Especially now George Smithers was . . . was . . . what had happened to Smithers?

He could not remember. Had George gone to put the rubbish out? Something about carrying a rubbish bag. Had George come back?

Oh, why did his head hurt so much? Where was the tea?

Why was he walking away from the Gatehouse? Was it something that tall, dark strange man had said? Something about rest. Yes, he had told Charlie to go this way - not back to the Gatehouse but further away. He had said it was vitally important to go this way - vitally important to have a good rest. He had ordered, instructed, demanded, insisted that Charlie went this way. Why?

Charlie Coates was still pondering this when, following his instructions to the letter as always, he stepped off the clifftop and plummeted seventy feet on to the black, jagged rocks below, where some soft, torn fragments of his body were quickly washed away into the Irish Sea.

'This explains why no one was ever allowed into the kitchen,' said Polly. She was standing amidst rows of screens, each of them attached to each other in sequence.

'What are they?'

'Computers. Quadra 610s - all brand-new.' Tim followed the wires connecting them. 'They're networked.'

He pointed at the images gyrating upon the screens.

'Recognize those?'

Polly stared hard. It was a globe, see-through, each line picked out like a spider's web and rotating on an axis. 'It's Earth. But they're all slightly different.'

117.

'Every map of the full globe issued every time a new country or boundary was established. These must go back four or five hundred years. What was she looking for?'

Polly stared at the screens. 'Did you call these computers?'

'Yeah. Problem?'

'But, Tim, where are the spools? The tapes and lights?

These aren't computers. I mean computers are ma.s.sive things.' For a brief moment she remembered her first encounter with the Doctor and the malevolent computer that could think for itself - WOTAN. She remembered the expanse of room it took up and just a glance at the three-dimensional images told her WOTAN was not ever capable of these designs or images.

'Guess you missed the micro-chip revolution, Polly. It'd take too long to explain and would probably be best if I didn't try. When you get back to your own time, these things will still be fifteen years in the future. You wouldn't want to invent them and upset the web of time.'

Polly shrugged. 'There you go - sounding like the Doctor again. Ben and I discussed this earlier. Don't worry, we'll leave well alone.' She pointed at the screens.

'Nevertheless, what's going on?'

Tim punched a keyboard (although it did not look like any typewriter keyboard Polly had ever used) and one of the globes literally unwrapped itself and became a skeletal flat map of the world. Beside the keyboard was a palm-shaped device which Tim swivelled around and various listings flashed across the top of the screen. Polly gave up trying to understand what he was doing but the palm-shaped thing made a clicking noise and the map filled out into a full colour map like she had seen in atlases. 'How pretty,' she murmured.

'Watch this,' he said and clicked again, turning the map into a relief map. Before Polly could say anything, his fingers darted over the keyboard and the image magnified a few times and she caught a glimpse of Britain . . . north-west England . . . then she recognized c.u.mbria itself. The 118 coast. Tim jabbed with a finger. 'That's us. This exact spot.

There's Sellafield.'

'What?'

'Windscale.'

'The nuclear plant? Didn't they close it down then?'

'Obviously not.'

'Oh.' Polly remembered Paul and Penny getting very het up about nuclear power at university. Always going on demos and putting up CND slogans. She had never taken much notice - nuclear power was something she did not understand and Uncle Charles always seemed to be in favour of it. Mind you, Uncle Charles had been a staunch supporter of Professor Brett and WOTAN, so maybe he was not always right.

'This is the place.' Tim looked around the restructured kitchen. 'This house is right on the top. She probably hoped it was a nexus point. I'm glad it isn't.'

'A nexus point?'

Tim started running around, tapping on keyboards, and the screens started shutting down with warning bleeps. 'This should hurt a bit. I'm crashing all her systems. She'll lose everything.'

'That seems a bit harsh. All that work -'

'Polly!' Tim was aghast. 'Polly, Thorgarsuunela is selling your world for a mess of potage. The Cat-People will use our devices for their own ends and Earth will be destroyed.'

'Isn't that what you would have done forty thousand years ago?' Polly was very confused.

Tim stopped as the last screen bleeped and died. 'Yes. But we didn't know humanity was here then. If we had, we'd have gone off and found an uninhabited world to use.'

'I see.' Polly was slightly rea.s.sured. She looked around the kitchen. 'Would you like a cup of tea?'

'They're points in the s.p.a.ce-time continuum. Very rare and hard to access.'

'What, cups of tea?'

'No, silly, nexus points. We need to find one to reach G.o.dwanna. She's bound to have sealed herself away from 119 normal s.p.a.ce-time in a transcendental hyper reality.' Tim reached for Polly and held her shoulders, staring deeply into her eyes. 'Polly, there's no time for tea. We have to go on a journey. Now, why was she coming back here? Why use the house?' He began to pace the room. 'What's in the house, Polly? What other rooms have you seen?'

'Well, I hadn't been in here before now - all I've seen is the hallway and the students' room where Peter was lying.'

She stopped. 'Tim! The students must still be here. They can help.'

'I doubt it. She'll have killed them by now. No, we need . .

Polly did not wait to hear the rest - she was off to the students' room.

'Guys!' Peter was calling. Simon looked at him. 'Guys - my arm doesn't hurt any more!'

'Good,' said Carfrae.

'No, wait.' Simon had an idea. They were still inside their Ex-Area, and Peter was standing by the big book the Doctor had chucked in. 'It's that CRT or whatever.'

'RTC,' chorused the others.

'Yeah, whatever. It's making Peter's injury go backwards.

We're travelling in time in here.'

'Not properly you're not, but the idea's sound enough.'

The voice belonged to a silhouette framed in the doorway; the distorting field of the Ex-Area was bending around him but the light was blotting out his features. Simon realized there was a second figure hovering behind the newcomer - one he recognized.

'Polly?'

'Simon, are you all right? We can't get in. Tim's using his powers to communicate with you.'

'Who's Tim?' asked Carfrae.

'Never mind me,' said the stranger. 'Can you turn your transcendental field off?'

'Our what?' That was Peter.

120.

'He means the Ex-Area,' said Carfrae. 'Have those Cat-People gone?'

'No,' said the stranger. 'They're still outside the house, but they're not in here. You are safe, trust me.'

'It's true, Simon. The Doctor's with them outside and Tim's looking for a s.p.a.ce-time nexus so that we can fly to Australia and meet G.o.dwanna in the past and stop Thorsuun blowing up the world.'

'You what?'

Tim sighed. 'Yes. Thank you, Polly, that was a most helpful summation. Simon, is it?'

'Yes.'

'Simon, can you turn off the field you've created?'

Simon looked at the others. Carfrae shrugged and Peter moved to the control bank. 'If we do, what d'you want?'

'Just to come in. See if we can find a way to help the Doctor stop Thorsuun doing what Polly rather haphazardly said.' Tim held his shadowy arms out. 'Please.'

Simon nodded at Peter who flicked the switch. Instantly the room and their vision righted itself and Simon found himself looking at a tall, goth-looking man in black leather.

His swept-back obviously dyed-black hair reminded Simon of Dracula but it was his high cheekbones, pale skin and piercing blue eyes that Simon really noticed. They were compelling, as compelling as his voice had been.

Polly pushed pa.s.sed him and took Simon's hand. 'Are you three all right?'

'We're fine, thank you, Miss Wright,' said Carfrae, and Simon grinned at the ice in her voice. If Polly so much as looked at him or Peter, she got jealous. He found he quite liked that - so long as she was more jealous if it was him Polly spoke to.

The stranger was looking at the book lying on the floor.

He crouched down and pa.s.sed his hand over the cover. 'An RTC. Where'd you find it?'

'The library. The Doctor found two of them. I presume he's still got the other one.' Carfrae pointed at Peter's arm. 'It cured Peter's injury.'

121.

Tim nodded. 'It would. Good, if he's got one, the Doctor's reasonably safe and can use it to find a nexus.'

'Can we use it, Tim?' asked Polly.

'That's exactly what I'm going to do. And use these young people's trans-field to aid us - protect us from the time winds.'

Simon looked at Tim. Twenty-five - no older. 'Young people?'

Tim stared at Simon and put his finger under Simon's chin to push his head up. Simon suddenly could not move - all he could see were the stranger's eyes. He realized just how blue they were. 'You'd never believe how old I am, Simon Griffiths of Castle Hill, New South Wales, aged twenty-three and four months, height five foot nine, weight ten stone eight, father Daniel Adam, mother Denise Janice, both alive. Need I say anything else?'

Simon felt the finger go and his body relaxed. He almost staggered but righted himself 'No,' he said, a little hoa.r.s.e.

'Good.' Tim was all smiles. He scooped the book up and whistled at it. The cover flew open and the pages began flicking backwards and forwards. 'Operate your machines, students. Please,' he added at a look from Polly.

Peter complied and seconds later the distortion returned.

Simon stared at the doorway as it wavered in and out of focus. He did not like this at all. Polly obviously trusted this Tim person, but something instinctive told Simon that he was no better than Thorsuun.

For the first time during his three years in Britain he wished he was back in New South Wales.

Ben checked the roll-neck of his sweater, running his finger round the inside to make it look presentable. He ran a hand through his hair and then knocked on the side of the shuttle.

Seconds later a hatch slid open and he was being stared at by a six-foot-tall black cat with a white bib just visible above its red leather s.p.a.cesuit. Of course - Daleks, Cybermen, why not giant cats? Maybe there was something 122 in this dream of Polly's after all. 'Hi. Is the Doctor here?' He had an urge to add something about coming out to play or asking for a ball back, but the Doctor's cry from inside quickly told him about the severity of the situation.

'Don't shoot him - he's harmless. It's my best friend, Ben.' The cat looked back inside the shuttle for a second and then reached out with a paw and pulled him in. The door slid shut immediately behind him.

A tortoisesh.e.l.l cat, clearly the leader, eyed him suspiciously. He noted some others - including a white one with a grey spot over its left eye and the rather tatty tabby, much shorter than the rest. Seated by the front of the shuttle was a beaming Doctor and at another console, staring at a screen was Thorsuun. Ben could not see Kerbe or the kids. 'All right, Doctor?'

'Good to see you, Ben. Our hosts won't hurt you, I'm sure.'

'Don't be,' said the tatty tabby.

'Why are you here?' asked the leader.

'Er ... well, we met this geezer called Tim and he sent me over. He's with Pol, Doc.'

Thorsuun looked up. 'Black hair, tall, wearing leather?'

Ben nodded. 'Pretty good description. Who is he? Seems to know you,' he said to the bursar.

She laughed. 'Atimkos - oh so righteous in his own way.

He's probably trying to stop me - he rather likes your planet and wants to stay I think.'

Ben nodded. 'Yup, sounds like it to me.'

'Where is he, Ben?' The Doctor's voice was quiet, almost menacing. Ben took this to require a straight answer.

'He and Polly are in the house. Probably with Kerbe and the kids.'