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When the story was finished, the Doctor shook his head sadly. 'Let me help you.'

'You can't.'

'Don't be absurd. Think of it-the two of us together. What an infallible combination!'

Azmael didn't agree. 'You were always full of good intentions. But I cannot risk your interference now. The destruction of Mestor is something I must do alone.'

The Doctor looked confused. 'What does that mean?'

'You will remain here... You will have warmth, light, considerable comfort... And something to keep you busy,' he added, indicating the main door.

The Doctor glanced at the portal, uncertain what he meant.

'As we leave, I shall scramble the locks of both the main door and the one to the ducting. Between them, they have twenty million million possible combinations. Even with your agile brain, my dear Doctor, 1 think it will take you more than a little time to sort either of them out.'

Without protest, the Doctor and Peri were secured in a small room while Azmael prepared to leave. As they had been led to their cell, Azmael had called out, 'If it's any comfort, Doctor, I too have fond memories of that evening by the fountain.'

The Doctor had found the statement somewhat ironic. If friendship added up to nothing more than fond memories, the universe didn't stand a chance. Friendship had to be a living, positive force if it were to have any value.

Perhaps Azmael was distressed by his revenge against Mestor.

Perhaps he needed to feel he could handle it alone.

But alone the individual is nothing. It is only with loving friends that there is a positive living future.

Still prostrate on the floor of the TARDIS console room, Lieutenant Hugo Lang woke with a sudden start and looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

Gradually, as though not to frighten or shock, the memories of recent events slowly trickled back into his mind, and he felt wretched.

In the space of a few hours, both his squadron and his career had been shot down in flames.

Slowly, Hugo climbed to his feet and made his way to the double doors that should have led to freedom, but they were locked.

Cautiously he looked around him, wondering where the Doctor had gone, if he were a prisoner, or what would happen to him next. The care and skill that had gone into tending his wounds seemed to suggest that the owner of the TARDIS didn't want him dead.

At least not for the time being.

Hugo felt the bruising on his sore neck and suddenly felt very tired. To die, he thought, might not be a bad thing. At least he wouldn't have to face a court martial.

Slowly, he slid down the double doors until he was seated on the floor. The drowsiness that filled his mind was beginning to take the upper hand.

Bewildered and confused, he fell asleep.

Awake, but just as confused, the Doctor examined the lock sealing the main door of the dome. True to his word, Azmael had scrambled the electronic circuitry on his departure.

At first, the Doctor had been confident that he could sort out the jumble fairly quickly, but closer examination had shown otherwise.

The possible combinations to operate the lock were even greater than Azmael had suggested.

Meanwhile, Peri, who had resigned herself to the fact that the dome would be her home for the rest of her natural life, had started to explore.

The first room she had discovered was the kitchen, complete with adjoining storeroom which contained enough food to keep a schoolful of hungry children sated for a millennium.

The delight of discovering that they wouldn't starve to death was somewhat dampened by the sight of the cooker. To say that an honours degree in theoretical engineering was necessary to successfully operate it, would have been an exaggeration. To observe that the controls resembled the flight deck of Concorde would not only have been cliched, but would also have been untrue. But to Peri, who had never even grasped the fundamentals of the microwave oven, learning to fly Concorde would have proved easier than learning how to boil