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And the simplest way to do that would be to send a hard, cold, massive rock spinning to its heart.

In fact, a planet would do very nicely.

When the Doctor had subsequently discovered that the shell of the gastropod eggs could resist the maximum setting on a laser cutter -

some ten thousand degrees centigrade - without incurring a scratch, Mestor's scheme seemed obvious. Domination of the universe with his own kind by exploding the Jacondan sun.

Such were the brutal, murderous implications of what was intended, that on completion of relating these facts, the Doctor wasn't certain he could believe them himself. But the sad, nodding head of Azmael confirmed he had come to the same conclusion.

The shocked silence of the group was broken by the squeaky, outraged voice of the twins. 'Mestor expected us to achieve that for him!'

The Doctor concurred.

'Outrageous!' stamped Romulus.

'Our genius was to be abused,' echoed his sibling.

But the Doctor was no longer listening. Instead of petty complaints what was needed now was a plan of action.

'Hugo,' ordered the Doctor. 'You must escort the twins and Peri back to the safety of the TARDIS. As

Mestor still needs the twins alive, you shouldn't be under any threat of death.'

The young pilot nodded.

'And what do we do?' enquired Azmael.

'Deal with Mestor!'

The elderly Time Lord's face crinkled into a half ironic smile. 'Are we capable? Look at us, Doctor. I am old. I have even lost my ability to regenerate. .. And you... Your mind could cloud at any moment. We are hardly fit competition for someone with the power that Mestor controls.'

'Better we die in harness, battling against the odds, than die in fear, finding menace in our own shadow. We have spent our lives fighting evil. We are certainly too old to give up that particular habit now.'

The Doctor's words sounded bold and exciting to Azmael. To die fighting evil was a romantic notion he had always held, but he was also aware of Mestor's skill at humiliating his victims before death.

There was little honour or romantic bravado in being nailed to a tree with your eyes put out, your tongue missing and the skin flailed from your body.

Still, thought Azmael, there was even less honour in dying afraid of a knock on the door or being scared of going out after dark.

He had vowed to destroy Mestor and now was his chance. With the Doctor at his side, he stood a greater opportunity of succeeding.

And with the knowledge of Mestor's ambition numbing his sensibilities, he was provided with a greater and more honourable motive than simple, petty revenge.

'I'm with you, Doctor!'

'Good man!'

The Doctor then turned to Drak. As he started to order him to go with the others to the TARDIS, he became aware of the blank, glassy-eyed look on his face. 'Are you all right?'

Instead of a reply, the Jacondan crashed to the floor.

Quickly, Azmael was at his side. It required minimal examination to establish Drak was dead, his mind burnt out.

'It must be the work of Mestor,' moaned Azmael plaintively. 'He must have used Drak as a monitoring point to overhear everything we've said.'

'Then Mestor will be expecting us.'

Gently, Azmael closed the dead eyes of the Jacondan. Although they had not been the greatest of friends, Azmael had warmed to Drak, especially since their mission to Earth. He had liked the way he had taken the twins under his wing, caring for them as though they were his own children.

Slowly, the elderly Time Lord stood up. If he had need of it, the death of Drak was yet another reason to destroy Mestor.

As the Doctor and Azmael left the laboratory, the Doctor picked up two small flasks of Mosten acid which he then secreted in one of his deep pockets.

Unlike most acids, Mosten acid doesn't burn or corrode, but ages whatever is immersed in it by a unique process of dehydration.

Professor Vinny Mosten discovered the acid which bears his name quite by chance when on an expedition to the planet Senile Nine.

Mosten wasn't a chemist but