‘What?’ The Doctor looked about worriedly. ‘Ah. Force field’s conking out a bit, it’s not designed to stick out this far. Might be time to run.’ She looked back up at Aquillon, then shepherded Yaz and Graham away. ‘I think we’re finished here in any case.’

Aquillon started forward, an armoured fetlock sparking against the force field. ‘This isn’t over, Doctor!’

‘For you, it never will be,’ the Doctor said quietly.

Graham looked back, haunted by the sight of Masst and his fellow centaurion staring down at the ground while their leader reared up against the force field. Then they rounded a sticky dark corner in the Wraith ship’s corridor and the Astingir were lost from sight.

‘Doc,’ Graham said, as they hurried along, ‘how are we going to find Ryan if he hasn’t got his tag any more?’

‘Each transit station holds the location of the next one in the chain,’ Yaz said, ‘so we just go to each in turn.’

‘You mean it was just luck you were here when I showed?’ said Graham.

‘Course not!’ the Doctor protested. ‘The Astingir got hold of the same coordinates we had. We just pipped them to the post.’ She stopped abruptly, and Yaz and Graham almost knocked into her. ‘What worries me is, how did they get hold of the location of that first Wraith station, in the chain, the one around the Moon?’

‘Well if they locked up the Wraiths, there must have been records left behind of all their outposts, gear, what was being held where,’ Graham reasoned.

‘But the Wraiths didn’t put the stations there, did they?’ Yaz pointed out. ‘The Ratts did.’

‘Or whoever they’re working for,’ said the Doctor, as the pulsing of the energy field crackled and went out around them. ‘Oops! Now there’s nothing holding back our legion of the lost.’ In the distance, a bloodthirsty yell and a scatter of hoof-falls sounded. ‘We’d better get back to the TARDIS – and the next station – while we can. Come on!’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Chantelle sat on a filthy floor in the corner of a crowded holding area, hugging her knees. The suns burned in at the high, barred windows and the smell of sweat and unwashed bodies was stomach-churning in the heat.

There were no Ratts about; hovering robots, like the ones that had snatched her in the dark upon entering, were the jailers here. Jailers and something more sinister.