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Anstaar looked at him with her wide dark eyes, but his own were staring intently at the information flickering across the screen. She jumped on his train of thought: "The gravitational shift that would cause -'

'The simulated gravitational shift,' corrected the Doctor, 'should be sufficient to convince the probe it should be torn apart.' He sighed. 'A more conventional explosion.' Then he looked at her sullenly. "The galaxy is saved.'

'But what about us, here?' Anstaar looked beseechingly at him. 'How big will the explosion be? What about the time fields? Will they just dissipate?

Will there be Shockwaves, will we be affected -'

'We might be far enough out to survive.' He shrugged. 'I don't know.'

Anstaar felt anger surging past her fear.'And don't you care?'

She looked at his pale face, dimly illuminated by the emergency lighting.

His voice, when it finally came, was as faint as the colour in his haunted eyes.'Always.'

***

The Leader was unprepared when the section above him collapsed. A shouted warning from one of his troops was far too late, and he fell heavily, trapped under tons of heavy metal.

He could feel bile rising in his throat. It tasted sweet, sugary, and he released a long, frothy groan.

He could feel the debris being lifted from him, but he couldn't feel his legs at all following this latest disaster. 'Ignore me,' he gurgled, angry at his misfortune and perceived weakness. 'Clear the path. Ready the ship for take-off. The technician will soon be finished.'

'Finished' seemed an apt term. He realised that his remaining troops - how many, two or three? - had already moved to complete the clearing of the path, leaving him talking to nobody. Control could be lost so easily.

Respect won or lost by a single chance. He knew now the glory he dreamed of would never be. But perhaps these last Kusks could still escape and return home, and remember his fierce love for his troubled planet, whatever happened.

'The Kusk race will begin anew!' he called out over the clanking of shifting metal, but no one could hear him.

***

Sam was running, but the creature was bigger than she was and just as fast. As it gained on her, Sam found endless memories dizzying her mind.

One suddenly stood out: a cruel trick played on her during kiss and chase in the school playground on the afternoon of 3 June 1989. She was running, chasing after Peter Stokely. He dropped into a ball in front of her, she tripped, went flying, skinned her knees, was crying -

She dropped. The Kusk's huge legs cannoned into her, winded her, but the creature still toppled and fell just as she had done in the playground. A huge tremor shook the landscape once again, and a crack opened up in the parched earth in front of her. The Kusk scrabbled around trying to find something to hold on to to stop it falling. Sam watched in ghoulish fascination for a few moments, then moved off towards the grove of trees.

She stopped.

There were no trees, just a patch of evil-smelling earth and a crackling band of power filling the air around the edge of the cliff face. The images of Crichter dotted around into the distance suddenly sparked and vanished as the wind grew stronger, but Sam just stared at the empty space where Tanhith should have been, and screamed.

***

'The planet's going critical!' yelled the Doctor, his long brown curls almost seeming to stand up on end. 'How far back do I send the real-time anchor?

How long since this moon was captured by Hirath's gravity?'

'You really expect me to know?' spluttered Anstaar.

'Too far back and we won't have arrived yet. Lose its reference point entirely and it just won't register. There'll be nothing holding the time-fields in place.'

'"Boom"?' suggested Anstaar, trying to be helpful.

'"Kerboom", to be truly scientific.' The Doctor looked incredibly serious.

'And I suppose if you don't go back far enough -'

'- the gravitational shift may not be sufficient.'

Anstaar stared