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The Doctor took a deep breath. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I recognise a victory when I see one. You might want to budge up a bit.’

A cicatrix was forming, a scar on space and time itself. The Doctor winced, as though it was a paper-cut to his own eye.

He sent his signal to the control room.

With no force fields or other defences operating, there was nothing to stop the Vore from stepping right into the TARDIS and taking the cicatrix. A hyperspace corridor wide enough for a small moon to pass through it duly opened up, right in the centre of the power room. Time and space expanded to ac-commodate it, but not without screaming in protest.

The Doctor, to one side of this, suddenly felt very small indeed. This close the edge of the wormhole was a vertical horizon, perfectly straight.

Then the Vore moon passed through the corridor like a bullet through a rifle barrel, straight into the eye, the Vore heading for the cicatrix out of sheer instinct. Making a beeline. The moon was either dwarfed or shrank physically as it dropped into the swirling energy. It shifted a little as it tried to jump free, but despite its size it couldn’t amass the force needed to escape, couldn’t even disrupt the hurricane flow of its surroundings.

216

No! No! NO!!!!

The Doctor shrugged. ‘That’s your opinion, and you’re entitled to it.’

He pulled down the lever, sealing off the eye. The room snapped back to its normal, cavernous dimensions.

The TARDIS shot up almost throwing the Doctor from his feet. Three seconds later it swooped down, just as dizzyingly.

‘You can stop pressing that button now, Rachel,’ the Doctor shouted at the intercom.

From the Earth, this is how it appeared.

Trix and Mrs Winfield were still in Marnal’s house. They were in the library, looking out of the small window up into the night sky. The two moons were both beginning to wane. The second moon’s light was redder than Earth’s own moon, the colour of sandstone.

‘I’m getting used to it,’ Mrs Winfield said. ‘I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to them, though.’

Then the second moon exploded, in a flash of blue light that bathed the whole hemisphere facing it. Then there was nothing left.

Trix and Mrs Winfield ran outside and stared up into the sky, looking at nothing. Trix felt a sense of elation throughout her whole body, the sort of emotion that only comes when you realise that every other human being watching will be feeling the same way. For one priceless moment in the whole history of man, all the people of the Earth were truly united. Trix was rooted to the spot, staring up, tears in her eyes. One moon, pristine. Perhaps there was something in astrology after all. Now that the second moon wasn’t in the third house of Mars, or whatever, it felt like the world was right.

That’s where the Doctor had been, and he’d won, Trix realised. Sacrifices had not been made in vain. Humanity had won, and the war without end had ended.

And then, throughout the world, the Vore retaliated.

One leapt out of the sky and down at Trix, maw mashing, four arms out-stretched, ready to grab her.

Trix rolled out of the way but the thing was on her, punching down, sharp claws embedding themselves in the soft lawn, ripping their way out and stabbing at her again.

Mrs Winfield was running inside. On the threshold she hesitated.

‘Bolt the door!’ Trix shouted, as half a dozen Vore alighted on the patio.

The door slammed shut. The Vore immediately started pummelling at it, and the wood began to splinter.

217

Trix’s hand found a rusty garden trowel. She dug it into her Vore’s left eye, scraping it down.

The Vore didn’t even register pain. It lashed out, batting her away, then hopped over to her, stretching its wings for just a second or two to carry it along. Its comrades had all but broken down the back door, but Trix couldn’t worry about Mrs Winfield for the moment.

The monster’s mouth was working away in two different directions. It was watching her, like it was deciding