'Do you think he'd understand if I told him we have a headache?' Naomi attempted humour.

Teo was not happy; a couple of thousand feet lower and he could have shot some support lines into the basin wall. He didn't want to activate anything, to save alarming the beast, so they seemed to be stuck.

'We've got less than an hour till wipe-out.' Naomi updated their state of affairs. 'So we'd better think of something.'

Rhiannon entered the control room at full steam, then slowed as her eyes met with the much larger ones outside the ship.

'What are you doing up here?' Teo quizzed, though there was no response from the girl. She stared at the beast and closed her eyes.

We must go, there is danger for us here. Rhiannon willed the creature to back up.

After a moment, the beast slowly turned out of their path.

Teo frowned, bemused by what he suspected was happening. Nah, he decided, it was just a happy coincidence. 'We are clear to continue the descent,' he informed the others.

The Goddess surfaced the following day, unscathed. In their watery bed, they'd not even felt the killer waves pass over. Those on the Azore Islands would not have been so fortunate. If this quake had happened one day sooner, when the Goddess was in port, most of her crew would be dead.

As far out to sea as they were, the sky was dark with soot and the sun burned red. One would have thought the scenes described in The Book of Revelations had surely come to pass, but they had seen this eerie scene at other times in the last twenty years.

Walter Cadfan's vision proved not to be as destructive as he'd described, though most of the ash and smoke in the air was the result of the new land rising in the North Sea. A volcano had burst through the sea floor spewing lava that solidified in the cool water to form its own small landmass. Denmark and Britain had felt the shock waves of this, but the damage and death toll had been minimal. Still, if one considered the effect of this disaster upon the gradually rising tide levels, most of these two countries would eventually end up underwater as Cadfan foresaw.

News of Miles and John didn't reach their families until the following day. They'd survived the ordeal in Britain and managed to get themselves into the newspapers in the process. The old university hall where they'd been lecturing at the time of the quake had partly collapsed.

The majority of the faculty and staff were seated near the back of the large amphitheatre, and were close to the roof when it fell. Some two hundred students had been trapped. So, as opposed to giving a talk on digging up ruins, Miles and John set about organising an on-the-spot demonstration of how to dig your way out of one.

This story, on top of the publicity they'd already stirred up with the Plato Project, landed Miles and John on the guest list of a United Nations charity ball for the quake victims. This was held at the UN premises in London, two weeks later, after the clean-up was well underway.

As John had disappeared to the bar, Miles planted himself in a quiet corner of the room to read the article National Geographic had done on the Goddess and the sea monster. The picture of the sub and the plesiosaur was the cover story, and the article featured a beautiful photo of Tory manning Merlin II during the event.

Miles admired this photo for some time; the three weeks they'd been apart felt more like three years.

'Professor Thurlow, I presume.'

Miles was startled from his fantasy to find a slick young man waiting to present himself. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, this corporate paragon exuded vitality and drive. He was surrounded by an entourage of five or six people, all hovering about him while he awaited the Professor's attention.

'Doc Alexander, ICA.' He held out a hand, his beaming smile exposing a perfect set of brilliant white teeth.

Miles recognised his name from the invitation and closed the magazine. 'I am sorry. It's my wife's rig you know?' Miles flashed the cover as he shook the diplomat's hand.

'I know, I read it ... fantastic project, lovely wife.'

Miles felt disturbed - he'd expected someone much older to be in the ICA's top position. 'Thank you. I consider myself very fortunate.'

'She's Professor Renford Alexander's daughter, so I believe?'

The man was only making polite conversation, but for some reason it bothered Miles. 'Do you follow Professor Alexander's work?' he queried.

'I do.' Doc took a very interested stance and folded his arms. 'We're distantly related, so they tell me.' He shrugged it off as hearsay. 'But I am fond of British antiquity.'

'Really?' This surprised Miles, as Doc seemed a one hundred percent American kind of guy.

'In fact,' Doc took Miles underarm to walk with him, 'there's a piece in my office upstairs that I bought a few weeks ago ... but I have an awful feeling I got screwed on the price. Could you take a quick look at it for me? Tell me what you think.'

'Sure.' Miles looked around for John, who was nowhere to be seen.

'This way.' Doc accompanied Miles to the stairs, motioning his own following to stay put.

They entered a spacious office that was dimly lit. The room contained some truly lovely antiques; both its furnishings and works of art were exquisite.

'Why is it,' Miles posed as he observed a beautiful medieval painting on the wall, 'that you look and sound like an American, but have the tastes of an Englishman?'

Doc was taken aback a moment, but smiled resolutely.

'A Briton, you mean.'

'Do I?'

Doc motioned Miles to take a seat. 'I am American by birth. But I was educated here, and my ancestry is here. You see this?' He diverted the professor's attention to a model that was in a glass case by the desk. 'This will be the ICA's first space station. I am naming her the "Brunanburh."

'After the Battle of Brunanburh?' Miles was curious to hear why. Dated at 937 AD, this two-day skirmish had seen the Briton's forced into recognising the Kingdom of England.

'I thought some good should come of it,' was Doc's reply.

'Fair enough.' Miles took a seat, starting to feel a mite uneasy. 'So, which piece do you want me to evaluate?'

Doc's exuberant mood left him as he came to stand over his guest. 'You can drop the front, Professor, I know who and what you are.'

'Sorry?' Miles went to stand, but Doc thrust him back into the seat and held him there, one hand clenched round his throat.

'God, Maelgwn. You really let yourself go to hell.'

'Maelgwn!' Miles swallowed. Who the hell was this guy if he could identify Tory's first husband, who hadn't walked the Earth since 540 A.D.?

'Please don't play dumb, Your Highness. The Goddess who is your other half would never bond with anyone but the Dragon.'

Does he mean Tory? Miles fretted on the quiet.

That I do. Doc took delight in Miles' horror, as the Professor realised his mind was being invaded. 'Or perhaps you're just an incarnation, and not really Maelgwn at all.' Doc glared deep into the Professor's eyes. 'Only one way to find out.'

Noah had enjoyed every minute of his time with Project Plato, and he considered most of her crew good friends.

The Goddess was heading for port at the end of the week, and all aboard seemed of the impression that Noah would be disembarking then.

'Can I talk to you?' He cornered Tory in her office amidst a pile of paperwork.

'Ah-ha,' she affirmed, not pausing from her search for a missing invoice. 'I'm listening.'

Noah entered, closing the door. He took a seat and waited until Tory could give him her full attention.

When she realised he wasn't saying much Tory ceased her fruitless activity to oblige her young friend, whose expression seemed rather grave. 'Sorry, Noah. Is something the matter?'

'I want to work for you,' he stated plainly.

This request threw her a moment, though it came as no surprise. 'But what about National -'

'I'm freelance. I have no assignment planned for the near future. Though I can't say I haven't had offers.' He smiled at the acclaim his latest stories had brought him.

Tory rubbed her forehead. Despite the fact that she was fast becoming as fond of Noah as she had been of Selwyn, it was nightmarish trying to maintain Ray's cover with a reporter on board. But a fugitive was not the only secret the Goddess was harbouring. If Noah had been anyone but a member of the press, Tory wouldn't have thought twice about taking him on.

'I could do the written and photographic records of the expedition,' he suggested. 'I could even write book!'

'Whoa there!' Tory threw up both hands in defence.

'This may surprise you, Noah, but I don't really want the whole world knowing everything that happens on board this vessel. And just for the record, you didn't ask to use that photograph of me in your article either.'

'But it's a beautiful photograph.' Noah appealed to her vanity. 'You're a beautiful woman.' He curbed his enthusiasm, realising he had overstated his case already.

Tory supported her head, trying not to look amused.

'Flattery will get you nowhere, Purcel, and furthermore, you're missing the point.'

'I know,' he admitted, looking anywhere but at her.

'But you didn't strike me as the kind of woman who -'

'Who what?' Tory raised her eyebrows, intrigued to hear his impression of her.

'Who,' he paused, 'who would agree.' Noah shrugged.

'That's not what you were going to say.' Tory could sense that Noah was holding back something, and would have pursued the truth had Ray not entered all in a tizz.

'Tory. Have you seen th-' When Ray spotted Noah present, he took his beef straight to him. 'Rhiannon told me you used this photo of Tory in your article.'

'Yeah, it's a great photo.' Noah stated, on the verge of being irritated.

' A great photo! Are you kidding me? The lights all screwy or something.'

'What do you mean?' Noah grabbed the photograph, all offended.

'Pardon my saying so,' Ray glanced at Tory, 'but it makes her look like she's fifty.'

'Ray, I am fifty,' Tory lied. She was, in fact, closer to seventy.

'Yeah, but you hardly look thirty,' he announced.

'Really?' Tory stood up, fascinated by his dilemma.

'Noah, would you excuse us a moment. I'll get back to you on that other matter presently.'

'Sure.' Noah looked a little worried about Ray as he passed by him. Was this guy nuts or what?

Tory closed the door and turned to back to Ray.

'What's wrong with him?' Ray wanted to know.

'Don't you think it was a bad picture?'

This image Ray seemed to have of her had Tory curious. Besides Taliesin, Myrddin and Brian, who were themselves immortal, everyone else on this planet was supposed to see Tory as a fifty year old, for that was how she chose to be seen. 'Would you do me a favour, Ray, and I don't want you to misconstrue this as a come on, but would you describe how I look to you?'

'Ah, look.' Ray backed up. 'You're happily married, as everyone on board has gone to great pains to impress on me. I am also advised that you are a five times black belt in Tae-kwon-do. I think I'll pass.'

'Ray, Ray, Ray.' Tory shook her head, holding out her hands as she approached him. Ray, enchanted to have Tory's undivided attention for a change, let her take hold. 'Just a simple description is all I ask.'

She perceived a great flash of light, and then an image of herself appearing just as she saw herself.

'Hey, hold on.' Ray pulled away, holding a finger up in caution. 'I know what you're doing.'

'Ray, how did I look in your vision?'

'That's kind of personal don't you think, Mrs Thurlow?' Ray got all offended, thinking she was making sport of his feelings.

'Ray?' She smiled. 'I think I may have a clue as to how it was you escaped the ICA without being detected. Now, did this dream of your's in any way involve a fairy wood and a white shimmery dress.'

'It might have.' He scowled, sounding both astounded and annoyed.

'What else?' she hounded him.

'You were surrounded by a very bright light, which brought out the colour in your eyes.' Ray gazed down into them. 'It was windy, you were crying ...'

'Maelgwn,' she uttered, her heart pounding in her chest at the mere thought of him. These are his memories.

'Who?' Ray frowned, as the phone began to ring.

'Never mind.' She took the call. 'Hello. That's okay, who is it, Jen? The UN!' Tory's eyes shot straight to Ray, who went white. 'What do they want? Well, if they insist, you'd better put them on. Hello. This is she.'

Tory went pale suddenly. 'What kind of tragic occurrence? A heart attack!' Tory sank to a seat on the desk, tears building as her sorrow welled. 'Where is John Pearce? I see. Thank you.' Tory dropped the phone.

'Tory. What's happened?' Ray rushed to support her as he thought she might faint.

'Miles is dead.' Her voice went hoarse. 'Cardiac arrest, they said.'

Ray didn't know what to say as she fell sobbing into his arms. He hadn't known Tory's husband very well, and although to Ray this might seem like a fortunate turn of events, he hated to see her suffer. 'Is there anything I can do?'

Tory drew away from him abruptly, shutting off her emotions just like that. 'Yes, there is something you can do, if you would. Please find Rhiannon and send her to me.'

As soon as Ray opened his mouth to speak, a whimper slipped from Tory's lips. He decided to say nothing and just leave her to grieve in peace.