'But there is importance maintenance to be done on the ship,' said Drak.

'It must be done in flight. Now make the ship ready!'

Drak and Noma bowed, neither of them very pleased at the sudden change of plan, whether the order had come directly from Mestor or not.

7.

THE REUNION.

Long skeletal shadows stretched across the surface of t.i.tan Three, as the blue star, known as Singos Forty-Two, seemed to perch on its horizon, like an oval Humpty Dumpty on a wall. Soon it would be gone, its duty to spread light and warmth on the far side of the barren planet.

Peri had never seen a blue sun before and wished that the circ.u.mstances under which she was watching it were more agreeable.

The hump the Doctor had spotted on the scanner-screen in the TARDIS had proved elusive, and with the light rapidly failing, would probably remain so.

The wind had also grown colder and stronger and had started to whip the grey surface dust into mini dunes.

The thought of spending the night in the open did not appeal to Peri, for she knew that once the sun had set, they would not be able to find their way back to the TARDIS. She crouched down, embraced herself and gave a little shiver. Already the bottom edge of the sun had slipped below the horizon, giving the appearance of having been subjected to the efforts of a ma.s.sive eraser.

Peri shivered again as a tiny avalanche of grit and pebbles cascaded down a nearby rock face. Cautiously she looked up and saw the Doctor, perched on top of a hillock, scanning the horizon like an Apache warrior.

Since leaving the TARDIS, the Doctor had abandoned his Sherlock Holmes persona, been Hern the Hunter for five minutes, someone called Musk, who Peri gathered was considered to be the greatest explorer in the known universe, and something resembling a country squire on a brisk walk around his estate.

The light continued to fade.

Suddenly there was a loud shout and Peri thought the Doctor had fallen. Frantically her eyes searched the rock face for his broken body, but saw that he was still on his rocky summit, this time statue-like, pointing westward into the fast disappearing sun.

Peri followed the direction in which the finger was pointing, but could see nothing but more rocky outcrops.

With the speed and agility of a practised mountain goat, the Time Lord bounded down from his observation point and set off across the bleak landscape, intent on stalking whatever he had seen.

Brushing the grey surface dust from her clothes, Peri followed.

Although only walking, the Doctor seemed to be covering the ground at an enormous speed. Peri's efforts to catch him up were not helped by the impractical high-heeled boots she was wearing, which were constantly snagged by the uneven terrain.

As the Doctor disappeared around the edge of an outcrop of rock, Peri became a little panicky. She knew that to lose him now could cost her life. Desperately she broke into a run, thoughts of sprained or broken ankles vanished from her mind.

As she rounded the outcrop herself, Peri saw the now stationary Time Lord silhouetted against the receding sun. He seemed transfixed by something ahead of him. It wasn't until Peri drew alongside the Doctor that she saw the enormous freighter half hidden in a ravine. To one side, on higher ground, was the dome they had seen from the TARDIS.

Again, without speaking, the Doctor moved off, but to his companion's surprise, neither towards the ship or dome, but to a point mid-way between.

Peri tottered after him, again cursing her foolish footwear. She wanted to cry out and ask the Doctor for help, but she doubted he would hear her as he had now started to scratch at a pile of rocks, like a dog searching for a buried bone.

Quickly, he demolished the pile and Peri could see there was a metal trap door set into the ground. How the Doctor knew it was there Peri would never know, but what was beneath it she was about to find out.

Brushing the last of the grey dust from a small panel set into the trap door, the Doctor felt round its edge and seemed to flick something. Instantly the tiny panel popped open and the Time Lord pressed a sequence of b.u.t.tons housed in the cavity beneath it.

Slowly, stiffly, painfully, the heavy metal sheet slid back on rusty runners to reveal a dimly lit pa.s.sage below.

This time the Doctor waited for his companion, helping her descend the steps into what she could now see was some sort of service duct.

Cautiously, she looked around at the heavy pipes and cables mounted on the walls. If the Doctor had bothered to tell her, she would have learnt that it was a supply tunnel between the dome and the landing pad.

Instead, the Doctor ran off towards the dome, Peri following, her high heeled boots echoing on the concrete floor.

If the Doctor had also bothered to mention the ducting was also a walkway, Peri might have advised caution. Instead, all she could do was scream as Noma and Drak stepped from an alcove, handguns levelled ready to fire.

Surprised, Azmael looked up as the heavy, reinforced door that separated the ducting from the main area of the dome slid open, and the Doctor and Peri were bundled in.

'Hi,' said Peri with a large grin, trying to appear like a lost tourist who had inadvertently wandered onto private property. But inside her head, she was terrified.

On the other hand, the Doctor seemed totally indifferent to his situation. Casually, he gazed around the room until his eye settled on the revitalising modulator. It had been years since he had seen such a machine, and he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to use it.

'Where have you come from?' said Azmael, crossing to the Doctor.

'I've no idea,' he said, distractedly, his eye fixed firmly on the modulator. 'But I'd love a go in your machine.'

A hard blow from Noma's gun diverted the Doctor's attention.

'Where have you come from?' Azmael repeated.

For the first time, since entering the room, the Doctor brought his full attention to bear on his interrogator. Although a thick, swirling bank of fog separated his conscious mind from his memory, a tiny, distant, flashing beacon seemed to penetrate the dense void, telling him there was something rather familiar about the face before him.

'What are you doing here?' said the mouth belonging to the face.

Peri looked at the Doctor, hoping he had an acceptable answer.

'I won't ask you again.'

Noma pressed his gun against the Doctor's head. Even this didn't prompt a reply as he was still trying to decipher what the beacon was trying to tell him.

The Doctor's unwell,' said Peri desperately.

'Then you tell me why you're here.' Azmael now sounded tired rather than stern.

'We're pilgrims...' she said.

Noma sn.i.g.g.e.red.

'It's true. We're here in search of peace -'

Interrupting, Noma snapped. They're spies. Kill them!'

'What I'm telling you is the truth.' Again Peri looked at the Doctor, praying he would support what she was saying, but he didn't seem interested.

'As I've said, the Doctor isn't a well man. He needs a place to meditate...' Peri cursed herself for sounding so unconvincing. 'We were looking for a suitable cave when we stumbled into your service duct.'

Azmael eyed the Doctor's gawdy jacket, then the blouse and skirt Peri was wearing. He had met many pilgrims in his time. All of them had appeared a little mad, but none had allowed their spiritual exuberance to spill into their sartorial trappings in quite the way these two had.

Perhaps Noma was right, Azmael considered. Perhaps they should die. There was too much at stake to risk keeping them alive.

'I know you!' the Doctor suddenly blurted. The beacon he had spent so much effort and time deciphering now made sense. 'As I live and breathe -Azmael!' The words trumpeted around the room like a fanfare.

The elderly Time Lord looked both confused and embarra.s.sed as the Doctor bounded forward and grasped his hand.

'You old dog,' he said, shaking Azmael's hand with the same enthusiasm a canine wags it tail. 'What in the name of wonder are you doing here?'

Turning to Peri, he continued. This is my old friend and mentor, the Master of Jaconda!'

Azmael s.n.a.t.c.hed his hand back. 'I am nothing of the kind! I never saw you in my life!'

The Doctor laughed. 'Forgive me, my dear friend. Of course you don't recognise me. I've regenerated twice since our last meeting.'

He grabbed Azmael's hands and pressed them to his chest.

There you are. Two hearts that beat as one! I am a Time Lord - just as you are.'

That, Azmael couldn't deny, as the rhythmic pulsing of the twin hearts confirmed.

'And if you still pretend not to know me, let me remind you of our last meeting. That last night. You drank like twenty giants, and I pushed you in the fountain to sober you up.'

Azmael allowed a tiny smile to flicker across his lips.

He recalled the night only too well. They had laughed, drank and loved as though it had been their last day alive. He also recalled that the Doctor, as always, was without money, and he had had to pay for their joint self-indulgence.

Nodding, Azmael said, 'I must concede, you are who you say.'

The Doctor let out a loud cheer and fondly embraced his friend.

'But...' he added sternly, breaking away from the Doctor's grasp, 'this is not a good time to have met.'

'Whyever not?'

Azmael related the grim details concerning Mestor, the occupation of his planet and how he had kidnapped the twins.

When the story was finished, the Doctor shook his head sadly. 'Let me help you.'

'You can't.'

'Don't be absurd. Think of it-the two of us together. What an infallible combination!'

Azmael didn't agree. 'You were always full of good intentions. But I cannot risk your interference now. The destruction of Mestor is something I must do alone.'

The Doctor looked confused. 'What does that mean?'

'You will remain here... You will have warmth, light, considerable comfort... And something to keep you busy,' he added, indicating the main door.

The Doctor glanced at the portal, uncertain what he meant.

'As we leave, I shall scramble the locks of both the main door and the one to the ducting. Between them, they have twenty million million possible combinations. Even with your agile brain, my dear Doctor, 1 think it will take you more than a little time to sort either of them out.'

Without protest, the Doctor and Peri were secured in a small room while Azmael prepared to leave. As they had been led to their cell, Azmael had called out, 'If it's any comfort, Doctor, I too have fond memories of that evening by the fountain.'

The Doctor had found the statement somewhat ironic. If friendship added up to nothing more than fond memories, the universe didn't stand a chance. Friendship had to be a living, positive force if it were to have any value.

Perhaps Azmael was distressed by his revenge against Mestor.

Perhaps he needed to feel he could handle it alone.

But alone the individual is nothing. It is only with loving friends that there is a positive living future.

Still prostrate on the floor of the TARDIS console room, Lieutenant Hugo Lang woke with a sudden start and looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

Gradually, as though not to frighten or shock, the memories of recent events slowly trickled back into his mind, and he felt wretched.

In the s.p.a.ce of a few hours, both his squadron and his career had been shot down in flames.

Slowly, Hugo climbed to his feet and made his way to the double doors that should have led to freedom, but they were locked.

Cautiously he looked around him, wondering where the Doctor had gone, if he were a prisoner, or what would happen to him next. The care and skill that had gone into tending his wounds seemed to suggest that the owner of the TARDIS didn't want him dead.

At least not for the time being.

Hugo felt the bruising on his sore neck and suddenly felt very tired. To die, he thought, might not be a bad thing. At least he wouldn't have to face a court martial.

Slowly, he slid down the double doors until he was seated on the floor. The drowsiness that filled his mind was beginning to take the upper hand.

Bewildered and confused, he fell asleep.

Awake, but just as confused, the Doctor examined the lock sealing the main door of the dome. True to his word, Azmael had scrambled the electronic circuitry on his departure.

At first, the Doctor had been confident that he could sort out the jumble fairly quickly, but closer examination had shown otherwise.

The possible combinations to operate the lock were even greater than Azmael had suggested.