'Thank you, Monitor,' said Draad, switching on a small vision screen.

It showed an image of the same reporter they had seen the previous day. But this time she appeared notably more enthusiastic about what she had to say.

'To return to the main item of news tonight. Within the last hour, the mayor's office announced that a party of four beings from another world landed in Arkhaven yesterday.

Here is a further excerpt from their interview with the mayor in which they describe their travels.'

The scene changed to show Ian and the Doctor seated in the mayor's office that morning. From the angle, Ian realised it must have been recorded through Monitor's camera eye. Part of the Doctor's description of the many different life forms they had encountered was replayed, which Ian had to admit made for engrossing viewing. When it was finished the reporter reappeared.

'As you can see the aliens appear externally quite human and speak our language fluently. However, medical reports confirm they are not native to Sarath. Their presence will no doubt revive debate over the so-called "Origin Question", suggesting our ancestors migrated to Sarath many millennia ago from another world system.

'Meanwhile the aliens have agreed to use their superior knowledge of s.p.a.ce travel to give technical advice on the final preparations for launching the Ship. The mayor requests that the aliens be treated with respect during their stay with us and not be troubled by idle curiosity seekers...'

Draad turned off the screen to face frowns of disapproval on the faces of Ian and the Doctor.

'You did not mention you would make our arrival so public,' the Doctor said tersely. 'Or that you were recording our conversation.'

'Forgive me, but Monitor records all such meetings automatically,' Draad explained. 'As to the publicity, you must understand that your presence will give the people something else to occupy their minds. Some of the more superst.i.tious may consider your coming as a good omen... or perhaps a challenge to their views. I don't really care as long as it has the desired effect.'

'While also letting them know the Ship will launch fully certified with our blessing,' Ian said.

'Of course,' said Draad. 'The people must have confidence in it. You have come uninvited to our world, but I think you will agree, after our understandable initial misunderstanding, that we have treated you well. Is it so much to ask that you lend your support to maintaining public order?'

The Doctor sighed. 'I suppose we have no choice. Very well, we shall play our part. Can you put on a cheerful face, Chesterton?'

Ian looked at their hosts. 'I'll do my best,' he promised doubtfully.

Arkhaven's Third Avenue, on which the Polkatoon was situated, blazed with light and movement. Neon signs flickered over the entrances of theatres, clubs and amus.e.m.e.nt halls. The street was full of cars depositing their consignments of pleasure seekers. The buzz and chatter of voices filled the air. For the first time Ian felt the city was truly alive.

The Polkatoon itself was not very different from a high-quality London restaurant club. It even had liveried attendants to open the doors and usher them inside.

Eyes turned as they entered the main saloon and the murmur of conversation momentarily dipped. Evidently news of their arrival had already reached the other diners, who recognised both their host and their non-Arkavian style of dress. But the force of good manners, and Draad's request, evidently prevailed over curiosity and n.o.body troubled them, though Ian was conscious of many eyes following his every move. He managed a quick smile then hurriedly took his seat and hid behind a menu. The Doctor, however, paused to beam and wave graciously about him, as though bestowing a benediction, before he sat down. Ian found it hard to believe that the old man was not secretly enjoying their new celebrity status.

The Polkatoon's menu lived up to Draad's promise, while a small band provided pleasant background music. At intervals instrumental soloists, singers and a pair of graceful acrobatic dancers performed. Ian and the Doctor made a point of applauding all of them, to the evident appreciation of the staff and patrons. Gradually, perhaps aided by some excellent synthesised wine, Ian started to relax for the first time in days.

He began to believe everything would work out all right.

Tomorrow they would find Barbara safe and well, then the Doctor would make a new key for the TARDIS and...

'There you are, Draad,' a voice said loudly. 'My father's been looking everywhere for you.'

A perfectly groomed young man in expensive-looking clothes was standing over them. He was wearing an expression of petulant annoyance. At his shoulder were another man and two women of the same type, judging by their dress, while behind them was the Polkatoon's maitre d' looking distinctly unhappy.

'He even sent me out on the hunt,' the young man continued, eyeing Ian and the Doctor with mild curiosity. 'He wants to talk to you about these two aliens immediately.'

Draad's face was stony and Ian saw much the same expression on Lant's. Very deliberately, the mayor dabbed his lips with his napkin before replying.

'Do you know what day and hour this is, Vendam?'

'What? Of course I...'

'Then you know I may only be disturbed for an emergency, nothing less. The arrival of these people does not const.i.tute an emergency. Your father may take this matter up in the council tomorrow and not before. Now have the good manners to leave me and my guests in peace.'

The young man gaped at him in amazement. 'How dare you talk to me like that, Functionary!'

'And how dare you give me orders, boy! I am the mayor of Arkhaven and I have more important things on my mind than your fragile feelings. Now, you're causing a scene and disturbing everyone's meal, so why don't you take yourself out of here.'

Lant slid his chair back from the table and let his hand fall lightly on to the b.u.t.t of his side-arm.

The young man blinked in surprise, hesitated, and then retreated, taking his companions with him. After a minute's urgent discussion among themselves they took a table towards the back of the room and ordered drinks. Meanwhile Draad took a long draught from his own gla.s.s. Beneath his outward calm Ian could see he was nervous.

'And who was that unpleasant young man?' the Doctor asked.

'Plaxander Vendam..' Draad said. 'First time I've ever spoken back to him like that, though I've wanted to for years.'

He smiled weakly. 'But then this is the season for firsts, is it not?'

'Somebody should probably have done that a long time ago,' said Ian, speaking with a teacher's experience. 'What's so special about his father, then?'

'Lord Vendam is the leader of the Elite families... the last of our aristocracy, since the destruction of the capital and the loss of the royal family. They command a lot of traditional respect. Vendam has a seat on the city council.'

'It seems we do not understand your social system,' the Doctor said. 'Perhaps you'd better explain.'

Draad made a grimace. 'I'm afraid we're divided by cla.s.s and affiliation. There are the Elite families, the Technical and Service Functionaries, the Church, the Military and the Common Citizens. There is only limited interchange between them.'

'How can the Church be a cla.s.s?' Ian asked.

'When somebody is accepted into the Church of the Maker as a true believer, not simply a worshipper, they behave as though they are something quite apart from the rest of us.'

'And you do not approve of such commitment?' the Doctor asked.

'Let us say I have my doubts,' said Draad. 'But since the loss of the old capital city made him the most senior churchman on Sarath, Fostel's self-a.s.surance has grown almost beyond measure. Such a degree of certainty makes me uncomfortable.'

'Talking of priests,' said Ian, 'there's one heading this way.'

A dark-robed priest, looking distinctly out of place among the brightly dressed diners, approached their table.

'His Eminence wishes to talk with you,' he said stiffly, and placed a device on the table in front of Draad. It unfolded to reveal a microphone grille and a tiny screen. The image of Bishop Fostel's face appeared on the screen.

'Monitor refused to put my call through, Draad,' Fostel said angrily without any preamble.

'Presumably because he judged it was not an emergency, Bishop,' Draad replied calmly, though his fists were clenched as they rested on the table on either side of the communicator.

'But, now that you have gone to such lengths, why do you wish to speak to me?'

'Because of the aliens, of course! Why was I not informed of their presence sooner? I had to hear it on the public broadcast.'

'That is what the public broadcasts are for,' said Draad.

'What?' Fostel spluttered.

'Public broadcasts are for the dissemination of information and they seem to have served their function in this case,'

Draad explained.

'Are you intoxicated?' Fostel asked suspiciously.

'If I am, it is because these few hours are the only time I can allow myself such licence... and you have interrupted me.'

'For good reason...'

'For no reason. The aliens are in my care. They are perfectly friendly and pose no threat to the security of Arkhaven. In addition they are aiding us with the final preparations for the launch; a task which, as you have so often reminded me, is the responsibility of the Functionary cla.s.s alone since it involves trivial details you do not wish to be concerned with.'

'All your concerns are for material things, Draad,' Fostel retorted. 'What of the aliens' spiritual fitness? They may pollute the minds of our citizens with lies and falsehoods.

They must he examined and questioned on matters of doctrine...'

'I have questioned them and I am satisfied they are no more than innocent travellers who chanced to land in Arkhaven. Their spiritual beliefs are a matter for their own consciences. Meanwhile, remember that they are official guests of my office. Unless you want to challenge my authority this close to the exodus and risk the disruption that would create?'

Fostel glared at him but said nothing.

Draad smiled. 'If you'd troubled to check, you would find I sent transcripts of my interview with our new guests to the offices of all members of the council before the first public announcement. Lord Vendam seemed to find time to read his copy, since he contacted me about the matter some while ago.

Now, if there is nothing further, good night.'

And he closed the communicator down and waved at the dumbstruck priest to take it away. Those diners close enough to have heard some of the interchange looked at Draad with a curious mixture of surprise and admiration.

'I fear our presence here has caused some friction,' the Doctor said.

'Don't trouble yourself,' Draad said. 'It had to come out sooner or later. With the launch approaching and tension rising it was inevitable.'

'So you stood up to old Fostel at last.'

Plaxander Vendam was beside them once more, smiling condescendingly down at Draad, a drink in his hand. It must have been something quite strong Ian thought, for he already looked slightly gla.s.sy-eyed.

Vendam waved his finger from side to side. 'Didn't think you had it in you,' he continued. 'Maybe we should invite you along on our next hunt. Fourteen we caught last night. Think you can do better?'

Ian saw Lant, who had by now half risen from his chair, hesitate at the young man's words. For a moment a puzzled frown replaced the anger on the captain's face.

Vendam stepped back from the table.

'Don't worry, Captain, I'm leaving.' He grinned at Draad without humour. 'But you're still going to regret talking to me like that earlier. Just you wait till my father hears about it.'

And he walked unsteadily away.

Suddenly the jollity of the Polkatoon seemed hollow to Ian. These people were putting on a brave front and trying to maintain a sense of normality until the last minute, but underneath they were fragile and divided. And now their own fate had become inextricably linked with that of the city.

Would this last vestige of civilisation hold together long enough? An old saying came into his head: Eat, drink and be merry... for tomorrow you die.

Chapter Fifteen.

The Thing in the Dark Gelvert woke to find Semanov shaking his shoulder urgently.

'All the lights have gone out in the block around us,' she said.

Gelvert scrambled out of the inner office, now lit only by a pale wedge of light coming through the open door, and went across to where Tressel was crouched, peering over the window sill through the grimy gla.s.s. Distant buildings were lit but everything within a few hundred metres of them was dark, including the street lights.

'It happened a few minutes ago,' Tressel said, his voice reduced to a nervous whisper. 'If it was a mains supply failure I would have thought more blocks would have gone out, but the rest of the city looks all right. It seems to have just affected the buildings around us.'

They had decided to lie low during the day, and move only late at night and in the small hours of the morning. At the edge of Penko district, just beyond the zone populated by its disconcerting dummy inhabitants, they had come upon an older section of the city filled with lower-rise buildings.

Drawn to the anonymity of commercial premises rather than a private dwelling, they had broken into a small office block.

The lower floors had been cleared of furniture, but the third floor and the ones above might have been abandoned only the day before. Cups were set on desks among scattered papers while top coats still hung in lobbies. Only the even layer of dust indicated how much time had pa.s.sed. Everything suggested the workers had been called away to the shelters and had simply never come back. The building was an ideal place of concealment. A storage tank still held water for the washrooms and, apart from a few dead lumostrips, all the inner-core office lights shone steadily, as they did in the surrounding buildings.

Except that now everything had been plunged into darkness.

Keeping low, Gelvert moved from window to window checking for any sign of activity below. As far as he could tell nothing moved but there were a lot of shadows down there.

Eventually he sat down with his back to the wall and looked into his companions' anxious faces. Why did they have to gape at him like that? Did they expect him to have the answer to everything?

He sighed wearily. 'All right. Things aren't getting maintained around here as they should. This is probably just some accidental power cut.'

'But what if it's the Watch?' Semanov said. 'Maybe they know we're in this area and are trying to flush us out.'

'Turning off the power might make it easier to scan for us,' Tressel added. 'Fewer artificial heat sources to confuse them.'

'That's what we've got our thermal blankets for,' Gelvert snapped. 'Come on... and keep your heads down!'

Back inside the office they had been sleeping in, they gathered up their packs.

'Don't leave anything to show we've been here,' Gelvert said. 'We'll hide in the service unit on the roof in case there's a search. They can't check every corner of every building, and they're not going to scare us into giving ourselves away. Got it?'

Swathed in their blankets they pa.s.sed through the main lobby and out on to the utility stairway which ran up the back of the building. Light from distant towers shone through the tall windows opening on to the stairwell. They started upwards, ducking low as they crossed each landing.