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She stood aside, waiting impatiently for the others to follow her through the transmat. Jessie appeared next, looking even more bewildered than she had aboard the ship – followed by Connie and Joyce. Ace toyed with the idea of telling them that it was all just a dream, but there wasn’t time.

‘Get them out of here, and find the Doctor – we’re booked in at your B&B,’ she hissed to Joyce, jabbing her finger in the direction of the kitchen and pressing it to her lips. ‘There’s someone in there.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’m going back to see if I can revive some of the others –

now go!’ Ace pointed to the stairs.

Shushing Connie and Jessie, Joyce marshalled them together and herded them towards the stairs as Ace stepped back through the transmat.

On the other side of the transmat field, Ace listened to the ship creak around her, and wondered if there was anybody else –

other than the sleepers – aboard with her. Perhaps there were weapons aboard that she could use to hold off any attackers. She shook her head. She ought to concentrate on waking the sleepers up and getting them out. Determinedly, she splashed off down the corridor.

From his position, three steps up from the kitchen, the Doctor listened with interest to Megan and Sooal’s conversation. Nasty piece of work, he thought. Very nasty. And Megan wasn’t much better – not least because she’d described him as a ‘dotty old duffer’. Perhaps he should take it as a compliment on his acting ability.

And what did Sooal mean by ‘processors’? He could only hope that he meant data rather than food. As Sooal left the room, the Doctor heard a noise. From above him came the sound of footsteps, growing louder. He was trapped.

Chapter Seven

Sooal stepped through the transmat, materialised in the corridor of the ship and paused as an idea struck him; he turned back and crouched down by the transmat’s control box. With a few deft movements, he deactivated it: if there was anyone still aboard, he doubted that they’d be able to reactivate it. They were trapped.

As he reached the first chamber he paused and scanned the gloom ahead. Despite its condition, the ship still felt more like home to him than Graystairs. He knew it probably wouldn’t last much longer – the crash had done considerable damage to it, and he doubted it would manage more than one short, final flight. But that was all it needed to manage. And for the time being, it served as an ideal research centre, well away from prying, senile eyes.

Ace stood in the centre of the chamber and wondered who she should try to bring round next. As she’d noted before, most looked like they could have been residents of Graystairs. Ace paused: could it be that this was the magical treatment that was curing them of their Alzheimer’s? She wondered if she’d done the right thing in disconnecting the others: maybe she’d set their treatments back; maybe even ruined them completely. But Joyce had been wired up, and she wasn’t suffering from Alzheimer’s.

She might have been snooty and ungrateful for Ace’s rescue, but there had been no sign of dementia.

With renewed determination, Ace headed for one of the younger men and began to feel around behind his neck.

Jessie and Connie had locked themselves in Jessie’s room, and now sat on the bed, holding each other through scared, uncertain tears. The woman – Joyce? – had told them to set out of Graystairs, to go as far as they could. But where was there to go?

And then she’d gone and left them.

‘Wasn’t that Norma’s daughter?’ Jessie asked as Connie dried her tears.

‘Which one?’

‘The young woman – not the girl. She was here earlier, asking about Norma.’

Connie shook her head. ‘D’you think she knows what all this is about?’

Jessie shrugged weakly. ‘I’m so scared, Connie. What’s happening?’

Connie could only shake her head again. She stared at the door, as if expecting someone to break it down and drag the two of them away. Somewhere in the back of her mind, numbers raced past in an incessant stream. Through the curtains,