'Are you still hungry, after all that popcorn?' the Doctor asked in mild astonishment.

'Having variable mass and cellular composition does some freaky things to your metabolic rate, Doc,' Frobisher explained patiently.

'It can't be good for you. There was a moment in that cinema when I thought you weren't going to get into the seat.'

Frobisher's head rocked back. 'I am not getting fat. I've just changed shape.'

'That I can see,' the Doctor said pointedly.

Frobisher gave him a beady glare. 'I mean I used to be a King penguin, and now I'm an Emperor penguin. Anyway, isn't there something about pots and kettles here?' He prodded the Doctor's torso with the tip of one flipper. 'You're a bit more grab a slab than pinch an inch. At nine hundred years, you can hardly call it puppy fat.'

The Doctor straightened huffily. 'I'll have you know I'm the very figure of Gallifreyan health.' His features took on the lecturing expression that Frobisher knew so well. 'When you've been locked up without food as often as I have, you'll learn to appreciate a little... safety margin!'

'I always kinda tried to avoid the "getting locked up" part myself. It's a union thing among detectives, you know job demarcation. We don't go getting locked up, and lowlifes don't go detecting.' Well, technically, at least. There had always been a bit of crossover, in Frobisher's experience. Not that he was exactly the pride of the police force, or even a member of one; he'd mostly handled messy divorces and petty thefts.

Not quite the stuff that dreams were made of, or that he had taken the job for. Travelling with the Doctor might be a bit more dangerous than following an unfaithful drunkard, but at least it was more interesting.

Chapter Two.

The Vandorian cutter Thornton Thornton was a small and angular reddish-painted vessel. It was vaguely wedge-shaped, with a large sensor array mounted amidships. was a small and angular reddish-painted vessel. It was vaguely wedge-shaped, with a large sensor array mounted amidships.

Captain Handley had taken his shift-break five minutes early. He needed the coffee if he was to be any use at all. Like any good captain, he was never really off duty. Even when regulations said he should be relaxing, he was running duty rosters and course changes through his mind.

However, he tried to relax as dutifully as he was able, putting a holovid of The Black Belt Of Kung Fu The Black Belt Of Kung Fu on the viewer. on the viewer.

He'd seen only a few minutes of action before the intercom burst into life.

'Ops to Captain: possible sensor contact, bearing two-seven-five mark one-one-four.'

Handley straightened, his eyes turning from the holo player to the intercom. 'Aspect heading?'

'Paralleling our own course.' It was possible they had accidentally taken up a course identical to that of a drifting asteroid but, if so, it wasn't on any of the charts in the tank.

'Come port ten degrees, mark two.' Handley left his cabin, and went through to the bridge.

The helmsman nudged the controlling joystick, and the cutter Thornton Thornton rose slightly as it banked left. Handley, a fit-looking officer in his early forties, glanced at the chart tank as he came in. nothing was showing up there, so it wasn't likely to be an asteroid, unless it was very small indeed. rose slightly as it banked left. Handley, a fit-looking officer in his early forties, glanced at the chart tank as he came in. nothing was showing up there, so it wasn't likely to be an asteroid, unless it was very small indeed.

Perhaps a speck of dark matter, or a naked singularity, he thought hopefully.

The bridge of the Thornton Thornton wasn't very large; it contained just enough room for a navigational station, engine monitor, tactical station, and helm. The dog-watch's dim lights made it seem even more cramped. Unlike most spaceship crew, Handley liked the cramped conditions; it made the ship cosier, and more homely. wasn't very large; it contained just enough room for a navigational station, engine monitor, tactical station, and helm. The dog-watch's dim lights made it seem even more cramped. Unlike most spaceship crew, Handley liked the cramped conditions; it made the ship cosier, and more homely.

The intercom buzzed again. 'Ops to bridge: confirmed sensor contact.'

'Same aspect heading?' Handley hoped so. Then there would at least be a chance that it was just a hunk of rock. He tried to think that it could also mean a smarter helmsman.

'Yes, sir. Shall I scan it?'

'No.' If it was another ship shadowing them, he didn't want to let whoever it was know that he was on to them. And if it was just a rock, then it didn't matter anyway. 'Filter out as many other traces as you can from the passive receptors, and watch for any change from your contact.'

'Aye, sir.'

Handley turned back to the chart tank. Whether they had a shadow or not, he still had to mark out their patrol course, as he had done so many times over the past fifteen years.

'Ops to Captain,' the intercom suddenly said. 'Sensor contact bearing three-four-four mark ten.'

Different from before, he realised. 'What's it doing?'

'It's maintaining a steady course. Seems to be drifting.'

Handley directed the sensor displays into the chart tank.

'Over a mile across... Asteroid?'

Nausch, the science officer, looked at it, then shook her head. 'Not dense enough for a refugee from the local belt.

Some energy signatures, but not enough for a ship.'

'Scan it.' Whatever it was, it was clearly worth investigating, seeing as it was headed through Vandorian space. At the very least it had to be plotted for navigational purposes.

Nausch settled into her chair, operating the sensor controls. 'Two and a half miles long, one mile wide...

Composition largely duralinium alloy. Definitely a ship.' She looked up. 'I'm getting a transponder signal,' she said in surprise. 'It's a colony ship, the Speculator Speculator.'

'Any sign of our shadow?'

'Still there. They're keeping very quiet. Definitely under a camo field, I would say. It fits with the recent Veltrochni activity. For some reason they're keeping tabs on Vandorian shipping.'

'Damn.' Somebody was definitely up to something, and Handley didn't like not knowing what it was. Out here, not knowing things was what got people killed. 'All right, call it in to VP. Tell them we're tagging an old colony ship, and we've got a probable Veltrochni Dragon keeping an eye on us.' It wasn't that unusual. They sent a few Dragons to watch Vandorian space, and Vandor Prime sent the occasional drone to shadow their visiting ships. It seemed to be happening a lot more these days. Politics, Handley supposed.

'Scan them. Let them know the fun's over.' Once they knew their point had been made, the Veltrochni tended to consider the job done.

Pack-Leader Hyskanth of the Dragon Thazrakh Thazrakh watched the Vandorian patrol craft bank away towards the larger derelict at the edges of sensor range. The prospector in the crew's work pit had already identified that as an ancient human craft. Hyskanth's Flight Director hopped up to join him on the command balcony of the triangular flight deck. 'They're scanning us now, Pack-Leader.' watched the Vandorian patrol craft bank away towards the larger derelict at the edges of sensor range. The prospector in the crew's work pit had already identified that as an ancient human craft. Hyskanth's Flight Director hopped up to join him on the command balcony of the triangular flight deck. 'They're scanning us now, Pack-Leader.'

Hyskanth wasn't impressed. 'I imagine they detected us some time ago. This is merely our dismissal.' He let his claws slip out a little at the thought of being dismissed by humans.

'But... our orders are clear. Let them know we can reach them anywhere at any time. Now they know, so...'

'New course?'

'Vandor Prime. We are to join the escort for the conference delegation.'

'At once, Pack-Leader.'

Frobisher had retired for the evening to his room in the TARDIS. Although the walls were indented with the ever-present circles, this room had curved walls, the way Frobisher liked them. Curves and the like seemed more flowing, and therefore definitely more natural to him.

He had swum about in his pool for a few minutes, then decided to read the paper he had picked up on Earth. It seemed to be full of politics and sport, with a little entertainment gossip in between.

He had started to theorise about how these three subjects were a natural progression, when there was a sudden bizarre howling from outside.

Frobisher hurried from his room, quickly ascertaining that the noise was coming from a storeroom just down the corridor. He considered going to fetch the Doctor, but decided otherwise. He was a grown Whifferdill, which meant he could look after himself. Besides, he thought, as the sound roared through the corridor again, the Doctor would have to be deaf not to hear that. He was surely already on his way.

Apart from that, Frobisher was curious. He was an investigator by nature as well as profession, so of course he should investigate. He waddled down towards the storeroom door.

Sha'ol could feel the destination trying to reject him.

Whatever energies encased it must be slightly out of phase with the device on his wrist, he realised. It must be adjusted if another attempt to board the TARDIS proved necessary.

Energy sparked, screaming out into the heated air, as a large white room coalesced around him. There were circles patterned into the walls, and a faint hum pervaded the air.

Sha'ol was satisfied; clearly he had indeed managed to board the Doctor's TARDIS.

The local continuum continued to howl, as Karthakh pushed his way through the fabric of reality and into the TARDIS. Sha'ol scanned the room quickly. It was huge and empty, apart from a purposeless pair of shoes in the centre of the floor.

'This is the Doctor's TARDIS?' Karthakh asked.

'Yes.' Sha'ol regretted that none of his forefathers had boarded a TARDIS before. Their knowledge of the size and layout of the vessel would be invaluable to him now. At the very least he and Karthakh must identify the control centre.

Even if the Doctor was not there now, he must go there at some point. Since the TARDIS was currently in flight, it was reasonable to assume that he must at least be in the control area for landing procedures.

Sha'ol took up a position to cover the door, while Karthakh moved to open it. Before he could do so, it opened from the outside. It would be most convenient if it was the Doctor himself. However, it was merely a terrestrial avian of the genus Aptenodytes Aptenodytes. Perhaps a non-sentient companion or pet.

'Hey,' it suddenly yelled. 'What are you guys doing in the TAR -' Karthakh grabbed the avian, while Sha'ol checked the corridor in both directions to make sure there were no hostiles in sight.

Sha'ol turned to the avian, curious that it could speak.

Perhaps his identification was in error, and it was a species that merely resembled the Earth Aptenodytes Aptenodytes. 'This vessel is the TARDIS belonging to the Time Lord known as the Doctor, is that correct?'

'The Doc isn't partial to stowaways -'

'That answers my question. You will now take us to the Doctor.'

'Not a chance, bub.' The avian raised its beak defiantly.

Sha'ol pointed his disruptor at its head. 'You will take us to the Doctor.' It was a simple tactic, but generally effective when dealing with civilians or amateurs.

'Well, if you put it like that...'

Sha'ol motioned to his comrade to put the avian down. He knew most beings would refer to such a comrade as their friend, but somehow he had not been comfortable with that designation.

As soon as the avian's feet touched the ground, it leapt back up, slithering neatly out of Karthakh's grasp. Karthakh watched it bolt down the corridor. When it was gone, he took a small device from his belt. It beeped rapidly. 'If it is frightened, it will try to warn the Doctor,' Karthakh rumbled.

'We can follow it.'

The Doctor was still in the console room when Frobisher dived in through the door, sliding to a halt on his chest. 'Doc!

Doc! We got company.'

The Doctor blinked. 'Company?' he asked uncertainly.

'Didn't you hear that noise?'

'What noise?'

Frobisher shook his head at that. The Doctor might be a Time Lord, but Frobisher did sometimes wonder whether he was a few hours short of a full day. 'Someone has broken into the TARDIS.'

'That is impossible,' the Doctor said severely. 'Nothing short of an Osiran or a Guardian could breach the TARDIS' defence shields while in flight.'

Frobisher folded his flippers on what, for want of a better word, could be called his hips. 'Well, tell that to the two gun-toting maniacs heading this way looking for you. Maybe they'll disappear in a puff of logic.'

The Doctor hesitated, then took his coat from the stand, and put it on. He always seemed to want to be at his best when meeting new folks, Frobisher had long since noticed.

'All right. Keep an eye on the console. I'll go and talk to these... "maniacs" of yours.' With that he left the console room.

Frobisher watched the door swing closed behind him, and felt rather guilty. He was the professional, after all; it should be him who faced down the bad guys, shouldn't it?

Karthakh was concentrating more on the tracker, so Sha'ol was paying even more attention than normal to the corridor ahead. A humanoid emerged from a door at the end, and Sha'ol held up a hand for Karthakh to stop. 'The tracker is no longer necessary.' There was no mistaking the mop of curly blond hair, or the distinctive multicoloured coat.

The Doctor saw the pair, and frowned. Then he stepped forward with a bright smile. 'And what can I do for you...

gentlemen? Or were you just looking for a lift somewhere?'