All he had to do was find eight dead bodies and he'd have a story.

Gracious, if he could find them alive, he'd have a far better one.

This was going to be such a good day after all.

Sam Jones was trying not to be intimidated, but no matter how foppish the Consort to the d.u.c.h.ess looked in his Regency gear, she had to admit he had a certain air of authority about him that reminded her of the Doctor.

Matters hadn't been helped when, on suggesting that he was a reject from one of those Blackadder episodes, and beginning to quote from one of her favourite scenes involving turnips and Mrs Miggins's pies, a less than masculine man referred to as the Counsellor had looked the reference up in his datapad and started to give a fairly good description of what that series was actually about before losing all interest.

Everything had gone wrong earlier, when she had gone up in the elevator and realised that the d.u.c.h.ess's suite was the only place that particular one went. She had not been able to get back to the lobby because the elevator had been called straight down again and returned a few moments later with the entire royal entourage - minus the funny little man she had seen the Consort being rude to in the reception area earlier.

'I thought I told you to make the beds,' he had hissed at her when exiting the elevator.

Sam had glanced into the various bedchambers and seen what a mess they were in. Dishevelled silk sheets, books on the floor (mostly, she later noted, with very large print, few words and lots of colourful pictures), half-empty gla.s.ses (in a situation like this, no way were they half full), and clothes thrown everywhere. A couple of fluffy teddy bears and something that looked curiously like an outlawed cuddly toy Meep were thrown around the floor.

'Actually, I don't work -' Sam had started to say, but the Consort had interrupted her wearily.

'Obviously. No one on this planet seems to. But if you could sort it out as quickly as possible, I'd be very grateful.'

'How grateful?' Sam had smiled, but the Consort had not smiled back. The rather camp Counsellor, who was steering the d.u.c.h.ess towards the living room, shot Sam some fairly venomous looks -probably the butchest thing he'd ever done - and then closed the door behind him.

The Consort and a big tall alien who looked more ferocious than anything else she'd seen on Micawber's World so far stared at her, as if daring her to argue.

With a sigh, she said it would take ten minutes, which seemed to satisfy the Consort, and he followed the others into the living room.

Only the white-furred chap in the military uniform stayed, to ensure she actually did it.

'Hi, I'm Sam,' she said as she began picking up the books.

'Gar.'

'Hi, Gar. What d'you do for the d.u.c.h.ess.'

'Gar.'

Sam decided to try again. 'Nice uniform, but not Regency like the others I noticed. Where do you work normally?'

'Gar.'

'Thought you might say that,' Sam replied, deciding to give up before it got too surreal.

'Gar,' he said again, pointing at a book she'd missed, poking out from under a pile of rejected dresses.

'Oh, absolutely. I agree totally. Hideous mess.'

'Gar.'

Sam shook her head slightly. 'I'm from the twentieth century, by the way.

Came in a s.p.a.ce-and-time craft called the TARDIS. My friend is called the Doctor. He's probably wondering where I am right now.' She started to sort the bed out.'I'm wondering where he is, too, as I'd like to get the h.e.l.l off Micawber's World and go somewhere else.' She started rearranging the stuffed toys neatly on the now plumped-up pillows.'Do you know where he is?' She suddenly pointed at him, warningly.'And if you say "Gar" again, I'll chuck this Meep thing at you, OK?'

'Oh, all right. Spoilsport.'

Sam dropped the Meep. 'You can talk ?'

Gar smiled, displaying a full set of blunted, large, white teeth which matched his fur. 'Be a bit pointless working for Her Highness's main transport ship if I didn't.'

He held out a furry paw in a very human handshake gesture. "The name's Gar. Really. I'm the Petty Officer aboard the s.p.a.ce Pioneer.You'K not really an employee here at all, are you?'

Sam returned the handshake, giving her name. 'No.'

'So, why are you here, making the beds?'

'Because the Consort guy told me to, frankly.'

Gar nodded.'Consort Ethelredd. Nice guy, really, but has to deal with Her Highness, which isn't always easy. Between him and Counsellor De'Ath, they keep things going quite well.'

Sam shrugged. 'Aren't you going to give me away? I could be a terrorist or something.'

Gar seemed to screw his eyes up for a moment, then relaxed again.'Nope.

No guns or bombs on you.'

'How can you tell?'

Gar smiled again. "The V'orrn can see over three hundred and eighty alternate spectrums of light.'

'Infrared?'

'Absolutely.'

'Ultraviolet?'

'No problem.'

Sam frowned. She had a bad feeling about this. 'And you could tell I'm not carrying a gun because...?'

'Yup, because I can see on a submolecular level as well, stripping away what I don't want to see.'

'X-ray vision then. You're seeing me naked.'

Gar paused, then nodded like Dave Wilson used to in biology cla.s.s, trying to look like an innocent three-year-old because he'd just looked the word 'v.a.g.i.n.a' up in the dictionary for the fifth time that afternoon. It never worked for Sam when Dave did it, and it didn't work when Gar did it.

But as Gar didn't start shouting 'v.a.g.i.n.a' in a variety of silly voices and giggling and pointing at all the girls in the room - which at this moment consisted of just Sam, of course - she didn't chuck a heavy biology book at him as she used to do at Dave all those years ago. Instead she suggested that if he did so again, she'd forget Royal protocol and offer to insert a blunt object somewhere painful.

Gar nodded that he'd got the hint just as Ethelredd and De'Ath came in.

Behind them another Regency-clad man whom Ethelredd referred to as 'Secretary' disappeared into the elevator, laughing.

'He looks happy,' Sam muttered.

'He is,' said De'Ath. 'He's got a message for the delightful Torin Chalfont.'

'Who's he?'

De'Ath looked at Ethelredd, beaming. 'I don't know where you found this one, Consort, but I insist we keep her around. Someone to tell Chalfont that he's not as famous as he believes. How delightful.'

Gar put a paw up and Ethelredd indicated for him to speak.

'She's not actually on the staff of the hotel,' he said.

'I guessed that,' Ethelredd muttered. "The room is tidy, the bed well made and she's not looking under the bed for used underwear to sell to souvenir merchants.' He turned to Sam. 'So, who are you?'

'A traveller. I accidentally got into your elevator after you told me to get up here. I thought I could go to another floor and then get out of the Grande.'

'There are no other floors,' De'Ath pointed out, unhelpfully.

'Yes, thank you, I had noticed that,' Sam said. It was at this point that she had remarked on the Regency attire and her favourite TV show of the 1980s.

And now here she was, wondering what they were going to do with her.

'I just do not know what are we going to do with her,' De'Ath muttered, showing a remarkable gift for stating the obvious.

'She's not armed,' interceded Gar.

'Had a d.a.m.ned good look to make sure, too,' Sam sniffed.

There was a call from the living room and all three men looked at one another. Eventually the deadlock was broken when, with a heartfelt sigh, De'Ath wandered away.

Ethelredd could not help but smile. Then he regarded Sam again. 'I suppose we can't keep you here. You've not done anything wrong and it was I who a.s.sumed you worked here in the first place.'

'And I did make the bed well,' said Sam with a sarcastic flutter of the eyelids.

'That too. Go on then, you'd better get going.'

Sam bent down to the floor and picked up the toy Meep.'Mind if I take a souvenir?'

Ethelredd was about to object when Sam pointed out that on this planet, at least, they were illegal and if the d.u.c.h.ess was found to possess one while the real Meeps took part in the Games, it could make for bad publicity.

Ethelredd grunted something about needing people like Sam around the d.u.c.h.ess now and again, then disappeared into a side room, returning with a large brown paper bag. Sam stuffed the Meep toy into it and promised to make sure it was destroyed.

After Ethelredd said another thanks, she patted Gar's shoulder and got into the elevator that would take her back to the lobby.

As the doors opened, she saw Torin Chalfont somewhat obviously hide behind a pillar.

This could be fun.

Sam hid behind another pillar but far more successfully. There was no accounting for experience, and life with the Doctor provided plenty of opportunities for behind-the-pillar eavesdropping.

Chalfont then emerged, seemingly believed he was safe from prying eyes and ran out of the Grande.

Having sod all else to do, Sam decided to follow, still clutching the brown paper bag.

Chapter 8.

Paradise Place

The man who had been Jean-Paul Cartwright was gone. For ever Now in his place were three hundred million other personalities, memories and experiences all combined into one being.

Beside its bloated body was all that remained of Cartwright's seven former compatriots, encased in the mucus-encrusted rolls of Wirrrn pupae, crawling around the floor, preparing to spread their seed on to whatever flesh they encountered. But, as a Swarm Leader, that which had been Jean-Paul Cartwright was entrusted with the command of the batch and sent them their orders telepathically.

In response, the twenty or so pupae grouped there reared up, acknowledging their leader's commands.

Then they crawled off into the tunnels, on their mission: to find new Wirrrn host bodies among the races on the surface of Micawber's World and transform them into Wirrrn drones like themselves.

The Swarm Leader knew this was good.

It turned to the hybrids standing beside it, twitching its mandibles and antennae, sending questions into the brain of the less-dominated one - the one that could still work among the alien creatures above.

Mason, that was the designation it used with the aliens. Mason nodded slightly, horrible alien eyes with their limited vision and easily damaged parts staring pointlessly at the Swarm Leader. It pointed to the four forms beside it. Two of them were almost full pupae now, the last bits of their humanoid appendages retracting beneath the pupal chitin. The most recent conversion still wore shreds of its ridiculous outer clothing. The Swarm Leader looked into this new mind, sensing the time was right to absorb it.

'Leave... me alone...'it was thinking.'I am... an individual...'

The Swarm Leader considered the futility of this. Of all the races the Wirrrn absorbed, humanoid ones were always the most aggressively independent ones, but even they surrendered in the end, adding their information and memory to the hive mind.

This one was no different. The Swarm Leader began to draw the consciousness into itself, automatically transferring it to every other Wirrrn everywhere. This was once a human male from Earth, like Mason. It had been Dev Jeol, a scientist among its people.

And the creature once called Mason had alerted the Swarm Leader to one particular item of information it possessed. There was a strange humanoid on Micawber's World helping the humans - the intellect and physical strength it possessed would help the Wirrrn greatly.

It was known as the Doctor.

Despite Dev Jeol's attempts at resistance, the Swarm Leader took little effort to finally absorb it completely, dominating its thoughts, making them Wirrrn thoughts and memories.

There was a brief flash of euphoria felt throughout the hive mind as Dev Jeol finally became a Wirrrn, and all his/its memories became shared and known.

And instantly the Swarm Leader knew it needed the Doctor.

The other Swarm Leaders on the planet knew they needed the Doctor.