‘Ace! It’s me!’ It was the Doctor’s voice.

Her strength gone, Ace stopped fighting and allowed herself to be dragged back from the swirling storm of screaming shadows.

As she was pulled clear from the Anvil, her legs gave way and she collapsed in a heap on the glass-like floor, her limbs shaking from the shocks that the shadow creatures had inflicted.

‘Ace, are you all right?’

‘Yeah …’ she said weakly. ‘Yeah … I think so.’

The Doctor helped her to her feet. Agonising pins and needles shot through her arms and legs.

‘Did they touch you?’ asked the Doctor urgently. ‘Did they make contact?’

Ace nodded, trying to rub life back into her limbs. ‘They kept grabbing at me, like they were trying to tear me apart, but they couldn’t get a grip.’

‘Get a grip …’ He peered into her eyes for a moment, a concerned look flickering across his features. ‘There shouldn’t be any lasting damage.’ He shot a look up at the Anvil. ‘We need to get away from here.’

‘Give us a moment, Professor. I feel as though I’ve just gone ten rounds with Frank Bruno!’

‘There’s no time, Ace!’ snapped the Doctor. ‘According to the readings I’ve just taken, those tremors were caused by the wash from the warp baffles of an Astingir cruiser coming out of hyperspace. They must have set up intruder alarms since my last visit and our arrival here has obviously triggered them.’

‘So?’ Ace was still trying to get some feeling back into her legs. ‘You’re just checking up on it. What’s the problem?’

‘The problem,’ said the Doctor sternly, ‘is that if they have even the faintest suspicion that we are here then they will shoot first and ask questions later. We need to get back to the TARDIS, and quickly.’

With that, he turned on his heel and hurried out of the chamber, making his way back up the steep, crystal steps to the surface.

‘Hey! Hold up.’ Wincing with the effort, Ace staggered after him, still haunted by the burning touch of the Wraiths – and the cold, growing certainty that there was something that Doctor wasn’t telling her.

Part Two

2020

CHAPTER NINE

Dorothy emerged from the TARDIS wardrobe room and hung her expensive SDC spacesuit on a familiar-looking hat stand near the door. She lingered in the doorway, thinking of her old bomber jacket hanging up at home, wishing she’d made the decision to wear it today after all. She’d found none of her old clothes here, and in borrowed jeans and a jumper she felt so ordinary. She watched as the Doctor darted to and fro around the central console that dominated the TARDIS control room.