‘Attention!’ came a deep husky voice, amplified and echoing through the station. ‘You are advised that this structure has been confiscated pending demolition and is now property of the Astingir Sovereignty. Your presence here, and preliminary DNA scan, marks you as alien collaborators with the Wraith species. Your surrender is required.’

Graham sighed. ‘They know we’re here.’

‘The punishment for collaboration …’ The voice faltered, as if reading from a script: ‘ … under Article 17 of the Reconstruction Accord, is incarceration, trial and life imprisonment. If you fail to surrender, you will be executed.’ The speaker gave a throaty rumble, almost a whinny. ‘Prepare to be boarded.’

‘Well, that’s just marvellous.’ Graham looked at her helplessly. ‘What do we do now?’

‘They’re a very intelligent race. They suffered very badly through the war. It’s left them … unfriendly to outsiders.’ The Doctor’s mind was racing. ‘Thing is, the Wraiths are all gone, trapped forever where no one can get at them. That’s why it never even occurred to me that this station would be Wraith in design. Who could gain access to Wraith technology …?’

Graham shrugged. ‘Surely if the tech was left behind, just abandoned, then anyone could’ve taken it.’

‘Not without a genetic data stamp to gain full access to the systems.’

‘Well maybe they’ve got an even better squidgy wotsit than Ace has.’ Graham pointed to the quivering interface. ‘Doc, whoever took this thing, we’re the ones who’re gonna carry the can. What do we do?’

‘I will go and have a chinwag with their boarding party,’ the Doctor declared. ‘You stay here and watch those controls. The tags will start transmitting the moment Ryan and Yaz leave Earth. When the red light there comes on, it means they’re on the move and you need to pull down on this lever to capture the transmat signature, that’s the thing we’ll need to follow.’ She tapped a chrome handle set into the console. ‘Ah, I do love me a lever. So. Got it?’

Graham ran over the procedure in his head once more, and nodded. ‘Got it.’

‘First, though – got a hanky anywhere, Graham, and something to tie it to? I’m gonna need a white flag …’

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ace made her way back downstairs, grabbed two glasses from the rack in the kitchen and a bottle from the fridge and then joined Yaz up on the roof.

She found her on one of the long rattan couches that were dotted around the edge of the roof terrace, staring over the parapet at the glistening Thames far below. It was cold, her breath forming clouds around her head; Ace was glad for the jacket on a practical level, feeling it snug around her. She set the two glasses down on the table beside her and unscrewed the cap of the bottle.

Yaz frowned. ‘I don’t drink alcohol.’