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A larger construction stood alongside their transport. Stuart gasped at the sight of it. Four broad black cushions supported a twisted pyramid whose edges were marked by chrome-gleaming fluting which spiralled together at the vertices. It looked almost as though it might be ornamental, but it was pocked with small, craterlike holes. The ground underneath it was heatstained and suggested one thing to Stuart ...

'Is that a spaceship?' he asked wonderingly.

'It would appear to be equipped for interstellar travel,' the Doctor agreed. Their host appeared out of the cockpit of the smaller craft.

'Greetings.' At least eight feet tall, he towered over the Doctor, but was humanoid at first sight. Only when he moved did Stuart see the fluidity of his limbs, as though they had many joints along their length. He wore an all-encompassing suit which did not allow any glimpse of the creature within it. The twin tubes which Stuart had noted earlier merged into one and attached to a small canister which hung from a ring at the creature's side. Its fingers, encased in tight-fitting gloves, were long and spindly and danced constantly, even when the rest of the body was still. The feet were broad and platelike. There could be no doubt that this being was of alien origin; everything about it bespoke its different nature.

The Ceffyl, the Firbolg, the Fomoir, the Sidhe - all were different, but none had stirred in Stuart the revulsion which this creature so easily produced. But then, Stuart was only human and in situations which were beyond him, his prejudices never let him down.

'I have the pleasure of addressing a Troifran, I believe,' the Doctor said.

'That is correct. You are the Doctor. Your physiology is unlike the normal human physiology and yet there is no sign of my protoplasmic material in your body. This and your knowledge suggest that you are not one of the experimental subjects.’

Stuart's mind reeled. What were they talking about?

'Are you Goibhnie?’ Bathsheba asked tentatively.

'That is the name by which I have come to be known,' the creature agreed.

So this, thought Stuart is the evil creature who has caused so much harm in Tír na n-Óg. This is the source of the cancer. Hardly surprising, then, that it caused such sensations of disgust in his mind, even before he knew its identity.

'Please cure my arm.' She held out her withered arm to show it to Goibhnie. He turned his head to look at it but then looked away.

'There is nothing I can do. If I had some protoplasmic material then I could perhaps correct the musculature defect, but in the time since the experiment ended the forcefield protecting the storage module has fail. There is nothing I can do,' he repeated. Was there perhaps a touch of remorse in his voice?

Bathsheba was crushed by this. ‘But … but … you are Goibhnie. You must be able to help me.’

‘I am sorry.'

‘But you're a god.' She began to cry. All hope was gone now.

‘I am sorry.'

'He is no god,' the Doctor told Bathsheba. He had tried to prevent her building up her hopes, but he could see that the illusory pedestal on which she had placed Goibhnie had crumbled away into ruins.

‘He’s a scientist. Your whole world is nothing more than an experiment to him. And now the experiment is ended it holds no further interest to him. Like so many of his kind he thinks nothing of the consequences of his work.’

'That is not true,' denied Goibhnie, but there was no feeling in his words.

'No? Have you seen the suffering in Tír na n-Óg?' the Doctor said harshly. His eyes and face showed the fury which he felt inside.

‘I have been engaged in the preparations for leaving this world.'

'And you were going to leave your experimental subjects to die.’

'They live and die all the time. They lead such short lives and they die so often.'

'But never with the agonies that your lack of interest has inflicted upon them,' the Doctor told him angrily.

'Haven't you noticed the demons?' Stuart asked.

‘Demons?' Goibhnie was puzzled momentarily. 'Ah, you mean the reject material. It was unfortunate