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***

'We have no contact with our warriors when they are on the planet's surface?' The Kusk Leader looked questioningly at the technician with his huge eyes.

'No, Leader. But the tracer units should allow us to monitor their life signs.

Each must return to the matter transmitter terminals as soon as they are able to, in order to move on to the next possible area.'

'Have you no more troops, Leader?' rumbled the black-skirted Kusk, concerned.

'No,' said the Leader, shaking his great head.'No more could be spared on an interstellar journey of such hazard.'

The engineer broke in. 'Preliminary readings and forecasts suggest the planet Hirath will no longer be stable enough to support any life outside a time span of twenty units.' The engineer continued in a gravelly whisper.

"The Prize is dying, and with it our control computer dies also.'

The Leader snarled quietly to himself, a sound almost lost under the constant humming of the matter transmitter as it dispatched more Kusks to the surface of Hirath. 'We have not traversed the gulfs between stars to be frustrated by time now. Our troops will find the Prize within the allotted time, and retrieve the information we need.'

'I too will go, Leader,' announced the black-skirted Kusk.

'You are not combat-trained, but that should scarcely be necessary here.'

The Kusk Leader suddenly rose up and pointed to the engineer.'You also will go.'

The technician opened his slash of a mouth to protest. "The engineer is needed here to -'

'You will have to work harder alone to complete preparations here. Locating the Prize must be our first priority.' He paused as the technician's eyes glared into his own.'Must it not?'

The technician backed down and turned to the engineer. 'You will be sent to one of the most likely areas. Your skills may be of great value if you find the Prize.'

The Leader smiled at the pair, lips drawn back as far as they would go.

This shall be excellent experience for you, Engineer.'

The Kusk saluted, uneasily.

***

The fragments of the man flickered in silence all the way down the path.

Anstaar had watched the legs move gradually from figure to figure, the eyes close and open again, the lips open little by little, a yawn stretch itself lazily across fifty or sixty faces before leaving. It was nightmarish, unsettling. She saw the way the feet sometimes disappeared into the ground, or into rock, the legs almost merge into the legs in front. The Doctor had clearly sensed her unease. He had christened the man George, and once on their seemingly endless walk, he had glanced up and done a double take before exclaiming, 'Hello, George! Fancy seeing you!' Anstaar remembered almost smiling.

Now the Doctor was marching on ahead. Having named their ever-present companion, he was now seemingly oblivious to him. Periodically he checked his fingernails, scrutinising them up close and tutting occasionally.

Overhead the sky was like a giant painting, the canvas still pulled taut above them, keeping in the warm wet air. There was a tension in the atmosphere as if the world was waiting for a thunderstorm, an outburst from nature that would cleanse, relieve, liberate all around them. But the same clouds sat in the sky, and around them was nothing but the spongy rock and the distant cries of lonely birds calling to each other. Dizziness dogged her as they walked. On one occasion she'd pulled abruptly on the Doctor's coat, making him slip a little, almost reaching out to the uniformed man for support before realising, arms windmilling back as he tried to right himself. But when he had finally balanced himself and looked at her, the concern in his eyes alone made her feel much better.

She realised how grateful she was to have someone to talk to. She'd spent too long cooped up in the base on the moon with Vost and Vasid, desperately rationing out her use of the comm-link to talk to friends, or her parents. She could see Vost now, staring at her through his narrow watery eyes, instructing her in how important it was that