There was a moment's silence.

'I can juggle.'

'Can you?'

Sam picked up a couple of clods of earth and demonstrated. She managed three pa.s.ses before the clods disintegrated, showering her with dirt.

'Well, thanks for that, then.' The ginger-haired man closed his shears neatly. 'I suppose I'll be on my way. Hedges to trim, and whatnot.' And he turned away.

Sam watched him amble away from her through the gardens. She scratched her head.Why was her life so weird, all of a sudden? She felt laughter bubbling inside, laughter she didn't want to let out. It wasn't appropriate. If she laughed at things how could she take them seriously? How could she laugh at the tragedy these people had suffered? How could she laugh at Danny - no, at... She bit her lip. She couldn't even remember what his real name was, what his parents had called him. She slapped the pond water absently with the palm of her hand. A couple of fish which had been hanging around hoping for food vanished into the lily stalks. This was stupid. Worse, it was ridiculous. People didn't just sit around all day and worry about things. They got off their fat behinds and did stuff about whatever was bothering them. That was what she ought to do. Do something. Something to help. But how? It wasn't as if she had the TARDIS at her disposal or anything. She didn't think the Doctor would lend it to her even if it hadn't fallen into a chasm in a now disintegrated moon. What was there then? Well, there was the bag he had left her. The old-fashioned doctor's bag. She wondered briefly if he was making a comment. Was he suggesting she should help? Or agreeing with her decision to do so? Was he suggesting a course of action? Did she want to allow him that much control over her? Was she in charge of her own life or wasn't she?

Sam shook her head. Some things were just too hazy and ill-defined to think about, if she opened the bag, even if she took it with her, she was allowing the Doctor to nave control over her actions. She was madly curious about what was in the bag - but she wasn't going to admit that to anyone. Knowing him, he probably had the wretched thing wired - like the contraceptive machines in some pubs that were wired up to a sign in the bar -so he could keep tabs on her.

No. She wasn't having any of that. Whatever she decided to do she'd do it on her own terms. Without his help.

On an impulse she threw the bag into the pond and watched it sink out of sight.

She ignored the part of her that was screaming abuse at her stupidity. She didn't need an old leather bag. She didn't really need the Doctor. If she was to help anyone at all here what she needed was s.p.a.ceships. Lots of s.p.a.ceships.

How was she going to get them?

She stared back up at the Parliament building. In there were the heads of state of two cultures. Someone must know where she could get some s.p.a.ceships from. She walked resolutely up the steps - only to find her way barred by two Peace Corps officers. They were tall, they were expressionless, they were so covered with potentially harmful-looking bits of equipment and weaponry that they jangled ever so faintly whenever they breathed in -which did not seem often to Sam.

She stood looking up at them for a moment or two, wondering if they would mind if she slipped in past them or whether they might not notice her if she didn't draw attention to herself by asking permission to do something she now realised that she did not know whether she was able to do or not - in other words, enter the building.

She took a step forward.

'Public access at this time is not permitted.' The first peace officer's voice appeared to be the only pleasant thing about him.

'It's all right,' Sam said with as much nonchalance as she could muster quickly.'I'm with the Doctor.'

'The Doctor has left the planet.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'The Doctor has left the planet. The government is in session. Public access at this time is not permitted.'

Sam frowned. 'No, no look, you really don't understand. It's very important that I get inside.'

'Important to whom?'

The question took Sam completely by surprise. 'Er... Well... to everyone, of course. Me, President s'Vufu, the refugees... everyone.'

'Everyone.' It wasn't a question.

'Yes.'

'In what way?' It was very much a question.

Sam thought for a moment and asked, 'What do you mean, "In what way?"'

The peace officer sighed. 'In what way,' he said, 'is it important for, yourself, President s'Vufu, the refugees and everyone that you get inside a building to which public access at this time is not permitted?'

'Um... don't you think that that's between me and whoever I want to talk to in the building?'

The second peace officer spoke now for the first time.'Are you saying we're not good enough, then? Not clever enough to understand this great reason of yours, whatever it might be?'

Sam said hastily,'No. No that's not it, not at all.'

'Then why not tell us?' The second peace officer crossed his arms smugly. This had the effect of showing off the handgrips of two enormous and particularly jangty peace-enforcement side arms holstered dramatically at his waist.

Sam thought desperately. 'Well, why should I tell you? Will you let me in if I tell you?'

'Well...' the second peace officer considered.'We are authorised to use our best judgement in matters of emergency.'

The first peace officer added thoughtfully,'Though the problem is, you see... how can we use our judgement if you don't tell us anything so we can judge it?'

Sam began to want to scream very loudly. 'Well... what if Ido tell you and youstill don't judge me worthy of admittance?'

The officer thought for a moment. 'That's the price you pay for democracy I suppose.'

'That's ridiculous,' said Sam with very quickly growing anger.

'That's politics,' replied the second peace officer calmly.

'That's fatuous!' Sam just barely managed not to scream.

'That,' said both Peace Corps officers in perfect unison,'is why we became Peace Corps officers.'

The first peace officer added by way of explanation.'Politics has always seemed a bit too devious and convoluted for us.'

'Do you know,' said Sam admitting sudden defeat and trying unsuccessfully to salvage a final dignified exit line,'that's the first thing you've said that makes any sense to me at all.' She shook her head in disgust, turned and walked back down the steps and away from the building.

She wondered what to do next.

She wondered who could help her.

She wondered if anyone could help her.

I mean, all I want to do is save lives, she thought. It's not like that's wrong or anything.

She found herself sitting by the lily pond again, wondering what to do. It was only now beginning to sink in exactly how hard it was to ever do anything, especially on an alien planet where you didn't know the system and social setup, and how useless that knowledge made her feel. There must be something she could do. She knew what she wanted to do but no one would take her seriously. She kicked angrily at the ornamental stone flagging and briefly thought that she'd much rather be back among the crowd of refugees at the s.p.a.ceport. At least there she had been of some use.

Thinking of the s.p.a.ceport made her think of Danny. That made her think of Saketh. And that made an interesting connection. Saketh wanted to save lives, didn't he? At least that was what he claimed. She wondered if he would be able to help her. Maybe get some of his converts to lend them their ships. It would be a small fleet but it would be a start.

Nodding determinedly, she got to her feet, walked out of the Parliament gardens and began trying to hitch a lift.

Getting into the s.p.a.ceport proved no problem at all. The setup seemed to be the exact opposite of that at the Parliament. Here they were determined not to let people out; getting in was as easy as walking up to the main gate, grinning at the Peace Corps officer and ignoring his knowing smile when she asked to be let in.

It did not take her more than an hour to find Saketh. He was still preaching. The only difference was that now he was surrounded by a growing group of converts. She saw men, women and children. She wondered how many of them had been dying.

She pushed her way through to the front of the crowd and watched. Saketh was pulling a blinder on the crowd and they were going for every word - and who could blame them? Stuck in this awful refugee camp, abandoned on this world of plenty, didn't they deserve life?

Didn't everyone?

Sam felt her heart beat faster at the sound of Saketh's voice. He touched her without touching her. His ideas got into her head. They were right. She felt sure. But... still they were scary. She had never been a religious person. Her mum had taken her to church once as a child. It had scared her. It was so big and echoey, but calm, and full of dark places, and more smiling people than she had ever seen at once before. When her mother had tried to take her back she had run off into the garden in her Sunday best and pretended to fall in the fish pond. By the time she had been dried and redressed it was too late. She and her mother had missed the sermon. She was sorry Mum had to miss it, of course. Mum seemed to take great comfort from it. Not Sam. All she wanted was to be allowed to choose her own way. After that, Mum had let her. Mum was many things but she wasn't stupid, and she hadn't raised any stupid kids.

She thought of Reverend Lukas back on Micawber's World, and Kyle Dale. The comfort of faith.

Sam became aware of eyes on her. Saketh had seen her.

He looked directly at her, seeming to offer his words directly to her.

She was captured by the words, and by the eyes. Didn't they at least deserve hearing out? I mean, lair's fair, she thought. He did save Danny's life.

She took a step closer.

A hand touched her arm. She shrugged it off. The hand would not be shrugged. A voice beside her said, 'To choose is our inalienable right. Do not Jet your choice be made by others.'

She turned. Father Denadi. His sad bear's face was haggard, one eye blacked by a livid bruise. His cheek was cut. His eyes were very bright. Too bright, almost.

Sam found herself shaking. Words exploded from her with sudden anger. 'All my life people have tried to make me do things their way. Mum and dad, the kids at school, the Doctor. Everyone wants you to operate their way, think like them. They want you to see everything their way and think that it's best for you as well. They call you narrow-minded if you won't do what they want and resent you if you try to maintain your own s.p.a.ce and all the time they're putting you in a box of their own making. You're doing it as well. You're just putting me in a different box.'

The priest lowered his head. 'I saved your life.'

'That doesn't give you the right to possess it'

'I just want you to see that you can free yourself.'

'By a.s.signing my choices to you?'

'By embracing them yourself.'

'Don't you see? That's just what Saketh wants, too.'

'No. His way removes choice. The only choice you make is one that removes all possibility of further choice.'

'Only in the matter of your death. And no one has a choice in that anyway. When you die, you die.'

'How little you understand.' Denadi smiled. 'Believe in me and I will give you freely that which you do not already have. Freedom. Choice. The liberation of the eternal soul. All Saketh wants to do is take these things from you. For ever.'

Sam frowned. Well, she supposed she could see what Father Denadi meant. But it didn't change the way he was trying to tell her about it.'I hate the hard sell.'

'What I offer is free.'

Sam felt anger rise. "There you go again, spouting that...' she couldn't find the right word. "That rubbish about choice and freedom. If it's so b.l.o.o.d.y wonderful why don't you just shut up about it and let people see it for themselves and choose to follow it if they want?'

Denadi rubbed his eyes tiredly. 'Advertising,' he muttered. "There's a diabolic hand in it, I'm sure.' He glanced back at Sam. 'Choice is just an illusion that salesmen allow us to think we have.'

'And what are you if not a salesman for your philosophy?' Denadi bit his lip. 'I can see that you are a trusting person. I saved your life. Trust me again now. Please.'

Sam said furiously,'That's emotional blackmail and you know it. I think you'd better just sod off right now before I black your other eye for you. No,' she added as a thought occurred to her. "That would make me as bad as you, wouldn't it? You religious types...' She shook her head.'No. You come with me,I'm going to allow you the choice you seem to want to take from me. I'm going to give you every opportunity to convince me you're right. And I'm going to do the same for him.' She pointed at Saketh.'And then I'm going to prove dial you're both wrong, that, as far as I'm concerned, my way is best forme .'

Eight hundred astronomical units from Bel the sun was just another second-magnitude star, distinguishable from the thousands of others scattered across the sky only by its barely discernible fluctuations. The Doctor studied the sun from the observation deck of the Hanakoi cruiser, while Conaway studied him from across the room.

The Doctor was motionless. Not just still but absolutely without physical motion of any kind. She wasn't even sure she could see him breathe. She knew this was impossible - for life to exist the heart must beat, blood flow; the electrical stimulation of the brain must continue; on yet deeper levels the movement of atoms and nuclei that made up the matter in bis body was ceaseless and could be nothing less, their behaviour eternal and predictable even beyond death - but still she couldn't shake the image.

Of embittered age. The image of death.

It was an aura that hung in the air around him like a cloak made of shadows.

It seemed to be what bound him to this life.

He turned as if he'd heard her thoughts. 'Isn't that true of everyone?' He asked gently. "That death binds us to life in a way so fundamental there is no possibility of refutation.'

Conaway considered. 'Don't forget who you're talking to,' she said quietly.

'Of course. A doctor. A saver and giver of life. Perhaps you think I'm talking nonsense. The babble of depression? The onset of senility?' A shrug. 'Many would say it was not before time or without justification.'

Conaway felt an involuntary smile play about her lips. 'You're not that old.'

'I'm older than I look.' His voice and manner were those of youth, yet the image of great age persisted.

The wisdom of experience, of mistakes made and, hopefully, learned from.

The Doctor's eyes narrowed and he ran long fingers thoughtfully over his collar, straightening and smoothing the velvet. He played with his cufflinks. He said, 'You see much. And you see more deeply than many.'

His words made her shiver. He wasn't paying a compliment: he was simply telling her an obvious truth, as if the complex patterns of her life were no more to him than a window through which he could glance to catch sight of something he had lost - or misplaced.

'I knew another doctor once. That was just after I died, so things between us were -' a shrug, a bitter half-smile - 'complex. I miss her.'

Conaway felt the need to push more deeply. 'You don't seem like the kind of man to miss someone.'

He smiled wistfully. 'I'm like the cat. I say no goodbyes. But no one ever asks the cat what it feels. They just a.s.sume the cat feels nothing and acts the way it feels.'

'I'm not sure I understand.'

'Why would you? One thing travel teaches you is that cultural psychology is a complex and often carefully hidden thing.'

Conaway frowned. 'Are you telling me I wouldn't understand because I'm not from your world?'

'Oh no, it's nothing like that.You're just not old enough.'

"That's condescending and patronising. Especially considering that I "see more deeply than many".'