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But they were too few to stand a chance of survival by military means.

Other avenues needed to be taken. Technology was stronger than brute force. The armed divisions began to lessen in importance, a historical power only. When the ability to move through history itself came little by little, the military were not much more than a reminder of past glory, a resource easy to bypass until the time was right. At least then armed might would be useful to the Kusk race.

He was leader of this mission, the most important the Kusks had ever known. But it was technology that was leading him, and what further changes would sweep Kuskas in the decades it would take to return?

He touched the screen and it dissolved into internal communications mode.

'Report,' he hissed, his body squelching into the slime-covered hard chair.

The technician's voice rasped over the speaker-sensors. 'Computer holding the Prize stable. Hirath responding well to weakened manipulation signal, but fluctuations are frequent.'

'Are our troops safe?'

'All life signs registering, Leader.'

The Leader paused for a moment, his huge bubble eyes scanning the darkened chamber, thinking back once more to that better time long ago.

He roused himself, and his bellowing grumble filled the room once more.

'Have you retrieved a detailed account of the operational areas on Hirath?'

'Yes, Leader. There are fifteen areas pending, life-free. There are several hundred toxic dumps, waste ground held far in the planet's future for chemical products inimical to life. Many sites for the old and infirm to live in exile, thirty-seven penal settlements held in the planet's mid-history - we feel it unlikely the Prize will be located in these places, Leader.'

The Leader scowled. Clearly the technician regarded his command as irrelevant and foolish.'And the areas near that... disturbance you mentioned?'

'There was only one still to be explored. Upon Unit Two's return from the disused Area Four, I dispatched them there.'

The Leader nodded, sadly.'Excellent.'

***

Nashaad was an amenable soul. He seemed pathetically eager to please, and happy to be in company. He kept looking at Anstaar shyly, which was beginning to irritate her - although she realised this was more due to the amusement it afforded the Doctor than any other reason. Punctuating every stilted conversation was his apparent war cry of'I've got metal legs!' He had demonstrated them by leaping high into the air and scrabbling up the sheer mountain face behind them, before leaping back down again with a look begging for approval or admiration.

'How come he's not affected?'Anstaar had whispered.

'Perhaps he was an old man, once.'

Now she watched, bemused, as the Doctor tried to scramble on the back of the funny little man who swayed about under his weight. 'Right the way down, Nashaad, we need to go right the way down into there.'

'I've got metal legs,' said Nashaad, cheerily nodding.

With a wink at Anstaar, the Doctor had found himself yelling out as Nashaad bounced down into the arena, the impact sending the Doctor hurtling off into a confused acrobatic roll. Miraculously, he jumped to his feet at the end of it like a prize gymnast - then slipped into a patch of vegetation. Anstaar found herself laughing, something she hadn't imagined happening for some time.

'Stay there!' the Doctor called to her as he set about freeing Nashaad's famous legs from the soft soil.

'I will!' She waved back, and watched the two figures turn away from her and towards the sinister device in its charred crater.

***

From this angle the Doctor could tell the spheroid had impacted quite heavily - a lot of debris had been chucked up around the site of collision.

'Do you come here often, Nashaad?' asked the Doctor brightly.

'I'm always round here. Got nothing else to do except watch the colours there.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Pretty, aren't they? But you never go near them?'

Nashaad lifted up his shirt to show a terribly