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'Doctor! What on earth was that?' Stuart called from the far side of the car.

'A plasma bolt,' the Doctor murmured.

Stuart joined the Doctor and Bathsheba. 'Come on, we'd better not hang around. We may not be so lucky next time.' He urged the Doctor into a stumbling run, picked up Bathsheba and followed.

A searchlight stabbed down out of the sky momentarily blinding the three travellers. Half shielding his face and still running, the Doctor tried to find its source.

'Damn, it's certain to hit us now. Bloody dragons!' Stuart swore.

'A flying rock!' Bathsheba cried, recalling her brother Gabby's words.

'What is it?' Stuart called. He shielded his eyes with his arm and strained to make out the detail of the descending object. 'Is it a dragon?'

'I very much doubt it,' the Doctor said. They had all come to a stop now. Stuart let Bathsheba stand again - there could be no more running away. It was obvious that if the thing had intended to kill them it could already have done so. The small disclike craft drifted slowly down until it settled on the ground. A door flipped open in its side and a synthesized voice called out to them. 'Enter now, there are more of the rejects in the area.'

'Well, Doctor?' Stuart asked. He waved the rifle in the direction of the craft.

'I don't think we've anything to lose. Come on, Bats.' He took Bathsheba's hand and together they ran over to the waiting vehicle. The interior was dark and Bathsheba hesitated a moment before allowing herself to be pulled in.

When all three were inside, the door closed and the interior was suffused with a low, green light which revealed a shelf around the wall. The Doctor was the first to sit down, but the others quickly followed suit when, with a slight jolt, the machine took flight.

The Doctor cleared his throat. 'May we be allowed to see our rescuer - or should that be captor?'

A panel slid aside at the front of the craft, revealing a figure hunched over a set of controls. Only the head, enclosed in a broad helmet, was visible over the low-set control position. It half turned, as if to face them, but nothing more was revealed of its features, for the front of the helmet bore a mirrorlike visor. Twin tubes ran down either side of the visor and over the creature's shoulder where, presumably, they joined some sort of gas or nutrient supply.

'I received your distress signal.' The voice was passionless, free from emotion. Stuart wondered if this were merely the effect of being electronically generated or if their pilot really spoke in such a way. His words confused Stuart somewhat. What distress signal? 'I am intrigued as to how any of you could know of intergalactic distress codes. I have not been paying much attention to exterior informational signals since the end of the experiment but I had not realized that you humans could advance so much in less than a quarter rotation of star Q76. It will make an interesting observation in my report.'

'Intergalactic distress codes?' Stuart asked the Doctor, one eyebrow raised.

'Rather more sophisticated than Samuel Morse's system,' Doctor told him. 'You said that the experiment had ended?

The helmet shifted so that it faced forward again. 'That is correct. Sociological experiment Ternog was intended to last only as long as the artificial energy supply.'

'As I thought,' the Doctor murmured. There was another bump as the craft settled on to ground again.

The interior light was extinguished and the door opened, letting in a flood of bright light. The Doctor stood and went out.

They had landed inside a large hangar. There was no apparent way in for the craft - presumably it had closed after they had entered - but a set of double doors stood shut in one corner. The hangar was cluttered with mess; stray pipes, metal crates - some closed, some offering tantalizing glimpses of their contents, from colourful, soft garments to drab but heavy tomes - and a faint odour of oil. There was a quiet but persistent hum coming from all around them and once in a while one of the many pipes which ran across the