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He looked out at Betrushia. All they needed was a miracle.

* * *

Yong dragged himself to his feet using the great gilded cross like a walking stick. His shoulder was now nothing more than a bloodied hole and his beautiful face was deathly pale and contorted with pain. Sweat soaked his long black hair.

His lips trembled as he spoke. ‘I submit… Magna… De Hooch.’

De Hooch sat up in his chair. This was unexpected. ‘What?’

‘Magna De Hooch. You have bested me. I am unfit to lead the Chapter. You are the… inheritor… of Saint Anthony’s Fire…’

De Hooch got up out of the chair, his blasters raised suspiciously.

‘Come to me,’ called Yong. ‘I am nothing but a blind fool now. But for the sake of our old association, let me pass on my birthright to you, o brave Magna.’

De Hooch dashed down the steps towards the ailing Yong.

The former Magna pulled himself to his full height with the cross. ‘See, the flames of Saint Anthony emblazon this symbol of his power. I hand it to you, my wise and worthy successor.’

In spite of himself, De Hooch felt humbled, moved beyond measure by Yong’s words. Of course, it was only natural that he, De Hooch, should lead the Chapter but he had expected to have to force the crown from Yong. A humbled and defeated Magna left a far sweeter taste in his mouth. The dwarf knelt down before the blind man.

Yong put out a shaking, blood‐stained hand and felt for De Hooch’s skull‐cap. He raised the cross high above his head.

‘O, mighty Saint Anthony,’ he cried, ‘I humbly pass the burden of your wrath to a wiser head.’

De Hooch held out his fat hands to receive the cross. Yong’s blank eyes rolled insanely and, with a giggling screech, be brought the cross smashing down onto De Hooch’s skull.

The dwarf’s head cracked open like a rotten egg, spurting blood and pasty cerebral fluid down his startled little face.

Yong cackled maniacally. Pulling blindly at the dwarf’s corpse, he dragged his way across the room. De Hooch’s head leaving a slug‐trail of fluid on the flagstones.

He was half‐way towards the alcove containing the humming directional machinery when he felt the floor vibrating beneath him. He dropped De Hooch and scrambled over the floor, feeling the outline of the great recessed panel just as it shot open, releasing the vast, dazzling column of Saint Anthony’s Fire into space.

The pure crimson flames roared down from the ceiling, incinerating the flesh from Yong’s body. As he died, a final oath slipped from between his perfect lips:

‘Bugger.’

* * *

On the bridge, the Doctor put his hand to his mouth in despair. ‘It’s no good. The fire’s been released but it’s going nowhere. Just dissipating into space.’

Ace looked around the room at the terrified Chaptermen, all frozen into impotence. ‘I’m going to do it,’ she cried suddenly.

The Doctor whirled round. ‘What?’

Ace stood upright and wiped her brow. ‘I’m going down there. Somebody’s got to.’

The Doctor shook his head desperately. ‘You’ll be killed. I told you.’

‘But if I don’t go, that thing will escape!’

‘It’s out of the question!’ roared the Doctor, his eyes flashing.

In a quiet corner of her mind, Ace found his concern inordinately touching.

‘It’s all right,’ said a voice. ‘I made it.’

The Doctor flicked a switch. ‘Grek? Grek, is that you?’

* * *

The cathedral fountained with red light as the gargantuan column of fire spat from the artificial sun through the vaulted ceiling and out into space.

Crouched in the alcove, his skin steaming, Grek held De Hooch’s communicator in his claw. ‘The last lever, Doctor? The seventh?’

‘Yes,’ came the Doctor’s voice, scarcely audible above the tumult.

Grek’s other claw slammed down the final lever and the console roared with power.

‘It’s done. It’s done…’ gasped Grek as he stumbled from the alcove, his uniform bursting into flame.

‘Grek! Grek!’ crackled the Doctor’s voice.

The communicator fell from Grek’s claw and was incinerated as the enormous column of energy began to expand across the cathedral