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'Exceedingly ingenious,' Holmes said.

'I've always been in favour of low-tech solutions,' the Doctor murmured.

'They don't come much more low-tech than this,' Bernice sighed. She was looking a little queasy. Glancing up at me, she said, 'How can you stand it, up there? Don't you feel the remotest bit ill?'

'No,' I said. 'In fact, I'm quite enjoying myself.' The feeling reminded me irresistibly of a balloon ride that I had undertaken as a child in the grounds of Batty's Grand National Hippodrome in Kensington.

I turned my attention to the sight outside the window, where we were just passing the inner lip of the hole that had been blasted through the frozen sky. Clouds had gathered around the rent, and the caravan was buffeted by gusts of wind. Gazing upward, I could feel the strain evident in the almost heroic poses of the rakshassi. Whatever else I thought of them, I had to admire their dedication to their god. Thoughts of Azathoth quickly turned me to a consideration of what was ahead of us. As the ground grew ever closer, I began to make out vegetation and the remains of Maupertuis's encampment. Bodies lay about, human and Shlangii, allies in death.

Nothing moved apart from the odd three-legged scavenger. My spirits fell.

How could we prevent this profane invasion of everything we held dear?

High above us, a number of square dots had appeared amid a web of rope.

The other caravans, the ones carrying the fakirs. Everything was going according to Sherringford's plan. The local Shlangii garrison had been distracted and defeated by Maupertuis's army, and by the time more could be shipped from other garrisons, it would be too late. The gateway would have opened and closed.

I looked down. We were dangling a hundred or so feet above the ground.

'Perhaps we should think about our escape,' I said tentatively.

'Ace,' the Doctor commanded, 'how many of those suicidal robots do you have?'

'If you mean the smart missiles, why not say so?' she snapped.

'Because it's exploiting a thinking creature, and I don't approve.'

'Professor, they're programmed to do what they do.'

'That's no excuse, Ace. The American CIA used to strap bombs to dolphins'

backs and train them to swim up to Russian submarines. Training, programming, what's the difference? Don't answer that, just tell me how many you have left.'

'None, apart from the one that's keeping Azathoth occupied.'

'None?'

Ace looked away.

'No,' she said.

'Why not? You used to have hundreds.'

'Some I've used, the rest deserted back on Peladon. They said they were going to set up a union with the mining machinery.'

The Doctor smiled, thought for a moment, then walked over to the moist grey bulk of Azathoth.

'Can you hear me?' he cried.

Azathoth remained stubbornly silent. The Doctor waved a hand at Ace.

'You can answer,' she said. 'The missile won't explode. Yet. But if I hear anything that sounds like it might change my mind in a way I won't like, I'll make sure that your mind changes into a pile of mush on the walls.'

'I hear you,' Azathoth replied sulkily. 'Blasph . . . '

'Yes, yes, we'll take that as read, thank you very much,' the Doctor said.

'Azathoth, I offer you a choice.'

'There is no choice. I am God. I do what I wish.'

'You are no god, and you know it. You're just a fake deity whose powers are limited to a rather forceful form of persuasion.'

There was a thud as the caravan settled to the ground. I could hear the hiss of ropes sliding down the outside as the rakshassi released them.

'What is your offer?'

'Stop this invasion. Stay here on Ry'leh.'

'And what do you give me in return?'

'Your life.'

Azathoth laughed: great quaking peals of laughter that caused its body to quake and the wooden floor beneath it to creak alarmingly.

'What power do you puny creatures have over the life of mighty Azathoth?'

'Have you forgotten the missile that guards you?'

'If you mean the most recent convert to the cult of Azathoth,