It usually did. Can't argue with high explosives. But Wolstencroft refused to be won over by the Doctor. 'So what's the alternative?'

'I must travel along the wormhole, find out what's at the other end,' said the Doctor. 'Could use the TARDIS but she's still, well... she's not there.'

The TARDIS, the Doctor's infamous time machine. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean,' said the Doctor with a sideways glance at Nagle, 'it was invaded by an offshoot of the wormhole.' He glared at Wolstencroft. It's out of commission for the time being.' He broke into a smile. 'So, if you'll allow me, I'll fix your machine and pop through '

Wolstencroft knew when someone was trying to pull one over on him. 'No, Doctor,' he said. 'You will not. You've seen those creatures. In their natural environment, they're probably very effective at killing.' He gestured at the Doctor's clothes. 'You're hardly suited for a foray into a dangerous alien environment. I'll send some of my men through first to establish an operations post.'

The Doctor looked appalled. 'You could be sending them to their deaths!'

Wolstencroft ignored him. 'Maybe at the other end the problem can be solved with explosives,' he mused aloud, watching the Doctor's face.

'This is madness!' cried the Doctor, standing up. Captain Rogers moved to cover him in an instant. 'Just what have you got against me, Major?' said the Doctor, ignoring the gun aimed at his head.

Wolstencroft remembered the first Auton invasion, back when he'd first joined UNIT. Whole squads, their bodies melted and fused by alien weapons. And at the centre of events, the Doctor, always the Doctor, miraculously surviving each skirmish, each invasion. More than surviving: regenerating. Well, soldiers couldn't regenerate.

His lip curled in anger. 'People die when you're around, Doctor.'

The Doctor stared back at him. 'And if I wasn't around, there would be even more death.' He offered his palms to Wolstencroft in a pleading gesture. 'I'm on your side, Major.'

Wolstencroft smiled. 'No, Doctor. You're my prisoner.'

Fitz came round to find himself lying on something soft, staring up at a face from a nightmare. It was blank, pale green, and it had two bulbous froglike eyes with slit pupils. It had no visible nose, but a round, wet, red mouth at the bottom of its ridged face. And a mane of plaited white hair.

Where was he? London? China? The TARDIS? Sweden? It all came flooding back. He sat up. He was in a dark, cramped s.p.a.ce with a dozen of the green-faced things. They were clad in some sort of armour, wings folded behind their backs.

The one who had been watching him turned to the others, muttering in a voice that was at once sibilant and deep.

The others crowded round to have a look at him, hooting in wonderment. Whatever they were, they didn't seem very bright. Their bulbous blue eyes, crowding in on him, made him feel nervous. After the trip through the wormhole, he could do with a bit of peace and quiet. And a cigarette. He felt in his jeans pocket beneath his biohazard suit; the lighter was still there, but not his Camels.

'Look,' said Fitz, pushing the creatures back from him. He appeared to be lying on a giant leaf, which moulded to his body as he moved, making it very difficult to get up. 'Who are you lot, and where are we going?'

More indecipherable muttering.

After a while the creatures lost interest in Fitz, and drifted away. As far as Fitz could work out, they were in some sort of flying machine. There was a horizontal slit in the brown fleshy wall next to him, and Fitz prised it open. Green light poured through. They seemed to be in some sort of glowing river, or sea. But the slit wasn't letting any water in, though he could poke his hand out. In the distance, he could see an inverted cone, which looked like a cross between a tangled vegetable root and a battleship. They were heading towards this.

Fitz's mind whirled with questions. This was obviously the place where all the creatures had come from. Where Sam had been taken.

Sam. If he'd survived the wormhole, then there was every chance that she would have too. He tried to sit up only to cry out as ropelike tendrils snaked out from underneath the leaf-seat, binding him tightly. He yelled, but the creatures were obviously too busy flying this thing to pay any attention to him. Swearing, he lay back, watching green light filter through the slit. After a while, it went abruptly dark.

They had arrived. Fitz couldn't see a thing now, could only hear the voices of the things from up front. Couldn't move. It was like a nightmare. He struggled again, but the tendrils only hugged him harder, biting into his arms, his chest, his thighs.

They kept moving for a while, until Fitz felt a gentle b.u.mp. Muttering from up ahead. A lumpen shape in the dark. The tendrils binding him fell limp.

Rubbing his arms and chest, Fitz sat up. He cried out as clawed hands gripped him, propelled him to an oval mouth in the wall. Green light from outside. He was shoved down a ramp and into a glowing tunnel, the light coming from veins in the wall which seemed to be carrying flowing, green liquid. He walked as if he was in a dream, each step carrying him a few feet into the air.

A prod in the back. Fitz stumbled along the tunnel. It led into a large, domed chamber. The green veins ran around the walls and up to the ceiling of the dome, where they converged in a glowing lump.

His captors shoved Fitz towards the centre of this chamber, and then shuffled behind him, their heads held low.

Fitz stepped carefully forward. The floor was soft, and as he got used to the fish-tank lighting he could see that the entire floor of the circular chamber was covered with humps of a purple mossy substance. It exuded a heady, perfumed smell which made his eyes water and his head swim.

In the middle of this chamber was what at first sight was a naked, female human being. It rose as he approached. As he got closer he could see that it wasn't really the slightest bit human, though the skin was as pink and blemish-free as a newborn baby.

Fitz stopped when he was a few yards away. He heard a metallic click from behind him, and looked over his shoulder. The creatures had unshouldered their harpoons. Any sudden moves and he had no doubt what the result would be.

He turned back to the figure in front of him. She it was about Fitz's height, and completely naked. Along the front of the body ran a double row of budlike teats. There were no privates as far as he could see and the limbs were thin and shapely, ending in long-fingered hands.

The head was a smooth egg shape, the same oval mouth and round blue eyes as his captors; but the hair was different, a deep, shining red which fell in waves. Fitz was reminded of Botticelli's Venus and the girl who worked in the greengrocer's down the road where he grew up.

The strange creature stepped down from the raised dais in the centre of the chamber and approached Fitz, her movements languid and slow.

Fitz felt an itch, a tickle in his head, like a sneeze. The feeling grew and grew and there was a sound with it, a sighing, icy voice.

So it is true. There are caverns outside the Dominion.

Fitz glanced wildly around. What was this? He looked back at the creature. It seemed to be smiling, head tilted to one side.

The voice came again, h.o.a.rfrost in his mind.

What is the name of your Dominion?

Fitz became aware that he was cowering, his hands ma.s.saging his head. With an effort, he stood up. He was scared, out of his depth. What would the Doctor do right now? Make small talk and ask for tea while figuring out a means of escape. No time for that now Fitz needed answers. 'Who are you and what is this place?'

What is the name of your Dominion?

The voice brought tears to his eyes, and his vision became misty. 'Earth,' he gasped.

Is it free from the Blight?

Fitz clutched his head. 'I don't know what you're saying.'

Come closer.

'No.'

Come closer.

Fitz found himself kneeling before the creature, looking up at the pale body. She had produced a phial from somewhere, shaped like the bowl of a flower.

Drink.

Fitz took the phial. Inside was a dark-green liquid, thick and gleaming. He sniffed cautiously, expecting a head-spinning jolt, but it was odourless. He frowned up at the alien. 'What is it?'

Drink.

The voice was like the whisper of a conniving spider in a children's story. Fitz looked up into the bulbous blue eyes. The pupils were slits of deep, gleaming black. The round, red mouth moved and Fitz saw the wetness inside, like a wound. The face was alien, totally alien. Like something out of a nightmare. A pitiless demon woman, come to punish lecherous, lazy Fitz.

Drink.

The icy voice was unbearable now, like a migraine behind his eyes, and he was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g his whole face up to try to stop the pain. It wasn't working. If the stuff in the phial was poison, he didn't care any more.

Fitz drew the phial to his mouth, and took a tentative sip. It was thick and cloying, the flavour shooting through his taste buds, fogging his head. His vision blurred and he began to feel very dizzy. The iciness melted from his mind and he felt as though he were floating on a soft, warm cloud. He tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn't form words. He dropped the phial, and watched it spin slowly to the mossy floor, feeling as if he were on top of a tall building. Then he was falling endlessly into a soft mossy heaven.

Chapter Sixteen.

Someone Has to Take the Fall.

Sam floated in the spherical control chamber of the dirigible, watching Itharquell make adjustments to its brain. He had found another route back to the T'hiili Nest, but it had involved many diversions around Blighted areas. They had been travelling for ages. Right now they were barrelling along a corks.c.r.e.w.i.n.g tunnel, which required maximum concentration from Itharquell. His hair floated around his head like fibre-optic filaments, and his round mouth was small and tight with concentration, like a bunched fist.

On the screen in front of them was the narrow tunnel, its black walls picked out in green by sky-sea lamps which glowed from the front of the dirigible. There were some areas of the Dominion that the light from the sky-seas could never hope to reach, and this was one of them.

At length, Sam noticed that it was getting lighter. Something very much like Earth daylight was swamping the dirigible's lamps. As they rounded a particularly narrow and tortuous bend, Sam had to shade her eyes as the light at the end of the tunnel poured right through the screen, golden and blinding, like the sun.

The dirigible emerged from the end of the tunnel, and Itharquell turned it in a wide arc. The sight on the screen was familiar the cavern where Sam had seen the T'hiili children playing. She wondered gloomily what had become of them. Sacrificed to the Blight by their terrified elders, or used as hosts by the Ruin? She hoped they were still alive. Perhaps she'd find them, at the Nest.

It soon became apparent that the tunnel they had emerged from ran through one of the towers of black rock which jutted up into the cavern. They'd shot out of the end as if flying out of a chimney. Now, Itharquell was taking them back up to the cylindrical sky-sea, the golden glowing band which stretched from horizon to horizon.

'We're almost there, then,' she said to Itharquell. 'All we have to do is fly along that and we'll be at the Nest.'

Itharquell didn't answer. When they were inside the sky-sea, travelling along it, its golden light flowing from the screen, he floated back from the brain, letting out a long whistling breath, clearly exhausted by his exertions. Then he suddenly stared past Sam, at the pa.s.sage that led to the cabin. She turned and looked. Nothing there. 'What's wrong?'

The light.

Sam frowned. And then she got it. The light from the screen had been sending a sliver of golden light along the pa.s.sage. Now it had gone.

Sam raced along the pa.s.sage, stepping off the edge and floating into the cabin, Itharquell close behind her.

They floated there, staring at the screen.

It was totally, completely black.

The Blight was here.

Itharquell kicked out and floated to the control brain, frantically twisting levers. Sam felt the dirigible lurch to one side, and on the screen, thankfully, the golden light of the sky-sea shone once more.

They emerged from the sky-sea, into the cylindrical cavern. The T'hiili Nest was above them, filling the screen, an impossible upside-down city, twinkling with tiny points of green light. The dark shadow of the Blight obscured more than half its surface.

Sam felt her insides turn to ice. 'We're too late.'

Itharquell guided the dirigible towards the city, widening the screen so they could see all around them. To their left, the cylindrical cavern was a solid wall of Blight, advancing across the sky-sea at one end and the Nest at the other. Flying into the black wall were tiny green motes. Sam looked up at the Nest, frowning, not quite believing what she was seeing. But it was true. As they grew closer, she could see them, in their hundreds, pouring from the towers and minarets of the Nest.

Hundreds of T'hiili, in dirigibles and leaf-flyers, drifting in waves towards the Blight and oblivion.

'Ma.s.s suicide,' she whispered, feeling sick. 'We have to stop them,' she said, the words choking in her throat. 'We have to tell them we've seen a way out!'

Itharquell didn't answer. His eyes were wide, his mouth gaping in terror, saliva dripping from his red lips to drift towards the wall of the cabin. His thin, white-clawed hands were working the controls jerkily, spasmodically. It took a while for Sam to realise what he was doing, and when she did she threw herself at him, trying to drag him away from the brain. But, in the low gravity, she couldn't move quickly enough and Itharquell managed to fend her off with ease. She spun up to the ceiling of the cabin, trying to regain her balance, staring at the screen, which was again completely black.

'Itharquell, no!' screamed Sam. 'Don't do it!'

A sepulchral whisper in her mind: We must accept our fate.

Sam gritted her teeth. With an effort, she twisted round, placed her feet against the ceiling of the cabin, and launched herself at Itharquell, cannoning into him. She pinned him against the concave floor, holding his thin arms in her hands, her knees against his chest. He felt so light and insubstantial one thrust and she would shatter his body.

'Look,' said Sam. 'You might want to kill yourself, but '

Itharquell's head twisted from side to side, his slit pupils wide.

No hope, no hope.

Sam shook him, not caring if she hurt him. 'There is hope!' she hissed. 'We go back to the cavern. We fight our way past the Ruin and we get out of here!' She was sobbing now. She glanced up at the screen. The Blight was terribly close, its surface crawling like a ma.s.s of flies. She could feel its presence like a thunderstorm. 'Please, Itharquell, I don't know how to fly this thing. Please help me. You're a thinker, a scientist. Please think now!'

But Itharquell kept twisting and moaning beneath her, his voice rustling in her mind: No hope, no hope.

Kerstin Bergman had come to a momentous decision. She had decided that she had had enough of life. Not of life in the sense of living and breathing, no just her old life, before she knew that time travel and wormholes and aliens really existed. Stranded here, staring down the tunnel at something that would just not resolve itself however hard she stared, her old life seemed very far away indeed. Like a not-particularlygood film she'd only half watched. Her parents, her father, the university, all were falling away, like the mould around some fantastic new creation. Even Johan. She felt nothing, now.

To leave her old life behind. h.e.l.l, leave Earth Earth behind. behind.

Kerstin smiled to herself. She thought of the Doctor, his kind, handsome face. He had a time machine. A time machine, for G.o.d's sake! The ultimate impossibility, the biggest 'what if'. But it was true. Kerstin yearned yearned to see it. Join the Doctor on his travels. Maybe even... if Fitz tidied himself up a bit... to see it. Join the Doctor on his travels. Maybe even... if Fitz tidied himself up a bit...

Hang on...

The thing at the end of the tunnel. The thing that sometimes looked like a field, or a pile of books, or a fairground, or the glistening insides of some fantastic beast, was beginning to resolve itself. It was definitely a field, a green field, beneath a brilliant blue sky. Colourful splashes of flowers. As she stared, it became more real. Then she felt a tugging motion, an undercurrent, pulling her towards the field. The golden walls of the tunnel contracted and expanded like a snake swallowing a rabbit. Kerstin suddenly realised she could feel her body again. Pins and needles shot along her arms and legs, and she screamed with the sudden pain, though her voice had no sound.

She was spinning head over heels now, down a small tunnel, faster and faster, the sides wheeling around her in a whirl of colour, flashing and spinning faster and faster And then it all stopped. She was suddenly somewhere... else. She was breathing, and the air smelled fresh and alive, like the fields around Strangnas in springtime. She gasped as feeling returned to her body. The pins and needles in her arms and legs had dulled to an annoying fuzziness. And there was a dull pain in her head where she'd been hit. That meant she was alive, definitely alive. Slowly, carefully, she opened her eyes, sat up, and looked around in utter amazement.

She was sitting on the side of a gra.s.sy hill. The gra.s.s was the most perfect she had ever seen, a full, healthy green, cropped to a uniform length and totally free of weeds and worm-casts. At the bottom of the hill was a garden, flower beds arranged in a complex spiral pattern around a hexagonal plinth. Above it all was a perfect blue sky perfect, that is, except for a television screen, floating above the plinth.

Kerstin sat there, hugging her knees. How did she wind up here? Where was was here? What the h.e.l.l had it got to do with anything? here? What the h.e.l.l had it got to do with anything?

She remembered the resolution she had made inside the wormhole. Leave her old life behind, travel the universe. It seemed ludicrous now. The thought of Johan made her feel wretchedly sad, and she'd give anything to be back home. The feelings warred constantly within her, so much so that she felt she was becoming two people: Kerstin, who was going to marry Johan, get a highly paid job and put the world to rights, and Kerstin-plus, who was going to travel with the Doctor and put the universe universe to rights. to rights.

She stood up. Perhaps if she did something it would stop her going crazy. She set off down the hill towards the flower beds. She noticed that there were other things scattered about. Bookshelves. A harpsichord. A maroon Volkswagen.

And then the b.u.t.terflies came.