‘But you didn’t stay, Reggie. After all I’ve done for you!’

‘Dad, please …’ Reg’s voice was little more than a whisper.

The face darted forward towards him, mouth wide and teeth bared. Reg dropped his torch to the ground and covered his eyes with his hands. ‘No! NO!’

Then the face of PC Reg Cranfield’s dead father began to scream.

Chapter 1

The TARDIS engines groaned like a weary pensioner as the blue box slowly climbed – an inch at a time – above a vast maelstrom of churning water. Huge waves smashed into each other as the storm grew in strength, spraying up showers of pale green bubbles that splashed through the open doors into the entrance of the control room – and smelled vaguely of avocado.

In the midst of all this water and foam was a chain. A big, thick, strong chain. One end was wrapped around the bottom of the console, from where it stretched as taut as a tightrope out through the doors and down into the fragrant surf below. The metal links creaked in protest as the TARDIS rose a little higher, finally taking the full weight of what was connected to the other end.

‘Anything?’ called the Doctor. He was soaking wet and covered from head to toe in soap suds, and had wedged his feet against the base of the console for grip. His knuckles whitened as he pulled back on a blue-handled lever, urging the ship to ascend even higher.

Gripping tightly to the telephone behind one of the TARDIS doors, Clara cautiously leaned out over the water and risked a glance down at the chain as it disappeared into the frothy, emerald storm below them. ‘Nothing yet!’ she shouted back, water dripping from her hair and into her eyes. She risked letting go of the door with one hand to wipe them.

The TARDIS was now flying at close to a 45-degree angle. One slip and the Doctor knew he would follow the chain out of the door and down into the water before he could say ‘Alfava Metraxis’. Spinning a wheel on the next console panel around, he reached out with his free hand and flicked a series of switches, grinding the already screaming engines up a gear. ‘Come on, sexy!’ he urged. ‘I know you can do it!’

‘Thanks for the compliment,’ said Clara. ‘I didn’t know you cared.’

His cheeks flushing, the Doctor released the switches long enough to tenderly pat the console. ‘Sorry, dear,’ he whispered. ‘I meant you – not her. Honest.’

Once again the chain creaked under the weight of its burden. The Doctor eyed it warily, briefly wondering whether he’d chosen a strong enough metal for the task at hand. He kept a chain made from a dwarf star alloy on hand for really big jobs – but it would have taken at least ten of him to carry it up from the store room, and he hadn’t had time to make the telephone calls to arrange that.

‘There!’ cried Clara. ‘I can see the ship. It’s almost at the surface.’

‘Good!’ the Doctor shouted. ‘Let’s go for one … last … pull!’ Gritting his teeth, he slammed another lever down, re-routing even more power to the ship’s engines. ‘Well, that’s everything in the freezer room defrosting now …’

The chain clunked loudly as another metal link slid over the doorstep, splintering the wood and causing Clara to hold on tighter than ever. She flicked her long, dark hair out of her eyes, spattering the TARDIS doors with a mixture of mud and bubbles. The mess almost seemed to form the shape of a face. She stared at it for a moment. It looked almost like…

The TARDIS lurched and Clara fell back against the door, obliterating the pattern with her shoulder. She looked down again. Beneath her feet, an ocean of scented waves heaved and boiled. It was bizarre to think that, less than thirty minutes ago, she had been kneeling down there in what was hard, baked earth.

Suddenly, a voice crackled through the console speakers. ‘Doctor! Are you there? It’s Penny …’

The Doctor made to flick the switch that would activate the microphone – then realised that both of his hands were busy holding the TARDIS in position. With a sigh, he leaned forward and forced the switch to the ‘on’ position with his chin.

‘Hellllloooo Penny! This is the Doctor, reading you loud and clear. How are you?’

‘All present and correct, thankfully,’ came the reply. ‘We made it back on board the Carter just before the flood hit us. Had to leave a lot of our equipment behind, though.’

‘Equipment can be replaced,’ said the Doctor. ‘People can’t. Well, there is one planet where they can, but I’m not allowed back there. Long story. Tried to get a refund on a shop-soiled Australian flight attendant without her permission.’

Then, with a sudden lurch backwards, the TARDIS righted itself and the chain went slack.

‘We did it!’ squealed Clara. ‘They’re out!’

The Doctor pushed the levers back into position, then raced to join his companion. There, rising free of the water to hover outside the doorway, was the class 2 exploration cruiser, the SS Howard Carter. It was a small ship, designed more for short-range planet hopping than interstellar flight. Its three-man crew waved their grateful thanks from behind the tinted windows of the cockpit.

Professor Penelope Holroyde spoke into her headset, her voice still echoing out from the console speaker. ‘You saved our lives, Doctor,’ she said. ‘How can we ever begin to thank you?’

‘No thanks necessary,’ replied the Doctor. ‘We do this sort of thing all the time.’

‘Just a normal day at the office for us,’ laughed Clara.

‘Well, you have one grateful archaeological team right here,’ said Penny.

‘How’s the ship?’ asked the Doctor.

Professor Holroyde checked with her co-pilot before replying. ‘The water’s temporarily knocked out one of our engines, but we should be able to get it started again.’

The Doctor smiled. ‘That’s good to hear.’

‘Have a safe journey,’ called Clara.

‘We will, thanks to you,’ said Penny. ‘Releasing your grappling hook now …’

There was a clunk, and the pincers on the front of the Carter released the thick chain. The Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver and fired a blast over his shoulder. A switch spun on the console, and the chain began to reel itself back inside the TARDIS.

Free of the lifeline, the SS Howard Carter turned lazily in the air and ignited its one remaining booster, disappearing into the clouds of fine mist spat up by the stormy sea. The Doctor and Clara stood in the doorway, waving, until the ship was lost from view – then they slammed the TARDIS doors shut, and turned to glare at one another.

‘That,’ barked the Doctor, ‘was all your fault!’ He tore off his sopping wet coat and tossed it over his shoulder, then stomped back to the console, squelching all the way.

Clara followed close behind. ‘What do you mean, my fault?’

The Doctor furiously typed coordinates into the console keyboard. ‘I was really enjoying myself down there. But oh no – you had to go and ruin it!’

‘I ruined it?’

‘Yes,’ snapped the Doctor without looking up. ‘You ruined it – and you made my bow tie soggy!’

‘At least you’re clean,’ said Clara. ‘Half an hour ago you were completely covered in dirt. We both were.’

‘It’s called archaeology,’ said the Doctor, spinning to face her. ‘You’re supposed to get dirty. It’s part of the fun.’

‘Well, it didn’t feel like fun to me!’

‘And you made sure we all knew that, didn’t you?’ The Doctor raised his hands, opening and closing his fingers as though operating a pair of puppets.

‘Oh, Doctor! I’m so bored, and my jeans are getting all muddy!’ one hand said, the Doctor mimicking Clara’s voice. ‘Boo hoo hoo!’

‘Well, why don’t you go back to the TARDIS until we’re finished?’ the other ‘Doctor’ hand said.

‘No,’ replied the ‘Clara’ hand, ‘because you’ll lose all track of time like you always do and keep on having lots of fun without me.’