He snapped his eyes back open and looked down at the backs of his hands. No, that was something he would never be free of.

He started to reset the controls. It was almost time to go looking for Sam again…

First Epilogue

‘I’m picking up a TT capsule lock,’ the technician reported from his control seat.

‘Acknowledged,’ Rodan responded from her own control station. She hated monitor duty, but as a very junior Time Lord, she was stuck with it. ‘Somebody’s probably just gone on a joyride,’ she added, ‘but check it out anyway.’

The technician nodded, bending to his task. Rodan examined her own controls. Yes, there was the signal. Some insignificant little planet in the Mutter’s Spiral. If she wanted, she could call up all the data the Matrix had on the place, but it was hardly worth it. As she’d said, this was undoubtedly of no importance.

Then the technician gave a low whistle. ‘It’s an Umber Priority,’ he announced, slightly awed. ‘According to the computers, it’s a stolen capsule piloted by a renegade.’

That made Rodan pay attention. It also meant it was out of her realm of authority. She had to refer this up, and soon. ‘Get a positive lock,’ she ordered, moving for the communications chair. ‘I’ll call the Castellan immediately.’

This was the most exciting thing that had ever happened on her duty shift. She wasn’t going to mess it up. If she did, she’d be sent to some mindless, menial job like watching the transduction barriers, or timing paint drying…

Damn the arrogant old fool! Chancellor Goth strode through the Citadel, furious and humiliated. The meeting with the Lord President he had been anticipating with relish for the past week had turned out to be an unmitigated disaster. The senile old fool was due to resign shortly, and the matter of his successor had naturally been broached. Goth knew that he was the perfect candidate for the post, the one deserving person to become the next Lord President of High Gallifrey.

Only to have his ambitions dashed when the President had informed him that there was no way Goth would be nominated. Goth had stared at him in disbelief as the President muttered something about Goth being too greedy for power, but it had been impossible to listen. To be so close, and have the cup of success dashed from his lips like this!

He had to get away from here. He needed time to think, to plan. There were days yet before the official resignation and the nomination of a successor. Perhaps there was something he could do, some way to change the old President’s mind… But he needed breathing space, a place to think, somewhere to vent his anger and resentment…

Goth suddenly realised that he was being hailed by the Castellan. ‘What is it?’ he snapped. Couldn’t anybody around here act without detailed instructions?

‘A renegade TT capsule has been detected, Chancellor,’ the Castellan said smoothly. ‘I simply need your permission to go after it and arrest the operator.’

‘Don’t bother me with such trifles,’ Goth snapped. ‘Just go and do it.’ Then, as the Castellan started to move away, a sudden decision came to him. ‘No, wait! I need to get out of this place for a while. I’ll do it. Prepare a capsule for me, and I’ll be along in a moment.’ The Castellan nodded and hurried off. Goth moved after him, a little more slowly.

This was what he needed – action. To get out of the Citadel for a while, on to some world that probably had never heard of the Time Lords. His anger and frustration mounting, Goth found that he was hoping that the renegade – whoever it was – would put up a fight.

Goth glared distastefully around the bleak landscape of Tersurus. He clutched his staser and went in search of the spot where the trace had been registered. It had vanished a short while ago, he had been informed. That probably meant the renegade was gone, but he still had to check. At least it gave him something to do.

He caught sight of a slight movement in a nest of rocks. It looked as if some terrible force had twisted and melted the rocks recently. But what had moved? He walked forward cautiously, the staser at the ready. Then he stopped, appalled.

There was some sort of living creature there, but horrendously mutilated. The skin was burnt and blackened, parts of the skeleton exposed. The face was blistered and warped, the eyes large and studying him unblinkingly. Goth shied back in revulsion as he realised that this thing was somehow alive, despite the horrendous damage it had suffered, and the pain it must be going through. Was this the renegade? Perhaps he should kill it, to put it out of its misery…

‘Are you… are you in pain?’ he asked the creature.

‘Pain,’ it agreed, a rasping, dying voice. ‘Can’t remember… everything.’ It looked up at him, and it seemed to gather itself. ‘I need… newness. And you need… power.’

‘What?’ Goth stared at the creature, repelled and confused. How could it know what he was desiring.

‘I can help you,’ the thing promised. ‘I can get you the power you desire. And you can help me get what I need.’

‘You need death,’ Goth said with revulsion.

‘No,’ the creature whispered. ‘I need life. And you will help me to get it. We can help one another…’ It managed to sit up, grinning like a skull. ‘Do you agree?’

Goth stared at it. How could a burnt, dying thing like this possibly help him? And yet… If it was a renegade, it might have some skills that could prove useful And if it needed him, then it meant that he could control it.

‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘Yes, I think I do…’

Second Epilogue

Becca looked up from the floor of the barn where she was teasing the kittens. Two of them were swiping happily at the straw she dangled. Serenity was watching from one of the rafters, still none too happy being so close to people. But she’d become a lot more sociable since Becca had rescued her litter a year ago. And now Serenity had grand‐kittens old enough to be weaned.

There was a movement at the door, and Becca looked up to see a face she’d been hoping would come. It was that pretty knight who had saved her life. She wasn’t dressed in her knights outfit now, however, but in a regular – if rather pretty – dress. She still had that mass of golden hair, though, and a peaceful sort of look on her face.

‘Hello, Becca,’ she said in greeting. ‘How are you doing? You’ve grown several inches, I see,’ She smiled, ‘I was promised a kitten, if you remember.’

‘Of course I remember,’ Becca protested. ‘I haven’t given any away yet. You get to have first pick.’ She giggled as one of the kittens tried to grab the straw from her forgers. ‘They’re very playful.’

‘Then that means they’re healthy.’ Donna walked over and flopped down into the straw beside Becca. ‘They’re all very pretty,’ she said, surveying the eight tiny bundles. ‘It’s going to be hard to decide.’

‘No rush,’ Becca said cheerfully. She looked up at Donna suspiciously. ‘Aren’t you somebody famous now?’

‘She’s almost queen,’ said a friendly voice from beside the door.

Donna looked around, her face lighting up. ‘Doctor!’

The stranger came in. There was something about him that made Becca like and trust him. He flopped down into the straw beside Donna, grinning. ‘Hello. I thought I’d just pop by and see how things worked out.’ He had a yo‐yo he’d removed from a pocket, and was teasing the kittens with it. ‘How is life with Barlow?’

Donna rolled her eyes. ’He lied to me, like every other man in my life.’

‘Really?’ The Doctor didn’t sound surprised. ‘And how did he do that?’

‘He told me our marriage was to be purely political,’ Donna growled. ‘And it isn’t.’

‘No!’ the Doctor said in mock protest.