It was Ace, her body contorted and sprawled over the back of the Wraith Queen. Her hair hung down over its face as though they shared a fringe. Then the Doctor realised that the battle-scarred Squidget was pressed between them, its tendrils linking Ace to her dark mount, bridging the gap between them and keeping her conscious, though her face showed the most terrible pain.

‘WAIT.’ Ace’s voice carried a deeper rasp; was it the Wraith Queen speaking through her … or perhaps with her? ‘WE WILL BE HEARD.’

Aquillon’s eyes were wild, foam flecking her mouth. ‘You will be killed!’ she shouted and opened fire.

The Wraith Queen raised her hand and deflected the blast of light, struck it back at Aquillon. The Astingir turned her head but was thrown back against her troops by the force of impact. At that moment, the vault door was slammed open to reveal Centaurion Masst in the doorway. He saw the Wraiths and raised his weapons.

‘Listen to me.’ The Doctor got to her knees. ‘All of you! Please, just lower your weapons. It doesn’t need to be this way. You don’t have to be warriors any more!’

‘But that’s just it, Professor,’ Ace said, eyes half-closed, strain telling on her face. ‘The Wraiths … don’t want to be warriors.’

The Doctor looked on, and Masst stared, incredulous, as the Wraiths around the chamber bowed slowly, fell to one knee in deference and held up their arms in surrender.

‘The Quantum Anvil held us trapped,’ the Wraith Queen intoned. ‘And it showed us all possible futures. All …’ She paused, reeling back and almost overbalancing. Squidget glowed dark purple and it was Ace who spoke again. ‘The only futures that brought eventual prosperity to their race were peace. A charitable peace. Making amends. Doing things … differently.’

‘No,’ Aquillon hissed, rising up, shaking her gory plaited mane. ‘It’s a trick.’

Squidget’s colour had deepened further. The Doctor felt a presence at the fringes of her consciousness, a mental projection.

The Wraith Queen spoke again: ‘OPEN YOUR MINDS TO US.’

The Doctor gasped as through her senses flitted visions not of war, but of fellowship and rebuilding. Wraiths and Astingir and so many other races moving forward, colonising worlds together, creating an enduring legacy. Squidget was channelling the images from Ace and the Queen.

No, not just images. Hope. Belief.

‘It’s a trick!’ Aquillon snarled. ‘Wraiths cannot change. They have no right to. Our pain is deep, our vows are clear.’ She nodded to her infantry. ‘Kill them! All of them!’

‘I wouldn’t!’ Ryan shouted, pushing out from behind Masst, a metal capsule held up between finger and thumb. Behind him came Yaz, still holding Ace’s baseball bat, and Graham, who helped Chantelle up from under the fallen Wraith.

‘It was holding me safe,’ Chantelle insisted. ‘Showing me Kim will be OK. They want to go back to the Anvil, go back inside!’