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`Don't talk stupid, Clark,' Vollmer replied. 'The Navy will send another diving suit and somebody else can go down, to see what happened to the lieutenant. We'll give it another hour, then I'll go down river and have a telegram sent back to General Doulton telling him what's happened. Leave the thinking to the men in charge'

`But that could take days,' Clark said. 'We don't want to be stuck here for -' He stopped abruptly, twisting his head slowly sideways to look at the rope. It jumped twice in his hand, lay still for a few seconds, then was jerked twice again. 'It's him!

He's still alive! Bloody hell, he's still alive!'

Vollmer was already on his feet, buttoning the front of his tunic. 'How many tugs?'

`Four - two short, a pause, then two short again.'

`Two short tugs - that means pull him back up!' The sergeant called to the men on the riverbank, some of whom were already running towards the pontoon. 'Come on, you lot!

He's still alive! Move it!'

Within seconds the men were in place on either side of the rope, pulling it out of the water with all their might, the blisters on their hands and muscle strains forgotten.

Extract from Observations and Analysis, A Journal: My recollection of events resumes with utter darkness. 1

remember opening my eyes and seeing nothing. The Flack was so complete I wondered whether one of the explosions had blinded me. I rolled on to my side and sat up, aware of a myriad of bumps and bruises around my body. It felt as though I had been pummelled by a thousand fists, no doubt a side effect of the TARDIS trying to pull itself apart. Within a few hours I would be black and blue, hut there were more pressing concerns. I called out for the Doctor, not sure whether he was nearby.

`Yes,' he replied quietly. Ì'm just -' A click interrupted him and dim lighting began to illuminate the console room. The Doctor was standing over the central unit, examining the damage to its circuitry.

I found myself near one of the console room's walls. The final blast must have thrown me across the room, explaining the dull pain lancing across my body. I stood up and joined the Doctor at the console. 'Well? Did we succeed?'

`Hard to say. We're still in one piece, so that's a good start.

What monitoring systems are left suggest the dimensional buffer was successfully imposed over the rift - but only temporarily. The ship shut down to protect itself from feedback'

I began checking the console unit nearest to me. The results were not encouraging, a conclusion the Doctor soon underlined.

Ìt will take hours, perhaps days to repair all of the circuits.

We certainly won't be able to repeat that manoeuvre for some time. If we want to stop the rift getting any larger, we will have to do that without the help of the TARDIS.'

I wondered aloud how long I had been unconscious. The Doctor said creating the dimensional buffer had disabled the ship's chronometric systems. 'Best pop outside and see where the train is,' he said with a smile. 'Maybe that will give us an indication' The Doctor flipped the lever that opened the external doors of the TARDIS and began walking expectantly towards them. But the two heavy panels remained stubbornly shut.

`Do you want me to try?' I asked.

But repeated efforts produced no better results. The doors groaned inwards slightly and then stopped altogether. The Doctor's shoulders sagged. 'It seems we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way. Nyssa, would you be so kind as to fetch me the manual door crank?'

Getting Kempshall up from the depths of the river was an exhausting process. Even when the soldiers succeeded in raising the diving suit to the surface, it took another mighty effort to heave Kempshall out of the water and on to the pontoon. The lieutenant did not make the process any easier by waving his arms and gesticulating wildly. Eventually Vollmer realised what was causing Kempshall's distress. The hose had become folded upon itself and no air was getting into the diving suit. 'Dexter! Help me get the porthole open on this