‘What?’ The captain was furious. ‘You imbecile! How could she escape?’

‘She’s very bright,’ the Doctor offered helpfully.

The captain threw him a disgusted look, and then rounded on the hapless guard. ‘Search for her everywhere. The perimeter alarms haven’t sounded, so she must still be on the grounds somewhere. Move!’

The guard saluted, and then bolted, presumably relieved he had escaped punishment – for the time being.

‘My commiserations,’ the Doctor murmured. ‘It’s always terribly embarrassing to have to report that you’ve lost a prisoner.’

‘Well, I’m not losing any more,’ the captain snarled. ‘Into the runabout now, or I start breaking legs.’

Since it was absolutely clear that he meant what he was saying, Donna obeyed with alacrity. David and the Doctor were just behind her, and then the door was slammed and locked.

‘Some people don’t take setbacks very well,’ the Doctor opined, sitting cross‐legged on the floor and ignoring the seats around the blank walls.

‘I’m glad she got away,’ David said fervently.

‘She’s not gone far,’ the Doctor informed him. ‘I know Susan, and I’m willing to bet she’s down in DA‐17 right now. It’s where I’d be if I were free. We have to know what’s going on down there. It’s the most important thing in your world right now.’

Donna glared at him. ‘I rather think the war Haldoran has caused is the most important thing,’ she snapped. ‘I know this isn’t your home, Doctor, but it is mine.’

‘That war,’ he replied darkly, ‘is nothing compared to whatever’s happening in DA‐17. These idiots are feeding power to it, and power and the Daleks mix rather combustibly.’

David obviously shared the Doctor’s concerns. ‘What do you think they think they’re doing?’ he asked.

‘I’ve no idea yet,’ the Doctor admitted. He shook slightly as the runabout started up. ‘But it appears that we’re on our way to find out the answers.’

Shaking her head in despair, Donna said, ‘They’re planning on interrogating us, not the other way around!’

The Doctor grinned, apparently unconcerned. ‘Yes, but what they ask us will tell me what they’re interested in – and, by extension, what they think we’re after. It should be simple to piece together their plans.’

David grunted. ‘And we’ll only be inside Haldoran’s fortress, under guard and possibly under torture. The knowledge of what they’re doing will, I’m sure, be a great relief to us.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ the Doctor answered. ‘I’m sure I’ll be able to think of something.’

‘Well, the faster you do it the better,’ Donna informed him. ‘Look, you two are likely to only get killed in all of this. I won’t be so lucky.’

‘Lucky?’ The Doctor raised an eyebrow, ‘Ah – the daughter of Haldoran’s archenemy. You d be a valuable hostage. Do you think he’ll recognise you?’

Donna raised her eyes to heaven in silent plea. ‘Doctor, you may not live to be interrogated by Haldoran. I won’t be any kind of hostage. I couldn’t be that lucky. And, yes, he’s definitely going to recognise me. I haven’t changed that much since we were married.’

At least she had the satisfaction of seeing the Doctor speechless for once.

Estro whistled cheerfully to himself as he walked down the corridor towards Haldoran’s war office. The decor was hardly to his taste – a trifle too plastic and metal, and with rather gaudy baubles scattered everywhere – but there was the air of success about the place. His plans were proceeding perfectly. A small cart followed him, carrying the promised forty Dalek guns in their crates.

When he entered the war room, Haldoran looked up from the map he was playing with, adjusting the positions of his forces. ‘Estro,’ he called and glanced at the cart. ‘Are those the promised armaments?’

‘Naturally.’ Estro stood aside, and let the cart park itself. ‘All charged, and ready for distribution.’

Haldoran nodded, as he came around the table. ‘One of my men came to fetch you shortly after you left,’ he said slowly. ‘You weren’t in your room.’

‘Of course not,’ Estro agreed smoothly. ‘I was fetching your weapons. After all, I’m sure you searched my room and already knew that they weren’t hidden there.’

‘Of course I did,’ Haldoran said, not bothering to lie. ‘Your wardrobe was also missing.’

‘Really?’ Estro allowed his eyebrows to rise. ‘How sad. Some people will steal anything, won’t they?’

‘Is it still missing?’ Haldoran asked.

Estro inclined his head slightly. ‘No, I rather think the thief has seen the error of his ways and returned it to me.’ He smiled innocently.

‘I am glad to hear that,’ Haldoran said. ‘Around here, we discourage thieves by cutting off their hands.’

‘A splendid idea,’ Estro approved. ‘I am, therefore, surprised to see that Portney still retains both of his.’ He was pleased with the look of venom and fear he was treated to from the clerk.

‘He may yet lose them,’ Haldoran mused. ‘And yours are not so firm that they won’t come off with a little effort.’

‘Mine?’ Estro feigned complete innocence. ‘I’m giving you things, not taking them.’

‘And that’s the sole reason you still have both gloved extremities,’ Haldoran assured him. ‘Because you are taking something of mine. A few gigajoules of power?’

‘Ah!’ It had taken the clod long enough to figure that out. ‘You mean my power lines.’

‘Yes.’ Haldoran leaned forward, attempting to look menacing. ‘That is precisely what I do mean I’ve been having… words with Murdock, who for some reason seemed to think he wasn’t supposed to tell me about your little secret. But Portney discovered it.’

‘Set a thief to catch a thief?’ Estro asked, amused. ‘Most droll.’

‘You have thirty seconds to explain your actions to my satisfaction,’ Haldoran snarled.

How crude the man was. ‘I need only five seconds.’ He gestured at the Dalek crates. ‘There is your answer.’

Haldoran glanced at the crates. ‘You’re getting those guns from this DA‐17 thing?’ he asked. ‘That’s where the power’s going?’

‘Yes,’ Estro lied. ‘Dalek guns from a Dalek Artefact. How else do you think I managed to obtain them?’ Since there was no way for him to know the answer to that question, there was no way he could possibly know that this was a complete fabrication.

Musing, the Lord stepped around the table and looked at the guns. ‘You’re using the power you’re stealing to obtain those guns?’

‘Exactly,’ Estro agreed. ‘The power I’m borrowing is being used to an end you desire,’ He spread his hands. ‘And, once the Artefact is completely opened, there may well be even more weapons inside it. So far, we’ve only penetrated the first level. Who knows how many more there might be?’

Haldoran considered the point, an old, deep‐seated fear gnawing at him. ‘But the Peace Officers say it’s dangerous to meddle with the Dalek Artefacts,’ he protested.

‘Dangerous!’ Estro scoffed. ‘The only danger is to them. You’ve got your hands on the weapons you need to make you master of this entire planet! Of course they’ll claim it’s dangerous! They want this power for themselves. It’s why they’ve excluded you from their investigations for this long. They’ve been secretly searching for precisely what I have found. If they had these weapons in their hands, do you think they’d be braying “peace”? No, they’d be seizing control with them, just as you’re doing! Only we’ve beaten them to it.’

‘More weapons…’ Haldoran mused, rubbing his chin. Decisively, he nodded. ‘You’re right, Estro. The work must continue. We must have whatever is down there.’

‘And so you shall,’ Estro lied.

‘But why didn’t you tell his Lordship?’ Portney demanded, realising his little scheme to depose Estro had gone awry.

If he was worth the sport, Estro would have killed him. But where was the joy in murdering a worm?