By Clive May

The Worm Kind's egg must be planted, and the Master has one of the Doctor's companions in mind as the host.

Rated PG-13

Dr Who, concept and characters, is the copyrighted property of the BBC. No infringement of that copy right is intended.

The "Rain Room" was first described by Audra McHough.

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"Obey me! Obey me - damn you!" the Master snarled. I tell you, there is nothing to fear. Now Obey Me! - or.."

the Master's black gloved finger hovered over a button on the console. The note of rebellion in the TARDIS hum sharpened, held a long heartbeat, before declining to a sullen, fearful and unwilling compliance.

"That's better," the Master crooned. "There really is nothing to fear. I have the Worm well in hand."

The Master moved around the console, stepping over the legs of the dead soldier. The body was clothed only in army issue underwear - the Master now wore the former UNIT Captain's uniform. It was a fair fit. He set a control,and looked up expectantly at the air near the inner door. A button was punched. A shimmering began there.

The wall and floor near that point distorted and seemed to pull away from the spot in all directions at once, as though the TARDIS wished to withdraw its substance as far from that location as possible. The time distortion, as it retreated away into both the future and the past, manifested itself as an insanely contorting coronal display.

The halo of light parted like a curtain. In the middle of the leaf-shaped hole in the universe, something that was undeniably *not there*, took form. Rippling and shimmering, the outline of a tall, snake-slender woman solidified in the space left in the world. She was definitely *not there*!

Nonetheless she wore a robe of utter blackness that, not only absorbed totally all the light, but seemed to suck the soul out of the body. An arctic chill seeped into the air.

The large eyes opened, revealing themselves two black voids in the fabric of reality. Yet the unness in them was alive with a fierce intellect and a terrible, terrible need. They roved around the room. Whatever that black gaze lit upon, that part of the TARDIS quivered under the sucking emptiness in those eyes. At last that terrible gaze fell upon the Master. Despite his iron control, a little shiver ran down the length of his body. His gloating smile lost its certainty.

The thing spoke in a ringing voice, like a gentle zyphre blowing over wind chimes fashioned from ice. It stroked the very soul, tugged the secret inner self after its diminishing echoes. "In all the eons of our race memory, we have never been *invited* to a nesting."

The creature made a move towards the console, reaching out a hand. The Master moved hastily to set a control. A pale green light shimmered around the outstretched hand. With a snarl of rage and frustration, the woman withdrew it.

"What foolishness is this? *little man*? Do you think to say me nay? Ever we have had our way against the will of your kind. Ever and again, we have battered down the defences and taken our right."

The Master laughed softly. He placed his black gloved hands together and said: "Ah yes, my dear. True. But that was all so long ago. How long, I wonder, is it since you were able to *force* a brooding on us?"

The creature did not answer. The Master went on: "Well, that does not matter now. You shall have your right, so long denied you by the unjust edict of the Time Lords! I have prepared a place for your brood, and if you will but agree to my plan, I shall place your egg in the very heart of the source; where things may take their proper course - free from the fear of discovery and ejection into the void."

"The prey does not bargain with the hunter, little man," she said." For the prey has nothing to bargain with."

"True," the Master conceded, inclining his dark head in acknowledgement of the point.

"Then what do you want of me, little man? Speak plain."

"I want one of your eggs."

"An egg of the Worm Kind? Why? Our eggs are of no conceivable use to the Time Lords?"

"I agree."

"Then why?"

The Master's face became solicitous. He steepled hands under his chin; his dark eyes glowed. " Would you agree, Worm, that every living thing has a right to perpetuate the species?"

The woman leaned towards him, betraying her interest. "That is a fundamental drive of living things, little man." A cautious eagerness trembled in her voice.

The Master noted that suppressed eagerness with satisfaction. It was going to work; he could feel it in his bones. The Master smiled inwardly. He had caught her attention. She had taken the bait; now to reel in the catch; but extreme care would be necessary; all the precautions had been taken that could be taken in dealing with such a dangerous creature. However, all life was a gamble...The Master smothered his fears, and made his play.

"Then, Worm, I offer you a chance to breed. Give me your seed and I shall ensure that it finds fertile ground in which to grow."

"And why would you do this, little man?" Her voice dripped suspicion. "Your kind owes us no duty of mercy - nor do we expect any. For the Time Lords bear us no good will. They have proscribed us, and would see us erased for all time from the universe, were that power in them. So why would you do this for us, little man? We will pay you back only in death; This you know. There is nothing for you to gain by aiding us to breed."

"I wish for nothing," the Master lied smoothly; "save the satisfaction of seeing a wronged and persecuted people granted their natural rights! Rights which have been so willfully denied them. Now! Will you give me an egg?"

In answer, the woman brought up her hands and pressed the palms together before her chest. Raising them to her lips, she blew gently into the hollow between the palms, then held them out to the Master. The hands opened like the two halves of a shell. Laying on the left palm, was a white luminous sphere that glowed and pulsed.

"My Egg, little man. My hope and my expectation. Handle it with reverence, little man, for it is my most precious thing."

The Master nodded, and took from a pocket, a small cube of transparent crystal. Inside, was a sprig of green leaves. Three luminous white berries depended from the stalk. Opening the lid, the Master picked it out. He plucked one of the berries from it, flicked it away, and moved forward without hesitation. This was the moment of truth. Had his words been enough to keep him alive?

If at the last, she was deceiving him? was not in a breeding phase? was in fact playing him along only to trap him? then he was going to die a very nasty death. In order to gather the prize, he must put himself within her reach. She had only to brush a finger against his skin to draw out his soul and consume it. At that moment, the heart of the TARDIS would lay open to the merciless imperatives of her maternal drive. Such a thing would shake the very soul of Gallifrey itself.

The Master was not tempted in the least to throw away his life for such a revenge. If Gallifrey fell by his hand, he wanted to be there in person to bear witness, and savour the triumph.

holding the sprig in his fingers, at arms length, the Master touched the bare stalk to the little globe of light. As the tip made contact, the creature's hands trembled eagerly at the closeness of her natural prey.

The Master caught his breath, but he did not flinch away. When the little green sprig was drawn back, it again bore a third berry, slightly larger and whiter than the other two. The sphere pulsed with a faint luminescence as the inchoate life within quickened in response to the nearness of the Master's warm hand. The skin of that hand crawled at such closeness to an egg of the Worm. The Time Lords had known no more deadlier foe. Every thing about the Worm Race was deadly - even the eggs had to be treated with extreme caution. The Worms were the oldest adversaries of the Master's people. Quickly, he popped it in the box and clicked the lid shut.

His sigh of relief sounded very loud in the strained humming of the TARDIS. The Master considered the thing in the gap. No real harm could be done to it; but it could be made to suffer pain. He reached out a gloved hand. He hesitated, but only for a moment. It was a small evil, a petty maliciousness; but he would not forgo the pleasure. His hand closed on the contact.

The worm woman in the opening was enveloped in a crackling green fire. The shape writhed and rippled, lost coherence. She let out a long agonised scream. The figure crumpled up, folded in upon itself. Howling, the shrunken worm woman drew off into a vast distance, leaving behind an agonised wail which haunted the console room long after the opening had closed with a burst of shimmering coloured light.

"Ah! Most satisfying! Most satisfying indeed!" The Master murmured. He let out a sinister chuckle. A smile lit his features, as he watched the fabric of the room flow back to fill the gap in the continuum. "And now to plant this little seed in fertile soil."

He set the crystal box down on the top of the Time Rotor, beside a dark blue paper crown. The box did not quite make contact with the surface, but hovered a fraction of an inch above. The area just under the box seemed in constant motion, flowing away in all directions without actually moving.

The TARDIS was adamant; it *would* have no truck with the deadly dangerous thing - even if its linked Time Lord did.

The master flipped a switch and turned to study the group of four people displayed on the screen. He dismissed the Doctor without a thought, and centred the screen on the serious face of Adric. He pressed another button. A chart appeared across the bottom of the picture, like a prisoner number on a criminal file. The master shook his head. No. The boy would not do. Another adjustment and the screen centred on Tegan.

This one held distinct possibilities. He studied the psych profile chart more closely; but in the end he dismissed her from his consideration. The Jovanka woman barely registered above 1zero on the psi sensitivity line. That was a base-line requirement for what he had in mind. And, perhaps more telling, she was a little older, more mature, than the Traken. Her instincts would be qualified by experience. There was a good chance that she would detect and reject the egg. Still, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, she *was* impulsive, and tended to act before thinking.

But no! It had to be the Traken girl. She was the perfect choice, all things considered - given the fact that she was just newly come to womanhood. Her reactions would be instinctive and powerful; their very freshness would give the worm an edge. And, most important of all, she had a high psi sensitivity rating.

The Master rubbed his hands together. He began to chuckle. "Excellent! She will do nicely," he murmured.

Still chuckling, he took out a small device and bent over the dead soldier, carefully studying the face of the dead man. When he began setting the controls on the box, his own features began to writhe and change, to take on the features of the young man. He checked them in a mirror, then against the face of the soldier. Satisfied, he pocketed the device. Picking up the paper crown, he adjusted it on his head. Then he gathered up the box from the rotor, and headed for the doors. ---------

The door of the quiet room swung in to admit Adric at a dead run. A few remnants of party streamers fluttered in the air behind him. He looked nervous and frightened.

Running over to the tall blue box standing in one corner, he pulled at the doors, frantic with panic. They were locked. With a little grimace of consternation, Adric turned to meet his grisly fate. The Doctor strode in, hat tilted on the back of his head, clutching in one hand a red party cracker. In the other was a china bowl, with a helping of Christmas Pudding.

Voices raised in merriment, interspersed with wild giggling, wafted in after him. He turned to watch as Tegan and Nyssa emerged through the doorway. They wore crumpled party frocks and paper hats. Their faces were aglow, wreathed in happy smiles. They were leaning on each other for support, swaying unsteadily. The wine had been flowing freely at the UNIT Christmas party; and the pair had more than drunk their fill.

Adric's face twisted into a grimace of distaste. He stood away from the TARDIS doors. The Doctor handed him the bowl of Christmas Pudding, and fished in his pocket for the key. The boy watched the two women warily, wishing the Doctor would hurry. At last, the TARDIS was unlocked.

The Doctor turned to regard the giggling women. His face was struggling with disapproval. "If I'd known you two would make such a spectacle of yourselves," he said with an unconvincing try at sternness, "I would have made sure you were safely locked inside the TARDIS."

Nyssa stuck her tongue out at him. "Spoilsport!" she laughed.

"Nyssa! I expected better of you." The Doctor contrived to sound disappointed, but there was a twinkle in his eye and a tiny smile kept pulling at the corners of his mouth. Well, it had been a *good* party. It was nice to see Nyssa shedding her dignified reserve, letting her hair down. Everyone should do that now and then, and to the Vortex with all the tribulations of life!

And yet? He felt a twinge of sadness at the ease with which Nyssa had abandoned herself to the spiritually empty joy of the moment, shedding her habitual reserve like a snake sloughing off an outgrown skin. He had to admit, the change was for the better; but he could not eschew the feeling that something beautiful had been lost somewhere during the evening.

"Where's that miserable little creep?" Tegan growled. She held up a tiny sprig of leaves. Three luminous white berries gleamed amid the green. She advanced on Adric, lips puckered. There was a wicked gleam in her eye. Nyssa burst into another fit of giggling at the look of utter panic on the boy's face. He dived for cover behind the Doctor.

"Now then! Tegan!" warned the Doctor. "You're frightening him. He's not used to your Earth customs."

Tegan focused her attention on him. "But you're not frightened, are you?" she crooned. "Big strong Time Lord like you? And you're always going on about how we should observe the local customs. You'll give old Tegan a kiss under the mistletoe? Won't you?"

"Tegan!" He exclaimed in some alarm, then fell silent. He understood that this was one tight corner there was no acceptable way out of. Besides, it was nice to have her happy for a change. The atmosphere between them was so much better when she was not sniping at him with her, sometimes cutting, sarcasm. He sighed, and bowed to the inevitable. "If you must, Tegan."

He closed his eyes, waiting for the ordeal to be over. Tegan hesitated, suddenly unsure. She shrugged. "Take your chances in life, Jovanka," she told herself. "You'll probably not get another." She held the Mistletoe high, stretched up on tip toe, and kissed him firmly, full on the lips.

In the background, Nyssa raised a small cheer.

Tegan spun round. "Your turn, Nyssa. Come on."

Tegan held the sprig of Mistletoe over the Doctor, wiggling it invitingly. Nyssa hurried over, eager to take her part in this new game. The Doctor waited. For some reason he could not fathom, a feeling of acute foreboding possessed him; but he was the Doctor; he stood his ground.

Nyssa placed hands against his chest and stretched up, reaching her lips to his. Tegan, for some reason,felt a compulsion to brush the white berries over Nyssa's forehead as the two friends kissed under the mistletoe. Afterwards, whenever she tried to explain her actions to herself, the only thing Tegan could remember were eyes, dark and compelling, filling up the world.

At some point during that brief caress, something fundamental changed for Nyssa. Suddenly, it had stopped being a game. When she stepped back, all the simple joy had gone from her face. They both blushed. A tight bud of awkwardness blossomed in the air between them, the sudden seriousness lengthening into an uncomfortable silence. Neither the Doctor nor Nyssa were equipped with the ability to, move on from this difficult moment.

It was Tegan who broke the spell. With a cry of: "Right! Your turn, Adric!" she advanced on the boy, a devilish gleam in her eye. "Come on! It's quite painless, you know. Who knows, *boy*, you might even enjoy it."

She held the sprig of mistletoe high. Though it still had three berries, now the third berry had existence in the gap of perception between Tegan's memory and lapsed attention. It was still there because she remembered it being there; and the berry remained there because she had not noticed yet that it might not be. It was a neat trick of perceived reality manipulation - though basic, and would have fooled neither the Doctor nor Adric for more than a second.

However, at that moment, the Doctor was watching Nyssa, and Adric had other things on his mind.

Taking his chance, Adric bolted for the safety of the TARDIS. He squeezed through the doors just ahead of his tormentor, clutching the bowl of Christmas pudding.

The Doctor was still smiling at all this, but the expression had a distinct edge of irritation to it. He made a mental note to confiscate the sprig of Mistletoe at the first opportunity. It was nice to see Tegan having a little fun; but in his opinion, the game had gone quite far enough. "Come on, Nyssa," he urged and stepped inside the TARDIS.

Nyssa moved to follow. She paused on the threshold. A ferocious wave of rejection pressed her away from the doors. It was like an icy gale out of the abyss. She reeled back in confusion and fright at the hostility emanating from the TARDIS. Surely, it was her friend? Why had the machine now turned against her?

The Doctor stepped back out. He studied her, his eyes narrowing in concern. "Are you all right, Nyssa?"

She nodded. "I'm fine, Doctor." But her assurance lacked conviction.

"Hmmm? Perhaps a little too much to drink? Your Traken biology...Here!" He held out the red cracker. 'Pull!"

Nyssa took the proffered end, gave him a little grin and clung on as the Doctor pulled. The cracker banged. It came in two halves, the contents scattering on the floor. The Doctor gathered them up.

'Here. It was your cracker - you should have the prize." He held out to her a Ying Yang pendant dangling from a ribbon.

Nyssa accepted the proffered gift. The strip of satiny material was a half inch wide, black on one side, white on the other. The pendant disk was about an inch and a half in diameter. The ribbon passed through the black eye of the white portion of the design. It seemed of an unusually good quality for a Christmas cracker novelty. It was made of some light metal, not the usual lump of badly moulded plastic in bright primary colours. There hadn't been anything comparable in the other crackers. The ribbon had a twist in it. Nyssa tried to straighten it out, frowning down at it when the twist defied her attempts to flatten it.

The Doctor smiled encouragingly at her. "Why not put it on?"

"The ribbon's got a twist in it. I can't seem to work it out."

"Here. Let me," the Doctor offered.

She handed the pendant to him. He ran the ribbon experimentally through his fingers. For some reason, the sight of the material passing over his hands, sent a chill down her spine. With an effort, she threw off the feeling of unease, and asked: "What's the matter with it, Doctor?"

"It's a Mobius Strip."

Nyssa leaned closer, peering at the ribbon looped over his fingers. "You mean one of those single sided loops you get when you twist the end over and join it on to the other?"

"Yes," the Doctor answered her in a thoughtful abstraction. His fingers stroked the strip of satin a few times, as though trying to discover some secret purpose in why someone would go to the trouble of creating such a geometrically interesting artifact merely for a cracker novelty. Then he looked up and smiled. "You know, something like this could be used as a valid argument in two dimensions to demonstrate the fundamental principle on which the TARDIS is constructed." He paused, realising this was no time for a lecture on non-Euclidian geometry. He went on: "I'm afraid I can't straighten it out without cutting the strip and rejoining it."

A sharp stab of panic filled Nyssa at the thought of scissors snipping the ribbon. The air in the room grew chilly. She shivered as the cold bit deep into her bones. but the chill was gone almost before she was sure of its existence. She forced a smile she did not feel. "Never mind," she said, "I'd like to wear it anyway." She reached out, almost snatching at the pendant. "Give it to me! I want...Must, put it on now."

"Must?" the Doctor echoed her with a raised eyebrow.

Nyssa grabbed for it again. "Please, Doctor..."

"In that case, allow me." the Doctor offered in a mock courteous tone. He grinned at her, however, his eyes remained watchful as he looped the ribbon over her head. He settled the disk in place at her throat, and stood back to regard the effect. The sight of the Ying Yang design against the white skin of Nyssa's throat reminded him of a half closed eye, watching him with a twisted stare. Unaccountably, the sight troubled him, though he could not say exactly why.

Forcefully, he put his qualms aside. Reaching up, he pulled the green paper hat from Nyssa's hair. He balled it up and put it in his pocket. Unrolling the golden crown from the red cracker, he set the crackling paper carefully over her wavy brown hair. Then he took hold of her hands, and drew the girl into the TARDIS.

At the doors, Nyssa flinched; but the chill blast of hostility was not repeated. She allowed herself to be drawn across the threshold by the Doctor's gentle, yet firm, grip. In the console room, Tegan was dodging about the console in an attempt to keep Adric from the inner doors. She was intent on trapping him and claiming her prize.

"Tegan? Would you see that Nyssa gets to bed? I think she's a little...Ah...Overcome." the Doctor said.

Tegan glanced up at the slight accusation in his tone. "Sure thing," she said. Adric took his chance. He bolted through the inner doors. "Sissy!" Tegan yelled after him, but made no attempt at pursuit.

"Really! Tegan! A joke's a joke, but..."

"She pulled a face at him. "It's just a bit of fun," she pointed out, taking Nyssa by the arm. She noticed the pendant. "Hey? That's neat. I don't remember seeing it before? Where'd yer get it?"

"This? It was in my cracker."

"Hhmph! All I got was this silly plastic whistle - and it hasn't even got a pea!" Tegan held out the offending toy for inspection. Nyssa glanced at the bright red whistle, evincing no interest. She swayed and put a hand to her head.

Tegan regarded her pasty complexion with thoughtful concern. "You *really* don't look good at all - come on? Let's get you to bed, shall we?" She led the shaky girl from the console room, steering her in the direction of the living areas. On the way, Tegan kept a watch out for Adric; but the boy had made good his escape.

Inside the bedroom, Tegan plucked the golden paper crown, from Nyssa's hair. She set it on the dressing table, laying the sprig of Mistletoe beside it. In turning away, she caught sight of the sprig of green in the side of her vision. She gained the distinct impression that one of the berries had faded or vanished; but when she looked directly at the little spray of green leaves, all three berries were there. She was about to call Nyssa's attention to the oddity, when something in her perception of the room "jerked," leaving her struggling with a suddenly overpowering sense of deja vu. She felt she'd been on the point of doing something; but whatever it was Tegan couldn't, for the life of her, remember what it might have been. It was maddening, like having a word on the tip of your tongue. Frowning in puzzlement, she turned away from the dresser to help Nyssa get ready for bed. The girl was regarding her with eyes of ice, which gleamed with a cold malice. The pendant at her throat was catching the light as it lay against the skin of her throat, depending from the white spot in the black portion. Startled by the feral intensity, Tegan took a half-step back; but at that moment Nyssa smiled; and the sinister aura of animosity shadowing her friend evaporated,

"is something wrong," Nyssa asked.

"Ehmmm? No," Tegan answered her, feeling more than a little foolish for having been so afrighted by a trick of the light. crossing the room, she carefully assisted Nyssa off with the party frock, and encouraged her into the blue silk pajamas Nyssa always loved to wear. Buttoning the jacket, Tegan lifted the pendent clear of the collar, running the silken ribbon between her fingers, to where it passed into the disk through the black eye spot in the white portion of the design.

She fingered the disk with a thoughtful frown for a long moment. Something about the disk troubled her; but she couldn't think what it might be. At last, she dropped the pendant and helped Nyssa into bed. Pulling the covers over her and brushing a stray curl of brown hair from Nyssa's cheek, Tegan kissed her forehead. "There now? Comfy?" she asked.

"Mmmm. Yes. Tegan, it was a great evening. I really did enjoy myself."

"Great!" Tegan agreed. "I can't remember when I had so much fun myself, not since I met the Doctor, anyway." She patted Nyssa's hand. "Now go to sleep. Sweet dreams." Rising from the bed, Tegan crossed to the door. She took one last look at the girl tucked up in bed before fading down the light, and pulling the door closed.

In the soft darkness, Nyssa lay, enfolded in the gentle humming of the TARDIS engines. For some reason though, she could not relax. Turning on her side, she pressed her cheek against the soothing coolness of the pillow. Her gaze wandered about the shadowed room, came at last to the dressing table. A tiny, dim luminescence glowed there. It took her some time to realise what it must be.

The moment realisation came, the pendant at her throat grew chill; and a strong maternal compulsion welled up within her. In some ineffably delicious way, sight of the Mistletoe, lying on the table, tugged on her heart strings. The exquisitely compelling sound of a baby, crying alone in the dark echoed in her head. Unable to stop her ears to that irresistible phantom of want, or turn her gaze away, Nyssa finally gave in to the demanding attraction. Getting up, she retrieve the sprig of green from the table. Bearing it in careful hands back to the bed, she lay down again, cupping the precious thing tenderly between her breasts, and began a slow rocking back and forth, while a wordless crooning, rose from her throat. In minutes, Nyssa had drifted into sleep, troubled by the strangest dream.

---------------

The Doctor had watched the two girls from the console room with a vague sense of misgiving. After the door had closed behind them, he'd shrugged and picked up the bowl of Christmas Pudding from the console where Adric had abandoned it. Eating slowly, the Doctor had relished the treat. Eventually, the pudding was finished.

Glancing around for somewhere to set down the empty bowl, he settled finally for the top of the Time Rotor. He began moving around the console, flipping switches in a desultory manner, setting up a program to slip the TARDIS into a parking attitude in the Vortex. Finally satisfied with the program, he paused, peering around the console room. A slight frown darkened his youthful countenance. Something was not right; but he couldn't for the life of him work out exactly what it was. Something to do with Nyssa?

The thought of the girl sent a questing hand into his jacket pocket. He lifted out the crumpled green paper crown. Unrolling it slowly, he carefully smoothed out the creases. When it was set right, he held it up, studying it a long moment, his expression thoughtful. It did not help to clear his mind of the unfocused misgivings. Unable to come to any firm conclusion about what was troubling him, he set the crown down beside the empty bowl. He pressed the demat; and sudden fear sank talons of ice into his hearts.

He went reeling away from the console, stunned by the frenzied blast of someone else's panic. The air thickened with a grey mist, as moisture was squeezed from the frigid air. Frost glittered on the console, on his hair and hands; Powerful as the assault had been, the Doctor was only momentarily unmanned. The next second he was lunging for the console.. To Set the green paper crown down beside the empty bowl.

He pressed the Demat button. Cocking a head on one side, he listened to the sound of the TARDIS engines as they ran up to take off. They sounded sweet to his discerning ears. He smiled in satisfaction at how well the old girl was running; then he frowned as he noticed something odd on the console. It was sparkling with rime frost.

"Strange?" he muttered. He reached a hand out and touched the edge with his fingers. The surface was cold, bone numbingly cold. "Now that's odd?" he mused, feeling the console again. The top was pleasantly cool. He smiled, wondering what it was about the console that had been worrying him a moment earlier. He listened to the sweet humming of the engines for a moment. Then he shrugged. It probably wasn't anything important.

Gathering up the empty bowl, the Doctor turned and headed for the kitchen; but in the doorway, he paused to look back. Something was still niggling at the edges of his contentment. The Time Rotor rose an fell, fell and rose smoothly, crowned by Nyssa's green Christmas crown. Vaguely, he wondered what it might be that was making him uneasy. A moment later, though, he'd forgotten all about it again.

As the inner door swung too behind him, an ethereal mist thickened around the central console. The air over it grew chill. A glittering of frost settled like a dusting of snow upon the Time Rotor, sifting out of a boiling of condensing grey vapour.

----------------------

Nyssa walked in a gentle rain, through a flower garden, her heart singing. The song was wordless, and old as life herself. The strong, persistent rhythms of it beat deep in her brain, evoking delicious echoes in her soul, stirring un-tested emotions in her heart which were, for all their inchoate nature, powerful. Though she might not name them, they were understood instinctively by that part of herself which was woman.

In thrall to these deep rythmns, Nyssa strolled on through the spring time garden; aware that she was wearing her favourite silk pajamas, but quite untroubled by this unusual state of affairs. She wandered on, past flower beds with many different coloured blooms, planted in an artful arrangement to create a harmony of hues, pleasing on the eye.

As Nyssa passed by, the colorful rows of blooms nodding in the gentle breeze, trembled, withered, and died. For all unknown to Nyssa, a chill winter shadowed the young woman, setting frosted feet exactly in her footsteps. At last, the path Nyssa was following, ended at a gate in a high brick wall. Over that wall could just be glimpsed the living green of tree tops. Without hesitation, Nyssa pulled open the gate and went through, leaving the garden behind. She wandered down another path towards the edge of the greenwood. Along the borders of the wood, a small stream ran babbling over a stony bed, between verdant banks. Tall rushes, with fiery crowns, rustled along the river's edge. The slender green stems were swaying in time to the wordless song singing in Nyssa's heart.

The path led to a quaint wooden bridge arcing over the crystal waters. Just as Nyssa set foot on the bridge, the refreshing rain shower thinned into a misting drizzle. She walked over the warped planks and entered the cool, green gloom under the trees of the old forest.

Somewhere in this forest, she knew, was a secret place, a sacred spot where the heart of life beat with a savage strength. The desire to reach that place consumed her will, compelling her to press on with dogged determination towards the heart of the forest. At her throat, the pendant gleamed in the cosy gloom, hanging from the ribbon through the white eye of the black portion of the Ying Yang design.

Overhead, sweet bird-song echoed among the branches, filling the summer scented air. A gentle breeze played among the tree-tops, coaxing a rustling laughter from the leaves. Nyssa paused, tipping back her head, listening enthralled at the sound. She'd never known that trees could laugh with the simple joy of being in life.

After a timeless moment, Nyssa started forward again, responding to the tender tug on her heart-strings, passing deeper into the friendly gloom under the trees, her bare feet brushing through a drift of late blooming bluebells. Their delicious scent perfumed the warm air. Nyssa paused again, drawing in deep lungs full of that sweet fragrance. It was a heady wine, filling her with delight; but it was as powerless as a fog in a gale against the tender temptation which drew on her soul.

She started forward once more, passing between the soaring trunks. Where her feet fell, the blue bells withered and died. Frost sparkled in the footsteps her bare feet left in the leaf litter; while the cheerful dappling of light and shade at the wood's edge ghosted into a pattern of cold winter sunlight and shadow. In that malign light, the trees loomed over her, their skeletal branches shutting out the sky. The grim trunks seemed to crowd close about her as though determined to bar her passage to the heartland of the Old Forest.

Something brushed the enraptured girl's cheek. Nyssa raised a hand to her face, fingers closing on a withered leaf which crumpled into fragments. She peered wonderingly at the sere thing for a long moment, trying to make some sense of it. Then she let the fragments fall forgotten, from fingers growing stiff with cold. Onwards, onwards, that subtle pressure drew on her heart, urging her faltering footsteps forward, drawing her deeper into the heart of the darkness.

Another skeletal leaf settled in her hair. Yet another fluttered past her eyes. Ignoring the autumnal confetti showering around her, Nyssa set her teeth against the deadening chill and pressed forward through the gathering dusk.

A menacing silence thickened in the air. Gnarled roots hooked about her feet. Wraith-like serpents of mist, winding among the trunks, slithered with grim purpose towards the girl. Nyssa shivered as their insubstantial forms went coiling about her; but the pendant at her throat blazed with a cold blue fire; and the serpents fell away in tatters of mist. Brambles raked her bare ankles with vicious thorns, but fared no better in frustrating her single-minded purpose. For the shadowing winter, walking in her footsteps, withered them, permitting the girl to press blithely forward through the dying underbrush, her feet treading the skeletal remains into crackling flinders.

Its first line of defence in tatters, the Old Forest brought to bear less subtle measures. On the trunks of trees, Fiendish faces glared at her with vicious hostility. Each was a feminine caricature of the Doctor in one of his five incarnations, their features moulded from traceries of scabrous bark. Their mouths - full lipped, fang be-ringed knot holes - gaped wide. Sibilant voices, issuing from the mouths, whispered dire warnings at her. She began to experience a powerful desire to turn back, but could not, for the ineffable summons proved ever the stronger, drawing her onwards.

The voices of the trees rose to a furious scream of hatred. They exhaled mightily, their frozen breath smoking in the chill gloom. The moaning rush of wind pressed her back. The girl was momentarily checked; but she leaned into the gale and with hair streaming and silken pajamas flapping, pressed on doggedly. At last, Nyssa came to the place she sought. Before her, two mighty trunks stood like the pillars of a gateway, framing a roughly oval entrance. Between them, she glimpsed a small glade, afire with a shining radiance.

The source of that silvery gleam was a beautiful tree, growing in the exact centre of the clearing. The light shimmered from the canopy of twinkling leaves with which the tree was dressed. Each point of light which glittered was a star, each shining leaf a complete galaxy, growing upon the Life Tree, rooted at the centre of everywhen.

And the Tree was singing. High and pure, the sweet sound of creation filled the air.

Nyssa's soul was re-awakened to reverence. Falling upon her knees, she bowed her head in homage before the Tree of Life. Between her trembling hands, she cradled the sprig of green mistletoe, bearing its sacred seed. The third berry was pulsing in an eerie counter-point to the song of the Tree. Almost, the berry was writhing in its eagerness.

She might have remained thus, kneeling in sublime content before the tree until time herself ended, had not the excitement of the seed intruded on her inner peace. Nyssa let out a long sigh and held out her hands towards the Tree. A cold blue fire burned upon her palms. Reverently, Nyssa blew a long breath over the seed, fanning it into an ominous red glow. Leaning down, she laid the pulsing fire amid the roots. The tree of Life shivered as though struck by a gale, shrieking out of the black abyss. The galaxy-leaves fluttered in a mad panic. A nerve searing discord entered the pure song of life. Gamely, the song strove on against the moaning of the black wind, corrupting the purity of the tones. But the Tree was the strength of life made incarnate. Though black death, chill and certain, battered at it, the seed found no easy victory against such as the tree; and it could not prevail.

the life and death struggle tore Nyssa's heart asunder. For though she reverenced life, the seed of death she had planted this day was truly her baby. If her baby was to live, then life herself must die. Impartiality was not possible in this fundamental battle. The two sides laid demands of equal weight upon the girl's divided soul. Nyssa remained frozen by the opposing factions, in this war where ambivalence was a futile road which wound in circles, leading to insanity.

Faint and far off, the wheezing of the TARDIS engines sounded. The familiar noise swelled among the trees. There was at its core, an affinity with the dark song of death assailing the tree. As the sound of the TARDIS grew, it meshed in an uneasy union with the roaring wind. The TARDIS's wheezing rose to a screaming crescendo of insanity, battering in a mad frenzy at the stout heart of the Tree. But the Tree was old and had grown cunning in its long existence. It met the madness, note for note, pure tone matching each twisted wheezing vibrato.

The corrupted TARDIS redoubled its efforts. The very foundations of reality trembled. Slowly, the wild screaming overmastered the silken silver sound of the harmony of the universe, beat it down with a ruthless savagery, and stamped it into glittering shards.

At that exact moment, ambivalence abated. Nyssa smiled. The war was over. Now, her first born was safe.

She rose, the silk pajamas creaking with the cold. The tree was visibly wilting before her. A final autumn had come to that most ancient of things. The galaxy-leaves fell, a fluttering rain of sere tears. They settled in a grey shroud over Nyssa's feet and the roots of the enslaved tree.

The sound of TARDIS engines faded. In the winter-stark woodland about the young mother, a sullen silence sifted down. Bone cold, full of another's fear, it was the very incarnation of the terrible loneliness of the newly born, ejected into an inimical world. It was the first puzzled silence, before the screaming begins.

Nyssa was still screaming when she hit the floor of her room in a tangle of bed clothes. For a long time, she just lay there, face down, whimpering while the fear and cold abated. Then, she struggled to her feet. She peered around the room. Frost glittered on the dressing table. the walls were grey with it. The blankets were stiffening in the icy grip. Nyssa's hair sparkled in the dim illumination, as though set with a million diamonded crown.

She shivered and grabbed up a blanket, pulling it tight about her shaking shoulders. Before her on the floor lay the sprig of mistletoe. There were definitely only two berries on it now. With a little groan of weariness, Nyssa crawled into bed. She wrapped herself in the blankets and fell, eventually, into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

--------------

An unmistakable atmosphere of "the morning after" hung, pregnant with regret, over two of the four seated around the table in the small kitchen area. The TARDIS hum, usually so soothing, now had an ineffably smug sound to Tegan's jaundiced ears. Nyssa had stopped listening to it long since.

The Doctor placed a small glass before Nyssa. "Here;" he encouraged. The bilious green colour of the contents made Nyssa's stomach heave. She shut her eyes and moaned.

"I don't want it." She shook her head. A bad mistake; the room swooped around her pounding head.

"Come on, Nyssa," the Doctor urged gently. "I promise it will help."

"I just want to die!" the Traken girl moaned. She looked utterly wretched. Her face was pale and an unhealthy grey colour. Her shoulders were slumped in misery; the brown hair, usually wavy and lustrous, now straggled in rats tails about them.

Tegan, who looked in no better state, gave her a sympathetic smile of encouragement. "It's only a hangover. You'll feel better in a while."

The Doctor took Nyssa's hand and folded the unresisting fingers about the glass. "Drink! It will make you feel better - trust me!"

Nyssa did, without reservation; and so she drank the vile green stuff, grimacing at the taste.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it? I think you should go and lay down now, Nyssa. I included a very mild Delta Wave stimulant in it to help you get off to sleep."

Nyssa nodded slowly. The medicine was already beginning to work its magic on her Traken biology. A warm inner glow was spreading through her veins. She closed her eyes and sighed as the delicious sensation of relaxation eased the unpleasant suffering within.

"Yes. I think that would be nice." she agreed. Getting up, she carefully made her way to the door. Adric looked up from the book of equations open on the table before him to watch her exit with a neutral expression.

The Doctor's eyes were full of concern as they followed Nyssa from the room. When she had gone, he switched his attention to Tegan. The disapproval in them stung the young woman.

"You can't blame me for that," Tegan said defensively.

"Have I blamed you, Tegan?"

"Yes."

"When?" the Doctor asked.

"You're doing it now."

The Doctor frowned. "But Tegan, I haven't said..."

"You don't have to," Tegan bit back in a bitter tone.

"How then...Tegan?"

"Oh. Come off it, Doctor. You know exactly what I mean. You don't have to say anything. You just put on that look. And quite frankly, I'm getting tired of it. So you can just stop it right there! It's not my fault that Nyssa got in a state. You're just mad at me because I've spoiled your little fantasy about her."

The Doctor's face closed up. Tegan was not usually this perceptive. He wondered, in a slight panic, just how deep her penetration had gone. "Fantasy?" he inquired carefully.

"You know what I mean. Little miss dignity herself. All prim and proper. A right little goody two shoes. But she's not like that, Doctor. Not deep down inside. And I *won't* be labelled as a "bad influence" on her, not by you or anyone. Nyssa is not a child, Doctor. She is a young woman, and better able than most to handle grown up situations. She has as much right to have some fun as me. You know you can be a real pain sometimes. I..." She broke off, not entirely unaware of the hurt she was causing.

Adric had forgotten his book and was watching the spat with a lively interest. He did not actually dislike Tegan, but neither did he feel any particular friendship towards her. The way she badgered the Doctor sometimes made him angry because, he felt, with a little thought, she would understand how unreasonable she was being.

The Doctor said coldly, "You can be really trying to live with sometimes, Tegan."

"So! You don't have to live with me. All you've got to do is to get me home, and I'll be out of your way for good and all."

That stung him. Was that a hint that she knew? If so, why had she not spoken before. Tegan was not one to brood on things, or hold her tongue. However, he felt certain that if she had not guessed before about his bungling attempts to put her back into her own time stream, then the ease with which he had hit exactly the time and date of the UNIT 2000 Christmas party must have been a dead give away. Perhaps it was time that he did make a serious attempt to put her back?

"If that is what you want, Tegan?"

Only now did it dawn on Tegan, the true depth to which her thrust had gone. Oh! Rabbits! You've done it again! haven't you, Jovanka? she groaned to herself. It was the hangover, of course, wasn't it? No. Of course it wasn't. She might not often think before she shot her mouth off, but she couldn't lie to herself. You're just a bloody great mouth on legs, Jovanka! she told herself bitterly for the hundredth time. In a fit of sudden contrition, she began framing an apology, but was too late, far too late.

The Doctor had already risen, and was stalking stiffly from the room. She watched his back out of sight, before turning to see Adric regarding her with his bright button eyes. "What're you looking at, creep?" she snarled.

The time had come, Adric felt, when he should speak. "Tegan. I do wish you'd stop antagonising him like that. Don't you see how much it hurts him? He..."

"Stuff it! Creep!" Tegan snapped back, all of a sudden feeling very ill, grossly hung over, and in no mood to be lectured at by this mere boy. It was bad enough when the Doctor "disapproved" in his aggravating way; she sure as hell wasn't going to take it from the kid!

Adric turned his attention back to the book, without any change of expression. But Tegan knew that she'd hurt him too. A wave of remorse broke over her. She'd done wrong again; but not knowing what to do next, or how to set things right, she got up abruptly, announcing to the room in general: I don't feel so good, I'm going to have a lay down." With that, she slunk away.

------------

Beyond the french windows, the grey sky wept gentle tears. The silver droplets splashed on the patio, on the marble steps, and on the gravel path that wound away into the dimly perceived garden landscape. Further out, the rain watered the vague impressions of formal lawns and flower beds, which receded into an uncertain distance, vanishing into the misting drizzle.

Nyssa stood on the threshold, watching the rain, listening to her baby crying alone, somewhere out there beyond the apparent solidity of the Rain Room. The wanting in that sound bound her heart in chains of steel. She would have to go to her baby. The doubtful reality of the garden would have to be dared. Her baby needed her! The longer she tarried in the doorway, the more wretched the sound was making her feel.

In the grate, under that grand marble fireplace, the eternal fire was burning; but the logs were never consumed. Nyssa had always found that unsettling. She wondered why Tegan and the Doctor spent so much time in this comfortably melancholic room. She had never intruded on them to see for herself. She could not imagine what it might be that so absorbed them, nor how it might bridge the gulf between their disparate minds; but the crying of the baby filled up all her mental spaces, leaving her no resources with which to think about it.

The demand was remorseless, tugging her attention back to the scene beyond the doors. Through the panes, the garden was a thing more suspected than actually seen. She felt instinctively that it had no substantial reality; but she would have to go out there, nonetheless.

An umbrella stand lurked against the wall beside the French Windows. Projecting from the fake elephant foot were the handles of a number of elegant silver headed canes and umbrellas. Nyssa selected an umbrella with a peculiar question mark handle. Clutching the grip with grim resolution, she addressed the doors; but a sudden doubt assailed her. She hesitated on the threshold.

With a hand on the latch, she wondered if perhaps she ought to find the Doctor? Treading on the heels of that thought, hustling it aside, came the wailing of her baby. The exquisitely excruciating cry swelled in her mind. It was a thing of razor edged crystal shards, distilled from a vein of the purest terror.

Nyssa staggered under the impact of that cry. No! She must go to her baby. Her hand closed on the latch. She had to go now. Her baby needed her. She dragged open the doors and dashed out into the forever rain. As she ran down the shallow flight of steps, frantic fingers worked the clip of the umbrella. It erected with a mad flutter of cloth, into a brightly patterned canopy.

She got a dozen yards along the gravel path, towards a gate in the garden wall, before the heart stopping terror abated. With its passing, Nyssa's rational self wrestled back control from the deeply instinctive primal part of her being which had been galvanised by the baby's terror. Confused, she stumbled to a halt on the path, struck by a deep sense of misgiving at her trespass into this nether realm of the TARDIS. She turned round to look back. She knew not what she expected to see.

Perhaps an Edwardian house? Or the steps, the patio and a set of doors, framing the melancholy quiet of the Rain Room? But all she could see was a fountain at the focus of many paths. Beyond the elegant stone construction, the garden receded away forever into the mist of silver droplets, cascading from the clouds.

Well. It wasn't important. With a shrug, she spun and went on towards the wall, cutting across the lawns, taking a more direct rout. The green of tree tops peeked over the wall, gleaming wetly in the drizzle. The imperious summons was coming from the heart of that forest.

"I'm coming. Mummy's coming," she cried under her breath, breaking into a stumbling run. At the gate, in her desperation to unfasten the latch, Nyssa abandoned the umbrella. At last, the fastening yielded. She dragged the gate open and ran through, leaving the garden behind. Dashing down the path beyond, she crossed the quaint plank bridge spanning the shallow stream, and darted into the green gloom of the wood.

The crying was nearer now. A dense canopy closed in overhead; the light grew dim. Water dripped from the branches. Dead leaves rustled damply underfoot as Nyssa hurried deeper into the gloom, drawn on by the panicky wailing of her baby.

She brought with her a darkness of a different quality that thickened under the trees. The air grew chill; frost began to glitter on the leaf litter. Nyssa pressed on through the growing desolation of the woodland, trailing the autumnal chill in her wake.

"Mummy's coming! Mummy's coming!" she cried, her breath smoking in the cold air. The crying was scoring deep furrows in her soul. She stumbled on, bursting through thickets of dead brambles and nettles, without noticing them at all. Faster and faster, she raced between the crowding trunks.

Of a sudden, the headlong plunge ended as the running girl burst into an open glade, hemmed in by a palisade of mighty boles. Overhead, a dark sky with a sparse scattering of dim red stars, showed in ragged patches through an inter-meshing of winter stark branches. At the exact centre of the glade, an immaterial something lent on the dark air. It possessed the form of a bent, withered tree bereft of its leaves. The once silver singing foliage of galaxies lay now like a grey shroud about the skewed trunk.

Bright and solid, against the stark bony fingers of the branches, a huge white berry hung. It hoarded to itself all the life energy, drained from the mortally wounded tree. The berry glowed faintly in the dark, a grossly obscene thing, swollen with the life it had sucked without mercy from it's unwilling foster mother. It swayed slowly in a wind blowing out of the abyss. Nyssa barely noticed the malign grotesqueness of the scene. Her world had focused down on the desperate wail of her baby.

"mummy's here! Mummy's here!" she crooned, reaching up hands to the bundle. As her fingers touched, the berry came free from the branch with a succulent sound, like the tearing of rotten flesh. The bundle dropped into her maternal embrace. With delicate fingers, Nyssa pulled aside the soft white woollen baby shawl, to expose a perfect little face. The eyes were squeezed shut. The mouth was a rictus of want, emitting a thin wail. Discontent was written clear in every pucker and wrinkle. Tiny hands, balled into fists, waved with an aimless fury. Nyssa's heart filled up with a surge of motherly affection at the sight. She cuddled the thing to her with an empassioned embrace.

The eyes opened to form two black pits in the wrinkled landscape of the face. The crying faltered, then stopped. The mouth pulled into a smile. Chubby hands reached for the cascades of brown hair which fell past Nyssa's cheek. The baby gurgled happily. Nyssa's heart missed a beat. Then the gurgle altered, becoming a whine of hunger.

Guided by an instinct as old as life herself, Nyssa's fingers moved to unbutton the pajamas jacket. The hungry little mouth latched onto her. She closed her eyes, as waves of tender sensation flooded her. A smile of perfect consummation sculpted her lips.

Such joy! Such exaltation! Such pain? Of such was the unholy trinity forged.

Nyssa screamed! She was still screaming when she landed amid the tangle of blankets on her ruined bed.

----------------

Tegan sat bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding. On the very edge of sleep, something had brought her wide awake. She cocked her head on one side, listening. The quiet hum of the TARDIS filled the room. Then it came again. Yes, there was something? But not a scream, more a frightened whimper. Swinging her legs off the bed, Tegan padded, on bare feet, to the door. She checked her reflection in a mirror, patted her hair down, smoothed out some creases in the cream blouse, adjusted her skirt then pulled the door open to listen again. The sound was coming from the door to Nyssa's bedroom.

Tegan crossed the corridor. "Nyssa? Are you alright?" she called softly at the door. There was no answer. Tegan knocked. "Nyssa? Is anything wrong?" There was still no response from inside; while the thin crooning continued to sound through the panel.

Coming to a decision, She pushed open the door and went in. The lights were dimmed, the room in shadow. "Nyssa?"What's the matter? Are you not feeling well?" she inquired.

The shadowy shape hunched on the bed stirred. The sound of the crooning faltered. Although Tegan knew it was Nyssa, for some reason she felt a tiny shiver of fear go through her.

The room was cold. Nyssa had always preferred a cooler ambient temperature than herself which was why they were experimenting with separate living areas; but Tegan was certain she'd never felt Nyssa's room quite this chilly before. Moving further into the darkened room, Tegan's foot encountered something soft and slimy. She drew back with a gasp, then, getting a hold of herself, stooped to see what it was. The lighting, responding to movement, chose that moment to brighten, revealing the thing to be a silken slipper. The delicate indoor footwear was damp; there was a rip along one side; it was caked with mud; and pieces of twig were stuck to the fabric. A dead leaf lay on the carpet nearby. Tegan picked them up. A heavy, earthy autumnal forest smell clung to both leaf and slipper.

She straightened. Crossing to the bed, she peered down at the hunched form of Nyssa. The girl was cradling a pillow in her arms, whilst gently rocking back and forth. "Nyssa?" Tegan called softly.

The girl did not respond. Tegan perched on the edge of the bed beside her friend. Reaching out a tentative hand, she stroked Nyssa's shoulder. The silk was damp, and so cold it drew an involuntary gasp. "Nyssa? What's up? Are you all right? You're, you're so cold?"

At touch of the hand on her shoulder, Nyssa paused in her rocking motions. She did not look up, but continued to peer at the pillow cradled in her arms. Cascading waves of long wavy hair masked her face.

Tegan tried again. "Nyssa?" She reached out and brushed aside the hair. "Nyssa? What's wrong? What's happened?"

Only then did Nyssa lift her head, revealing a face lit by an abstracted smile. Her eyes were shining. Tegan drew back, alarmed at the burning intensity in them. "Isn't he beautiful? Tegan, he's just so perfect. I am so happy. I never knew it would be like this. He's so beautiful."

Nyssa's simple conviction so shook Tegan's belief in reality that she was forced to glance down - just to bolster her certainty in what she knew to be true. "But? Nyssa? It's only a pillow?"

A sudden doubt clouded Nyssa's expression. Her face was momentarily beset by confusion, laced with panic; but then the pendant at her throat flashed , catching the light as the girl moved; and her features grew soft once more. the alarm was there and gone so swiftly that Tegan was not certain she'd seen it at all. Nyssa smiled indulgently at her and stroked the pillow. "Oh, Tegan, don't be silly. Look! His little hands! Aren't they just so perfect!"

A sudden fear clawed at Tegan's heart with talons of ice. She knew by some deep instinct that there was a wrongness here that the Doctor should know about without delay. She rose abruptly, heart fluttering. "I'm going to fetch the Doctor."

As she made for the door, a little cry of anguish brought her up short. She turned to see Nyssa staring at her. Fear and panic once more held those usually serene features in an impassioned grip. Slowly, grudgingly, a furious hatred twisted her face, until all that was left of Nyssa were a pair of horror haunted eyes adrift in a sea of insanity.

"No. You will not fetch the Doctor;" Nyssa's mouth said in a voice full of quiet menace. "He will kill my baby. I will not let him kill my baby." She started up suddenly from the bed. She was clutching a carving knife from the kitchen. She twisted it slowly, allowing the light to slide along the length of the razor sharp, silver steel blade. "I can't let you warn the Doctor, Tegan," Nyssa's mouth repeated. "I really can't let you do that."

Tegan's heart leapt into her throat. The slipper fell from her fingers. In stark terror, she turned to flee. She scrabbled desperately at the door handle. The damned thing seemed to have stuck. A silken swish of pajamas came up close behind. The skin between her shoulders twitched in horrible expectation. Whimpering with panic, Tegan hauled at the door. It remained stuck fast. Madly, she hammered on the smooth white panel. It was useless. It would not budge. She spun round, flattening herself against the door.

Nyssa stood a few feet away, the knife held ready. One hand fingered the pendant at her throat. It depended from the twisted ribbon, through the "eye" of the black portion of the design. She shook her head slowly. "No, Tegan. I really cannot let you warn the Doctor." She raised the knife and lunged.

Tegan squeezed her eyes shut and screamed, By reflex, her hands went out in a hopeless gesture to ward off the blow. The blade took her in the chest, just under the left breast. The foot of steel sliced into her heart. Scarlet began to spread from around the embedded blade, staining the cream coloured blouse.

Tegan screamed again, and died. ------------

The Doctor winced at the clumsiness of the translation. Abstractedly, his hand reached out, lifted the tea cup to his lips. He sipped appreciatively. He set it down on the saucer, turned the page of the fat book of poetry resting on his legs, and settled himself more comfortably in the sun lounger.

The tinkling sound of water splashing in the elegant fountain, in the middle of the small court, soothed his nerves. This was his special little hide away, where he came from time to time to get away from Tegan's sometimes barbed and hurtful words. At some periods in his long life he had spent a great deal of time here, tending the flowers and training the vines around the marble statues, until their hard white aspect was softened by the green of growing things.

The Doctor winced at the clumsiness of the translation. He reached for his cup, sipped the tea, turned the page - so simple the repetition which soothed his soul. He was already reaching for the cup again, when realisation of imminent deadly danger hit him.

Repetition? He froze in sudden alarm. With his mind, he felt for the touch of the TARDIS. All was well. And yet?...

He leapt up, a cold fear closing on his hearts. One of the benefits of Time Lord status was an enhanced sense of time and the ability, to some extent, to stand outside the flow. He did this now, with growing trepidation and - saw exactly the thing he most feared.

"Time Loop!" he cried. The book was tossed aside as he sprinted from the little court, gripped by a terrible fear that it was already too late - far too late. Pounding along the empty corridors, he fancied that the darkness already encroached at the edges of vision.

He felt the time line jump. A ghostly image of himself faded before him as he dashed up to the place he had just reached. Ready for it this time, he saw the jerk, and leapt, riding the wave front like a surfer on the tides of time. This time the ghostly fading image of himself was running up from behind, dashing pell mell for the place he had just left. The Doctor did not see, he had eyes only for the door to the Console Room, grinning like a death's head for he knew now that he had a chance, a slim one, but a definite chance - the Worm was a hatchling, plus something must have diverted its attention at the critical moment or he'd never have got away with such a simple evasion as counter-jumping the time-line hiatus. He redoubled his speed and, a moment later, raced into the console room. The time rotor was moving slowly, half hidden by a cold cloud of vapour which was moving in an exact counterpoint to the regular motion.

The Doctor sprang to the console. He applied himself desperately to the controls, fingers flying over the keys. A dusting of frost chilled his finger tips. Lights and tell tales began to twinkle and ripple in complicated patterns. With a little prayer, the Doctor flipped a last switch. The strained note of the TARDIS hum relaxed, almost like a sigh of relief, harmonising with the Doctor's own sigh. The frost lost its sparkle and went grey, as it began to melt. The atmosphere warmed noticeably. The pulsing mist over the console thinned away. Standing back, the Doctor studied the play of red lights on the board. One by one, they flickered to green.

"There, Old Girl," he soothed, patting the edge of the console. "That ought to hold it for the moment." He stood a while gazing at the console, watching the Rotor settle back into a smooth rising and falling. At last, he was satisfied with the motion. He reached out and took up the green paper crown from the top surface. It felt chill in his fingers.

For a long time, he studied Nyssa's paper crown, turning it round and round in his fingers, troubled by a disturbing suspicion about the Traken girl. Though his fears denied all logic and reason, they would not go away.

-----------

The world stuttered, started over.

Tegan lived.

For, even in the pitiless war of attrition that was life, friendship had power to overmaster the strongest instincts. By this power to divide loyalties,had Tegan survived; though she would never know this.

Tegan knocked gently on the door. "Nyssa? Are you alright?"

"Tegan? Is that you? Come in."

Tegan pushed open the door and went in. Nyssa was sitting on the bed, a welcoming smile on her face. In her lap was a pillow.

"I thought I heard someone crying? I was worried that it might be you? What with the party last night?..."

Nyssa stood up. As she lay the pillow aside, with an exaggerated care, Tegan noted, with an unsettling flutter of her heart, that the girl was wearing only one slipper. She felt suddenly uneasy, though she could not, for the life of her, say why?

"I feel much better now, Tegan. That Delta Wave stimulant really did the trick," Nyssa said, kicking off the other slipper with a forced casualness. She poked it out of sight under the bed with a foot.

the deliberately off-hand action triggered the weirdest feeling of disorientation that Tegan had ever known. For some unaccountable reason, she felt she had trod on something, or remembered that she *was going to* tread on something. It was like having a memory of something having happened that you knew was not going to happen. The fingers of her left hand were clutching at a memory of holding something that she knew she had never held. The thing, whatever it had been, was not there now, and in fact had never been there at all.

Had never been there?

Yet she had the weirdest sense of having done all this before, only somehow different. At the same time, she knew, with absolute certainty, that she had not, would not, will not. With a mental effort, she forced the unsettling confusions to the back of her mind and smiled.

"You sure you're feeling better?" she asked, studying Nyssa's face.

"Much, thank you," the girl nodded. "I think i'll take a good long soak in a hot bath before I get dressed." Absently, she fingered the pendant from the cracker, hanging at her throat. It dangled on the twisted ribbon from the eye in the white portion. Meeting Tegan's gaze steadily, she favored her with a radiant smile. The last lingering shreds of guilt in Tegan's mind, for her part in Nyssa's excess of the night before, evaporated under the warmth of that smile.

Nyssa went on: "Could you find Adric for me? And ask him to come down to the small bio lab? The one off the medical unit? In about an hour or so?"

"Sure thing - but what do you want the kid for?"

"I found some really strange experiment in some old books; and I want to see if I can make them work; but the calculations are all third level. Way beyond me - I wouldn't even know how to ask them of the mathes program. If Adric's busy, or something, the Doctor will do."

Inwardly, Tegan sighed with relief. That sounded like the Nyssa she had grown fond of over the last months. Tegan relaxed muscles she had not even been aware that she was still tensing.

"Sure. I'll se to it right now. About an hour?"

"Yes. An hour."

"Right!" Tegan exclaimed, and left in search of the boy.

Pausing before his door, she was about to knock when a strange, yet familiar, noise came to her from inside the room. She frowned - surely that was a baby rattle? Now what would the boy want with something like that? Probably going to calculate the way the beads bounce around inside, she thought sourly. She rapped on the closed panel.

"Who is it?" Adric called from inside. He sounded distinctly nervous.

"Tegan. Can I come in?"

"Why?"

"I've got a message from Nyssa."

A long, doubtful silence crept out from under the door. Tegan put hands on hips and smiled. "It's ok, Adric. I haven't got the mistletoe."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really. Now can I come in?"

"All right."

Pushing the door open, Tegan entered. Adric stood in the centre of the room, wearing a loose pale blue tunic he often wore in the TARDIS. He was clutching a pink plastic baby rattle. He was looking at it with a curious, faintly puzzled smile on his face. He gave it an experimental shake, and looked pleased at the sound it produced. Tegan had expected to find him pouring over a book of equations, or staring in abstraction at a computer screen, full of totally incomprehensible mathematical symbols, not playing with a baby's toy.

"What'cha got there, Adric?"

Adric held it out to her. "A baby rattle," he said; "I found it in a chest back there." He waved vaguely at an inner door. "I thought Nyssa'd like it."

"Why?"

"Well. I thought?..." Adric began, frowned in puzzlement, then trailed off into silence. The look on his face was almost comical. He gave the rattle an experimental shake; but the sound seemed to stir no memory. At last, with a sheepish grin, he admitted: "Don't know. It just seemed like a good idea when I found it. Eh? What do you want, Tegan?"

"Nyssa wants to know if you'll help her with some calculations?"

The boy's grin widened into a genuinely pleased smile. "Of course."

"Good! She'll be down in the small bio lab off the medical room. She's going to try some experiments, and wants help with the mathes."

"What? Right now?"

"No. Nyssa's going to have a good soak in a bath first. She said in about an hour. Will that be alright?"

"Fine."

Tegan turned to go, message delivered. She paused, thinking this might be a good moment to try and apologise. She was just working up to it, when the Doctor's voice spoke from the air. "Adric? Can you hear me? If you can - come to the Console Room would you?"

Both of them caught the note of controlled urgency in the voice. Tegan said. "Oh rabbits! Now what? He sounds worried. I think you'd better get up there."

"I'm on my way, Doctor," Adric said to the air. Halfway to the door he paused, peering bewildered at the rattle in his hand. He shot a questioning look at Tegan, who shrugged at him in a "don't ask me". He stuffed the toy in a pocket of the loose tunic before hurrying out.

Tegan trailed out in his wake. In the corridor she hesitated, more than a little nervous about what might be up. At the same time, she was unable to shake an indefinable, yet positively *bad* feeling about Nyssa loose from her thoughts. It was something to do with the way the girl had set down that pillow she'd been cradling.

The simple action had caused a disturbing emotional turmoil within. The powerful surge had made her breasts tingle and filled her arms with a diffuse longing which egged on her uneasiness. Her body knew instinctively what game was a-foot, but her brain was loathe to put a name to it - the idea seeming so ridiculous.

Rousing herself from introspection, tegan called out to Adric's back disappearing round a corner: "I'll be along. I just want to have a word with Nyssa first."

-------------

Adric entered the console room. He paused just inside the door, peering around. The Doctor stood at the console. A large leather bound volume lay open upon the console. The Doctor was perusing it through a pair of half-lensed spectacles. Everything seemed in order to the boy. "What's up Doctor?" he asked, pushing the door to, and moving over to stand next to the Time Lord.

The Doctor glanced over his half lenses. He noted, with an inward smile, that Adric had taken the trouble to pin on his badge for mathematical excellence. It shone out proud on the breast pocket of the light blue tunic.

"A small emergency," he explained. "I've got it in hand for the moment; but I fear we might be in real difficulties if I can't find some way to deal with it properly. I'm going to need your skill with numbers."

Adric beamed; then a puzzled look came over his face. "It's nice of you to ask, Doctor, but the math program in the TARDIS memory would be just as good."

"The TARDIS might not cooperate." the Doctor said.

"What? Why not?"Adric moved around to peer at the lights on the console, as if he might see the reason there.

"We might have a Time Worm in the system."

"A Time Worm?"

The Doctor nodded. "It's a sort of extra-continuum parasite. A creature of negative energy that parasitises TARDISes."

Adric was frankly incredulous. He found the idea of a creature preying on a TARDIS quite unbelievable, and said so.

The Doctor regarded the boy gravely over his half-lenses a long moment before replying. "The parasitic intelligences are all too real, Adric. My people call the Time Worms the Maggot Brood, though I've always considered that a rather pejorative term myself."

"Are they dangerous?"

"Yes. Very! To all positively polarised intra-continuum entities.."

Adric looked puzzled.

"Eh - that's you and me and everyone from inside a universal envelope," the Doctor explained. He sent his fingers dancing over the controls. He paused suddenly and shot another sharp look at the boy. "I've got it tied down for the moment; but if I can't find some way to dislodge this one from the system, then it's eventually going to suck out all the life energy of the TARDIS and destroy her, and everything within the plasmic shell."

"But how did the TARDIS get infected by this ... this ... Time Worm?"

"I have no idea. The TARDIS has very powerful anti-body procedures against these parasites. They usually detect and eject the eggs long before they can find a niche in which to hatch."

Adric was still not convinced; the concept seemed quite ludicrous. The TARDIS was a machine, complex and old and almost alive, but still only a machine. He said as much to the Doctor.

"The TARDIS is more a coagulation of primal forces, some of which might be deemed to have a biological profile, rather than just being an assembly of inanimate machine parts, Adric," the Doctor explained. "And TARDISes have been around a long time - more than long enough for a life form to evolve to prey on them. In the early days, we lost many travel capsules, without being able to explain why, until we discovered the Time Worms. It's far more difficult for them to infect us, now that we have the Anti Body procedures; but its a war without possibility of victory on either side. They still succeed in getting in now and then. Which means we have to update the anti body procedures..."

The Doctor broke off from his explanation, to flip a couple of switches. Numbers wriggled across the screen like green worms. "How are you on transdimensional transformers?" he asked.

"Ok - I think?"

"Good. What is the reciprocal of...," and he launched into a long stream of numerals.

Adric came back with the answer the moment the Doctor stopped speaking. "9474.234 - 72."

"And the answer - without the power variable."

"4.9174."

The Doctor frowned. "Are you sure?"

'Doctor! Please..."Adric looked pained.

"Yes of course," the Doctor muttered. "Sorry, Adric. It's just that with those numbers, there is simply no space at all left where it could be lodged."

"Could you have been mistaken about the time loop?"

"No. It *has* to be in the system somewhere. It can only get the TARDIS to loop time if it has a direct link to the command structures. And there's no internal volume that is not accounted for. It simply is not there."

"But it was able to make the TARDIS loop time?"

The Doctor nodded. "But the contact seemed very tenuous;" he said, more speaking his thoughts out loud than to Adric.

"Isn't there any other way it can gain access to the TARDIS command structures? Some kind of ... Well, I don't know what?" Adric looked hopefully to the Doctor.

"It has to be a direct link." the Doctor reiterated. "There are only two other ways it can maintain a direct link. First, the Worm is in the Matrix. In which case it's a matter for Gallifrey to deal with."

"Is that likely?"

"No. Most unlikely. The Matrix has even more efficient anti body procedures than an old Type Forty." He absently patted the console, just to reassure her that he meant no disrespect. "And if the worm can cope with those defenses? then it will brush aside any anti body programs that we can throw at it. Besides which, if it's in the Matrix? then someone on Gallifrey would have notice by this time. The Cloister Bells would be going hard enough even to get that lot into action."

He ran his hands over the keys on the console, watching the flickering of coloured patches on the screen. He cancelled the display and swung around, peering over his half lenses at the roundels set in the walls. "It *has* to be somewhere?" he mused.

"There was that discrepancy at 1234987.234," Adric pointed out. He had quite enjoyed exercising his talent. So far in his short life, the TARDIS physical reality construct (which could only be described by reference to a framework of Block Transfer equations) was the only thing which had given him a real "work out" mathematically.

"Hmmm - yes." the Doctor acknowledged Adric's words absently. He began to fiddle with his stick of celery. "The trouble is, it might not be a discrepancy. Small discontinuities like that occur all the time."

The Doctor dragged off his hat, fiddled with the brim a moment, before setting it on the top of the rotor. Taking off the half-lenses, he popped them into the breast pocket of his blazer and wandered all around the console. He completed one full circuit, lost in thought, and had just started on another, when he stopped abruptly to frown at Adric.

"Where does that approximate to?" he asked.

Adric closed his eyes a moment, his lips working silently. Suddenly, his eyes popped open. "Assuming no re-configuration since Castrovalva? I'd say it was - ah - most probably the Rain Room?"

"Right!" exclaimed the Doctor decisively. "It might be nothing; but it can't hurt to check." He swept up his hat as he passed the console, heading for the door. "Come along, Adric! I might need your help again."

Adric trailed after him, down the humming corridors, to the portals of the strangely tranquil room. The Doctor paused on the threshold. He peered cautiously around the book lined study; he saw nothing out of place. His gaze shifted to the French Windows. Thoughtfully, he watched the rain through the glass panels of the doors for a long moment. Then he noticed something on the rug before the doors. He stiffened as the suspicion which had suggested itself to him in the Console Room solidified suddenly into a dreadful fear.

"So, you don't think it's in the Matrix?" asked Adric, pushing past the Doctor into the room.

"No," the Doctor said, his mind dwelling on an unpleasant dilemma.

Adric glanced around. The log fire was burning in the marble fire place with a muted crackling. The rich aroma of leather bound books wafted from the book cases lining the walls; the fresh wet smell of the forever rain teased nostrils; and the comfortable melancholy was soothing to the soul. The "genius" of this reality construct was a gentle distillation of all these things. It hung heavy in the air of the Rain Room, settling like a satin shroud over the solid-looking, tasteful furniture.

"You said there were two other places?" Adric prompted; but the Doctor was not listening.

A taut silence lengthened in the quiet room. The fire crackled as it might have done since the dawn of time. Outside, the rain fell.

"Pardon?" the Doctor said at last. "What was that? Adric?"

"I said: you mention two other places? If it's not in the Matrix, then where?"

Again, the Doctor did not answer at once. His lips drew together as he mused over his fears, seeking some flaw in his thinking. The idea was absurd, dangerously so, and yet he could not, dare not ignore the trail of clues which led inevitably to...To an outcome he hardly dared to think about. Eventually, with a great effort, he was able to put the matter aside. He returned his attention to the boy.

He said: "It is feasible that it could use the telepathic link in my mind - hide itself in my head and work the TARDIS through the connection. But it's not doing that."

"How do you know?"

"I know, Adric! If I had a Time Worm hiding inside my mind, I would know...Adric? Have you tried to go through the doors?"

"Doors?" Adric echoed. "What doors?"

The Doctor did not answer. Instead he pointed to the floor before the French Windows. The tastefully patterned door-mat was marked by some wet footprints. He crossed the room and went to his knees beside the damp foot marks on the carpet. Adric trailed over behind him. The Doctor was tracing an outline with his finger. "No. Of course you haven't." he answered his own question. "This print is far too small."

He rose, his expression bleak. For a long moment, he stood by the windows gazing around, while grim thoughts cast a black shadow on his mind. He was certain now that there must be an unpleasant corollary to what he had to do next. but he withheld his thoughts from the boy. It could serve no purpose to burden Adric with the fears which were tormenting him.

"Well?" inquired Adric, when the silence lengthened once more. "Is it here?"

The Doctor shook himself alert. "No."

"So. What do we do now?"

"For the moment," the Doctor said slowly, "there isn't much I can do, except set up a security wall and run the engines a bit to see if I can flush it from the system into the open."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" the boy asked.

"No!" the Doctor snapped, his voice edged with an unwonted sharpness.

Slowly, drawing out Nyssa's green paper crown, he smoothed it out. He held the flimsy scrap of green up before his face, his eyes hard, his features set with determination. No. There was no point in troubling the boy unnecessarily. It was not as though there was a choice in the matter anyway. The thing *had* to be done.

With sudden savagery, he balled up the crackling green paper and flung it into the fire where it was consumed by the forever flames. Turning on is heel, the Doctor strode to the door, leaving a concerned Adric to stare after him.

- - - - - - - - -

Broodiness! Tegan unwilingly admitted to herself at last. The sensation flooding her body was a powerful flood of maternal feelings; and the cause of her delicious discomfort was not in doubt.

A few years ago, she had been present when a cousin had given birth. The new-born babe had been put into her arms. The floods of tender sensation she had experienced then found their echo in the emotional turmoil she was now experiencing. She was leaning against the wall, just inside the Bio-Lab, struggling with this inappropriate emotion, which surged up within every time she looked at the slender form of Nyssa.

The Traken girl stood, head bent together with Adric, in earnest discussion of some abstruse matter next to a laboratory bench covered with a complicated array of glassware. From time to time, Nyssa would point to some part of the array and launch into an explanation that was complete gibberish to Tegan; but which would set Adric's head nodding eagerly.

Every movement of her clean limbs, every syllable of her words dropping from the exquisite mouth was sending new shivers of motherly sensation through Tegan. Yes. Broody was exactly the word, she nodded to herself.

She crossed her arms over her breasts to stifle the uncomfortable tingling Nyssa's mere presence set going in them. Her nipples were stiff and tender. These physical phantoms of motherhood, she remembered experiencing whilst watching her cousin nursing the new baby; but why should Nyssa be having this effect on her. That troubled her more than a little and, she noted, she was not the only one being affected by this powerful maternal aura emanating from the girl.

Adric had a rather foolish smile on his face. He'd pulled the baby rattle from his pocket and was holding it out to Nyssa. The look of delight in her face sent a redoubled surge of tenderness through Tegan's entire being.

"Oh! It's perfect! Thank you, Adric. Thank you;" Nyssa cooed. The girl was almost gushing; which was not like her at all. She took the rattle and, for a horrified moment, Tegan thought she was going to kiss Adric in a spontaneous show of affection for the thoughtfulness of the gift.

Tegan pushed herself upright. That was certainly not the Nyssa she knew at all.

Adric's grin had gone all soppy, his usually hard, button bright eyes taking on a softer aspect. Tegan turned away, struggling with the confused mix of emotions ravishing her as yet unfulfilled motherly instincts. There was even a touch of jealousy in there somewhere because of the attention Adric was paying to Nyssa; and that couldn't be right. She didn't even like the boy very much. She didn't want to watch this. She started out the door. Exactly at that instant, the note of the TARDIS altered.

It was a subtle shift, but one which she had learned to associate with imminent dematerialisation. So, the Doctor had succumbed to his wanderlust again? Where were they off to this time? Somewhere quiet, Tegan hoped; but with what had already happened to her so far since entering the TARDIS, there didn't seem much chance of that.

The lighting dimmed suddenly. Nyssa screamed.

It was the most awful scream that Tegan could ever remember. It froze her to the spot, raising hackles all over her body. A wave of goose flesh rippled down her spine. She'd heard people screaming before, done a fair bit of it herself, but nothing quite like the agonised sound which was now reverberating from the white walls. It was the very worst - ever!

The sound of dematerialisation ceased abruptly. The scream diminished away into a shivering whimper. The illumination brightened. Tegan half turned to re-enter the Bio-Lab.

Dense billows of a grey fog swirled in the room, thickest around Nyssa. Enreathed in the glittering mist, she was swaying from side to side, her hands clasped to her breasts. The pink rattle was sticking out from her clenched fingers at an obscene angle. A crown of frost diamonds sparkled in her hair. While Tegan looked on, transfixed, The girl uttered a low moan and sagged into Adric's arms. The boy lowered the shuddering form to the floor, and knelt beside her.

The baby rattle, dropping from lax fingers, bounced across the floor. Rattling merrily, it fetched up against Tegan's feet, shocking her out of immobility. She was on her knees beside Nyssa in a flash.

The girl was unconscious. Tegan was reaching down a hand, when the sound of take off rose again, more intense this time. The wheezing seemd somehow softened, and over laid by the gurgling of a contented baby.

A bone cold chilliness began to radiate from Nyssa. The pendant at her throat was flickering, the white and black portions flipping back and forth in a grey blur. The shining mist thickened about the girl, cocooning her recumbent form like a shroud. Wrapped in the sparkling vapour, Nyssa's body began to fade.

Tegan uttered a gasp of horror. She reached automatically to grab a hand; but like cold custard, Nyssa's substance oozed through her grasping fingers. Tegan shuddered in stark horror at the slimy feel of the melting flesh. She jerked away, snatching back her hand, utterly, utterly unmanned. Her hand was on fire with an arctic cold - so stiff that it would not close into a fist. She clasped it to herself, whimpering. The flesh had a sickly parlour, glassy and congealed looking. While she sat nursing her burning hand in a daze of horror, the take off sound reached a peak, and died. The underlying cooing of the baby grew discontented.

Amazingly, before her shocked and disbelieving gaze, Nyssa solidified. Again the sound mounted, and again Nyssa faded.

Adric leapt up. "We've got to stop him;" he cried. "It's the take off engines!" He turned to race from the bio-lab. "I've got to stop him! He's killing her!"

The sound of the engines mounted up once more in fretful echoes, straining to a final crescendo. In that instant, Nyssa faded completely out of existence. There remained only a ghostly doppleganger made of mist, which silently thinned away right before Tegan's horrified gaze.

About the stunned woman, kneeling in the now empty bio-lab, the note of the engines settled into the contented hum of the TARDIS in flight. Somewhere, a baby was cooing with pleasure.

---------

"Adric!" the Doctor cried, "Keep shaking that rattle!" The contented gurgling of a baby, echoing throughout the TARDIS, had died into an ominous silence, laden with waiting. A chill grew in the air. The lighting dimmed. The hum of the engines took on a strained note.

With renewed vigour, Adric began to shake the baby rattle. The happy burbling once more filled the air. The room warmed appreciably; and the light level recovered.

Tegan was biting her lower lip with impatience. She was deadly afraid for Nyssa. "Can't you do something?" she implored. "Nyssa -"

The Doctor glanced up from his frantic setting of controls. "I am doing something, Tegan! Be patient! I'm working as fast as I dare. This is a very dangerous manoeuvre - "

"When is it ever anything else?" Tegan bit back with sarcasm sharpened by desperation.

The Doctor adjusted a last control, hesitated a moment over the activation switch, considering the dangers of his plan. Quickly, he ran the program through his mind, looking for flaws. There were bound to be some; and there was not the time to track them all down. It would take one only to kill them. With grave misgivings, he pressed the switch.

The materialisation sound swelled in the room. The gurgling twisted into a scream of infantile rage. An arctic chill gripped the room. Grey mist congealed in the air over the console, discharging its own mini snow storm. The smooth rise and fall of the Time Rotor became jerky, while the TARDIS hum died to a strangled whimper. The light level dimmed, plunging the room into an artic mid-winter.

"NO!" yelled the Doctor, slamming a hand down on another control. Time stuttered. Reality jerked. The forward flow of the "now" resumed.

Tegan blinked, confused by the two memories, laid one over the other in her mind. Both seemed utterly real, the frigid dark, and the "normal" reality of the console room in which she now stood. Except that now, before the inner door, stood a blue Police Box. Only it didn't seem quite right?

Tegan stared and stared, knowing that there was something wrong, but could not work out what it was. "Doctor -" sh ecried.

"Quick!" exclaimed the Doctor. "inside - now!" He lunged for the enigmatic box.

"It's the wrong way round!" Adric said. "Like a reflection."

The long sought comprehension dawned on Tegan. She went to speak; but the Doctor grabbed her by the wrist as he pelted past. He hauled her unceremoniously to the box, shoved open the door, and flung the startled woman inside.

"Adric! Come on!" he urged as the boy stood gawking at the reflected version of the TARDIS. "There's no time to lose!" He flung out a hand, grabbed Adric by the sleeve and swung him through the gap, piling in behind the boy.

On the threshold, he shot a look back over his shoulder into the console room. Across the far side, the doors stood wide. Tegan was in the act of going down on one knee, hands flung out to fend off contact with the floor. Behind her, Adric was skipping aside to avoid tumbling over her; and behind him, the Doctor caught a glimpse of himself in the threshold, looking back over his shoulder into yet another console room. His stomach churned with sudden nausea, before the closing doors shut off the unsettling sight.

Tegan scrambled to her feet. Across the slowly moving central element of the console, another TARDIS stood against the inner doors. It seemed to be the right way round this time.

"Quick!" the Doctor urged, and raced towards this new manifestation of the time space machine. He pushed open the door and plunged inside. "Quick! COME ON!" the Doctor's urgent voice drifted back.

It was all proving a bit much for Tegan. The young woman just stood gaping. On his way past, Adric grabbed her hand, hauling her to the TARDIS. Without preamble, he stuffed the unresisting woman through the doors. Hand in hand, the pair ran out into a summer rain shower.

Around them, stretching away in all directions was a formal garden, enclosed by a high brick wall. Nearby, it looked solid and real, but further off it faded away into the misting rain. The scene reminded Tegan of the half seen vista glimpsed through the patio doors of the Rain Room. The Doctor was nowhere in sight.

Tegan turned through a complete circle. "Doctor?" she yelled. "Where are you?" The only answer was the soft pattering of the silver rain. Tegan put hands on hips an regarded the boy. "Now what?"

The Alzarian shrugged, a gesture he had learned from the Earth woman. He pointed with the rattle. "What's that?"

"It's a fountain," Tegan told him.

The boy moved to the stone structure. He dabbled his fingers in the dark water, peering through the rain rippled surface to the depths. Eyes wide in sudden astonishment, he gasped and drew back.

"Adric? -" Tegan cried in alarm. She started in his direction, then stopped abruptly as something moved in the upper periphery of Tegan's field of vision. By reflex, she looked up.

Tegan screamed.

-----------

The Doctor plunged through the entrance to the reflected TARDIS, ready for anything, except perhaps what he encountered.

The first thing he noticed was a gigantic depiction of the Seal of Rassilon on the gleaming white wall opposite. Below that symbol of the Time Lord's power, were the delivery bays of the Great Loom. Standing by the reception cocoons was a girlish form in Traken robes. She was cradling a pillow in her arms. Nyssa's head was bent over the bundle. She was cooing soothingly to it; the crooning filled the grand chamber, with an ethereal weave of beautiful sound.

The Doctor approached, alert for the attack that he knew would have to come. "Nyssa?" he called quietly.

The girl stopped crooning and looked up. Her eyes were on fire with maternal love. Her arm tightened protectively around the pillow. She smiled. It was a bleak cold thing that stretched her mouth into a feral snarl. "Keep away!" she snarled. "You must not hurt my baby...I won't let you!"

The Doctor stopped. He held out a hand towards the tense girl. "Nyssa? Nyssa - you must listen to me. It's not your baby;" he explained in a gentle voice. The look of agony that crossed the girl's pale countenance, wrung his hearts.

"NO!" she shrieked. "It is my baby. He is beautiful, and - and you mustn't hurt him! You mustn't!"

"Please, Nyssa," the Doctor persisted. "You must give it to me now, Nyssa. If you do not then it will kill us all." He risked another step forward.

Nyssa looked wretched and desperate. She squeezed the bundle to her breast and backed away towards the reception cocoons. "No, Doctor. You're wrong. Not IT, HE! HE is my little darling; and HE couldn't harm anyone. He's only a baby - a harmless baby. MY baby!

And there, thought the Doctor grimly, lies the only hope we have of getting out of this alive - the fact that it was an infant, unskilled in dealing with a harsh environment. He readied himself to spring.

The bundle in Nyssa's arms wriggled. A squeal of panic reverberated in the great Loom Reception Hall of the Time Lords.

"Please! Doctor!" the girl cried. Her expression was a mask of warring emotions. "Please! Don't make me hurt you! Please don't!"

Nothing you could do could hurt me any more than this, he thought, and lunged for the girl.

A sharp shriek of terror was loosed from the bundle in Nyssa's arms. The girl screamed. Spinning about, she ran to the Loom Master's console. Without hesitation, her hand slammed down on the activation switch. The mighty Loom engines began to hum. Hatches over four of the delivery pans slid aside. The birthing platforms slid forth, each bearing a full sized body.

The trays nestled up to the reception cocoons. As they clicked home, the familiar forms upon them stirred, and sat up. As one, the four former incarnations of the Doctor, swung legs to the floor. Mist congealed in the air about the cocoons. The four figures stood, the mist wreathing them in a grey shroud.

"Kill him!" screamed Nyssa. "He wants to kill my baby! Kill him!"

With an eerie dream-like quality, the four Doctors spread apart to form a semi circle. They began to float towards him, drawing after them the thickening veil of mist. The Doctor backed away, feeling the first whisper of the void chill caressing his cheek. The for spread their arms wide, linked hands, and came forward to claim his soul. Behind them, Nyssa looked on with eyes of crystaline fire.

"Kill him!" she commanded. "Kill the infanticide!"

The Doctor drew in a breath of the bone chill air to speak, to cry out to Nyssa, to find some words that might thaw her frozen heart. Even as he did so, and the void cold crystalised inside his lungs, he knew that it was hopeless. She would not hear him. Nyssa was totally obsessed with the mother love, engendered by the worm, for its survival.

He turned to flee - it was the only choice left to him.

Though it was immature, the worm was cunning in its fight for life. It intended to survive. It had provided against this eventuality.

The Doctor fled through the entrance and...

...Into the Grand Reception Chamber. From the opposite wall, the mighty silvered seal of Rassilon looked down on his desperate plight with cold indifference. By the reception cocoons, Nyssa stood, cradling the bundle. The girl looked on with those eyes of crystaline fire.

The Doctor hardly noticed. His attention was riveted on the four engines of his death moving to trap him in an arctic embrace. The sight so unmanned him that a little cry of horror escaped his lips. He stumbled to a halt, his eyes darted from one crudely realised figure to the next.

The four figures had an obscene familiarity, though he recognised them not at all. The one on the left seemed made up of patches of irregular and clashing colours which shifted and meshed together like fangs closing in flesh. Next in line was a short figure, whose essence seemed a question, with umbrellas for legs and arms. The next was a vague long coat and long hair. The last was merely a shifting formless something, inchoate and unrealised. The only thing they had in common was the face. That was the worst of all. Where they should have been, were only shocking pink ovoids, completely smooth and devoid of any features.

Behind them, Nyssa looked on satisfied. "Close the circle," she commanded. "Close the circle and save my baby."

His four future echoes joined hands. They began to close in with deadly intent. If he did not do something *now*, he would be trapped in the doorway between realities. The Doctor spun round. His four former selves were upon him, arms spread left and right. If they once completed the circle, then his life was done.

To his left, hands touched. The Doctor dived to the right, seeking a way of escape. Before his desperate gaze, hands touched there too, fingers inter-linking. He was trapped, lost in the instant of the now, between what was and what might have been. Mist materialised in the air about the Doctor, frost glittered. The killing cold kissed his soul and sucked the last remnants of his powerful life presence from his body. Like a grey shroud, the mist carried by his incarnations settled over his frozen form. The silence of the void, indifferent, unending, cold, settled in the stark chamber.

------------

Tegan's yell of surprise jolted Adric out of his astonishment. He jerked upright; saw Tegan staring up at the clouds where a gigantic, misty vision of his own face hung over them, peering down. As the pair watched, the image faded into random shapes in the scudding cloud layer.

Tegan let out her breath. "Weird," she hissed through her teeth. "What the hell's going on here?"

Adric shrugged. He pointed at the rippling surface of the basin. "When I looked in there, I was looking down on us here by the fountain. And - there I was! looking down into the fountain? And -" Adric broke off; he frowned as an outrageous idea struck him. "A reflection encompassed infinity?"

"What's that?"

"a very difficult concept - mathematiclly." Adric informed her. "I wonder -" He fell silent, his lips working soundlessly.

"Adric? What is it? Are you all right?"

The boy totally ignored her. There was a glassy look in his dark eyes. His lips worked in a tense silence.

Tegan felt suddenly very cold. "Adric?" she cried. "Adric?" There was no response. The Alzarian was completely absorbed in some abstruse mathematical problem. Tegan reached out and shoved his arm. With a little yelp of pain, she snatched her hand back - he was colder than an iceberg. Now what? Panic rose like a tide within her soul. "Come on, Jovanka! Get a bloody grip!" she encouraged herself. "Brave Heart, Tegan!"

She felt instantly better for that; but the ghost of a smile died a-borning on her lips as, far off and low, the sound of a girl singing, drifted to her.

"Silent Night. Holy Night - " In Nyssa's lilting voice, the poignant words of the carol rose over the pattering rain. It was an achingly sweet sound, mesmeric and compelling. "All is calm. All is bright - "

Tegan listened enraptured, despite her desperation. She forgot Adric.

"Round yon virgin - Mother and Child - "

Tegan turned her head from side to side, trying to fix the source of that sound. A splash of colour caught her eye. A brightly patterned umbrella lay abandoned near to an open gate in the wall. A slight breeze rocked the canopy of bright cloth back and forth, in time to the sweet singing. In a dream, Tegan floated towards it.

The singing stopped abruptly. There was a long, pregnant hesitation, as though a breath was being held while Tegan took up, and examined, the umbrella.

By the fountain, Adric stood, statue still. A sheen of frost glittered on his exposed skin. The boy stood in his own little snowstorm. Around him, an ever widening circle of blasted and frost withered grass grew a-pace. Tegan averted her gaze, her skin crawling.

Nyssa's voice rose strong and triumphal over the pattering rain. "Oh, come all ye faithful - "

The umbrella slipped forgotten from Tegan's fingers. The open gate beckoned. Beyond, a small stream babbled; and across the water, summer bedecked trees laughed in a playful breeze. The sight and sound filled Tegan with a surging sense of elation.

"Joyful and triumphant -"

Low, slow and echoing sang that ethereal voice.

Compelled, Tegan moved through the gate, crossed the plank bridge, and went in under the trees. Sudden darkness pressed in; a wintry chill ran icy fingers along her spine; but Tegan pushed on into the night time forest.

"Oh, come ye, oh, come ye - "

Tegan stumbled onwards, moving further into night. It grew darker yet, the sort of darkness that seeps unbidden into the soul, and undoes the self. She faltered to a stop, and stood undecided, until before her she saw a light high up, through the web of winter dead branches imprisoning the sky. She started forward again, unaccountably cheered by that faint spark of light in the heavens. It seemed somehow a beacon of promise, in a world of weary hopelessness. Renewed in spirit, Tegan pressed forward again.

"Oh, little Town of Bethlehem - How still we see thee lie."

Abruptly, Tegan came out of the wood. Before her, the ground sloped down into a shallow valley, then rose in a rocky hillside. The dim shapes of buildings clung to the steep way.

"Above thy deep and dreamless sleep - the silent stars go by."

Tiny sparks of light wavered in the windows of those houses. High above in the sky the star glittered and flamed.

"Yet in the dark streets shineth, the everlasting light!"

Tegan was drawn to the stable by the flickering radiance shining from a cave in the hillside. It had been fitted out with byres and a manger. The lambent light came from a tiny oil lamp. Two oxen looked on with large curious eyes, made bright by the lamp light.

Nyssa was there. The young woman was crouching over the manger, stroking a pillow laid in the hay.

"The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight." Nyssa finished, letting her voice die into silence.

Tegan took a deep breath and entered. She crossed to stand behind the rapt girl.

"Nyssa?" she called softly. The oxen stirred, somewhere a baby made a small, frightened noise. The flame of the lamp flickered, sending shadows licking about the walls. Nyssa did not move.

"Nyssa?" Tegan called again. She reached out a tentative hand to touch, and paused at the biting cold emanating from the silk covered shoulders. "Nyssa?"

The Traken girl stirred. She reached down into the manger and gathered up the pillow with a loving tenderness. She straightened and turned, cradling the bundle of white to her breast.

She began a gentle swaying back and forth, crooning a wordless lullaby. All the while, she watched with a rapt maternal gaze, the thing cradled against her breasts. Frost glittered on her eyelashes, in her eyebrows and hair.

Suddenly the singing died. The silence reached for Tegan's throat. Nyssa looked up.

The hackles all along Tegan's neck stood rigid. Goose bumps rippled all the way to her heels. She staggered back, a tiny strangle cry of horror escaping her bloodless lips.

Eyes of ice, bright as jewels regarded her from Nyssa's waxen countenance. At her throat the pendant moved back and forth in time to her rocking, fixed through the eye of the black portion.

"The circle is closed." she said.

Tegan turned to flee. Blocking the entrance to the cave, were four men in the garb of Roman soldiers. They were crowded about a tall wooden cross. the form of a man, bloody and broken, dangled from the tree. He was stirring feebly. As Tegan watched one of the soldiers jabbed a spear into his side. The suffering man groaned, drew in a last shuddering breath, and gave up the ghost. He sagged forward, his thorn crowned head lolling. Beyond the cave mouth, a white wilderness of snow stretched into a grey dim.

"Thus is the circle of life closed."

Tegan swung back to the thing that had once been her friend. The bundle in her arms was pulsing and squirming, growing fatter and fuller with every passing instant.

"All things are circles," the young mother intoned in Nyssa's voice. "Mirrors reflecting in mirrors, creating infinities, yet constrained between surfaces of infinite depth - this for the boy, Adric. And for the Doctor?

She fell silent a long moment, fingering the twisted ribband about her neck. A particularly savage joy flamed coldly in the eyes.

"For the would-be infanticide, the prison of the sterile cycls of his regeneration and death set to spinning down the spiral strand of his life pattern, curving and endlessly recurving inwards and downwards without end or beginning. Such has ever been his bane - turned now to the salvation of my baby."

Nyssa fell to crooning and swaying, leaning down over the bundle. It seemed for a long moment the girl had forgotten Tegan, who began to edge away and look round for some way of escape from this madness. She was brought up short by Nyssa's voice, which seemed touched with an almost regret.

"And for Tegan, the least of the trinity - the simplicity of the circle of life itself, from birth," she brushed a loving hand over the pillow, "to death," she indicated the crucifixion, " and so back to life. An enduring pattern. and one older by far than these events drawn from your mind."

Tegan shivered and clutched at herself as fangs of ice closed in her soul.

---------

Adric did not *love* mathematics; he *was* the love of mathematics. It was not what he did; it was what he was...

...And it was killing him.

He knew the answer was correct - he just couldn't achieve it. With feverish application, he set forth the equations, laying them down in a path of reason; but, no matter how he tried to keep the path straight, it twisted over and recurved back on itself and came back to the beginning.

Only it was not the beginning, only a negative continuation of the path. Round and round this endless one-sided mathmatical construct he raced, endlessly curving inwards upon himself, while all about and through the substance of his being, a killing cold seeped, drawing off his life energy.

He knew very well the reason why he could not find an end to the path of equations. That was plain - Paradox! the fundamental rules governing the form of this universe would not permit Paradox. Somewhere, the contented gurgling of a baby faltered into a discontented whine. The answer was there; but a pathway could *not* be constructed that could lead him to it.

The contented gurgling resumed. The chill bit deeper into Adric's soul.

Adric was about to redouble his efforts, when a thought occurred to him.

The baby fell silent, listening, waiting. A tense, fearful anticipation gripped the void about the boy. But Adric just smiled. The answer was simple. If the rules governing the universe did not permit, then away with them, and form a new set of fundamentals which permitted a path to be laid. He, Adric of Alzarius, could do that. "Block Transfer Computations," he said.

The baby screamed in panic. Adric ignored it, his lips forming the reality shaping equations. He went forward steadily, with resolution, though he knew that one slip or hesitation would mean disaster. Adric went forward, sure-footed in the shifting sand of reality transformation. He pulled back his conscious mind to allow his instinctive "feeling" for the numbers to take the venture forward. The problem of the reflected infinity had become academic now; but he solved it anyway, just for the sake of tidiness. Then he brought a pathway into being, opened his construct, and stepped through in search of the Doctor.

In the void left behind, was only the panicky shrieking of a terrified baby and the soothing crooning of a concerned mother.

-------------------

Nyssa smiled in satisfaction, cuddling her baby. Before the doting mother, in the arch between the past and the future, a vast glittering pyramid of ice had formed. Trapped in it's heart was the most dangerous of the enemies of her baby. Soon, even the Doctor's iron constitution would succumb to the killing cold. When that happened, her baby could grow in safety.

Unseen, beside her, one of the delivery pans slid from the Loom. It snicked into place against the delivery table. The lid lifted, and Adric slid to the floor.

Nyssa spun round. She hissed an inarticulate curse at him. The boy ignored the blast of icy breath that seared his cheek, his lips working to form the transformers. At his back, the mighty wall dominated by the Seal of Rassilon, mutated into a magnificent marble fire place. The confection of carved marble was patterned after the one in the Rain Room, only swollen to monstrous proportions. A vast wave of heat radiated from the roaring logs in the grate.

Nyssa screamed, and fell back from the wave of heat. She turned her back to the inferno, protective of her baby. She began a staggering run; but she got only three steps before, in a sudden roaring rush, she blossomed into a pillar of incandescent flame.

An agonised scream rent the air. The nerve twisting sound, a mixture of rage and pain, reverberated about the vast hall. Slowly, that tortured sound diminished away, sinking down with the pillar of flame that had consumed the reflection of the young mother.

Ignoring the heart rending cry, Adric continued his muttering. He pointed at the iceberg in the arch. Already torrents of water streamed down its flanks. A mighty gush of steam rose, called forth by the boy's imperious gesture. The clouds of vapour swirled about the melting block. For many seconds the chamber echoed to the thunder of cracking ice, the slide and crash of crystaline shards slithering to the floor, and the hissing of steam. Then, from the boiling fog, stepped the Doctor. He took a few shaky steps, half raised a hand, tried to speak, then staggered to a halt. He sagged to the flooded floor.

Adric went to him, still muttering the transformers. He assisted the stricken Time Lord to is feet.

"Adric..." the Doctor gasped.

"Adric nodded, his lips working. He raised a hand and the fire flowed into a cave mouth in a rocky hillside. With Adric supporting the Doctor, they stepped inside the cave.

---------

Tegan turned to flee. She collided with the Doctor and Adric who had just emerged from the opening in the world, that the crucifix had become. Tegan clutched herself to the Time Lord, completely unmanned, and shaking like a leaf in a gale.

The Doctor's arms went about her, pulling the distraught woman in close for a moment. Over her shoulder, his eyes met the eyes of crystaline fire,blazing in the waxen face of the Traken girl. Then, gently he disentangled Tegan and set her to one side.

"Nyssa? You *must* give me the worm," he said, straining for all the force of persuasiveness at his command. "Nyssa? You MUST give it to me now."

Nyssa raised an ugly blaster. "Leave me be," she snarled. "You WILL not harm my baby."

The Doctor took a step forward. "Nyssa! It will kill us all if you do not!"

"Then we die!" Nyssa said calmly. "We die that my baby shall know life." It was a simple statement of a mother's love - obvious, factual, and unarguable.

The Doctor did not argue. He tensed, ready to spring. He doubted it would do any good; but he was entirely out of choices.

"NO!" Nyssa screamed. She swung the blaster to point at Adric. With deliberate intent, she squeezed the firing stud.

Adric muttered furiously. For a long heart beat the universe held its breath; but no lethal ray struck the boy down. Instead, the gun blossomed into a bunch of roses.

Nyssa glanced down, amazed at the flowers clutched in her hand. Blood ran from between her spastically squeezing fingers as the thorns tore into flesh. An inarticulate scream of fear and hatred lashed the chill air. She hurled the roses at the Doctor, as he leapt at her to wrestle the bundle from her grasp. There was a long, frantic moment of struggle, before the Doctor staggered back, gripping the white bundle tight. It was writhing in his grasp like a demented snake. The terrified screaming of the baby echoed in the cave, filling up the world.

Tegan pressed hands over her ears, her loyalties riven by the sound. The vulnerability and fear in that sound touched some profound part of Tegan's motherly instinct that brooded in the dark, awaiting its chance in the sun.

"MY BABY! Please don't kill my baby!" Nyssa shrieked. She flung herself to her knees, and began shuffling towards the Doctor, hands upraised in beseeching supplication. "Please! Not my Baby! You can't kill my baby - pleeeeesse!" The stricken girl clawed and scrabbled at the Doctor's legs. Tears, welling from those cold eyes, froze on the cheeks, creating glittering daggers of ice like fangs.

"Please! Please!" she pleaded, sobbing wildly. "Not my baby. Please not my baby."

"I must," cried the Doctor, struggling to harden his hearts to the terrible task. "It will kill us all."

A long despairing sob of negation wailed from the girl. She dragged at the Doctor's legs in an orgasm of anguish and despair. "Please. Please. Not my baby."

"Tegan? Get that pendant off her!" the Time Lord commanded. "Do it! now!" he added wen he realised her riven loyalty, written plain in the indecision on her face. Tegan made no move to comply. She just stared at him, wrestling with an urge to attack him, to snatch the bundle away and cradle it to herself, to protect the baby.

"Please?" the Doctor implored against the terrified crying of the babe and the sobbing please of Nyssa dragging at his legs.

Tegan decided. It was the hardest thing she had ever done. In a daze, Tegan reached down, slipped fingers under the ribbon and ripped the pendant free from Nyssa's neck. In that instant insanity piled upon madness, giving birth to horror.

Faint and far of, the TARDIS engines began to wheeze an angry protest. The groveling form of Nyssa began a writhing metamorphosis. Tegan reeled back, her flesh crawling at the macabre transformation.

---------

In the bio lab, the sound of the TARDIS' engines rose and swelled. By the bench, where Nyssa had fallen, a patch of grey mist thickened. It flowed out from a central egg shape to take the form of a prone body. The manifestation of chill mist solidified slowly, pulsing in time to the swelling engines. The noise ended with a resolute thud. The form jerked spastically.

With that evidence of physicality, Nyssa of Traken returned to herself. Her eyelids flickered open. For long seconds, she stared uncomprehending at a blank ceiling. Eventually, she sat up.

Something slithered from her throat, trailing a snake of broken ribbon - the pendant from the cracker? She moved by reflex, to catch it; but it eluded her cold fingers and clinked to the floor, where it lay like a twisted and half shut eye, staring up at her. She made no move to pick it up.

-----------

In the stable, the Worm Mother continued to clutch at the Doctor. She continued to sob, wail, and plead in utter desperation. With a great effort, the Doctor stopped his ears to the desolate sobbing, as he continued to grip the bucking bundle. The icy cold of the Worm Seed sucked on his soul; but he would not loosen his grip. He *knew* what had to be done. Painful as it was, it MUST be done - and quickly!

"Adric? Quick, boy! Open the Plasmic Shell!" he commanded.

Of a sudden, the Worm Mother drew back, gathered herself, let out a screech of insane fury and flew at the Doctor. Her long slender fingers curved into clawed talons. She struck at his face, aiming for the eyes. The Doctor jerked away; but the tips of those razor sharp talons raked across his cheek. Thin red lines materialised on the skin. The Worm Mother snarled in triumph, and made another grab for her baby.

The Doctor twisted aside. The slashing claws ripped through his blazer. Adric's voice rose, mumbling the Mantra of Block Transfer Computations; but the Worm Mother was only slowed momentarily. She lunged again. The Doctor back-peddled hastily.

"ADRIC!" he yelled. "Open the way!"

"NO! Doctor," the boy cried. "There is another way, a better way!"

As he left of the transformers, the walls of the cavern sagged inwards, pressing in close. The Worm Mother became suddenly still. Unconstrained by the boy's continuous remodeling of the fundamental of the universe, she came once more in possession of her full range of powers. She reached out a hand towards the Doctor, a shining light of triumph in the black nullity of her crystaline eyes.

"Your soul for your crimes, infanticide," she intoned solemnly. "A fair exchange. And when my baby comes full into his power and birthright, I swear he shall lead the crusade against your entire race of infanticides. For the moment after I consume your soul, the way will be open to us. Such a way as shall not admit of closing. Thus, the Time Lords will pay! There will be such a feasting!.."

The Doctor shuddered, and fell back as a wave of dizziness spun him about. He felt his life energy being sucked from him. A vast chill flowed back to fill up the void left at his core by the consuming of his soul. He was becoming an empty husk. Contesting every inch conceded, the Doctor inexorably lost the light.

Seeing the Doctor withering before her horrified eyes, Tegan gave no thought to her own safety. She lunged at the towering black form that filled up the stable. As the furious young woman cannoned into the Worm, a bone numbing cold enfolded her. The light in Tegan's mind drew off into a limitless distance. A great roaring filled up her senses.

Then through that roaring, she heard the mumbling of Adric. The sound seemed solid, a physical thing. A moment later, she was back in the stable. The walls had retreated; they had become solid once more; and the Worm Mother had shrunk to normal proportions.

Adric had resumed his Block Transfer mantra; single handed, he was holding the Worm in check, and the world in being.

The Doctor, who looked etiolated and grey gasped out. "Open the way. Eject them into the void."

The Worm Mother turned a look of vicious hatred on the boy. She moved to strike him. Tegan stepped between them.

"Do IT! Adric!" ordered the Doctor.

Adric nodded.

At that precise moment, all the fight seemed to go from the sinuous form of the Worm Mother. Her aura of power visibly waned. She shot a long yearning look of desire at the bundle in the Doctor's arms. She seemed to wither, to crumple up and collapse into herself.

The sight cut Tegan to the heart. She moved forward, impelled by her own as yet unexercised maternal feelings, holding out her arms to the distressed being. It was no longer a terrible monster that would kill them all, it was a despairing Mother whose baby was to die and whose death she had no power to prevent. Compassion called to want and two kindred spirits held silent, but intense commerce, the one with the other. Much mutual feling flamed betwixt the two. the Worm Mother let out a forlorn wail and fell into Tegan's arms, sobbing miserably.

"ADRIC!" the Doctor yelled again. "Adric! Eject them!"

Adric, stared at Tegan comforting the creature, with an ineffable anguish torturing his boyish features. Compassion moved deep within his being. His expression changed, moulded itself into grim determination. Slowly, he shook his head, and held out the rattle to the Doctor. His eyes implored permission in an urgent, unspoken appeal.

The Doctor stared at the toy for a long moment. He knew what Adric intended. His mind churned in a turmoil of indecision. It would be hideously dangerous; but the humanity of the idea appealed to him; but what right did he have to gamble the safety of the universe against this boy's mad scheme to succour first this grieving mother, then the whole of her kind? The worm kind were destroyers; they had always been destroyers; it was what they were, not what they did. Without destroying other life, they could not live. But was that not true for all life, even to the lowliest bacterium or virus? And again, no sentient life asks to be made in the form it is; and they were not intrinsically evil. They sought no dominion, only to fulfil the overmastering urge to perpetuate the species which is the inheritance of all living things. So surely...surely they had a right to some sort of existence?

But at risk of the Universe? What should he do?

The Doctor glanced down at the bundle in his arms. It lay still now, quiescent, knowing its fate, accepting with a stoic forbearance the cruelty of an inimical universe which would not suffer it to be. A thin, high keening of terror rose from the Worm infant. The Worm Mother too was moaning in a deeper counterpoint which phased in and out of harmony with her baby's expression of fear. It was a nerve tearing outpouring of loss; for the Worm Mother understood that her babe was doomed. In her grief, she coiled herself down even tighter against Tegan, who cradled the distraught creature against her, giving without stint what comfort there was in physical contact. Their two pairs of eyes were on the Doctor, accusing, fearful, and glistening with tears.

What should he do? At last he spoke. "Do it!"

Adric grinned broadly, and nodded in affirmation. He raised the baby rattle on high. His voice sang out clear and pure, forming the Block Transfer computation equations that reformed reality. The rattle began to sing in an eerie counterpoint. The sphere of plastic shimmered and expanded outwards in a silent silver explosion to encompass the entire universe. In an instant, it had reached the edge of everything, and rebounded from the void dark. In the blink of an eye, it had shrunk back to the plastic sphere of the baby rattle. The ovoid was black and opaque, studded with a million jewelled lights.

Adric's voice shifted into minor keys. The diamond studded satin black rippled and reformed, settling into a round window on a new world.

With reverent hands, the Doctor took the rattle from Adric. He held it up. Through the curved window of worlds could be seen a reflected version of the stable, containing only the snake slender woman. She was holding in her arms her Seed which was stirring and pulsing with vitality. As the trio watched, the Worm Mother held the precious gift tight to her heart. She began a gentle swaying, to a haunting lullaby old as life itself, which rose in her throat.

An echo, of an echo, of an echo of that ageless rhythm of living haunted the shadows of the stable cave. That soft sound discovered a gentle resonance in Tegan's heart strings. The young woman found herself swaying irresistibly in time to that ageless melody of life.

The woman in the sphere suddenly looked up at them. Her face fairly glowed with an inner light of gratitude, for an unlooked for salvation. Then, she turned, and walked from the cave into the shining light of the orchard of strange trees, just glimpsed beyond the cave opening.

A terrible pang of loss ran Tegan through the heart. She unconsciously drew closer to the Doctor, seeking comfort in the physical nearness of another. "Doctor?..." she began uncertainly.

"It's all right, Tegan. Everything will be all right now. They are quite safe," the Doctor reassured her gently.

Moved by the sudden strength of the unfamiliar emotion welling up within, the Doctor did an unusual thing. Greatly daring, he slipped an arm about the young woman's shoulders, and gave her a hug of reassurance. "She has gone now into another place, prepared by Adric for her and her kind." He turned a warm smile, touched with misgiving, upon Adric. "Well done, Adric. That was very well done."

Adric stood a little straighter under that praise. It was especially welcome, as he knew that the Doctor was aware of the full price that would fall due for his temerity in doing this thing. That price would be for Adric of Alzarius alone to pay.

"Thank you," said Adric in simple acknowledgement of the Doctor's praise. For that praise alone, the game had been worth the candle. He was satisfied.

"Now!" the Doctor went on with a forced briskness, "if you would be so kind as to open a way back to the real world?"

"Of course," Adric said; but the boy that still lingered within hesitated a long moment; but Adric had taken a step along a road to maturity this day which brooked no turning back. The womb safety *must* be left behind at some point. That there was no life beyond, saddened Adric; but that was no good reason for hanging back. There was something very calming, he realised, about inevitability - it freed the spirit so.

He gave a little half nod; his voice rose, alive with the possibilities encompassed by the transformers, whose cost was high, whose price could not be eschewed and whose payment must now fall due.

The cave mouth shimmered into a mirror; or perhaps it was a window showing the cave beyond? Abruptly, the boy turned and strode with purpose towards the man. The two images met and merged, twisted together into a whole, and vanished.

The Time Lord eased Tegan from him. He took her hand, an action that seemed so natural and right, and drew her across the shimmering division of worlds. Side by side, they merged into their own reflections.

And stepped into the "other" TARDIS console room, through the doors of the internally reflected TARDIS.

A young man stood by the console watching them. At first glance, he looked just like the boy, Adric. Though nothing definitive could be seen in his outward physical presence, his demeanor was indelibly marked by a new maturity. It was something in the eyes? in the calmness of the gaze?

Without speaking or meeting the young man's eyes, The Doctor drew Tegan on to the doors, through them and into the relative reality of the console room beyond.

Adric watched them go. A slightly haunted expression fought its way onto his face, as fear made a last sally against his resolve; but before it could gain a good foothold, the firm set of his mouth ruined its bridgehead. It wasn't as if it mattered anyway. With renewed resolution the young man turned and passed into the outer universe.

The Doctor set a control on the console. The familiar noise of take off filled the room; and the reverse TARDIS faded from sight. At that moment, the inner door burst open. Nyssa ran into the room, through the space where the reflection of the TARDIS had stood a moment before. Her expression was wild. She stumbled to a halt just inside the door, staring wide eyed at them.

"Nyssa!" Tegan cried. She ran to her friend, throwing arms about her. The girl permitted Tegan's hug with an abstracted air. Her attention was rivitted on the baby rattle, still clutched by the Doctor. The sphere was shining with a soft silver radiance. Nyssa stared at it with hungry eyes.

The Doctor sent her a kindly smile. He said: "There is something you should see, Nyssa. Come and have a look."

The two women broke apart. Tegan, unwilling to surrender the comfort of the physical contact, held onto Nyssa's hand. She led the dazed girl to the console. The Doctor opened a slot in the top surface. Gently, he fitted the shining sphere into the cavity. He set a control; and the wall monitor came alive.

On the screen, a snake thin woman in iridescent black moved through an orchard of strange trees, whose leaves seemed to be the source of the silver radiance. The bark of these trees was formed of a regular rectangular patttening with a distinctly bluish cast. The straight trunks seemed about ten feet tall, at which point they branched and divided to support a canopy of singing silver leaves. Just below the point of ramification, a single branch grew more or less horizontal. At the tip was a single large white fruit or berry, depending from a stalk. Each tree was attended by a snake slender woman, clothed in an iridescent black shimmering. Some were pulling weeds from around the roots of their tree. Some picked at growths lodged in the crevices in the bark. Some just stood and regarded the plump fruit with rapt concentration. As the woman came to each, she would pause a moment; and the two would admire the fruit with mutual expressions of awe and reverence. A few words of congratulation would pass between the two, then she would move on further into the orchard.

At last her desultory progress through the Life Grove halted at a particular tree. It was surrounded by a whole crowd of the shimmer clad Worm women. Some already clasped white bundles to their thin breasts. Those without looked on with a passionate longing a-flame in the black crystaline shards of their eyes.

As the new mother to be approached, the crowd parted, forming an avenue of shimmering iridescence, leading to the space under this last tree with its branch bearing the precious fruit of new life. As she passed down the avenue of worm kind, the mother to be nodded to left and right, exchanging a word here, a greeting there, acknowledging the many congratulations.

As she came to stand under that single branch, from the crowd there gathered a ringing hymn of welcome lifted, a sweet sound containing echoes of echoes of the TARDIS materialisation sounds. The tree was shimmering and wavering. The fruit was pulsing and rocking. The woman held up arms to the new life.

As the hymn reached its sweet crescendo, the stalk sheared. The bundle fell into the waiting arms of the Worm Mother.

The hymn died away in a collective sigh. An echo of that sigh sounded in Nyssa's throat.

On the screen, the new mother gazed fondly down at the bundle. The sweetness of her expression made Tegan feel once more that emotion that had sent her protective arms about the worm woman in the stable, despite the fear. The mother straightened, held out the bundle, showing her new treasure off to all those gathered about the tree; and also to those who were there in thought and feeling only. Surrounded by the cocooning white shawl was a perfect little face, pudgy fists waved imperiously.

Nyssa's little gasp, pained and yet joyful broke the spell in the Console room. The distraught girl had taken a few paces towards the screen, and was holding out her hands in a gesture of longing towards the scene, a rapt expression on her usually serene features.

Tegan moved quickly to her side, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Nyssa?" she inquired softly.

The sound of Tegan's voice broke the spell. Nyssa blinked, the look of rapture dissolved into anguished despair. She fell into Tegan's arms, making little inarticulate sobbing sounds in her throat. Tegan hugged her tight. Nyssa, unable to tear her gaze away, watched the scene playing out on the screen, over Tegan's shoulder. Tears emerged slowly to sit sparkling in the corners of her eyes, before overflowing down her cheeks.

"It's all right, Nyssa. It's alright," Tegan soothed, holding her tight and stroking the fine silken hair. "Your baby is safe now. Safe forever?..." She caught the Doctor's eye, daring him to contradict her.

He in his turn looked to Adric. The young man nodded. "As long as this universe exists - and the Matrix on Gallifrey continues - Then this pocket universe will continue."

"Then there is still a connection?" the Doctor observed. There was an ever so slight note of accusation in the tone of voice.

Adric nodded. He seemed annoyed by the question. "Of course there is a connection!" he exclaimed in irritation; "if the pocket universe was sealed off entirely, where would it get the power from to sustain itself. The construct falls below the lowest mass limit for self-propagation. There has to be an umbilical fistula to carry the weight of reality necessary to the space to sustain it in being."

The Doctor nodded. He fingered his celery thoughtfully, before fixing Adric with a stern look. "What worries me, is where does it come out in this universe?"

"Where it can do no harm," Adric answered; and the set of his lips spoke volumes of his intention to stay silent on that particular point.

The Doctor went to speak, but thought better of it. He remained in introspective silence for a long moment while he regarded Adric. A hopeless compassion filtered into his blue eyes. A tense hush descended upon the console room, laden with unspoken revelation. It was almost a thing you could touch. At last the Doctor spoke.

"Do you really know what you've done.?"

Adric nodded. "I know, Doctor."

There was a quality of pain ineffable colouring the Doctor's voice as he said: "You know that I will not be able to prevent it, when it reaches for you? There will be nothing I can do."

"I know that also, Doctor."

The Doctor looked away, fixing his attention to the screen where the birthing celebration was well under way in a great outpouring of joy and happiness in hope renewed in the joy of a new life.

"It is a very brave and great thing you have done, Adric."the Doctor said.

The young man acknowledged the praise with a slight inclination of the head. He, too, turned his button bright eyes on the screen. A sad, wry smile toying with his lips.

Tegan held her breath. She was not following this; but she was keenly aware that some terrible and perhaps wonderful thing was distilling in the white room, but she could not grasp the substance of it.

Suddenly, Adric turned and moved with purpose to the door. He paused there and turned to sweep them with his gaze. How could he make the Doctor, any of them, understand that he was beyond fear. To be afraid of something which could not be avoided was utter futility. Yet he did own to regret. that he would not have even the chance of tasting the bitter and the sweet, the salt and the savoury, of an adult's life. Yes, that he *could* regret; but he could not fear the onset of inevitability.

At last, the young man spoke. "All things must die, Doctor. Eventually, all things must die."

With that he turned, and left, reconciled to his destiny.

Tegan began to breath again. "Doctor?"

But the Time Lord failed the test of her gaze. Tegan took a step towards him, and said again with a note of warning in her voice: "Doctor? What was that all about?"

It was evident from his demeanor that he *did* not wish to meet this matter head on; but Tegan was merciless in her sudden alarm. "You'd better tell me. Or, I'll ask him..."

That got his attention focused. The Doctor screwed up his hat in his hands and, still not meeting her gaze, said. "In saving the Worm Kind, Adric has doomed himself."

"What!"

"He has come to the attention of the Universe. He has meddled with the fundamentals of things and It knows. It is an unforgiving thing and It will kill him. Somewhere? somewhen? it will kill him for his temerity."

"But you meddle all the time?" Tegan accused. "What about Logopolis?"

The Doctor nodded. "Yes," he agreed grimly. "I have meddled in things best left alone. But my people have had eons to learn strategies for side-stepping the consequences of our actions. Even so, we sail close to the wind far too often. One day the Universe will home in on us and there'll be a reckoning to pay. I just hope that I am not around when that day comes."

"But what about Adric?" cried Nyssa. "Can't you help him, teach him some of these strategies?"

The Doctor shook his head. "It's an instinctive, second nature thing. I am no more capable of teaching it than Adric is capable of learning."

"Isn't there anything at all you can do?" Tegan implored. She didn't exactly like the boy, but she didn't want to see him die.

"Very little," the Doctor said. "While he is inside the TARDIS he is fairly safe, at least for a while. But if he spends any extended period of time outside the shielding envelope of the TARDIS, it will find him and eliminate his mass/energy discrepancy from itself. The trouble is that he does not belong here. There is no space in this universe for him to exist without causing a distortion in the fabric of space-time."

"But? But?" Nyssa started desperately seeking a loophole through which Adric might be permitted to escape his fate. "Can't he just change the fundamentals so that the universe can accommodate his extra mass? He's done it once."

"No," the Doctor said with finality. "It'll not let him get away with a second transformation. It's alerted now. If he tries, it will only serve to draw its attention to him and bring the calamity down on him all the sooner. He could very easily find himself the focus of a super nova. But if he keeps his head down it might take years or decades to locate and eliminate him. It's *antibodies* are not very efficient and the Universe is a big place."

"Then can't you use that time to take him home to E-space?" Tegan asked hopefully.

"It's too late for that," the Doctor told her with gentleness in his voice. "The universe will be particularly sensitive at the weak points in its fabric. If Adric approaches any of the Portal Points it would probably trigger a Flush Reflex. If we're caught in that we would be carried far out into the multiverse with no way of navigating our way back. If, that is, we survived the out-rush flexing of the fabric. No, Tegan, I 'm afraid there is no way."

"That's so unfair," Tegan complained.

"It's the way things are," the Doctor told her with gentleness in his voice. "None of that is open to change." He stood a moment, his gaze lingering on the screen before, with a decisive motion, he set a control on the console. The picture died. The Doctor set some more controls and the column began to rise and fall as the TARDIS took flight into the Vortex.

------------

Strange? The Master set down the circuit board he was inspecting. He peered all around at the console room, a puzzled frown on his darkly handsome features. He was certain he could hear the engines running up; and surely, it was getting chilly? A black gloved hand reached down and reset a control. He picked up the board.

Strange?

The Master set down the circuit board, deep puzzlement cutting lines in his face. He *could* hear the engines; and it *was* getting chilly. He re-adjusted a control. On the console the red numbers of a time display counted off seconds from nine to ten to eleven - to nine, to ten. Strange!

The Master set down the circuit board, on his face now was a worried frown. He stared around at the console room. A mist was coalescing out of the air. Sudden chill alarm raced throughout his entire being. Suddenly he KNEW! In mortal terror, he lunged for a control and... Strange! On the console the red numbers flickered from nine to ten, to eleven - to nine, to ten...

Frost glittered on the jerking Time Rotor. The chill, grey mist thickened in the air over the console.

The numbers flickered again around their closed loop of time.

The End.