'This is going to sound weird, and you're probably not going to believe me, but I've just come out of a s.p.a.ceship that's down on the seabed.'

'Oh right,' Alexander said slowly with a cautious nod. A s.p.a.ceship. On the bottom of the sea: He paused and his eyes drifted down to the seat by his side where, Ace noticed for the first time, something big and, well, alien alien-looking lay. 'Would this "s.p.a.ceship" ' (she could hear the quote marks in his voice) '

be a big domed thing?'

Ace noticed John, standing at her elbow, three mugs crammed into his hands and the room suddenly felt very small, very claustrophobic.

'I'm not sure that's how I'd describe it. But you've seen it?'

Ace asked John.

'I did a dive down to it the other day,' said John, setting the mugs on the table.

'Did you manage to get inside it?'

'Couldn't find a way in,' John said, almost conversationally, as he returned with a fat, brown teapot.

'Well, I was lucky. I managed to find a way out.'

The homely sound of pouring tea was the only noise for a few moments. Then John gave a tired little laugh and rubbed his eyes. 'So this is on the level, then?'

'What?'

'This thing, down on the seabed. It's some sort of crashed Apollo thing, is it? And you're what? The pilot? Are there any other crewmen women down there, then?'

Ace gave a sigh. She should have known that it was too good to be true. She reached out and picked up the object from the seat, a rough doughnut of grey metal with a sphere set in the cavity. She picked it up and saw John's hand move out, as if to stop her. 'Did you bring this up?' she asked. The brothers' eyes told her she'd guessed right. 'Just look at it. Does it look like it was made on this planet? The ship is nothing to do with NASA it's an alien alien s.p.a.ceship.' s.p.a.ceship.'

'Who knows what sort of stuff NASA are dreaming up?'

John answered airily.

'Whatever it is,' Ace said,'it's nothing like this. Look, if you don't want to believe me, then fine. But don't expect me to come up with another story just to make you happy. That thing down there isn't from Earth. Believe me I've seen enough of them to know.'

She set the object back down on the table and looked from one brother to the other.

'Tell you what,' John said. 'Maybe I've got a better explanation.'

'And what would that be?'

'It wouldn't have anything to do with the German wrecks, would it?'

'Eh? What wrecks?'

'The German shipwrecks,' John repeated. 'In the Scapa Flow - from the Second World War.'

Ace shook her head blankly. What was he talking about?

'So what happened?' John sneered, obviously warming to the fact that he thought he'd got it all worked out now 'You and your treasure-hunting mates panicked, did you? You were ransacking the ships and something went wrong? You shot up to the surface leaving them down there?'

'Look,' Ace said, shaking her head, losing patience. 'I haven't got a clue what you're on about mate. If you want to think that I've just come up from some sunken German ship, then fine.

But if you'd just put your brain into gear for a sec, you'd be asking yourself about this thing-' she jabbed her finger towards the object that John had brought up, '-and about this suit.' She reached down and picked up the flimsy silver suit, dripping water onto her jeans. 'And if you think that what you saw down there was some wrecked battleship, you must need your eyes testing.'

John grabbed his mug from the table and stood up. 'You're a right little Miss Know-it-all, aren't you?' he spat, and stormed off up the stairs.

Ace pulled an 'Oh G.o.d, what have I said?' face at Alexander, who shrugged back at her. They sat in silence for a few moments as Ace turned the metal device over and over in her hands. This must be some sort of record: she hadn't been out of the water for five minutes and already she was making enemies and without a Doctor in sight.

Joyce lay on her bed, desperately tired yet unable to sleep. Every time she dosed her eyes, the numbers came creeping back, sneaking into her head. And when she opened them again, she could see a whisper of them, dancing around the periphery of her vision, as if her brain couldn't switch off properly. And Mum. What about Mum? A twinge of guilt grew in her chest as she realised that she really ought to be back at Graystairs, looking for her But she'd tried that, and look what good it had done her she'd ended up on a s.p.a.ceship, wired up to a computer with her head full of alien nonsense. And the Doctor.

How could he have changed so much in only a couple of months? Shrunk from a tall, dashing man with unruly white hair and a rather dapper as much as she could judge these things sense of style, to a little, Scottish man with unruly dark hair and a rather silly umbrella? Was she being strung along? Was whatever happened to her messing up her mind, distorting her judgement?

She swung her legs onto the floor and buried her head in her hands, almost wishing she could cry about some of this any of it. If nothing else, whatever Mum was going through should be upsetting her, yet she hadn't shed a single tear since she'd watched her sleeping. When was that? Yesterday? The day before?

She heaved herself to her feet and crossed to the dressing table mirror. She'd never looked so tired, so pale. So ugly.

She looked down at the photograph of herself, Terrance and Michael. And suddenly she felt desperately sad that Mum wasn't in the picture too. A sc.r.a.p of paper was folded up against the frame. Opening it, she read the Doctor's note: From one member of From one member of the family to another. The Doctor. the family to another. The Doctor.

She had a sudden vision of how they'd once played cards, a long, long time ago, sitting up late at night and drinking cocoa in the Doctor's laboratory.

Happy Families.

Noise of broken-white and hammerings on the insidelong tunnel with blue-how many of us are there in here-long tunnel-wetandwetandwetand-closing down essential-fire burning-closed of just us now-is this how it ends-goodbye-goodbye-oh-who are you-sorry, I couldn't help it-my head-my arms-my-I can down essential-fire burning-closed of just us now-is this how it ends-goodbye-goodbye-oh-who are you-sorry, I couldn't help it-my head-my arms-my-I can feel it but I don't know-cough, taste of blood, my blood, this isn't right, oh feel it but I don't know-cough, taste of blood, my blood, this isn't right, oh no my boy, this real y isn't right Chesterton. Comfy leather Chesterton. I no my boy, this real y isn't right Chesterton. Comfy leather Chesterton. I really must sit down for a while, get my breath back. Thank you, thank you really must sit down for a while, get my breath back. Thank you, thank you my dear. Yes, Just a few minutes and-and then we can return to the... blue, my dear. Yes, Just a few minutes and-and then we can return to the... blue, blue. Not the tunnel. No it's blue. It tastes blue, I'm sure of it. Can't you blue. Not the tunnel. No it's blue. It tastes blue, I'm sure of it. Can't you taste it? Warm blue. Pa.s.s me the... yes, that. What is it Tegan? I can hear taste it? Warm blue. Pa.s.s me the... yes, that. What is it Tegan? I can hear it, silver noise, turn it down, turn it down! Just a nip, there, that's better. it, silver noise, turn it down, turn it down! Just a nip, there, that's better.

All deep now. Sort them out, make them behave.

No, no, sit down for a while. On here, on this, this... yes. Thank you my dear, thank you. my dear, thank you.

The Doctor's body shook and spasmed, waves of muscle contraction travelling down his entire length. One arm flopped loosely at his side, fingers almost touching the stagnant water that pooled on the floor.

The figure that had entered the chamber paused, surveying the berserkly flickering displays on the instrumentation column above his head. Then, limping painfully but moving as quickly as it could, it crossed to him and reached under his head to where the strands of the implant had buried themselves in his neck.

The stranger knew that there must be a better way to remove them - but there wasn't time.

With a short, sharp jerk, the fibres were severed. The Doctor shuddered once more and lay still breathing, alive, but still.

'So how did this s.p.a.ceship get there?' asked Alexander. 'And why?'

Ace shrugged. 'We've not worked that one out yet.'

'We?'

'Me and the Doctor a mate of mine.'

'And is he down in the ship as well?'

'No, he's back at a nursing home no, not in in a nursing home.' She caught sight of his expression. 'We're looking for a friend of ours who's vanished. I must have gone through some sort of matter transmitter and found myself on board the ship. I got chased by some creepy little man called Sooal and managed to get out of the ship's airlock.' She spread her hands wide. 'And here I am.' a nursing home.' She caught sight of his expression. 'We're looking for a friend of ours who's vanished. I must have gone through some sort of matter transmitter and found myself on board the ship. I got chased by some creepy little man called Sooal and managed to get out of the ship's airlock.' She spread her hands wide. 'And here I am.'

'So where's this nursing home? On one of the islands?'

'Dunno is Dumfries on one of the islands?'

'Um, not quite here, look at the map. He unfolded a map as Ace moved the teapot and mugs aside, and spread it out on the table. Within seconds, the truth was horribly dear: Graystairs and the Doctor were nearly three hundred miles away in the southwest of Scotland, whilst she and the two brothers were on board a small boat, moored near a tiny island off the far north-east coast. Oh good one, Ace. She took a huge gulp of her tea.

'So how long will it take me to get back to Dumfries?'

Alexander grinned awkwardly. 'Well, let's see. The post and supply boat calls round every fortnight so the next one should be calling, oh, Friday I reckon. As long as the weather holds.'

'But it's only Sunday! Couldn't you just drop me off? Not all the way to Dumfries, obviously,' Ace added, mentally picturing the shape of Scotland and realising that the boat would have to go all the way around the top to get to Dumfries. 'Just on the mainland where I can get a train or something?'

'I don't think John would be too happy about that we're up here doing a survey for John's doctorate. Marine life in the area - or the lack of it.'

Ace's shoulders slumped. Stranded, hundreds of miles away from where all the action was, in the middle of nowhere on a c.r.a.ppy old boat with two nerds looking for fish. Great.

She caught sight of the s.p.a.cesuit, crumpled like a shiny rag in the corner of the room.

'Well it looks like there's only one thing to do. I'm gonna have to dive back down to the ship and get back in through the airlock.'

'You an expert diver, then?'

'Well I managed to get up OK.'

'Going down's a bit more complicated especially if you've never done it before even if John lets you use his equipment.

Which he won't. Anyway,' Alexander said, 'John couldn't find a way into it you got a key or something? From what he said, it was just a big, mirrored dome no entrances, airlocks. Nothing.'

Ace remembered the brief flash she'd had of the ship exterior as she'd rocketed from the airlock: it looked, as far as she could recall, like any old battered s.p.a.ceship metal plates, a few tiny lights, b.u.mps and sticky-out-bits all over.

'Are we talking about the same thing?' she asked, getting yet another Bad Feeling. 'This dome of yours doesn't sound like the ship.'

Alexander rummaged about on the shelves and pulled out another crumpled map, folded the wrong way into an unwieldy bundle. It was a larger scale map than the first one. Alexander pointed at what looked like a whopping great island labelled 'Kelsay' but from the scale at the edge of the map, Ace could see it was only a few miles across.

'We're here, he said. 'And this is where the ship is.' He indicated a biroed cross, half a mile or so away.

'So we're not directly over it, then?'

Alexander shook his head. 'How long had you been making for the sh.o.r.e?'

'I hadn't. I came up from the ship and just floated about for about fifteen minutes before you guys came over and rescued me.' Alexander rubbed his chin. 'The mystery deepens,' he said and raised his eyebrows. 'Unless you've been pulled about by some weird, freak currents, we've got a puzzle.Whatever this ship is that you came out of, it's not the same thing that John found.' He looked up at her with a frown. 'It looks like there's more than one mystery down there.'

The treatment room always filled Sydney with a cold, sick feeling. He didn't know why it was the treatment room, so it was where he was going to be made better. So that must be good, mustn't it? He wasn't quite sure what was wrong with him, but he'd been told that his memory wasn't what it was. And when he thought about it when he wasn't busy with his scissors and glue and sc.r.a.pbook he knew in a vague and detached way that they were right. But wasn't everyone like that?

Hadn't he he always been like that? always been like that?

He couldn't remember.

The pills that Doctor Menzies had given him were starting to take effect, and he felt his arms and legs grow fuzzy and distant as if he were a puppet, someone else pulling his strings, but he managed to clasp his sc.r.a.pbook possessively to his chest.

Bernard and Claudette led him down the corridor, opened the door to the treatment room, and guided him in. Although he couldn't remember what lay behind the simple, white door it triggered ghostly memories as it opened, an uncomfortable deja deja vu vu. The room was dark, the only illumination coming from a reddish spotlight in the ceiling mounted above a reclining chair.

Sydney suddenly saw images of people men, women, children even - one after another, strapped into the chair, wrists and ankles bound with leather straps. And they were screaming, screaming...

He hesitated, tried to pull back, but Bernard and Claudette had him in a firm grip.

'Come on, Sid,' said Claudette. 'You've done this before.

You know the routine.'

He stared at her, and had a sudden, sickening urge to see her her in the chair howling as the instruments descended on her pretty, dark features. Cutting, gouging. in the chair howling as the instruments descended on her pretty, dark features. Cutting, gouging.

But if he'd been here before, then it must be alright, mustn't it? A word jumped into his head: Tulk Tulk. A word full of anger and power and fear. His mouth was dry as, unsteadily, he lowered himself into the chair, feeling its damp, plastic sweatiness. He put his hands on the armrests and was almost surprised when metal clamps didn't spring out to trap them. He couldn't feel any sensation in his legs.

'The doctor will be along in a minute, Sid,' Claudette said gently, following Bernard out of the room. He heard the key turn in the lock.

Yes, thought Sydney muzzily. The doctor will be along in a minute. And then everything will be alright. As his whole world shrank down to that cone of soft, b.l.o.o.d.y light, his sc.r.a.pbook tumbled to the floor, flopping open. His last memory was of its centre pages, plastered with the bland, smiling faces of catalogue models and magazine celebrities, pasted roughly onto mismatched bodies, jumbled arms and legs. Scrawls of thick, red crayon coiled around them, staining the junctures of heads and necks, limbs and torsos, and filling up the empty eye holes from which the victims in Sydney's head screamed out at him.

Up on the deck, Ace leaned against the railing almost forgetting what they'd said about electric shocks. But the handrail must have been in a good mood. The pale sun was climbing in the morning sky, bleeding its light through layers of thin, grey cloud. The sea glittered, spread out around the boat, and in the distance she could see the brown smudge of the island. How could she have been so dumb as to a.s.sume that the s.p.a.ceship would be close to Graystairs? That was the whole purpose of transmats to send things over long distances. The only problem now was how was she going to get back? She'd been the one that had pestered the Doctor for some adventure, and just as she was getting into the thick of it, here she was unceremoniously dumped at sea. Ace heard footsteps beside her.

Alexander stood there, hands deep in his jacket pockets, apologetic and shy.

'Don't worry about John,' he said. 'I think he's a bit scared of you.'

'Thanks,' Ace said heavily.

'Not like that. It's just that John's PhD dissertation has been well and truly screwed up by that thing those things down there. And now here you are, all fresh-faced and breezy, telling him you've come from an alien s.p.a.ceship. He likes to be in control; he feels it's all running away from him.'

'Can't he just write "There's a b.l.o.o.d.y great alien dome and a s.p.a.ceship and they're scaring the fish away.'? Anyway, if it's his dissertation, what are you here for?'

Alexander gave a grunt. 'Mother's idea. "It'll be a nice break, Alexander. It'll b good for the two of you to spend some time together, Alexander. Give your brother a hand, Alexander. This is really important to him, Alexander".'

'And it's not so important to you, eh?'

He shrugged. 'I don't mind, really. It's not as if I've got much else to do.'

They heard the angry sound of pots clattering into the tiny sink down below, the rush of water, the clomping of feet.

'I take it John's the golden boy, then.'