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The Doctor felt a deep, despairing pity for the creature.

The Marshchild let out a reverberating scream and charged the work bench. With a single sweep of its arm it sent an entire array of sterilised surgical instruments crashing to the floor.

The creature started hammering with all its might on the surface of the bench, again and again just bringing both fists crashing down on it, faster and faster all the time.

The Doctor felt a surge of hope. 'It realises!' he said.

Nefred turned to him, curious. 'Realises what?'

'It's fighting the animal, it's fighting this new thing inside it. It doesn't want to act this way. Come on, you can do it...'

And then the Marshchild went careering around the room, smashing everything within reach, shrieking horribly, cutting itself badly in its rage.

The room was a mess, with instrumentation lying scattered and broken all over the floor. In its centre stood the diminutive Marshchild, crouched, breathing heavily, head lowered, its snarls slowly, gradually, giving way to quiet melancholic whimpers. Blood dripped from the gashes in its arms. Quietly the creature watched itself bleed. The sounds it made were like a weeping child, but no tears spilled from its black eyes.

The Doctor was proud for the creature. It had won its battle with itself.

The Marshchild lifted its head and saw the Doctor's face on the monitor. Immediately it made a sound which was an obvious expression of delight, and started to hobble forward to the screen.

It lifted its bloody hands to the Doctor's face. It pressed... but did not feel the face. There seemed to be something between itself and the Doctor. Grunting annoyedly, it pressed against this unseen barrier.

The smile vanished from the Doctor's face. 'No!' he called out. But the Marshchild was pushing still harder. 'No! Don't!'

The Marshchild drew a hand back and punched at the screen.

The glass screen shattered. The Marshchild's hand went straight through into the circuitry beyond. There was an explosion and a blinding blue flash. The Marshchild was picked up and thrown across the room. It was dead before it hit the floor.

On her bed, Romana screamed and convulsed, feeling a terrible pain running through her.

When the pain had gone she lay sprawled across the bed, head over the edge, mouth gaping, staring blindly into space. Unmoving.

9

'One Secret Our Ancestors Kept For Themselves'

The Great Book Room screen was knocked out in the same instant that the Marshchild died, displaying now only a hazy vista of electronic 'snow'. Nefred deactivated it and turned away. 'It can't have survived. Send someone to take away the bodies. We have to follow the procedures.'

'Procedures,' the Doctor muttered scornfully below them. 'Endless procedures, but nothing ever actually gets done. Adric?'

'Doctor?'

'Go to the TARDIS, stay with Romana. Let me know the moment you notice any change in her condition.'

'But you said...' Adric stopped, sensing the Doctor's seriousness. 'Yes, of course.' He hurried out.

The Doctor waited for the doors to close behind his young friend, then turned, pointing a condemning, damning finger at the three Deciders. 'You!' he screamed. 'You "Deciders" allowed this to happen!'

The Deciders were openly stunned by this vociferous rebuke. Garif stammered, 'The marsh creatures are mindless brutes. Mere animals.'

'Mere?' queried the Doctor. 'Oh yes, animals are easy enough to destroy... but have you ever tried creating one?'

'One might argue that Dexeter was over-zealous,' Garif suggested.

'Not an alibi, Decider!' the Doctor hollered. He subdued himself, with an effort. 'You three are supposed to be leaders.'

'Certainly, we are,' said Login. 'Of course, Nefred is now First Decider.'

'Then Nefred is responsible.'

'For the community, certainly,' Nefred agreed.

'For the fraud,' the Doctor corrected him.

'Fraud?' Garif shot Nefred an anxious look. Nefred returned an expression which told him to relax.

'What do you mean,