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Christian shook his head. 'I've seen the fiends, Alistair. They are savage creatures, warlike. We infiltrated one of their cities - everything there is run like a barracks. As far as I could gather, these Martians were fighting a rival group. You should see their weapons and what they can do with them.'

The Brigadier took a swig of tea. 'It makes you wonder what the Martians would make of it if they landed in Bosnia.

Or Belfast, for that matter.'

***

The Doctor smiled benignly at Sal, the shop assistant at the boutique. The radio news was being piped out of the shop's PA system, but the young woman wasn't paying attention to it as the detailed descriptions of the two murder suspects were read out, right down to Bernice's ballgown.

'Are you going to be much longer?' the Doctor asked his companion.

'I'm done now,' the voice came from behind the changing room curtain. It swished back to reveal Bernice in a pair of jeans and a bright orange polo-neck shirt.

'Not terrifically original, but stick to what you know, that's what I say. I'll wear these now, but I'll need a bag for my old stuff,' she informed the assistant, handing over the bar tags.

'OK. How will you be paying?'

'Doctor ... '

The Doctor rummaged in his pockets and produced the money.

Bernice was hovering over the jewel ery rack. 'Hey, it's ages since I wore these.' She tossed a big pair of gold hoop earrings onto the counter. 'These, too, please.'

The Doctor took out the last of his money.

Bernice put the earrings on as they walked out of the shop. The Doctor took the bag with the ballgown in it. 'Are you sure we can't get back to the TARDIS?' she asked.

The Doctor shook his head. 'It's right outside the National Space Museum. We'd never get across the Square without being spotted. We'll have to find a computer elsewhere.'

She took the bag back from him. 'Getting access to one can't be that difficult, even in 1997.'

The Doctor drummed his fingers over his mouth. 'No, no, not at all. The trouble is that we don't know how long we'l need to study the data. We need somewhere like a library or a university.'

'How about an Internet Cafe?' Bernice suggested, from halfway across the street. She was heading to a shop with a bright neon sign flashing on and off.

'A what?' the Doctor asked, following her across.

He stepped into what would have been an ordinary cafe, except for the personal computer sitting on each table.

The place was about half-full. Its proprietor, an overweight little man, stood behind a gleaming counter, his attention occupied by the big wall-mounted television. The Doctor followed his gaze, fascinated by what he saw on the screen. A man in odd clothes and a woman in a tailored suit were standing in an American street. He was trying to convince her that he was a time traveller and that in the next twenty-four hours the world would come to an end. She thought he was mad.

'What is that?' the Doctor asked, a little worried. The time travel er seemed sincere enough.

'Twelve Monkeys,' the cafe owner said. 'Cool film. It's just come out on sel -through. How can I help?'

'We'd like a couple of cups of tea and access to a computer terminal.'

'Sure.' He passed over the price list. 'Have you surfed the net before?'

'Not like this, no.' The Doctor admitted, searching his pockets. 'I've only got ten pence,' he announced.

The cafe owner shrugged. 'Looks like you won't be losing your net virginity this afternoon, then.' He turned his attention back to the movie.

'We don't have money?' Bernice asked, aghast.

'We spent it al on your clothes.'

38

'You should have said.'

The proprietor glared at them. 'If you can't pay, could you at least keep quiet? This is a good bit.'

'If you’ll excuse us one moment,' the Doctor said, smiling. He took his companion to one side. 'Couldn’t you ...

persuade him?'

'How?' Bernice scowled.

'Well, you’re not a little girl anymore...'

'I beg your pardon?' she snapped, before remembering the