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'You mean, because they were aliens.'

'I don't like being interrogated,' said Roz, 'especially, by amateurs.'

'That's a classic, Roz,' said Bernice, sharper than she meant to. 'Paranoia is often a side-effect of xenophobia.'

Roz stood up forcing Bernice to step back out of her way. 'Bernice,' she said, 'I'm tired and I don't want to have this conversation. We were being questioned whether you like it or not. That robot probably had a dozen varieties of scanner trained on us.'

'You said they were cops,' said Bernice. 'Didn't you used to question people? Or is there one rule for you –'

'At least when I suspected someone of a crime they knew about it,' said Roz. 'I didn't stroll in all friendly like and pretend I was on a social call.'

'What makes you think we were suspects?'

'Of course we were suspects,' said Roz wearily. 'A robot gets destroyed the day we arrive and within six kilometres of where we're staying. I said they were amateurs, I didn't say they were stupid. Now if you don't mind?' Roz brushed past Bernice and headed for the stairs.

'And the winner, this year, of the much coveted Ace memorial award for tact and diplomacy in an interpersonal relationship is Bernice Summerfield.' Bernice turned to face the Doctor. 'I'd like to take this opportunity to thank my right foot and of course my mouth, without which none of this would have been possible.'

The Doctor smiled.

'Do you think I should go after her?' she asked.

'I doubt that would be a good idea,' said the Doctor. 'Roz has a lot on her mind at the moment.'

'Such as?'

'Well,' said the Doctor, 'judging from the faint but indicative discoloration of her iris, I'd say –

most of her life.'

'In her iris? Well, I never, who'd have guessed it,' said Bernice. 'You're not going to explain that, are you?'

'She'll feel better tomorrow,' said the Doctor.

'I don't think Roz ever feels better,' said Bernice. 'Just less worse.'

Something dark and spherical shot past the window. 'Is that Chris's airborne boudoir?' asked Bernice.

The Doctor nodded. Together they stepped out onto the balcony and watched the sphere as it shot out over the ocean and accelerated into the distance, the light from Whynot gleaming dully off its sides.

'Well,' – said Bernice, 'at least someone's happy.'

They stood together until the bedroom had vanished into the darkness. She considered asking the Doctor whether there was something going on that she should know about but decided that it would be a waste of breath. She went upstairs, leaving the Doctor alone on the balcony.

After a brief tussle with the suspensor pool Bernice sat up in bed and tried to write up the day's events in her diary but she seemed to have little enthusiasm left over from the party. She told House to turn the lights out and wake her in nine hours with a cup of coffee. The spat with Roz bothered her; she had too many memories of what she thought of as the difficult period with Ace.

She didn't want a repeat of that.

Bernice could remember the exact moment when the woman who ate pizza and compared nipple sizes had vanished. She'd seen Roz's eyes change so suddenly it was as if something physical, a metal shutter, had slammed down behind them shutting everything in. They had become watchful eyes, suspicious and careful eyes that betrayed nothing. They were eyes that could calmly look over a mutilated corpse, looking for this detail or that or examine a grieving widow's face for some small sign of deception.

Lying in her bed with the patchwork quilt wrapped tightly around her, Bernice suddenly realized what Adjudicator Forrester meant when she spoke of 'cop eyes'.

God is watching over you, thought the Doctor. Walk slow, talk slow, act dumb. God's very bright, mustn't forget that, very bright indeed. Perhaps even brighter? Well, let's not get carried away.

Bright and learning fast but not as experienced, didn't have the same brutal teachers I did. Still, High Council is scared of these people, only real threat to Gallifreyan supremacy and pro-active with it. Scared enough to renege on the treaty. Has