The Buccaneer Chronicles:

The Iytean Menace

First Edition

by Keith Dunn

artwork by Andy Simpkins

http://www.StaggeringStories.net/

This is the third story of The Buccaneer Chronicles first series. Other eBooks in this series, and more besides, are available free from the Staggering Stories website.

This eBook is copyright 2010 to Keith Dunn and Andy Simpkins and is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 licence (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/).

Got a knife to disengage the void I can't bear. To cut out words I've got written on my chair like...

During the glorious days of the Golden Jubilee of Her Royal Majesty, Queen Victoria, Empress of India, the Staggering Stories Dramatic Theatre humbly present an enthralling and eddifying adventure featuring the peripatetic peregrinations of the Time Lord known as The Buccaneer.

(No monies returned)

"Subtle enough, and horrible enough. When a doctor does go wrong, he is the first of criminals. He has the nerve and he has knowledge. Palmer and Pritchard were among the heads of their profession. This man strikes even deeper, but I think, Watson, that we will be able to strike deeper still. But we shall have horrors enough before the night is over."

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Part One - "Daisy, don't drown me this time."

Chapter One:
Of Time and Takeover Bids

The galactic hub, somewhere near the centre of the Milky Way galaxy. Here the stars are packed so tight that even moonless planets experience nights that are moon bright, with a sky full of stars.

The planets in this sector were among the first to spawn intelligent life, it’s now healed by the Gamell Homogeny, a loose affiliation of worlds that have banded together for mutual protection. On their star charts this area of space is called sector 3102. But many still call the sector by its old name; Kasterberous, after the mythical Hero who was also known as the Fibster. There are still a few planets that remain independent of the homogeny, Sotus for example deals with lesser cultures, but likes to maintain a policy of genial neutrality. In another system nearby, the planet Karn is a blasted world whose population is spread across its surface and barely reaches 2000. Nobody has any interest in it, nobody goes there. Farther out in the system the gas giant Polarfrey moves with stately grace through its orbit. Then there is planet 113#4; a force wall that blocks any landings on its surface surrounds it. Any surveillance satellites put in orbit are destroyed utterly even unto their shadow and a polite requested to be left alone is sent via the Sot’m embassy. On the older star maps the planet is listed as Gallifrey, but the name and all it implies has long since past to legend.

The large room could only be described as a high tech office but in a Victorian style. Leather bound data tablets and info wafers were stored behind the oak desk. Holo projectors displayed information flat or in 3D above the desk. Standing in one corner dumped on a hat and coat stand were the regalia of the President of Gallifrey. She was sat at the desk, as with any government job the cosmos over the paperwork was the killer. Her golden hair was long and worn lose over her shoulders and for those times when she didn’t need to ware a public face, she wore a simple muslin shirt and slacks.

The door opened and the Lord Chancellor bustled in. He gave his embodied robes of office a yank to get them past the heavy door, shuffled over and placed a stack of info wafers on the deck. The Lady President looked up, “My Lord Chancellor, what’s the latest evaluation on the situation?”

Fishing out the correct wafer he slipped it in to the slot in the desk and a new screen opened above it, he also gave a verbal report, “As you can see the disturbance is growing and has already risen two points on the Boca scale since it was first detected.”

“Are there any operatives involved”?

“Just one. His bio data is listed. You may find it…interesting.”

The Chancellor pointed to the relevant section of the data and the Lady President had to check it twice before her brain registered, “ Well I’ve never heard of him or his house! I’ll have to investigate it further. Hmm… tricky. Activate a hazard team, inform them to just observe and formulate a response.”

Another region of deep space, rim ward of the galactic hub known on many galactic charts as Mutter’s Spiral. There is at this time in its history an unrecognised yellow sun known as Sol. Its inhabitants call the third planet in the system Earth. It is some decades into an industrial revelation. At this point in its history most of the planet is claimed by one small country on the northern hemisphere and any of the inhabitants of this country will tell you that “The sun will never set on the British Empire”.

The sewers spread for miles under the city of London, under every building Bannister had told him that “Didn’t know when the digging’s been this ‘ard” Jenkins complained. He was an agile, quick, almost bird like little man in a coarse workman clothing, somewhere in his mid twenties. Setting down his shovel, he removed his grubby bowler hat, produced a large red handkerchief and mopped his brow “Yer sure a bout yer ruddy map mate?”

His partner scowled in to the flickering light of the lantern “Shut up and dig you bloody fool!” He answered, his voice menacing and even. “Another fifty feet and we’ll be right under the bank”. In an undertone he added "Damned Cockney fool!”

“I ‘erd that” Jenkins said cheerfully. “Don’t go swearing at me, Jack Bannister. Or do yer want to dig yer own bleedin ‘ole?” He took up the shovel again and started once more, whistling as he dug. Making his taller, darker partner angrier then ever.

Bannister’s bearded face grimaced as he pulled back on the pick and attacked the surface of the tunnel ahead with renewed, savage determination. After a few minutes silence Bannister put his pick to one side with a grunt.

“This ones about full. You keep digging, Bert while I drag it back to the sewer line.”

“Right-o guv’ner”

Suiting his actions to his words, Bannister begin man handling the earth filled basket back down the narrow irregular dug tunnel, while Jenkins kept shovelling spadefull’s of dirt.

Suddenly his shovel struck a solid barrier, with a jarring clang, “Bleeding rocks!”

Jenkins tried another spot higher up, with the same result, and then a third. Finally he straightened up to his full, yet diminutive height, leaned on his shovel rubbing his back and muttering to him self, now less cheerfully, “Bit of a big one that!”

“Damn you Jenkins, if you keep stopping we’ll never get through!” Bannister said angrily, coming up behind him.

“T’aint my fault yer precious route runs up against some big rock”.

“Well dig around it then” Bannister ordered

“I already tried that, Jack” Jenkins voice was taking on a whining note.

“Garn on with yer, you make me sick” Bannister growled He pushed Jenkins out of the way and grabbed the pick, struck several blows. He stopped, staring down dumbfounded at the blunted end of the pick. He then started in again this time digging slowly and carefully until the barrier was exposed in the flickering lantern light. Then he took a critical look “This ain't no rock. Look its metal, like one of those ironclad battle ships in the docks”.

Jenkins pitched in to help enlarge the hole, “Look ‘ere Jack! There’s n ‘ole down ‘ere” He pointed to the twisted metal that bent inwards near the bottom of their tunnel.

Bannister considered for a moment “Lets dig it out. I don’t know what it is, but I want to find out!”

“Ant no reason for one o yer ironclads to be underneath Oxford street” Jenkins protested.

Bannister just glared at him “Dig out that hole!”

While Jenkins hesitated, Bannister continued, “Look all this metal must be made to keep something out. Maybe it’s a hidden vault of some kind.”

The Cockneys easy grin returned, "Well why didnchur say so first time? I bet yer roight… I bet there’s probably gold n silver n jools buried down there”.

The two of them went back to work, more eager than before “Ant no vault n that’s a fact”. Jenkins said an hour later as the two of them held their lanterns high and looked around them. The hole now revealed to be a huge rent in the large metal wall was behind them now. While before them was a vast darkened chamber filled with strange shapes. Even the odour from the sewers that wafted down their tunnels smelled less foul and stuffy in this room. Neither Jenkins nor Bannister liked the empty watchfulness of this that seamed to surround them in this room.

Bannister, trying to show he wasn’t as frightened as Jenkins by this strange place, was moving, slowly further in to the room, until he came to a wide curved console standing at almost chest height. Glass covered gauges and dials reflected the light of the lantern as he examined it. When he rested his hands on it he could feel a very slight but constant vibration. Come to think of it, the metal floor that had echoed loudly beneath them had a certain vibration, throbbing with hidden energy. As he looked down at the console his eyes came to rest on a small object that seamed to be held in place by an odd metal clamp. He spoke softly but nevertheless his voice echoed loudly round the chamber “Hey Bert, come and look at this”.

Jenkins joined him, his eyes darting everywhere “Wot is it Jack?”

Bannister fumbled with the clasps for a moment then removed the slender glass-like rod from the panel

“I don’t know… But it ain’t come from around here. It don’t look like nothing I ever seen before.”

He turned it over in his hands thoughtfully “Wot kind of place is this”? Jenkins’s demanded.

Bannister didn’t answer right away: His eyes focused on something far off, beyond the darkness, he spoke softly “I wonder, I wonder… Bert you remember that French fellow I told you about – that chap Verne?”

“The one with the balloons and that boat that went underwater and things? Wot about im?”

“He wrote about ships that could travel to the moon and back too!” There was silence. “Don’t you see Bert? This is a place relay is some kind of Ironclad, but not a boat, its another kind of ship, for travelling to other planets!”

Jenkins face showed scorn and disbelief “But who can do that? And wot’s it doing under the Capital and Counties Bank? Talk sense, Jack!”

Bannister shock his head slowly “Look around you Bert, this wasn’t built on Earth! I’ll bet it was buried here for a long, long time, as long as London’s been here maybe. But it didn’t come from Earth”.

“You mean it’s from the Moon, Jack?”

“Maybe so” Bannister said.

“Wot do we do about it then?”

Bannister smiled “If there’s more of this stuff around…” He held up the thin rod in his hand “Then we’ll get rich from it, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll sell junk from this place to any one who will pay. We’re the only ones who will know about this thing, and we’ll make a fortune selling gadgets and stuff.”

Jenkins grinned “Wot a notion! Wot an idea! There’s all sorts a’ rich folks just luv to collect useless stuff. Yer rioght jack!”

“All right then, lets look around for some more and see what else we can find, that we can take out tonight and sell off.”

Jenkins started to turn away, and then swung back suddenly “Yer don’t think any of theses moon men people to stop us, do yer Jack?”

“Ho come on Bert. I told you this thing must have been here for years. Since before this city was built. They’ll be long dead by now. Don’t worry about it”.

It knew time had gone by. Even a stasis pod only slowed down the flow of time, but didn’t halt it completely. But something was wrong, the trip to Prime world would not take as long as this. It should not have noticed the passage of time at all on such a short trip, outside centuries must have past. For it, many cycles had past since its last host had been killed and the monitors had taken it. Many cycles without food, without senses almost without life, only a miracle would free it now. The flicker in the smooth flow of awareness, so many cycles past must have been a crash or an explosion. The ship's crew must be long dead, but the ships power cells would maintain the stasis pod until the end of time and it would perish of multiply depravations long be for that.

Bert Jenkins set his lantern down on another console and squinted in to the gloom. It was the fourth room that he had explored and the strangeness of the dark circular, metallic world weighed heavily on him. He wished Bannister was with him, but Bannister had insisted that they explore their discovery separately. His patronising tone still echoed in his memories

“We’ll find more to cart off by morning if we look separately, Bert”.

Maybe Jack Bannister wasn’t afraid of the ship from the moon, but Jenkins was, all these strange shapes, and metal walls, doors to big and shelves to high off the ground. Jenkins hated the place and wanted to be done with it. But Bannister had said they would be rich. Jenkins had been working for Bannister for a long time now, making money and Bannister’s schemes had nearly always paid off.

Reluctantly, Jenkins took his lantern again resolving to trust his friend as he had so many times before, and kept searching for small removable pieces to sell. He was however to nervous to notice the button of the lantern had banged against a large button set in to the console until it was too late. Behind the console was a great spherical shell of dull grey metal, taller than a man and perfectly round. As Jenkins turned around, there was a noise that made him spin back and gasp. The sphere moved, the walls of it rolled back and slid down until only the bottom half remained. Jenkins stayed rooted to the spot in object terror, breath coming in short gasps, until gradually realising that nothing more was going to happen. Nothing had jumped out of the opening to attack him; nothing else moved or happened around him. All he saw was where the sphere had been was a shape like a shallow bowel within. The remaining half of the globe, a bowel that seemed to contain a small pool of liquid at the very centre.

“Wot’s this then?”

He took a few slow, cautious steps towards he bowl, raising his lantern higher to try and see what was inside. It seamed that the liquid within, more like thick oil than water was rippling somehow. But he wasn’t sure if it was real or just the flickering of the lantern light. He set the lantern down on the edge of the bowl and leaned forward to see better, placing a hand on the inner surface of the shallow depression. Quicker than the eye could follow the oily liquid moved, before Jenkins could react, it flowed up the side of the bowl and engulfed his hand. Jenkins found that he could not move even though he desperately wanted to scream and run. All he could do was watch as the strange liquid pooled around his hand, then thickened in to a slime jelly but at the same time dwindled before his terrified eyes.

Freedom! The pod was opening up and when the walls had slid apart, the cycles of slow time had ended at last. It sensed that sweet life was nearby. Now it must feed once more, and see and act, as it had not been able to do for so long. Though it could not see or hear in any way that we would understand it. Helpless as it was without a host, it could sense the presence and movement of life that was near it. It knew that this life was intelligent, but not giving the usual double aura of life that told of one of its own was riding an unintelligent host. If centuries had really passed outside the pod then the monitors that had caught it were long dead and this life was some other species that had found the ship. It would claim this life for its own. The sensations it makes would be glorious; it didn’t feel bound by the laws of its peers or the monitors. Now nothing could stand in its way. It sent out a feeler and encounter an appendage, it immediately jammed its neural net. Then gathered itself, slowly working its way into the pours in the aliens dermal layer. It entered its new host. As it distributed its three pounds of proto plasma thought the hosts body it probed the beings mind. Primitive, ignorant and stupid. But with a wealth of sensations, it was free. All that remained was to see if the host was subject to control and … the change. It probed, tightened its grip on the mind and body … and Bert Jenkins screamed in anguish.

He was still screaming when Bannister found him five minutes later.

Chapter Two:
Of Gods and Godlike

Two years later...

It was a bright autumn morning, the busy streets of London carried on as normal. It had grown naturally through the centuries so the streets had an almost organic feel to them, twisting and turning, ending in courtyards and dead ends. In one of these small off-branching roads, a distant bleeping started. It was rapidly joined by a wheezing, groaning sound, rather like an elephant in labour. It grew in volume, with the noise a dependable blue shape faded in to a solid. With a loud bang the dark blue telephone police box settled as if at rest. After a few moments a small blonde haired female stepped out, her round face a vision of pure joy, her hair was cut short in a boyish stile. She wore riding boots over tight jeans and a white and blue checked blouse. But a body warmer circa 1980's hid all this and a man's rain mac and hat that were popular in the 1930's. Her strong round face was looking around, her blue/ grey eyes taking every thing in, breathing the not so sweet London air

"Its always great to return to home and hearth".

Blanche turned round to round to regard her travelling companions. One was Cre'at of Sot'm. He was a floating metal head, which was roughly drum shaped with a metal face, spiky beard and mirrored sunglass like eyes. He was also equipped with a head cannon for defensive purposes and extendable arms where his ears should have been. Of course given the time period he had at Macfadyan's insistence adopted one of his cunning disguises - well, he thought they were cunning. As yet, no one had had the heart to tell him they were a bit rubbish. This was no exception, despite the amount of effort that he had taken in preparing it. A small steam engine furnace had been attached to his back, complete with smoke and steam, with a small zeppelin shaped balloon full of helium (It was that or he hung a cardboard body beneath him and pretended nothing was wrong).

The other figure to emerge from the Police Box was Lord Macfadyan otherwise known as the Buccaneer (only Blanche called him that and much to her enjoyment it annoyed him intensely). He wore bucket boots, black trousers, and white shirt with balloon sleeves, sapphire blue waistcoat and large stylised overcoat. He would have been a fashion hit in the 1980's. He was continuing a conversation that had started in the TARDIS

"I don't mind it being in there, I just object to left in the middle of the console room. I mean I don't mind how many candles you have just put them back after you. Oh, and perhaps a slightly less depressing colour than black, hmm?" Macfadyan turned back to lock the TARDIS doors, noting the shape. Blanche noticed it at about the same time,

"Wots that supposed to be?" but Macfadyan had already tuned her out. He had noticed something on top of the Police Box in place of the lamp. It was a CCTV enclosure.

"No, no, no! That's a nineteen nineties Police Box, we're in the Victorian era, you silly ship!" he said. Then he remembered Blanche's question. "This is a London Police Box. They were all the rage once."

"Well I'm from London how come I've never seen one? "

Cre'at went in to lecture mode,

* The first Police Box was constructed in 1929. The TARDIS exterior is modelled after a design that was introduced in the late 20th early 21st century. We are currently located in the 19th century * He was completely oblivious of Macfadyan's slowly reddening face. The Time Lord made a flapping gesture with his hands in exasperation.

"Shall we go? After all, this is your test Blanche!"

With an impudent smile Blanche set off.

"Yeah, come on Mr Balloon" with joy she mouthed the words as Cre'at said them

* Not balloon. Sot'm! *

With a flourish Macfadyan conjured up a pocket watch

"Right my child, we commence your test... Now, what's the first thing we have to worry about hmm?"

"The ben-o-thingey-whatsit. Wot's the year, 1885? I'm already here, if I see myself I shouldn't touch or otherwise ZAPP! You take me home in an urn. No problem there, around this time I was running with the gang around Cheap side". The party moved off in to the morning sunshine, with Blanche pointing out places of interest.

They spent the entire morning in and around greater London, with Blanche pointing out places that was important to her personal history. The afternoon was spent looking at London's great museums (with the curator of the science museum wanting to buy Cre'at).

It was early evening before Macfadyan noticed some thing was wrong. They were in Regent's park feeding the Ducks on a loaf of bread that Blanche had produced. Macfadyan did a double take, looked from the loaf to Blanche's innocent face, then to the black Gladstone bag down at her feet,

"Alright Blanche, where did you get that!"

"Get wot?" came the innocent reply.

"Alright, just what have you nicked?"

After a few moments she had a small pile of lose coins, pencils, note books, pocket watches and sandwiches wrapped up in wax paper. But the look of innocence hadn't slipped from her face.

"It's not my fault, you told me to act natural!"

Macfadyan bent down to retrieve the black Gladstone bag and opened it, noting that it was monogrammed R.L.S. He clicked the clasp, pulled it open and rummaged inside. There was a history book on the south seas and one on the Barberry coast, a map of the same area a couple of note books full of spidery hand written notes, a few letters and a paper. Blanch snatched up the paper and opened it up

"Great! As we're here can we go see a show? I enjoyed that last time sitting among all the toffs".

"This won't do at all Blanche, we are going to take all this stuff to the local police station. Are you listing to me Blanche?" He looked at Blanche, who had her head buried in the paper ignoring him. Reaching up he snatched the paper from her unsuspecting fingers. The headlines screamed at him about another hideous murder in the east end. Macfadyan started to mutter to himself.

"It's to early for the Ripper and we got in to one hell of a mess with Aberline last time. We dealt with Springheal Jack last time we were here, though with the temporal deviation that was involved his shade will be giving people the whiles for a few decades yet".

He folded the paper up to hand back to Blanche when he noticed the advert on the back page "Colonel Malcolm Fraser presents a demonstration of Atlantian artefacts at the Montifure hall on the 27th of October". It also included a line drawing of two pistol like weapons. In that moment Macfadyan froze, Blanche looked at him slightly concerned.

"That's not right!"

"Wot's wrong?"

"Well if this illustration is correct than that's a type six neural stunner and that's not right at all. No, no, no". Macfadyan gazed in concern at the advert, while Blanche started to scoop things up and started to stuff them back in to her pockets. Macfadyan seemed to come to life with a start, looking at Blanche he handed over the Gladstone bag "Yes that's it Blanche, you take all this stuff back to the TARDIS, we'll deal with it later. Cre'at and I are going to pay a visit to the offices of the Chronicle to see if we can find out just where this Colonel Fraser lives". He looked at Blanches smiling face for a few moments,

"On second thoughts, no we'll all go back to the TARDIS, then on to the paper!" He looked up at Cre'at, who had been sky writing his name in smoke much to the delight of the surrounding children. No one could understand it because it was in binary but it entertained them non-the less. Macfadyan groaned when he saw this.

"Come along Cre'at, stock your furnace the game is afoot".

They spent a frustrating half an hour in the offices of the Chronicle with Macfadyan trying to brow beat the editor into giving them the Colonel's address by pretending to be from the ministry. It finished with a fifteen minute shouting match, after which Blanche bundled them out of the building.

They were walking down towards Portman Square; Macfadyan was still seething

"Of all the small minded, parochial arrogance. You would think that the small minded little ape would have done anything to help Queen and country. I've half a mind to nip back and loop his time stream! Where are you two going?"

* Colonel Malcolm Fraser's house, Twenty-three Portman square. *

"And you know its Colonel Fraser's house do you?"

* While you where yelling at the smelly, ink stained primitive, Blanche extracted the information from the human's primitive paper file."

Macfadyan just glared at Blanche, who smiled demurely back at him.

They arrived at number twenty three at about six o'clock with the gas lamps being lit by men with long poles, as night started to fall with a vengeance. It was a town house that was starting to turn to seed. The iron railings needed a lick of paint; the garden boxes were begging to look over grown. They walked up the short steps and Macfadyan rapped on the door. It was opened after a few minuets by a crusty grey butler, who looked at them as if they had just dumped a pile of manure on his doorstep.

"Can I help you ... Sir?"

Macfadyan looked at the Butler.

"Ah yes, my man go tell your master that Lord Macfadyan is here to see him". The Butler just looked at him

"I see... Sir and the Colonel is expecting you sir?"

Macfadyan looked smug

"The Colonel should have received my card by this morning's post". At this the Butler's smile increased.

I'm sorry... Sir but we have received no such card, good evening".

Macfadyan grabbed the door before the butler could close it and spoke earnestly to the butler

"Listen to me its important that I talk to Colonel Fraser about the Atlantian artefacts. I'm attached to the Royal society, I assure you that this is very, very important". The butler looked long and hard at Macfadyan, then,

"Very well, your lordship, madam and... head?"

* Cre'at. *

"I see, sir. If you would care to wait in the study, I shall inform the Colonel you are here".

Colonel Malcolm Fraser was hunched over his writing desk in the drawing room making meticulous notes in a leather bound book. He had greying haired with a military bearing, dressed in reserved clothing of the period (with the colour black predominating). His complexion spoke of someone who had spent most of his adult life in Africa or the West Indies putting down the natives. His movements hinted at some long-term illness that had probably been picked up at the same place. He was an old warhorse who against his best efforts was slowly fading away.

There was a knock at the door. Fraser's waxed moustache twitched in annoyance. He put down his pen, leaned back and in a gravely voice barked

"Come".

The Butler slipped into the darkened room

"I'm sorry to disturb you sir but there is a 'gentleman' to see you".

"As you well know, Carlshaw, we are not at home to visitors".

"Yes sir but this gentleman claims to be from the Royal society".

"Claims? Do you think the fellows lying?"

Carlshaw pondered the question for a few minuets

"It's not my position to judge sir but he is in the company of a rather disreputable young lady. You can see her calculating the price of the fixtures and fittings. However a mechanical contrivance in the shape of a large metal floating head also accompanies him. Also, he has no eyebrows!"

Grabbing his cane Fraser struggled to get up

"A metal head you say? Well if there from the Royal Society they can't be any worse than those dullards from the ministry. Lets go and see them".

Macfadyan looked around the study. Like the out side of the house standards were beginning to slip. The surfaces hadn't been dusted for some time. He turned round to his companions

"We need to know where these anachronistic weapons come from. Fraser is our only lead so far, so its best you let me do all the talking. It needs some one of my lightness of touch to bring him round. Blanche no sticky fingers if you please and Cre'at he will have eyebrows and they are not detachable, so don't offer to remove them. That's what got us thrown out of the editors office".

* Incorrect. The ink stained, smelly humanoid was already belligerent before I offered to remove his eyebrows. *

Macfadyan crossed to the door and opened it, gazing up and down the hall

"Either way, just don't do it!" He saw a flicker of movement from the darkness near the top of the stairs. He peered up in to the gloom to determine what it was. A young woman, some where between sixteen and twenty-one sat at the top step, wrapped up in one of those flowing Victorian dresses, listening intently. Macfadyan frowned and closed the door.

Within moments Carlshaw opened the door again and Fraser puffed his way into the room. He was the wrong side of sixty-eight and the years had not been kind to him. He peered almost myopically in to the gloom of the study, eyes widening at the sight of Cre'at

"Good grief! What is it?"

Macfadyan leaped up from the chair he was sprawled in.

"It's an invention, its clockwork, aren't you, Cre'at?" He delved in to his pockets to pull out a large silver butterfly shaped key and waved it under Fraser's nose.

"Show the nice colonel your clockwork Cre'at". Cre'at stopped floating around the room to look at Macfadyan for a few moments then turned to Fraser and said

* Tick, tock, tick tock. * in a totally unconvincing fashion. Macfadyan groaned.

" Er yes, um, sorry." He said, sheepishly. Not at all convinced Fraser hobbled to one of the chairs and lowered himself in to it

"Now how can I help you sir?"

"Lord Macfadyan of the Royal society". At this Colonel Fraser straightened up in his chair slightly.

"What can we do for you Lord Macfadyan?"

"If its not too much trouble we would like to take a look at the Atlantian artefacts".

Fraser's face took on a cautious tone.

"And why would you want to examine the artefacts?"

"Well as you can see I' am something of an inventor and I was wondering if we could reproduce them."

Fraser narrowed his eyes,

"And what would you do with that knowledge sir?"

"Nothing, nothing at all, Information is the means to an end in itself."

Still staring wearily at him Fraser passed a bunch of keys to Carlshaw

"From the top shelf I think Carlshaw".

With a mutter of confirmation he disappeared out the door. Macfadyan leaned forward to land the fish.

"If you don't mind me asking how did you come across such items?"

Fraser seemed to regain some of his composure

"It is well known that I am in the trade for such curios. A ruff rogue approached me by the name of Jack Bannister, owner of an import company." At that moment Carlshaw came back in with what look like stylised dulling pistols and at Fraser's request laid it on a low table. Macfadyan fished in his pocket and pulled out his jeweller's eyepiece. Fixing it in place, it gave a small electronic whirl as the lenses came in to focus.

"Well, What do you make of this Cre'at?"

The Sot'm floated closer, * It is too big for a body ornament! *

Macfadyan shot him an ugly look

* However the particle decay in the energy sources indicate great age somewhere in the excess of one billion years. *

Fraser snorted at this,

"I think your toy has thrown a sprocket. It's a scientific fact that the planet Earth has only been in existence for no more than a thousand years before the birth of Christ".

Cre'at looked up. The Colonel heard a faint sound of warping metal. If he had been able to see Cre'at's face he would have seen the Sot'm give Macfadyan a slight, yet wicked grin.

* A religious primitive smelling of burnt vegetable matter. *

Macfadyan pinched the top of his nose and sighed.

"You just can't let things go can you?"

They were walking back to where the TARDIS had landed. They were almost there, and Macfadyan hadn't said a word on the way back. Instead he was not so silently fuming to him self. As the ship came in sight he finally turned to Cre'at,

"You couldn't let it lie! You just have to educate these lesser primitives, don't you?"

* To let them continue in dangerous ignorance is an error. *

"And now thanks to you we've lost our only source of information."

Blanche couldn't stand the unnecessary blasting that Cre'at was getting

"Actually Buccaneer..."

Macfadyan seemed to wince at this. However Blanche continued,

"The Colonel seemed to enjoy what he called an intellectual discussion with an analytical thinking machine. It was your laughing when he said the reason the dinosaurs died out was because they couldn't fit on the ark that upset him."

Macfadyan unlocked the door of the ship and waved everybody inside with an angry flick of his hand. Cre'at floated over to the console while Blanche announced to the world in general that she was going to make a cup of hot chocolate. Macfadyan glared in fierce anger at the collection of four candles that had appeared in the corners of the room. Dribbles of solidified wax have cascaded down the side of the holders like moments frozen in time.

A burbling sound from the console brought him out his contemplation. Cre'at was typing at the console

"What are you doing to my ship, hmm, Sot'm?"

Without looking round Cre'at replied.

* A keyboard, how quaint! I am using the data banks to research some information. I think I recognised something about the energy weapon the burnt weed smelling human showed us. But then, when you reach our age you always recognise some thing. *

"True, very true." replied the Time Lord.

The air above the console blurred and a light brown tube about ten centimetres long slipped into reality then began to unravel like a parchment.

* The isotope decay indicates Iytean technology. *

"Iytean? Never heard of them "

* Their civilisation was destroyed in one of the first Rutan / Sontaran engagements. It is all listed in your copy of 'Sinister Slurping' a paper on the Iytean civilisation by Professor B. Summerfield, Della University Press, 2597 *

There was a few moments silence as they both absorbed the information displayed in the virtual scroll. Blanche ambled back in drinking hot chocolate from a mug that was designed to be held by something with two thumbs on each hand. It was a rare, peaceful moment.

Then someone knocked on the door.

Part Two - You see he didn't believe in himself, or the world, or anything he heard.

Chapter Three:
The Beast Comes A Calling...

Everyone stopped and stared at the ships double doors in shocked silence. In the gap of quiet that followed that followed there was another rap at the door

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

Macfadyan scowled at Blanche, slammed down the door lever and watched as the great doors swung open, then stalked through them.

The fog was gathering as Macfadyan stuck his head out of the TARDIS doors. In front of him was the young lady he saw hiding at the top of the stairs at Colonel Fraser's house. In the gaslight she looked about seventeen. Her long brown hair had been piled up in to a demure bun and a lavender hat had been pined at a fashionably rakish angle on top. The hat matched the colour of the jacket and off set the cream, white and gold of the wide flowing dress, that for some reason reminded Macfadyan of the Millennium dome (circa 1999). Just peeking out of one sleeve was a monogrammed hanky.

"Yes can I help you? Though I am a very busy man, societies to visit, plans to foil, villains to vanquish."

"Eyebrows to grow."

"Yes thank you Blanche, now get back inside. Well come along Miss Fraser out with it."

"How did you ..?"

"Oh its all very simple when you know what to look for but as I said I'm a busy man!"

With a shifty grin Blanche said

"Don't mind him love he's in a bit of a snit. Why don't yer come inside, sit down and explain yerself."

Macfadyan turned to give Blanche a piece of his mind when Miss Fraser slipped past him in to the ship. With a cry of anguish he shot in after her.

He found her just beyond the double doors looking around taking everything in, the roundels, the console, the candles, the arches, the grove, the rock pool and waterfall.

"Oh my. Its bigger on the inside!"

She promptly collapsed. Macfadyan turned on Blanche

"You did that deliberately!"

"Well she was a Toff, all hoi paloy, didn't expect that to happen though."

* The primitive female is broken? Shall we clone her now? *

Macfadyan made a shushing motion. Blanche looked up from her examination of Miss Fraser.

"Nah, she just fainted, typical of a toff, I'll get some brandy".

Macfadyan bent over her to take her pulse, not trusting Blanche.

"Nonsense Blanche, what she needs is hot, strong, sweet tea, just the thing for shock".

Blanche muttered a reply.

"Not for her, for me!"

"You need it even less. I've heard quite enough about the little goblin thank you very much."

He lifted the vile of green powder up to the light, there was perhaps enough for three or four more drafts of the solution left. He would have to procure some more if he wanted to proceed. He could return to where he got the last supply to see if they had any more but he needed to find where the source was located.

'When we find the ship we can synthesise much more'

He didn't know where that thought came from. It was happening more and more, thoughts spoken in a blubbering voice that was not his own, arching across his mind. It had started soon after he had started taking the solution. There could be manifest dangers in any side effects and perhaps he should stop taking this stuff. He looked at the beaker of milky white liquid that sat cooling on the bench. He looked at it long and hard, the sweat beading on his forehead and upper lip. His resolve was firm; he would throw the latest batch of solution away, along with what was left of the green powder chemical. He walked unsteadily to the lab sink and turned on both taps. As the twinjets of water blasted down he stood and watched them for countless minuets. Then in one fluid motion turned back to the bench, grabbed the beaker and drank the contents in two gulps. He then tottered to the corner of the lab and dropped boneless in to the armchair that sat there. Already a warm glow was spreading through him, his extremities were beginning to tingle and his skin was started to feel tight. As his thoughts were starting to loose cohesion, the strange bubbling hypnotic voice was back

"First we will look through Jellico's notes, then we will look for Caruthers!"

Macfadyan regarded Julia Fraser, as she lay sprawled in his favourite armchair. She shouldn't have had such a violent reaction on entering the ship, probable a latent emphatic element to her genetic makeup. He lent forwarded and lightly slapped her face

"Miss Fraser, your tea is getting cold".

It was almost as if a switch had been pulled and she started to gather herself.

After a few moments she started to speak. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you at, er, home, Lord Macfadyan, but I overheard your conversation with grandfather and I think you can help him."

Macfadyan narrowed his eyes, "Help him? In what way?"

"He has been collecting these 'Atlantean artefacts' for about two years. Everything was fine until about a few months ago when grandfather was examining one that fired a beam of light that destroyed another piece in his collection. Since then he became obsessed with the possibilities of the power of these weapons. He has dismissed nearly all the staff on the most flimsy of excuses, maintaining that anyone could have been spies for foreign governments."

Macfadyan made a sour noise at the back of his throat,

"If you'll forgive my indulgence? How did your grandfather come by these artefacts in the first place?"

"He was contacted by two scoundrels, Jack Bannister and Bert Jenkins. A couple of boarder line criminals if ever I saw them!"

Macfadyan frowned inwardly to himself,

"Yes at least one of these people is already known to me. But what I do have to ask is who put them in contact with your grandfather?"

"That would have been grandfathers one time friend, Lord Reginald Caruthers"

"One time friend? Did they have some kind of falling out?"

"About a month ago Lord Caruthers suffered a break in, in which some of his more exotic items were stolen. For a time Lord Caruthers believed grandfather was responsible and they have not spoken since".

Macfadyan came to a decision,

"Thank you Miss Fraser, you have been very helpful". Well, for a pathetic human, that is, he thought.

"Please call me Julia, Lord Macfadyan. You do promise to help me, don't you? We must do what we can to save grandfather from himself."

"I assure you I promise to do my best to see your grandfather out of this dark path safely, Miss Fraser." With a wave of his hand he sent Blanche out to get a hansom cab for Julia.

"If you can think of anything more or anything else happens don't hesitate to get in contact."

Blanche stomped back into the room,

"Her holiness's cab is waiting".

Macfadyan escorted her out muttering a few more platitudes to calm her fears. He strolled back in to the console room and announced,

"Its too late to call on Caruthers tonight. We will do it first thing in the morning. You may as well get some sleep Blanche."

"Yes, oh glorious leader!" Blanche stalked out of the console room

"That girl is really beginning to get unbearable. Right Cre'at We are going to pop back a few weeks and drop off a few... What are they called erm, small pieces of paper?" He flounded for a second, searching for the correct name. "Business cards! We won't get caught out like this morning!" He began setting co ordinates on the console.

The lock on the French windows shattered easily. It pushed them open and stepped into the room. There had been changes since the last time it had been here; things were no longer kept on open display. It walked round to one of the locked cabinets, grasping the handle, with one savage pull ripped it off its hinges. Roman pottery and Tibetan prier bowls fell out, to smash to pieces on the ground.

At that point the dominant male of the house burst in through the door

"What the deuce is going on here?"

His jacket was off and shirt collar was undone in preparation for his sleep ritual and its search had disturbed him. It spun round to face the human, who drew back slightly when faced with some thing intrinsically alien. It brought round the heavy brass handled walking stick in a sweeping motion that connected with the joint in the human's knee. It revelled in the sound of crunching bones and pleasure in the scream that escaped from the human's lips. As his ruined leg could no longer hold him and he collapsed to the floor.

It reached for him, but hesitated. This was not like the last times, it was not here to satisfy its own bloodlust and hunger, and it needed information. It had to hurry; it could already hear the other occupancy of the house stirring. Quickly it crossed the room, closed and locked the door. Crossing back to the prone and lonely finger on the floor. Its voice bubbling in its thought

"Where are the ampoules of JM3?"

When it got no response it reached out to grasp the shattered joints, to apply pressure, making the broken bones grind together. The human shouted his response that he didn't know what he was talking about.

"The ampoules of green powder. Are they still here, have you bought any more?"

Another prod brought forth a scream of "NO".

It executed a hard punch to the chest that broke three ribs.

"Wrong answer!"

Raising its hand to strike again, it asked,

"Where is the patrol vessel?"

"The what?"

The slap of the hand broke the bone in the check.

"Wrong answer! Where is the patrol vessel?"

"I... I don't know where this vessel is"

The next blow broke three ribs on the other side of his chest

"Where are the humans Jenkins and Bannister?"

"I don't know!"

By this time other people had reached the door to the study and were trying to force it open.

"Wrong answer!"

This blow fractured the human skull.

"Where are the humans Jenkins and Bannister?"

"WHERE ARE THE HUMANS JENKINS AND BANNISTER?"

TO BE CONTINUED...

Chapter Four:
"Hot in the city, hot in the city, tonight!"

Macfadyan was feeling quite pleased with himself as he watched the central rotor slow to a stop. That was six hours well spent and what's more, six hours without Blanche!

He had nipped back about two weeks local time sent off the introduction cards to the relative people. Found out who Lord Curruthers was, (M.P. for Noorward and regional district). Taken in a show and had finished with a very fine dinner at the Royal Society. He had just returned the ship to its starting point when Blanche yawned her way through the inner doors just wearing one of his old shirts (one of those disgustingly loud numbers his previous self used to ware).

Slapping a hand over his eyes as if he had been blinded Macfadyan bellowed,

"My eyes have been soiled! Take that thing off and put some proper clothes on child, we've got work to do. I, myself, need to wash my eyes. I cannot believe that I used to wear such disgusting apparell!"

Padding away grumbling, Blanche did as she was bid, Macfadyan then thumbed the internal intercom and called Cre'at to the console room.

Some ten minuets later he was locking the outer doors.

"Can't you smell that crisp autumn air? I think this is going to be a short little escapade, then we can get on with the rest of your test Blanche!"

* All I can detect is burnt flouro-carbons! *

MacFadyan gave Cre'at a sour look, and walked out into the main street proper to signal for a cab. They passed a paper vendor on the corner who was shouting the headlines to the world in general. Blanche ideally read the billboards as Macfadyan tried to attract a cab.

"Who is it we are going to see?"

"Oh please try and keep up child. Its Lord Reginald Curruthers, M.P."

Blanche steered MacFadyan round so he could see the billboard just as the vendor started shouting again,

"Extra, extra read all about it Lord Curruthers found murdered in cold blood in own home".

"Oh, Ploppy the Yak!"

There was a constable stationed outside the door, outwardly the only sign anything was wrong. The range finder picked up party as they exited the hansom cab. The heads up display giving details of the distance and angle of the shot. It followed them to the house with the policeman on the door and watched while Macfadyan argued with the man.

"And you say that your expected sir?"

Macfadyan looked up at the policeman standing on the step, blocking the entrance

"Yes, that's right Comfortable. Lord Macfadyan and party from the Royal society."

The constable wasn't buying any of it

"The family has just suffered a sudden death. I don't think that they're up to seeing any on at the moment sir!"

"That's very good, very astute of you Comfortable, very forward thinking. Who is your superior officer, is he here and can I speak to him, it is important?"

The constable paused for a few moments looking at each of them in turn

"If you will wait here 'sir'".

And went inside for a few moments.

A small be-whiskered man appeared on the doorstep. He wore a faded bowler hat, tan coloured over coat and a faded suit. He peered up at Macfadyan,

"What's this?What's all this shouting? We'll have no trouble here!"

"There is no one shouting or indeed making any trouble here, detective..?"

"Detective Inspector George Chinnary of Scotland Yard."

"Oh how awfully jolly for you".

Narrowing his eyes, Chinnary looked up at Macfadyan.

"Just what is your business with the Curruthers household?"

"Its something that the late Lord Curruthers was working on. A matter national security for the Royal Society".

Chinnary turned away dismissively.

"A bunch of degenerate cigar chomping, port swilling buffoons."

Macfadyan was about to reply when the constable reappeared at the door.

"There's no communiqué from a Lord Macfadyan or the Royal Society, sir".

Chinnary glared back at MacFadyan in triumph.

It was MacFadyan's turn to narrow his eyes,

"I'd like to say that I'm sorry to do this to you, Defective, but as I'm not..."

"That's Detective!"

"Yes, yes, I know, but this is of great importance to Her Majesty's Government." As Macfadyan was saying this he delved into his pocket and pulled out an official looking document, which he then passed to Chinnery, he also flashed him a shield like chrome badge. Chinnary looked at the document,

"You realise that I will have to check the validity of this ...sir"

"Yes, yes, of course Defective, But for the moment lets proceed as if it were genuine, shall we?" At this Macfadyan swept into the house. Blanche caught up with him,

"Where did you get those things from?"

"The shield was a fee gift from a packet of Sugar Puffs and as for the official paper work, well lets just say its amazing what you can get in Christmas crackers these days!"

"He's gone inside the building now!"

"That's no problem, we planned for this contingence, switching to deep scan". The prone finger on the floor next to the attic window pressed a pad on the side of the high tech sights and then sighted himself down the period infantry rifle. The other finger knelt down so that he was almost level with the first.

"Are you sure this is within the remit of our mission?"

"You worry far to much Galva. We have both seen how he is a dangerous rogue element that must be contained".

The inside of Carruther's property was an example of an affluent town house, thick carpeting, fine furniture and not a spot of dust. Macfadyan rushed into the hall and up to the table, to start rummaging through the envelopes that were stored there. With a sour look on his face and a disparaging noise at the back of his throat when he didn't find what he was looking for, he turned back to the others.

"There's more to this then meets the eye. Someone else has been sticking their noses in!"

Blanche looked up,

"What's the problem, Mac?"

Macfadyan ignored her and turned to the butler who was hovering in a door way

"There you are my man. Who found the body?"

"That would have been the young master sir, but I really don't think..."

"That's alright your not employed to think. Just show Mr Curruthers through to the library would you?"

Besides the large windows and matching fireplace there was not an area of wall space that was not covered in books. Part of the shelving hinged inwards as the butler showed the group into the library.

"I will show Master Thomas through shortly" After a few moments the door crashed open and Thomas Curruthers stormed in.

"By all that's decent, what the hell do you think you are doing sir?"

Macfadyan turned round from flicking through one of the books; Blanche however jumped and gave a little squeak.

"Ah there you are, Mr. Curruthers, please take a seat".

"I would prefer to stand sir. Now explain yourself!" Thomas Curruthers stood at an easy posture, he was dressed in black, but with an elegant and fashionable cut to the cloth. His brown hair was cut short but with prominent sideburns. His age was about twenty-one. His rosy fleshy skin spoke of a healthy background. He glared at Macfadyan. Unabashed, the Time Lord replied,

"But of course, Mr. Curruthers, or is it now, Lord Carruthers? Er, we are her to investigate the death of you're father. It's a great matter of importance to Her Majesty's Government."

"And that gives you the right to barge your way in here, disrupt a grieving family, throwing your weight around, does it?"

"Frankly Mr. Curruthers, it does. Now the sooner you tell us what happened here, the sooner we can leave."

Curruthers looked at Macfadyan with conflicting emotions raging within him. After a moment he seemed to subdue his inner demons and come to a decision. He sighed. "I think that this incident is connected with the burglary that we had some months before"

"And why is that, young man?"

"Last time certain items were taken from my father's collection, small glass bottles full of green powder." He held up his thumb and forefinger to show the size of the ampoules. "When that thing, that person, was murdering my father..." For a few moments the façade broke along with his voice, and he struggled to regain himself in front of these strange, unknown people. Blanche instinctively felt the need to help and comfort this hurting young man. Macfadyan reached out and snatched her hand, holding it fiercely, slightly shaking his head.

"I was the first person to the study. I can still hear his wet voice asking questions."

Macfadyan leaned forward, interested,

"What questions and more importantly what were the answers?"

"'Where is the patrol ship, where are the ampoules of JM3, where are Jenkins and Bannister, where are the ampoules of green powder?'"

"Hmmf, what a memory you have. What were the answers?"

"That he didn't know, he didn't know anything and that thing killed him for it. And I remember it, sir, because my father died because of it. I shall never forget it."

"There, there, never mind. Did any one else know about the green powder?"

"Colonel Fraser and Doctor Henry Jellicoe. I believe that father had a falling out with both of them over the burglary and also father gave one of the bottles to Doctor Jellicoe, to attempt to analyse. He failed. He also failed to return it."

"Thank you, Mr. Curruthers, you have been most patient with us, well, for a Hu...er, yes, most patient. You can return to your family. The constable can show us to the study, then we will leave."

Before Carruthers left, he paused and looked straight at Macfadyan.

"Promise me, sir, that if you are being truthfull, you will find this monster and bring him to justice!"

Macfadyan just nodded. He'd already dismissed Carruthers. Why was the pathetic Human still snivelling around him? After Carruthers was gone, Macfadyan called out to the constable.

"Ah, there you are, comfortable, would you be so kind as to bring the autopsy and incident reports in here please".

The constable fumed slightly, but complied with his wishes. It took Macfadyan only a few moments to speed read the documents pointing out to Blanche and Cre'at the fact that Lord Curruthers had been pounded to a pulp, the fact that the door lock had been powdered, the fact that when Thomas had finally got into the room the intruder had picked up a heavy arm chair and thrown it at him. Whatever it was, it was incredibly strong. Thomas had described the figure as a large, heavily set, stocky man. Macfadyan stood up.

"Right, let's go and scrutinise the study with an intense scrute. Comfortable, hallo and welcome to being of use to us. Which way to the study?" With a resigned look the constable lead them down the corridor and opened the door to usher them in. Again it was a room that spoke of money, Display cabinets covered the walls, two deep-seated armchairs sat near the centre of the room (one of them had been displaced). The group walked into the room followed by the constable, something was wrong. Macfadyan was trying to trace what it was; the smell of gas, and no, that was only a small part of it.

Blanche sniffed deeply.

"Does that smell like gas to you?"

Macfadyan turned to fire off a quick retort, when he saw a red dot of light travelling across her chest. It travelled on and alighted on a small chair side table. From a cross the street came the crack of a service rifle and from behind Macfadyan came the sound of a breaking window pane. He didn't need to turn round to know there was the fury of an expanding cloud of burning gas behind him.

Part Three - The flowers smell sweeter the closer you are to the grave.

Chapter Five:
Escape to Danger!

Macfadyan didn't need to look behind him to know there was an expanding ball of burning gas. Seeing what was happening, Cre'at shot straight up through the ceiling into the room above. With one hand Macfadyan grabbed Blanche by the collar, pulling her to the floor. The other hand was delving into his pocket, sorting through items that were there. Pulling out a long, fat silvery tube he pressed a stud at one end and it opened up umbrella like, Blanche and Macfadyan cowered behind it. The ball of flame boiled over the top of them, engulfing the policeman who was standing in the doorway, such was the heat his clothing burst in to flame and he ran screaming back down the corridor. Macfadyan leant out from behind the umbrella, parts of the carpet were on fire, the curtains were burning fiercely, the arm chairs were beginning to smoke and catch light. The flames were beginning to lick Lord Curruthers collection of exotic stuffed animals. Whatever was used to preserve them was obviously highly flammable as they almost exploded with flame, burning high and fiercely like torches.

"I've always said that taxidermy was a dangerous hobby. Here hold this". Macfadyan passed the metal and glass umbrella to Blanche and as they both sheltered behind started to rummage through his pockets again. The temperature of the room was rapidly rising and it was becoming difficult to breath. Outside the shouts of 'fire' had started as the conflagration spread to the corridor. Under the acid and fortunately flame resistant umbrella (Patent pending copyrighted 2168), Macfadyan was muttering to himself while pulling items from his pockets,

"Flux capacitor? No, frozen blaster Tec? No, dylithium crystal? No, boxing glove on big spring? ? (Sigh) Oh well, its not like I have time to argue with my pockets, but when I do have time, we'll be having a serious discussi..."

"MACFADYAN! Stop babbling and get us out of here!" screamed Blanche. Holding the bizarre contraption by the pistol-like grip, he aimed at the latch on the already damaged windows and fired. With an almost comedic "boing" noise, the glove launched itself into the air and struck the windows, flinging them open. At this the flames leaped higher, fed by the renewed oxygen. Macfadyan grabbed the coughing Blanche by the scruff of her neck and charged.

In the attic room across the street, the two figures watched, a feeling of guilt slowly crept over them as they witnessed what they had wrought

"I hope there's no ones grandfather trapped in there ". The other visibly paled at that.

"You wouldn't have thought a house could catch fire that quickly, I mean it was only the one room that was full of gas. You can almost understand the great fire of London ..."

He then realised what he was saying and both of their complexions turned pasty as they both thought about the conclusions.

"You don't think.."

"No! No, wrong time period for that."

"Are you sure?"

"No lets get out of here!"

They turned and as one scrabbled in to a freestanding closet that was situated behind them. Just as behind them out side a smoking Blanche and Macfadyan made their dash for salvation. With a raucous, key grating sound the closet faded to the consistency of smoke and then evaporated.

Macfadyan kept running, someone had just made an attempt on his life; he wasn't about to stop, even for the Lord President (or was it Lady now). With a bellow of

"Cre'at!!", he didn't stop until he was at least a block away. There he collapsed against a wall and started coughing up due to smoke inhalation. At Macfadyan's first cries, Cre'at came bursting through a second floor window carrying a baby, whom he deposited in what was left of the remains of the Curruther's household before shatanging off after Macfadyan.

When he had recovered himself sufficiently, he dragged the still hacking Blanche along the street until they could flag down a cab. Giving the driver directions to where the TARDIS was parked, Macfadyan allowed himself to relax in the dark shady interior.

"Right let us all take stock".

Pulling out his Stattenhiem, he thumbed one of the micro controls on the surface and a glowing green screen expanded before them, as large as the interior of the cab. Reaching into his inner coat pocket he pulled out a stylus and began to write on the glowing screen, leaving behind his words picked out in glowing neon.

"Right, listen up and apply your brains." He looked out of the corner of his eye at Blanche, " Or not as the case may be. " She stuck her toungue out at him. He ignored it and carried on. "

In one corner we have the Iytean ". He wrote the word Iytean and ringed it.

"Approximately three pounds of symbiotic goo. Then there's the patrol ship, which was once, used by the Iytean Co-operative to bring in those who had broken their laws by forcibly taking an intelligent host. These two are probably linked "

He drew a line between these two items

"We also have the two criminal masterminds Jenkins and Bannister, who for the moment seemed to have disappeared. I think its safe to assume that they know where the patrol ship is. Hunting them, our mysterious hard man. This could be the host form of the Iytean. Circling around this group are Colonel Fraser, Lord Curruthers and Doctor Henry Jellico. No wait a moment we've just lost Curruthers." Macfadyan took the stylus and scribbled out Curruthers' name. After a beat he scribbled out Fraser's too,

"And I think that Colonel Fraser is too frail to survive the changes the Iytean can wrought on its host."

For the past few minutes Blanche had been watching Macfadyan aghast.

"We have just survived an attempt on our very lives and your sitting here treating this as if its one of those penny dreadfuls. People are dying here!!"

Macfadyan turned around lazily as if disinterested in what she had to say. However the sunlight from outside the cab revealed his eyes to be cold and hard.

"People are dying all over this planet every day Blanche. If it's not the Crimean war it's the Boar war, if its not a war the its some one knifed for decent food and drinking water. But don't worry, in a few short decades events will take place in Sarajevo that will plunge this world into two of the bloodiest wars in its history. They will bring about the death of a quarter of a billion people and break the back of the British Empire. But it won't end there, oh no. Other Empires will rise to take its place and they will do their level best to bench stamp their mark on history and the world. It will be an empire in everything but name and the blood and the slaughter will only continue. Nice relatives you've got, child."

Blanche was shocked by this nightmare vision of her future from this dark prophet and tried to draw back from him. But it was as if a switch had been thrown and his eyes seemed to brighten,

"But that doesn't concern us, does it? Hmm?"

He tapped the roof of the cab signalling the driver that he wanted to stop,

"You and Cre'at go back to the TARDIS. Cre'at, see if you can dig anything more about the Ityean's from the data banks. Blanche see if you can find the location of Doctor Jellico from Miss Fraser. I'll meet you back at the ship in about an hour. Bye." And with that he leaped from the cab and disappeared in to the crowd. Blanche turned to Cre'at,

"Well that's just flaming typical, have you got any money somewhere in that contraption you've stuck to yourself?"

* Would the driver of this vehicle accept a vegatable product? *

There was a rapping on the front door that just wouldn't go away. With a sigh of resignation Carlsharw opened the door to Blanche's cheeky grin,

"Watcha gov, is er 'olines in, we need to 'ave words?"

"I'm sorry madam but could you repeat that "

Blanche paused took a deep breath,

"Good morning my good man, his Miss Julia Fraser in, I believe she may have some himportante hinformation for us?"

"I see madam. If you care to come in I will shall see if she is at home for visitors."

The door to the attic room burst open in a shower of splintered wood and Macfadyan rolled into the room, Dalek gun at the ready, quickly looking around the small room he confirmed that it was empty. He thought it would be but they had already made one attempt on his life. Putting the gun away he crouched down and scuttled to the window. He paid close attention to the dust-covered floor. There were two of them, one of them seemed to be particularly agitated, he had done a lot of pacing. He crawled over to the window, taking out his electronic opera glasses he sighted them a crossed the street. Observing Detective Chinnery and a couple of constables wondering around the burnt out study, Macfadyen snorted,

"Flat footed pealers".

Putting away the glasses he noticed something glinting on the floor, he picked up the spent cartridge case of a service rifle. Waving it gently under his nose, it reeked of burnt gunpowder

"Hmm. Recently fired".

Casting it aside he pulled out the Stattenhiem and begin to scan the room. According to the instruments the immediate area had been exposed to a neutrino/ tacyon burst. The Cronaton tail off indicated there was a demat less than an hour ago. They looked like they came from a type eighty. That made him raise the slight burnt stubble of his eyebrows. Could there be another answer? He didn't think the Iyteans were trans-temporal and he didn't think he head angered any other trans-temporal society. And yet... That was the trouble with 4D situations. With one last look around to make sure everything was ok, Macfadyan headed off before the family that lived here recovered and noticed that he had broken in.

When Macfadyan opened the doors of the ship, Blanche was treating herself to a plate of sandwiches, she looked up and spraying breadcrumbs everywhere said

"Wotcha Mac, how did it go?"

With a look of annoyance he wiped down the front of his clothes

"If you've quite finished child, what have you found out about the venerable D.R. Jellico?"

Blanche chewed vigorously then swallowed, putting the plate on the console, she turned to face MacFadyan and coughed as if beginning a recital

"Jellico lives in a very posh area, Cavendish square, quite a knowledgeable big wig, according to Julia, 'es turned out a few papers on something or other. Until recently 'e 'ad a practice in the East End specially to treat the poor but gave it all up to pursue pure research".

Macfadyan started to tap his chin thoughtfully,

"Hmm how long a go did he give up the practice?"

"Julia wasn't sure, certainly no more than three years. Yes I know!" She cut off any exclamation that Macfadyan was about to make.

"It seems that since 'e started the research 'es become a real recluse. Oh, and finally it turns out that he also owns the house behind his. Turned it into a Lab. It opens out on to Wimpole Street but now they share the same garden. That's it. Nothing else."

"Where's Cre'at?"

"Mr Balloons down in the workshop knocking together some thing 'e says might 'elp".

"Heh, I doubt that very much!"

Macfadyan walked round the console looking for the intercom. Noticing the plate, he picked it up and with a flick of his wrist, sent it spinning against the wall where it smashed into pieces. He pressed the button,

Cre'at, hover your shiny metal body up to the console room would you?"

An hour later Macfadyan was scrablling over the wall with only a few cursed mutterings. Blanche was waiting below hissing at him to shut up and get a move on. After a few more minutes he found a loose brick, slipped and fell the rest of the way down. Cre'at floated up and over. Macfadyan picked himself up and brushed himself down in an attempt to preserve his dignity. Stifling a grin, Blanche lead the way at a crouch to the Wimpole Street end of the garden, she whispered

"According to word on the street this is were 'e spends most of 'is time now".

Macfadyan just rolled his eyes and tried the door handle, locked. Reaching into an inner pocket he pulled out a laser cutter and started to burn through the lock then ushered everyone inside. The small kitchen was a mess of soiled and unwashed plates. The group went through into the house proper, except for a few support pillars the whole ground floor had been knocked through in to one. The place had been tiled throughout and had lots of glassware piping set up on benches with coloured liquid blubbering through it. There was a commotion from upstairs and a white haired middle aged man pounded down the stairs,wrapping a silk and velvet dressing gown around his body. His hair was in the disarray of the recently woken, with a slight layer of stubble growth on his chin even though it was almost afternoon.

"Who the hell are you people? What the devil do you think you are doing?"

Macfadyan spun round a disarming grin plastered on his face

"The redoubtable Doctor Jellico I presume?"

"I know who I am Sir, who the hell are you and what are you doing in my Laboratory?"

Macfadyan quickly flashed his chrome badge.

"Macfadyan of the yard! I'm afriad we have to ask you a few questions".

A bubbling voice echoed in Jellico's mind

"do not trust this one he is not what he seems!" Jellico narrowed his eyes in suspicion

"I'm not sure but I think you need some form of official documentation before you attempt a legal break in"

Macfadyan looked up the smile was back as if he was rembering a private joke

"I'm here to tell you that Lord Curruthers is dead".

The effect of those words on Jellico was devastating, he paled stumbled on the step then fell heavily

"Dead are you sure? But I thought..."

* You thought what? *

Jellico didn't seem to notice that he was being question by a floating head such was the measure of his despair. Blanche leaned closer

"Are you alright?"

In a small voice he said,

"I, I never got to apologise, never got to say good bye."

Macfadyan pounced

"Apologise for what? Say goodbye to whom?"

"That's, that's none of your business. How did you find me?"

Macfadyan's face grow sly

"We've been talking to Colonel Fraser. It seems he has been buying artefacts from Jenkins and Banister You do remember Jenkins and Bannister don't you ?"

Jellico looked at Macfadyan blinking rapidly

"N, no!"

This only seemed only to confirm what Macfadyan was already thinking,

"No, really? Oh well my mistake."

* What is all this equipment for, what are you attempting to do? *

For a few moments his attention was focused on Cre'at and his eyes brightened momentary

"I'I trying to sequence what chemical factors are involved in the mental imbalances in criminal and lunatic behaviour".

* That is a lofty goal, but observing your facilities, you are proceeding from a faulty premise. *

"Come along Cre'at we have occupied enough of the good Doctor's time. We will be in touch Doctor Jellico."

With that he ushered everyone out of the Lab. Outside Blanche turned on Macfadyan

"What the hell was the point of all that then?"

Macfadyan smiled one last time while gently pressing her nose,

"Just kicking over the ant hill."

Inside Jellico was still sitting on the step, muttering to himself

"They cannot, must not be allowed to interfere".

A firm strong, steady, bubbling voice boomed a crossed his mind

"They will not be allowed to interfere"

With a thrill of horror he felt the change take him. This could not be happening now. He hadn't taken any of the solution. He felt his mind being burned away from his body. The last thing his conscious mind heard was the voice blubbering in triumph

"We will go to this Fraser and take the location of the patrol ship from him."

Chapter Six:
"Going Underground"

Inside Jellico continued to sit on the stair, wallowing in despair. How could it have gone so wrong so quickly? The harmless experiments had escalated to death destruction and horror and now this Macfadyan was interfering, disturbing the finely balanced equilibrium.

"They cannot, must not interfere."

It was said almost as a prayer. A firm strong and steady voice bubbled a crossed his mind,

They will not be allowed to interfere!

With a thrill of horror he felt the change take him, his skin felt tight and itched as if there were a thousand ants just under its surface. The fingers grew long and distorted, coarse orange hair sprouted from the back of his hands. He felt his face grow twisted and deformed. His mind was being burnt from his body; the last conscious thing his mind recognised was the harsh voice bubbling from his thought.

"We will now find Fraser and take the location of the patrol vessel from him."

They picked up a cab at the corner and headed back to the ship with Blanche watching Macfadyan wearily

"We shall now go to the ship, pick up Cre'at's gizmo and then go on to Fraser's house. And just what is worrying you, child?"

Deciding that perhaps caution was best, and that an outright lie was safest, she reached inside her jacket and pulled out a phial of green powder

"I managed to swipe this, I thought it might be important".

With undignified haste, Macfadyan leant forward and snatched the phial from her hands. Tipping some of the contents onto his palm, he sniffed it with caution. The light caught it sending rainbow like ripples over its surface. Dampening one finger he placed it on the powder and then his tongue

"One of the Jar-toxin Magdonadill group if I'm not mistaken"

Blanche tried to show an interest,

"Oh really. And what's that supposed to do?" It was Cre'at who answered her,

* It is an anxiety suppressant. In large quantities it induces sleep but in very minute quantities it weakens the will and determination and leaves the subject open to suggestions. *

A dream like quality had slipped onto Macfadyan's face and it had also entered his voice

"But fortunately I seem to be immune".

At this, Blanche's eyes started to sparkle and she stopped pretending to be interested - this could be fun. She lent forward.

"So wot's really going on?"

"You mean you still don't know yet child? The human brain is really a remarkable organ it's just a shame none of you use it. Okay. Billions of your years ago, the Iytean police caught one of their criminals. He was charged with possessing an intelligent host against its will. You see, they would usually posses things like their versions of cows and horses and induce a temporary change in the creature so it would be of more use to them. Something happened to the patrol ship and it landed here. The crew abandoned it probably with every intention or returning but got wiped out with the rest of their race by the Snotarans. Years passed, London is built and then along comes our petty pair of thieves who had stumbled across the still active patrol ship. They must have accidentally released one of the prisoners, who seized one of them. It probably induced a fit and was rushed to the nearest doctors; Jellico the Iytean slowly and gently switched hoists. Since then its been trying to influence him, effect what his been doing". Macfadyan leaned forward slightly woozily "It has to be stopped. It probably wants to take over the world, they usually do"

Blanche decided to take a risk - there was something she simply had to know.

"So wot's all this about you and the beans?"

"Ah, well, that's simple. In the first days after the Pythia...." Macfadyan took a deep breath, the glazed look slipped from his eyes and animation returned to his face

"That's enough! Leave it!"

The cab pulled to a halt and Macfadyan tossed a few solid gold doubloons at the driver and leaped from the cab. The others scrabbled to follow him. As he unlocked the doors to the ship, a small boy somewhere around the age of twelve in a footman's uniform hurried up to him with a note. He threw him a Platinum duket then unlocked the ships doors and went inside. The others found him inside pacing back and forward his face dark and stormy.

"Cre'at go and collect your toy we have to hurry!"

As Cre'at zoomed off into the inner recesses of the ship Blanche turned to interrogate Macfadyan

"Ok, Buccaneer, wots going on?"

"That's quite enough of that thank you ... That was a note from Miss Fraser, informing us that Bannister has resurfaced, just after I've sent the Iytean round there. Unless we are quick it could find the patrol ship. Typical human. Always mucking things up!"

Cre'at reappeared at the door, he had divested himself of his 'disguise' and now held a multi- coloured flashing box

* Every thing is prepared. *

As a group they ran to Portmans Square with Macfadyan muttering under his breath the whole time.

Julia stood at the cellar door listening intently to the conversation that was going on down below her. Grandfather was trying to convince that ruffian Bannister into some sort of deal. She could hear him now talking animatedly with Bannister, who only seamed to half-heartedly or hesitantly reply.

"Just think of it man, we could turn back the tide of apathy and decay that has swept over our great nation. Through proper use of these artefacts we could stamp down the Hun, push back the Bosh, and show them dam Yanks a thing or to about military manovers. We can achieve a military superiority that Nelson and Wellington could only have dreamt about."

There was a pause for a few moments as Bannister considered his words.

" And what would I gain out of this risky venture?"

Fraser was slightly irritated by this turn of questioning

"The knowledge that you have helped complete God's design in making a world that is united under the Union Flag."

Fraser's voice swelled as, as he became caught up in the vision he was trying to sell.

It was Bannister who interrupted this line of thought

"That doesn't put food on the table or put a roof over my head!"

Fraser readjusted his sales pitch

"Ah, a business man to the last, eh Bannister? For myself that would be enough but I see you need more. I'm sure you would be able to ask a grateful Queen and country for anything you want. A dukedom with its annual income could be the least thing you could ask for".

There was a sudden commotion from the front of the house that distracted her from hearing any more. Getting up, she proceeded to the front door, only to discover Macfadyan pushing his way past the red faced Carlshaw

"I'm sorry 'sir' but Colonel Fraser's not at home to visitors at the moment". He attempted to close the door but found it was like trying to close the door on a rock

"I'm not a visitor. That implies that I want to be here, and believe me there are over a million other places I would rather be." And with a savage shove he pushed the door the rest of the way open. Carlshaw tried one last time.

"You are not wanted here sir. Leave now or I will be forced to call the authorities!"

Julia ran up to quieten the escalating argument. "Its alright Carlshaw, they are here to see me. Please come through, Lord Macfadyan".

Carlshaw looked troubled but stepped back from the confrontation.

"I see miss, but I must say this is most irregular".

As one the group rushed to the top of the door of the cellar. Macfadyan wrenched open the door and started to pound down the steps. Fraser looked up shocked

"What the devil is going on up there?"

"Hallo again Fraser, this must be the nefarious Mr Bannister".

In a pleasant manner, that was very unusual for him, Macfadyan walked up and patted him warmly on the back.

"However I'm sure that what ever grubby little plan your cooking up it will fail. I simply won't allow it."

Bannister backed away not liking the way this was going, Fraser however reacted with righteous fury

"Just who the hell do you think you sir? Get out of here before I send for the constabulary!"

"You go ahead with this and you will probably rip this planet apart" Fraser was red faced now the anger rolling out of him in waves

"Your not English are you? No countryman would just toss a side such a chance to do so much good for his country. Just who are your paymasters, hmm? It's the Krouts isn't it."

"Listen to me, you under evolved ape, you don't have time for this!"

From upstairs came the explosive sound of ripping wood. All conversation stopped. There was silence for a few moments then came Carlshaw's exclamation of horror and pain that was cut all too short. There came a roar from above, and the sound of shredding furniture. There came a harsh gargling roar

"Fraser! Fraser! I know your there I can smell you!"

The group turned round and started to go up the cellar steps, when the door disappeared, ripped of its hinges and thrown clear. The thing that Jellico had become stood in the door way framed in the light. He had a bestial face, framed under a main of reddish brown hair. The face had a broad flat nose. Wild intelligent eyes shone out from underneath a heavy brow ridge. His long muscular arms gave a sense of deformity where none really existed. He was dressed in a set of gentleman's clothes all the wrong size for him and in one hand he clutched one of the neural stunners looted from a draw in the study above. He paced menacingly down the stairs. Macfadyan looked up at him, eyes shining with curiosity.

"At last, I take it that's Doctor Jellico Hyde'ing in there" The thing that was Jellico seamed to take affront at that

"I'm so much more than that strategically shaved ape. Which of you is Fraser? Where are Bannister and Jenkins?"

With misplaced confidence Fraser stepped forward

"I'm Fraser. That there is Bannister. What do you want you foul cur!"

The Iytean hybrid razed the stunner threateningly

"The location of the patrol vessel. Give it to me now!"

Fraser couldn't help but smile

"That weapon has never worked, the energies that power it have been depleted "

Cre'at gently glided forward in an attempt to catch the hybrid in the energies that his device projected. The next few moments seamed to blur into one as the hybrid pulled the stunner round with amazing speed and fired. Cre'at produced a strange electronic squealing sound and sank to the ground as the energy from the gun fought with energy internal to Cre'at. Fraser tottered crossed the room to grab one of the rifle like weapons, only to be shot down by the speed of the hybrid's actions. With a scream Julia ran to her grandfather's side. At the same time Blanche pulled out a pocketknife and launched herself at the hybrid, which caught her by the neck, lifting her off the ground letting her dangle legs kicking. At the same time Macfadyan pulled his Dalek gun and sighted it on the hybrid. Blanche was also in the line of fire. Macfadyan thought for a moment - it was a shame he had only just activated this clone but greater things were at stake here. He went to press the activator stud. Suddenly he was else where, lost in the tortured paths of his memories. He could hear her voice was just this side of tears; hear her pleading for her life, pleading not to die. Damn this stunted body he couldn't reach the deactivator. Macfadyan was frozen. His muscles locked. The Hybrid shot him down. Still holding Blanche by the neck he took a moment to indulge in lustful appreciation of her form. Once he had the patrol ship he could synthesise more of the green JM(3) powder, with it he could control this body permanently, then he could concentrate on budding and he and his prodigy would rule the planet. Then there would be ampoule time to indulge in this body's baser pleasures. He threw Blanche to one side. Hitting the wall she slid to the floor stunned.

Macfadyan was sitting on a hillside; his first and second incarnations were sitting ether side of him. Number one was a willowy thin man with short cut blond hair. A sallow face that always seemed to be only just this side of a nervous tick. He was pontificating about something; he always did, blowing out air and getting red in the face, looking ridiculous in his Time Lord regalia. On his other side was number two, a small unkempt slightly balding little man. Put him in the most expensive tailor made suit you could find and he would still make it look crumpled and unloved He was angry about some thing, not quite shouting but emphasizing every thing he was saying by poking Macfadyan in the ribs. Just because he was older did that give him reason to invade his personal space? It did not!

The horizon was a line of trees, a burning forest, and flames leaping higher into a leaden doom laden sky.

The other two were talking again but it was difficult to hear what they were saying due to the fact that Queen Aralan was screaming. She stood there arm pointing at him, hair and clothes burning, skin melting. Colonel Fraser puffed his way up the hill and handed his walking stick to number two, who used it to poke Macfadyan harder. That was it! The last straw. This was going to stop or he was going to deck someone in a minute.

Macfadyan sat bolt upright almost catching Blanche across the temples, shouting

"Look will you PLEASE stop doing that?"

Blanche rolled back shocked. Over in the corner Julia was sobbing over the crumpled form of Colonel Fraser. Macfadyan started rubbing his forehead trying to remove a pulsing headache. Pulling out his Stattenhiem, he started scanning around himself. Cre'at floated close.

* What are you looking for? *

A puzzled frown was creeping over Macfadyan's features that broke into a smile when the rod started bleeping.

"I slapped a Barrilium patch onto Bannister's back. I can now track him anywhere. Come along Cre'at, the games a foot!"

* What about the primitive. Fraser? *

"He's still alive? I didn't think anyone that old could have survived a neural blast. Still time is of the essence we must be away."

* The primitive organic, Fraser, will terminate due to hypothermia unless moved to a place of care. *

Blanche watched the conversation, willing Macfadyan to agree. The Time Lord just stared at Cre'at for a few moments

"You really choose the most inconveant times to get a bleeding heart".

* I posses no cardiovascular system! *

"Oh just get on with it!"

Cre'at floated across and scooped up Fraser then floated off up the stairs while Blanche help a tearful Julia to here feet

"You have to destroy all the Atlantean artefacts. We'll get the Colonel upstairs and onto bed, call a doctor and keep him warm. I'm sorry it's all we can do. I'm sorry."

When they came down the stairs they found Macfadyan standing by the front door looking pointedly at his watch

"Come along Florence Nightingale".

* Not Florence Nightingale. Cre'at and Blanche! *

Rolling his eyes, Macfadyan pulled open the door and ushered the others through. Outside, across the street, was a crumpled form of a young woman. The way she held her wrist it was obviously broken. A crowd of people was starting to gather around her and in the distance was the shrill sound of a policeman's whistle. Blanche pushed her way determinedly into the crowd. Macfadyan called after her.

"Look Blanche, we don't have time for this. We have to deal with the cause not the symptoms."

Blanche just shot him a look then turned to one of the men who seamed to have taken charge of the crowd

"The one who did this also attacked Colonel Fraser in 'is 'ome over there. Tell the rozzeres, will you mate?"

Out of Portmans Square they ran. On the other side of the street was another downed figure. His head had been battered in with a manhole cover, blood and gore had spurted out on to the pavement. Macfadyan stood at the gaping cavity of the manhole, checking the readings on the Stattenhiem. His nose twitched.

"Oh dear. Pooh gas! I hate pooh gas."

* Nobody likes pooh gas. It is one of the Sottom legends like the legend of the Hambu... *

"Enough chitter chatter. Come on!"

Macfadyan proceeded down the ladder into the gloom beyond. With a resigned look Blanche followed then Cre'at. MacFadyan strolled confidently into the smelly darkness

"Careful Cre'at we don't want you to explode another nose".

* Olfactoral systems deactivated. *

Suddenly a flash of blindingly white lightning zapped down the darkened tunnel, followed by a crashing boom that echoed and re-echoed around them. Macfadyan responded with the electronic blue ray of his Dalek gun. It was followed by the reverberating sounds of footsteps as they scampered off. Determinedly Macfadyan rushed off in pursuit, Cre'at floated closer to Macfadyan

* He must have taken an energy rifle from Fraser's collection. *

"What, really? You do surprise me!"

* I will need to get within range to use the device. *

"Right leave that to me!"

Macfadyan shot a number of random blasts down the tunnel with the Dalek gun. One of the blasts hit a pocket of gas, igniting it, illuminating the whole tunnel in a red/ orange glow. Jellico's roar of anguish rang up and down the tunnel. The group ran up the tunnel to investigate the damage. Macfadyan's voice hissed out

"Careful. According to the readings they are only a couple of meters ahead".

With another lightning zap and resounding boom a supporting wall exploded in a shower of masonry and brick dust. With a startled yelp from Blanche, everyone ducked down into the filthy water. From one of the trio came the anguished cry of:

"Oh no! That's my best waist coat!"

The running battle continued across the underground sewers of London, with shots going back and forth, until MacFadyan, hot, sweaty, filthy and wet called a halt.

"They have stopped moving. Have a quick look would you Cre'at, tell me what you see"

After a few moments Cre'at floated down from round the ceiling at the corner of the tunnel

* There is an opening in the wall of the tunnel. The primitive and the symbiant are clearing away debris of the crevice. *

Macfadyan snapped his fingers,

"Of course! That's why I couldn't find it!"

Blanche looked at him curiously

"Find wot?"

Macfadyan rolled his eyes, blowing air out through his teeth and started speaking slowly

"I tried early to scan for the patrol ship but couldn't find it. You see the patrol ship is probably on standby mode; it's over there sitting on primitive bedrock surrounded by billion's of years of London's mud and clay. The background radiation of the bedrock is high enough to mask the output of the patrol ship." He flipped the Stattenhiem over and started to manipulate some of the minute touch sensitive controls on the rod. A distant bleeping started that rapidly grew into a strained wheezing and groaning sound that culminated in a loud bang.

There came a howl of rage from the symbioant.

"Ha! That's buggered him up"

At first Bannister came flying out of the gap to strike the side of the tunnel, the symbiote came charging out of the gap enraged. He still carried the energy rifle but such was his anger he forgot to use it.

Both Cre'at and Macfadyan charged forward. The Time Lord fired first, the negative blue ray throwing the symbiote down the tunnel. Cre'at rushed up, pressing the button on his box. The box emitted a gentle light covering the symbiote in a golden nimbus. It receded and left behind a white haired Dr Jellico, dead. Cre'at gave Macfadyan a reproachful look

* It was not necessary to terminate the Jellico primitive. The trap would have worked on a living subject. *

"I had to make sure he was no longer a threat if your toy didn't work, didn't I. Come on lets get these lumps of jelly back to their home planet before they cause any more trouble."

Noticing Bannister slumped against the sewer wall. He walked over to him, picked him up and slapped him a couple of times to bring him round.

"Listen to me, you low life vermin. You are going to retrieve all the items you sold from this thing and destroy them or I will find you and you will suffer all the torments the universe has to offer, do you understand me? And you wouldn't. Want. THAT!"

Macfadyan's voice seemed to echo up and down the tunnel. He then released Bannister with a slight shove. The crook staggered back, eyes wide and trembling, then ran off. Macfadyan turned and walked through the hole in the tunnel wall to the TARDIS, leaving Blanche and Cre'at to look uncertainly at each other and then head off after him. At the end of the tunnel was the red and white candy-stripped circus tent exterior of the TARDIS, materialised around the large patrol ship. Then it faded away with its customary groaning sound leaving, behind only the darkness a huge cavern and the sound of adjusting rock.

In the gleaming white interior of the ship's console room, Macfadyan was leant over the controls setting the coordinates, humming happily to himself. Blanche watched him cheerfully

"Were are we going now?"

"I'm taking them all back to the Iytean home world and let their justice system deal with them."

* Didn't the Sontarans destroy that world? *

"Yes, so we'll have to be quick".

Later

Macfadyan strolled into the Console room humming. He noticed Blanche and Cre'at playing chess. Blanche was still confused over the movements that knights made.

"Blanche, you will be happy to know that I've returned the briefcase to Mr. Robert Louis Stevenson. Quiet an interesting chap, for a Human, full of ideas. He was fascinated to hear our little tale."

"Yea I'm pleased for him".

Macfadyan delved deep into his pockets and pulled out a leather bound book and passed it to her

"You might find this an interesting read though if it's too difficult for you there's a pop up version in the ship's library".

"Oh ha ha".

Blanche flipped the book over, in gold letters it bore the legend

'The strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde'.

Macfadyan slapped his hands together

"Right you two a quick trip to the royal society I think. Could prove very educational".

Taken from January's Chronicle 1886

Colonel Malcolm Fraser died at his home last Tuesday night after a long bought of illness He was stuck down last October by what doctors described as 'brain fever. Leaves his granddaughter Julia. Funeral arrangements by The Martins.

Taken from March's The New Chronicle 1901

Tragedy struck today at the Capital and Counties bank. As subsidence caused a large potion of the bank and surrounding street to disappear in to a hole in the ground. Specialists can give no reason why the bottom of the hole should have been a perfect sphere. 10 members of staff and 23 members of the public were killed.

THE END

No Sot'ms were harmed in the making of this story
But Cre'at was humiliated when he had to pretend he was clockwork