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By Root 515 0

convenience.’ They had just reached the Black Rhinoceros, and he was momentarily distracted. He took out his sonic screwdriver from his pocket, an automatic response to seeing something trapped – then tossed it from hand to hand, not quite sure what to do. ‘Half the human race have the problem that they see animals as objects. The other half have the problem that they anthropomorphise them. Can’t blame those ones so much, though. I look at this animal, and I think “what a noble beast”. Especially with it saving our lives and all that. And yet it’s hardly as if it subscribes to the code of the Knights Templar, or was acting out of some virtuous desire to rescue a damsel in distress. I’m talking about Martha,’ he pointed out hurriedly. ‘This Time Lord’s neither a damsel nor distressed.’

There was a sudden silence.

‘Time Lord,’ said Eve, huskily, the words almost catching in her throat.

The Doctor stood absolutely still, not looking at her, staring unseeingly at the frozen rhino.

‘The last Time Lord.’

The Doctor still said nothing.

‘The only survivor. The only specimen.’

He moved then, spinning round, eyes blazing with anger and hurt. No fear though, even knowing, as he couldn’t help knowing then, what was in her mind. ‘The One Cent Magenta,’ he snarled.

And she took him completely unawares.

He’d expected verbal sparring. She was alone, she was unarmed, she was a short woman and he was a tall man. He held all the cards.

But she was a collector, and she was a fanatic, and he didn’t expect what happened next.

Eve ran at him, her head down. She butted him right in the middle of his stomach, and, surprised, he staggered backwards. Couldn’t stop himself. Spiralling his arms to try to regain his balance, sonic screwdriver dropping to the floor, he found himself propelled into an empty perspex box. A vague memory surfaced through the whirling thoughts in his head: Martha worrying that another creature had been stolen and Tommy telling her no, this box must have been prepared for a new specimen.

And then Eve was throwing herself at the small keypad at the top of the cage, and in that second everything ended for the Doctor.

Eve sank down on the carpeted walkway, staring up at her latest acquisition. Now it was all over, any trace there may have been of emotion had vanished, and, although her first words were ‘I’m sorry’, there was no hint of regret; they were just standard words, a formula to introduce the point she was making. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, addressing the petrified Time Lord in front of her. ‘I know you’re not in the right place, which is undignified, but, as I’m sure you will understand, there is no section for your planet, as yet. I will have one constructed, but at the moment I’m afraid you’ll have to remain here. Seems like even when you avoid the planet Earth, you can’t escape it,’ she paraphrased.

She sat there for a long time, just looking. Some of the collection agents had had problems in the past when expected to gather higher‐order specimens: sentient, self‐aware, intelligent. Eve had no such problem. Their preservation was for the greater good. If she had been more empathic, Eve might even have made the argument that letting something live out its life knowing it was the only one of its kind was a far crueller fate. But her only thoughts were for the Collection.

Something would have to be done about the display: the shocked, angry, disbelieving look on the Doctor’s face was just not appropriate, nor was his gravity‐defying pose, falling backwards with arms raised. It might worry some of the younger visitors. She would conceal the exhibit for now. Oh, and there was the Doctor’s friend to be considered, too, of course. She would probably have some absurd emotional reaction to the situation: she would have to be got out of the way. As a human, she had no intrinsic value, there were still billions of them around…

It might have been then that an idea started to form in Eve’s mind.

But her immediate problem was Martha. And just then a