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Rujjis swallowed nervously.

Then, one by one, the soldiers turned to point their guns towards the general. The last in line released Rujjis, retrieved the fallen gun and put it into the rebel’s hand. With a smile, Rujjis turned the weapon on Gogon.

‘Gogon of Xanthos,’ he stated in a voice shaking with emotion. ‘You will stand trial for the crimes you have committed against our people. Take him away.’

Gogon shot a last, hate-filled glare at the Doctor as his arms were pinioned and he was marched away into the jungle.

Rujjis walked slowly up to the Doctor and smiled.

‘Once again, Doctor, we owe you so much. How can we repay you?’

The Doctor rubbed his chin, then tapped the barrel of Rujjis’s gun. ‘Tell you what, as soon as you can, get rid of that. And try and do without it in future.’

He flashed Rujjis a broad smile which took years off his heavily lined face then shook the little alien’s hand. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be going.’

This time, the journey across the lake was a placid experience.

The Doctor paddled quickly but calmly, enjoying the smooth splash of the oar through the silky water. He reached the island and walked swiftly through the trees to where the comforting rectangle of the TARDIS stood, almost black in the embrace of night. He felt in his trouser pocket for the key and let himself inside.

The double doors opened with a low murmur.

The Doctor found the insistent hum and glaring white of the console room inexpressibly comforting. He stumped to the console and pulled the lever to close the doors, then rested the flat of his hands against the machinery, like a drunken man relishing the cool peace of his own pillow.

With a few flicks of switches, the time rotor of the TARDIS began to rise and fall, filling the air with the raucous, grinding noise of her engines.

Jo Grant sat on a laboratory stool, staring down at the pale grey rectangle of concrete below the window. It glared unpleasantly in the sunshine and left bright after-images on her eyes as she blinked.

A parade was under way with about two dozen UNIT

troops standing smartly to attention under Sergeant Benton’s instruction. To one side stood the wiry, slightly anxious-looking figure of Captain Mike Yates, baton under one arm, and behind him was the Brigadier, looking rather splendid, Jo thought, in full dress uniform. She smiled. It was just like him to organise something like this to keep everyone on their toes.

‘Never forget, Miss Grant,’ he had told her solemnly.

‘UNIT is first and foremost a military concern.’

She sighed and glanced around the empty laboratory. The place was beginning to take on the sad, neglected feel of an empty nursery; somewhere usually full of life, now fallen eerily silent.

Jo closed her eyes, thinking of the adventures that had begun within those four walls. She was proud of the way the Doctor had come to accept her, first as an assistant, then a colleague and, finally, as a friend. It was strange to think that it might all have come to an end.

She glanced at the empty corner, its bare, plaster walls depressingly sterile in the hard sunlight.

Perhaps it was for the best. Things had to change. She would have wanted to move on soon, she was sure of it. It was better to have the decision taken for her than have to choose the moment herself.

A little knot of fear and emotion suddenly rose in her and she felt hot tears spring to her eyes. Life after UNIT. What would that be like?

It might have been the sounds of the summer afternoon but, for a moment, Jo could hear the grinding, scraping engines of the TARDIS once more, as though from a long way away. Then she whirled round on the stool.

A familiar blue shape was slowly materialising in its old corner. Double doors, frosted windows, flashing lamp, all suddenly taking on solid form like a ghost stepping through a wall. Jo’s pretty face was suddenly wreathed in smiles.

With a satisfying thump, the TARDIS was once more fully formed. The door flew open and the Doctor stepped out. He looked tired and filthy, his normally elegant clothes