The Doctor looked over his shoulder, but Nyder was hidden behind the supplies. He replied softly, "I think we wouldn't get far, even if we could find a way out. The Red Hexagon has helped us, and I believe they will help us again. We should trust them as they trust us."

Nyder actually could hear every word that they were saying, although not through normal means. There was a small flat panel on the wall that he had removed to reveal a listening device. He touched a control on it, and heard the Doctor say, "trust them as they trust us," then carefully touched another control and closed the panel back up. Good, the device was working. Now he would have an ear in the enemy camp.

He made his way to where the prisoners were, counted to himself, and snapped, "Twenty?"

"Perhaps they're just very fond of musical chairs?" suggested Sarah.

The Doctor picked up a small bottle from the shelf beside him and poured a stream of metal bearings across the table, trapping some of them under his palm. "Commander Nyder, if I had twenty identical ball bearings, and only showed you five of them at a time," he lifted his hand to show five bearing, then covered them again, "wouldn't you assume that there were only five of them?"

"So - there are more than five of them here. The fact that they are all identical, that is their disguise."

"If they aren't genetically identical, then yes. They've been surgically modified I suspect."

"Your suspicions are not proof." Nyder turned on his heel and went back to the filing cabinets. "Davros will require proof."

The Doctor and Sarah Jane exchanged a glance. Wasn't this room proof enough?

Nyder had fished a lock pick out of his sleeve, and finally managed to get one of the filing cabinets open. He started leafing through them, and muttered, "They're alphabetical. D-Y, D-E, D-A - Davros." He pulled out a thick well-worn folder, and started leafing through it; he stopped at one of the papers inside and swallowed, audibly, before snapping the folder shut and tucking it under his arm.

"Bad news?" asked the Doctor.

Nyder strode to the door, saying out loud, "I am going have this room emptied and sealed." He stopped talking when he opened the door, because Security Liaison was standing on the other side of it, looking at him with deadly calm eyes.

"What is that?" snapped Nyder, pointing at her hands.

Security Liaison held up her hands, sheathed in black leather gloves similar to the ones that Nyder wore. "I have three torn tendon sheaths and a thumb that's been dislocated, Commander; I need to keep my hand under pressure or it will be further damaged. And the bandage catches on things. And I do not need the Scientific Elite simpering at me and asking if it hurts, because it does."

"And what is this?" asked Nyder, sweeping his own hand out to encompass the hidden room full of equipment.

She looked at the three of them. "Our auxiliary storage facility."

Nyder stepped forward menacingly. "You have been pilfering from the - what do you mean, auxiliary?"

"Pilfering? Never, the supply room is at one hundred and two percent. And this is just where we do some of the things that require extra elbow room." She stepped neatly around her Commander and closed the door between them, leaving him outside in the closet - and her inside the laboratory, with the two prisoners. She looked at them and winked.

"He's going to be furious with you," said Sarah, astounded.

"That lock won't yield with people inside this room," Security Liaison replied. "A safety precaution. He can be furious later. I have a message for you."

"Doctor Harry Sullivan says," and somehow in her stance, her tone, Security Liaison did a great imitation of Harry, "I'm all right. And ask when we will be able to meet." She went back to her normal manner, "And we is you two of course, Doctor, Smith."

"You said that Harry is in the Dome, where you don't go. So - how can you imitate him so perfectly?" asked the Doctor.

"It's in my nature."

"You do a great Nyder," said Sarah Jane.

Security Liaison touched her fingers to her lips in a 'hush' gesture, and opened the door behind her. She turned and confronted - nobody. The bunkroom was empty. She blinked, grave as ever. Then she pulled loose a thin cable that hung along one of the wall panel seams, nearly invisible. She touched it to the side of her head, and Sarah suddenly remembered Third Outer Speaker touching a wire to her head, in the dark tunnel. Security Liaison's eyelids fluttered; then she pulled the wire loose and carefully draped it back where it had been.

"Gharman has expressed an interest in meeting with you, and in lieu of further orders, I think I shall take you to Sub-Laboratory Twelve, and tell Gharman that you are there. Then report to Commander Nyder. He's going to be upset with me."

"He opened one of your filing cabinets, you know. Took a very large folderlabelled Davros," said the Doctor.

Security Liaison's eyes widened. "Then he's going to be very upset with me. For a little while." She looked almost smug for an instant, but the expression vanished before Sarah could be certain.

"Look." The Doctor stepped close to Security Liaison, and she craned her head back to look up into his face. "I don't know what game you are playing here, but you are playing not only with our lives, but those of countless future generations. Tell me now, honestly, Liaison: are you for or against the Daleks?"

"The Daleks are creatures of superb potential. It is in the best interests of all that this potential be correctly focussed. And now we shall go to Sub-Laboratory Twelve." She turned and went into the corridor, and then paused. "If you do not come with me, the guards will obey my orders. And they can be passionate about carrying out orders."

# # #

Harry actually had found a way to put his medical training to use, here in the Women's Quarters. He was talking to the injured men who were being hidden here, talking about therapy, about how they felt, what he could do to ease them. Most of them were pathetically grateful for someone to talk to.

Right now he was in the entrance hall, with one of the Daughters, Thirteenth Surgeon, and walking round and round in a circle with a young man named Litton. Litton was sweating out a drug overdose, and every time he sat or lay down his stomach rebelled; so Harry and Thirteen Surgeon walked round and round with him, encouraged him to talk, and didn't let him sleep.

Litton was shaking as he said, "I knew it was too much, but I hadn't had any in so long. And there was nowhere to hide it, there's more and more random sweeps of the living quarters. I wasn't supposed to survive that first time, they gave me too much-" and then the door burst open behind them.

Burst literally; an explosion blew out the lock and the door jerked aside. The two older men who entered were wearing long robes and hard expressions; without a change in that expression, the one with the moustache shot Litton in the stomach, doubling him over.

"No!" cried Thirteenth Surgeon, falling with him, pressing her hands to the wound; she looked up in time to take the next bullet in the chest, and she slumped over her patient.

A bullet cracked over their heads from inside the Women's Quarters; Harry saw Koll out of the corner of his eye, as themoustached man stepped forward and pressed his weapon to Harry's temple. Harry could smell his hair crisping in the heat of the barrel.

"Stop shooting!" he yelled, and there were cries of dismay from inside the Quarters.

"You shot her," said the other man, staring down at Thirteenth Surgeon. "You shot a woman!"

"She wasn't a Kaled women, she was one of those. And this is - what are you!" he demanded of Harry.

"I'm an island Doctor," he replied. His next words were blotted out by a familiar cry. Eyyiyiyiyiyiyi …

"Run!" shouted themoustached man, dragging Harry with him by the arm. They ran, out of the Quarters, out into the Dome.

They ran down endless corridors, past groups of arguing soldiers, and civilians who plastered themselves to the wall at the trio's approach. Off in the distance were the sounds of fighting, shouting, and the wailing eyiyiyiyi cry. They finally reached a sort of ceremonial chamber, with an elaborate entryway. But they had to step over the dead body of another Daughter in order to enter.

Inside was chaos: more men in long robes standing around a meeting table, shouting, threatening. There were only two guards in the room, and they both looked deeply confused, almost as confused as Harry felt.

"It's our only hope!" one man shouted.

"It's treachery! The Thals will roll right over us!"

"Nobody could have planned this!"

"Davros planned this," snapped the man holding Harry. He shook his prisoner by the arm, hard enough that Harry felt his shoulder joint creak. "Here is one of his traitors, working to subvert the Kaled genetic identity from within. We found him," he paused dramatically, "in the Women's Quarters."

There were gasps of horror from the other men. One asked, "Mogran, are you sure?"

"Yes!" Mogran released Harry and strode to the table, laying his firearm down and glaring at the other men. "Councilmen, it is clear that Davros is moving to take over the entire Dome. If we are going to stop him, we must act now."

"Davros and the Elite are our only chance of winning this war!" shouted one of the other Councilmen despairingly.

"Perhaps he believes these extreme measures are necessary for the Kaled victory?" quavered the oldest-looking Councilman.

Mogran snapped, "If Davros destroys the Kaled government, then he destroys the Kaled people. To subvert the military at this time, to sow chaos when victory is within our grasp, is not some grand strategy. It is suicidal insanity!"

"I will be no part of this," said the old Councilman, drawing himself up with dignity; with equal dignity, Mogran raised his firearm and shot him, point-blank. The man fell, and the other Councilmen and Harry looked on in horror.

"You are correct, Verro. You will be no part of it." Mogran gestured to the guards, who pointed their weapons at the other Councilmen. As they cringed, Mogran raved at them.

"You weak-willed fools, bowing down to Davros like he was some God! Giving him more and more power, letting him commit excess after excess! Now he wants it all! He will destroy us in his madness and the Thals will come and finish the job, butcher our people in their beds! If we are to save our people, we have to stop this plot, and its creator, once and for all. There are still members of the military loyal to this Council," he looked at the cringing men he faced, "loyal to me! And we will sweep through this Dome and destroy these false women, and these traitors, all of them!"

Mogran drew a deep breath.

"Davros must be destroyed!"