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'Which is our target?' came the gravelly whisper.

'AB456, Leader,' reported the technician. Its speech was slow and laboured, as if its vocal cords were straining against each other.

The Leader snorted.'And in the local tongue?'

A pause.'A moon of the planet AB455.'

The Leader hissed in the fetid atmosphere. 'Where is the soul of a scientist?'

The technician raised its ovular head.'In facts.' It returned to its work, before uttering 'Leader* almost as an afterthought.

The Leader revealed the pointed teeth sheltering behind his leathery lower lips. 'Have the Lost Ones sent us the required access codes?' he inquired.

'Some time ago,' rattled the technician.

'I was not informed.'

'You were at rest, Leader. We did not seek to disturb you before helming so important a mission.'

The technician bared its teeth in a smile and gestured at the crew, continuing their monitoring of the toffee-like controls that sponged out from the sticky walls. One of the tiny points of light glowed more brightly on the display screen. Then two pincer-like graphics closed round it until it was eclipsed, and black as jet.

***

'Something's coming.'

Sam looked over at the Doctor, then at the door, in quick succession."That bloke again?'

'No.' The Doctor's face was rapt as he stared at the computer screen. 'No no no no no no. A ship - a craft of some kind. It's heading our way.'

"The supply ship, surely? We should get out of here before they mistake us for porters or something.'

'No, Sam. None of the correct codes are being transmitted. That's why this computer's getting the jitters.'

Sam jogged over, absent-mindedly chewing her nails.'What's it up to?'

'I think it's about to put up a force shield of some kind: With a sudden grinding of gears, the shutters over the observation window began to close.

'Show-off,' muttered Sam. 'God, that machine's a bit jumpy, isn't it? Could be anyone popping in for a visit.'

'I suspect that this place is kept rather quiet, off the beaten track - probably for some very good reasons.'

'In which case, I guess whoever's coming doesn't just want a guided tour.'

The Doctor remained silent, drumming his fingers on the desk, waiting for any further information to flicker on to the screen. Sam began to feel vaguely irritated. With a noisy hum, the shutters finished sliding back into place.

'Doctor, what is this place?'

In a blur of movement, the Doctor had moved to the door. He politely waved a hand to suggest that Sam should go through first.'I think it's time we asked someone exactly that. And to see if anyone knows who's coming to dinner.'

'Wait,' said Sam.'How are we going to find anyone on a base this size?'

'Well,' began the Doctor. He made a show of thinking hard. 'We go yodelling through the corridors until someone tells us to be quiet?'

'Too risky,' said Sam, as if taking the idea extremely seriously. 'They might be too drunk to care. Or wearing headphones. Or they might be deaf.' She looked at him pointedly. 'Or tone deaf.' Then her face brightened. 'Tell you what - we'll take this huge map of the base with us.' She gestured triumphantly to a laminated sheet of paper stuck up in a recess next to the door leading to the landing bay itself.'Better plan?'

The Doctor's mouth opened in mock astonishment, then snapped shut. He smiled. 'Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. Admirable advice. If only I could remember who said it.'

Sam couldn't help feeling deeply smug at her discovery. Travelling with the Doctor, you had to learn timing. Reveal your amazing find at the right dramatic moment for best effect. It was the game they played. And she had to give him credit: he was never a bad loser.

'Sam, we have a problem with your map.'

'What's wrong with it? The fact that I found it first?'

'Take a look.' The Doctor shoved his hands deep in his pockets as he watched her scrutinise the map.

'What am I meant to be looking at? It's what it says it is:

"Base layout". There's the control room, sleeping quarters, a monitor