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Memories and bodies intertwined in a beautiful, intricate design. Her body moving with a rhythm both familiar and utterly new to him.

I’m so sorry, but I shouldn’t be here, not now. There are buried memories here: your memories.

A woman screaming.

Can’t you see? You’ve undergone a trauma. Your memories have been blocked. We can find out what it was, and help you to come to terms with it. I know it’s unpleasant, but it’s all in the past now, and we have to find out what it was.

It’s to do with those ghosts, isn’t it?

Ghosts? No.

Here.

The sun is low on the horizon. It is the early evening and the house is screaming. Guards in full ceremonial dress are advancing down the corridor with stasers drawn and swords at their sides. The horizon is flame-red.

‘Search the bedchambers.’

‘You can’t –’ a staser blast, killing the housekeeper. The house screams again, its lights flicker. We all feel its pain.

Screaming children. The eldest son, dragged with their mother by the hair into the courtyard. His twelve brothers and sisters there already, all in blue. Where is his wife?

Where is her husband? The youngest are crying, like their mother.

The eldest son stood tall and faced the captain, the guard in the plumed helmet. ‘I am a Cardinal, and a Time Lord of the first rank. My father sits on the Supreme Council, as his father did before him. On whose authority are you acting?’

The guard captain unfurled a scroll. ‘By Presidential decree, only the Loom-born shall inherit the Legacy of Rassilon. There shall be no more children born of woman.

We have authority to search this House for the spawn of the Pythia.’

‘Let me see that.’ The guard captain handed the scroll over.

The eldest son read the hieroglyphs, examined the seal.

‘It is genuine,’ he concluded. ‘They have issued a warrant for father’s arrest. They accuse him of consorting with aliens.’ Something had broken within him as he had read it. When he spoke again, his voice contained none of its former resolution. ‘My wife is expecting her child tomorrow. What do you propose that they do?’

Doctors were moving towards the bedchambers.

‘The law is clear, sir. Her pregnancy is to be ended at once. Your wife will be examined here, then taken to a medical centre. I must ask you to lead me to her.’ As if to add emphasis, the guard captain placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. Numbly, the eldest son nodded and began to walk towards the living quarters.

His mother screamed, begged them to stop.

‘Why are you doing this now? Where is my husband?’

she demanded. ‘Please wait for my husband. He is a Doctor!’

‘Doctor!’

Tegan shook him. He’d been unconscious for at least an hour. The Doctor looked happy enough, and Patience was curled up beside him, some inscrutable expression on her face. There had been a number of times when Tegan had felt like snapping the Doctor out of it. Now there was a pressing reason why he should be awake. Tegan slapped the Doctor on the face. His eyes snapped open. ‘Tegan?’ he said groggily. ‘You’re all right?’

No, her head was spinning and she felt dizzy. The cabin was stuffy. Tegan suspected that Time Lords didn’t sweat, and so she was entirely responsible for the muggy atmosphere. ‘Never mind that: look at the door. We’re being rescued.’

The hatch was glowing red, there was a mechanical pulsing corning from the other side. The Doctor was scrambling to his feet, waking Patience. The heat from the door was almost unbearable now. Tegan felt faint The door was grasped by powerful claws that didn’t even flinch when they grasped the red-hot metal. The door was torn from its hinges and hurled back. They could hear it hissing and popping in the snow outside. The Doctor moved to greet their rescuer. It was humanoid and powerfully built, wearing a close fitting matt-black spacesuit. There was a rope tied around its waist, like a leash. It had a device that looked like a blowtorch grasped in one claw, and levered itself into the cabin with the other.

It had the head of a shark.

A nightmare creature: