He looked at her curiously. 'You're sure about that? That the creature was actually killed?'

'Without a doubt.' She looked up at him. 'How can that be? What connects me to that... thing?' thing?'

The Doctor took her hand again and this time simply held it. His skin felt incredibly warm. 'I don't know, Nyssa. I had hoped you might be able to tell me'

'I can't,' she said. 'I'm sorry, but I can't.'

The Doctor thought for a long moment and then seemed to reach a a decision. 'Would you be willing to let me try to... decision. 'Would you be willing to let me try to...

find... what that link might be? Where it might lead?'

'I don't understand: The Doctor produced his cricket ball and held it up. 'Look at this, Nyssa,' he told her. 'What do you see?'

'A ball. A cricket cricket ball.' ball.'

'Very good. Keep looking at it. Watch it carefully...'

Nyssa stared at the ball. It was blood red; it was easy to imagine that it was a single droplet of blood, hugely magnified, somehow contained between the Doctor's finger and thumb.

'Watch the ball very carefully, Nyssa,' said the Doctor.

His voice sounded a long way off.

In the gloom of the lab, the ball looked almost black.

Nyssa imagined that it was an eclipse, a perfect disc of blackness casting vast shadow over everything around her.

I know you are there, Time Lord I'm coming for you Soon

The Doctor reached out to touch Nyssa's face, reacting to a sudden compulsion he could not account for. There was something in the air around her, floating invisibly over her skin was dark and intangible as thought. 'Where are you?' he asked quietly. 'What 'What are you?' are you?'

He heard it then: unmistakably, the horrifying shrieks and cries of a thousand million beings consumed by the blackness. It was very distant, made almost imperceptible by time but it pushed a cold blade of despair deep into his chest.

The agony of all those tormented souls welled up inside him like a physical pain.

Then something crept into his mind, a moist tendril of blackness. It curled inside his subconscious like a finger, beckoning a memory. No, not a memory, he realised with a stab of apprehension: something from the future.

A stone plinth, or altar... or was it a tomb? There was a body lying on it, deathly still: a young man, dressed in the clothes of an Edwardian cricketer. His face was white, the lips blue. He was not breathing. His hands were clasped together over his chest, pallid and stiff with rigor mortis. rigor mortis.

But then the body moved: it jerked, the face suddenly convulsing. Dead eyes snapped open and the man let out a terrible scream. Blood erupted from his mouth and then his face seemed to crack open like an egg, the skin falling away to reveal something else beneath: another face, larger, fleshier, with unruly blond curls. It emerged from the detritus and then it, too, let out a howl of mortal agony. The fresh skin split open and through the blood another another face emerged, older, thinner... screaming and screaming until it burst open like a fruit and another face appeared, smeared in gore and screeching for mercy. face emerged, older, thinner... screaming and screaming until it burst open like a fruit and another face appeared, smeared in gore and screeching for mercy.

It went on and on, face giving birth to face after face, death after death, death after death, until the surface of the tomb was awash with blood. until the surface of the tomb was awash with blood.

Nyssa blinked; she had almost fallen asleep. The dark blur in front of her sharpened into a cricket ball, gripped lightly in the Doctor's hand. 'What happened?' she asked, feeling confused.

'What indeed,' the Doctor said quietly, a tremor in his voice. His face was pinched and white.

'Doctor?'

He looked up. His eyes, usually as as blue as an Earth summer sky, were clouded with worry. blue as an Earth summer sky, were clouded with worry.

Nyssa said, 'The danger isn't over yet, is it? That awful creature may have been slain but everyone on this moon is still in peril.'

'I'm very much afraid so, yes.' The Doctor stood up abruptly, fumbling for his coat pockets, a sure sign of his agitation. 'It's time we took some positive action.'

'You need proper medical attention,' Tegan told Bunny Cheung. She'd tried to make him comfortable in the lab but Bunny was growing more and more impatient. The adrenaline rush was over, and now he was getting irritable.

Tegan was cleaning up the cuts on his face but Bunny was not in the mood for fuss. He pushed away her hand and stood up.

'That's enough,' he growled.

'He was never going to win any beauty contests anyway,'

said Stoker.

Bunny was trying to pull on his jacket one-handed.

'Where do you think you're going?' Stoker asked.

'To see Lawrence,' Bunny told her, still struggling with the jacket. 'Now the Bloodhunter's been dealt with, we can all go home on the Adamantium.' Adamantium.'

'Best idea I've heard all day,' said the Doctor sternly as he entered the lab with Nyssa in tow. 'It's far too dangerous to stay here.

'But the Bloodhunter's been killed,' Stoker argued.

'Problem solved.'

'You don't understand. I'm now certain that the Bloodhunter was only the tip of a very large and nasty iceberg.'

'You're exaggerating.

'I don't think so. I have every reason to believe that the Bloodhunter was merely the representative, if you like, of a much greater evil.'

'Be specific.'

The Doctor glanced at Nyssa. 'I can't. Not yet. But I intend to speak to Captain Lawrence, and request that he arrange for everyone to be evacuated from this moon immediately.'

'And what about you?'

The Doctor hesitated. 'I shall stay here with Tegan and Nyssa.'

Stoker snorted. 'I thought so. How convenient.

'I beg your pardon?'

'Well, that would leave you three here with nothing but a huge pile of lexium.'

The Doctor glared at her stonily. 'You know I don't care about the lexium.'

'I know you say say you don't care about the lexium.' you don't care about the lexium.'

'Must you be so insufferably stubborn?' the Doctor demanded, finally losing patience.

Stoker lit a cigar and winked at him. 'You said it.'

Bunny coughed. 'You've got to admit, Doctor, it sounds pretty lame. You're telling us us we've got to leave, and I agree with you there wholeheartedly, but we've got to leave, and I agree with you there wholeheartedly, but you you intend to stay. If it's as dangerous here as you say, then why?' intend to stay. If it's as dangerous here as you say, then why?'

It was Nyssa who answered. 'Because we must face the darkness. The enemy.'

'What does she mean?' Stoker asked.

'I'm not entirely sure - yet,' the Doctor admitted. 'But I intend to find out. I'm going to see Lawrence now. At the very least, he will have the medical facilities aboard his ship that both Bunny and Professor Oldeman need.'

'Don't count on it,' Stoker told him. 'Bunny and Oldeman aren't on the Consortium payroll. Yet.'

On board the Adamantium, Silas Cadwell approached Lawrence with a report. Lawrence took the plastic sheet and examined it quickly. 'Well: he said quietly. 'That explains a lot'

'Ninety-five per cent pure lexium,' Cadwell stated evenly.

'Unprecedented.'

Cadwell's cool grey eyes never betrayed emotion, but Lawrence fancied he could almost detect a note of excitement in his 2IC's voice.

'No wonder Stoker wanted to keep this to herself. She's found her fortune and glory here all right.'

'Has she, sir?' Cadwell asked.

Was that the trace of a smile on those thin, cruel lips?

Lawrence wondered if he'd misjudged Cadwell. Perhaps he did know where his priorities lay after all. Despite his misgivings, Lawrence found himself grinning as he handed the scan report back. 'We'll just have to see, won't we?'

The door to the bridge hissed open and the Doctor walked straight in. Lawrence carefully concealed any hint of astonishment. 'Doctor. How nice to see you again, and your charming companions.' Jyl Stoker and Bunny Cheung filed in behind Nyssa and Tegan. Now Lawrence allowed himself to raise an eyebrow. 'Quite a deputation. How can I help you?'

'Captain Lawrence, I must ask you to evacuate this moon immediately,' the Doctor said.

'Must you?' Lawrence tried to sound amused.

'Out of the question,' said Silas Cadwell.

Lawrence shot a warning look at his 2IC and said, 'Actually, we haven't completed our survey yet.'

'Your survey?' said Stoker.

'Of course. Standard Consortium procedure in the circ.u.mstances.'

Stoker eyed him steadily. 'I would've thought that was the first thing you'd have done.'

'We've been a little busy,' Lawrence replied easily. 'In case you'd forgotten.'

'This is my moon,' Stoker blurted. 'My claim'

'I'd dispute that this is your your moon,' Lawrence smiled, 'but let's not argue. I'm afraid evacuation is impossible, Doctor. moon,' Lawrence smiled, 'but let's not argue. I'm afraid evacuation is impossible, Doctor.

But if we can help in any other way... medical attention, perhaps? I'm sure Mr Cheung is in need of expert treatment.

Consider my ship's facilities at your disposal.'

Before anyone could respond to the offer, the comms unit crackled into life. 'Captain Lawrence. We've got the Bloodhunter, sir!'

Lawrence nodded. 'Very good, Crook. I a.s.sume it is dead?'

'As a doornail, sir. It took too many blaster hits to survive for long, although it must've been one tough little b.u.g.g.e.r.

Crawled away and died further into the tunnel system, but we've found it now.'

'And Mr Cheung's arm?' Lawrence asked.