'I know. As ranking officer of this expedition, I have been neglecting my duties.'

'In what way?' As far as the flight surgeon could tell Chiu had been an exemplary leader, making sure everything was done as efficiently and effectively as possible.

'I have overlooked the element of motivation. Morale. Off-duty periods are as important as on-duty ones. Without them, we cannot refresh our minds.

I'll be issuing a new duty schedule to take that into account.'

'As you command.' The flight surgeon paused. 'I came to report that the new subjects are ready for determination.'

'Good.' Chiu stood. He wasn't tall, but he almost towered over his delicate companion. 'Let us begin.'

There was a strange sound in the air; it made Kurt feel sad, yet cleansed.

Strangely, it reminded him of a Clannad Clannad song his girlfriend liked. song his girlfriend liked.

He had no idea how long it had been since he was taken from the hiking trail. He had no idea how long it had taken him to remember his own name.

All Kurt knew was that someone was examining him.

Perhaps he'd been injured? Attacked by an animal?

Kurt couldn't quite see the people who were examining him. He wasn't even sure they were people. They moved too silently and delicately to be human. The half of him that wanted to see who they were was having a drawn-out duel with the half that didn't want to know. There was a stuck record in his head, repeating the same notes of fear over and over again.

Kurt tried to shake the things off; it felt like there were two of them trying to roll him over. He caught a glimpse of Danny, under attack from another two at least. Danny was screaming too, and Kurt felt horrified, enraged and sick that he couldn't reach Danny to help him.

Something tore on his back, and there was a touch of hideously smooth fingers, like cool, dry worms, then an icy pain. The things still didn't let go; instead, their hands quickly disappeared into the "wounds they had made, softening and merging with Kurt's ribs and spine. There, the bone shifted and fused with the new material, changing into something utterly different.

He couldn't exactly feel this physically but he could see the same thing happening to Danny, and worked out that it was happening to him too.

There wasn't what would ordinarily be called pain, but there was enough of a disturbing sensation of unnatural movement to make him screech. Then it was gone, the strange sensation faded to a dull buzzing in his back and the wounds sealed up with a faint pop.

Kurt lay, shuddering, for several minutes, trying to work out whether what had just happened had actually happened, and, if so, what he was supposed to do about it.

He got up, though he hadn't consciously intended to do so, and then he and Danny were walking. They looked at each other, but found they couldn't talk. Then Kurt tried to stop walking, and couldn't.

The worst thing was he couldn't even scream now. He tried and tried but all he could do was was Gasp for breath. The ceiling of their hostel bedroom in Ban Lung stared back at Kurt and Danny. A cockroach in the corner seemed to be mocking them for falling for a practical joke that would never have fooled anyone with its intellect.

Kurt tried to feel his back, searching for wounds. There was nothing, of course, and as the nightmare faded he quickly forgot why he had woken in terror.

The jungle is neutral, it was once said. Major Barry had never believed that.

Neutrality meant not getting involved, but the jungle opened new fronts against all who would fight within range of its actions.

It was noisy, secretive and brutal. There was good reason why bad situations were described as 'a jungle out there'. It was all threat with none of the peace of the desert, the imposing aloofness of the mountains.

Barry couldn't objectively say why he felt this way about the jungle, and he would certainly never let his feelings interfere with the mission, but it was something that constantly gnawed at him. And he resented the fact that it could make him appear weak in front of others.

If it had been up to him, he'd have raced cars for a living and bought a good fishing boat from the profits. But, after he had raced a few cars that didn't belong to him, a judge who knew his father had given him a choice: join the cops, the military or the convict population. Most of the time, Barry felt he had made the right decision, but out here he wished he could change his mind.

It didn't matter too much, though; he knew that in a day or two he'd be back in Hong Kong, proud of having completed a mission - or maybe he'd be dead. Either way, the jungle wouldn't be bothering him any more.

'Jungle' was itself something of a misnomer here. There was humid rainforest, yes, but there was also lots of brush and meadow in the valleys.

People built settlements there - farming villages, trading posts, terrorist training camps, whatever.

When you saw the shapes of buildings, you never knew which kind of settlement you had found, so you had to be careful. With that in mind, Barry slowed his group as the thatched roofs of a few wooden huts came into sight.

They watched the buildings through binoculars. It all looked harmless enough: a hill tribe village with a couple of modern concrete blockhouses attached. A sole Coca-Cola sign was the only hint that the place belonged to the twentieth century.

There was, strangely, no sign of life. Normally there would be a few people out in the small fields, and maybe a child crying, but here there was only stillness.

'You know this place?' Barry asked Tranh.

Tranh nodded. 'It is a farming village. Poor, but not starving.' He looked and sounded distracted. 'I've never seen it this empty.'

'Why would it be this empty?'

Tranh shook his head, his expression showed he was clearly baffled.'I do not know. They should be here.'

Barry grimaced. He didn't like this at all. Some members of UNIT-US he'd met had been in Vietnam and spoken of places like this. They were always traps. He reminded himself that they weren't in Vietnam, and that the war had been over for a quarter of a century. 'OK, we'll go in and take a look round. Keep 'em peeled, but no firing unless fired upon. Everybody got that?' There was a chorus of muffled agreements. 'Let's go.'

The Pimms company's containers covered an area the size of a large railway station. They were quite plain, with the company name and no logo.

Sarah found that unusual - most companies liked to draw attention to themselves with a logo. It was as if these containers were meant to be inconspicuous.

Sarah examined the doors of the nearest container. At first she thought they were locked, but the bolts and locks were in fact moulded into the metal body. These doors could never be opened, and that was a puzzle to her. What good was a container that you couldn't load or unload? Stranger still, all the containers were like that. It was paradoxical. Unless, she thought, the containers weren't supposed to move. So many of them welded together would form quite a large building building To her surprise a padlock was facing her, and she stopped. There was a door after all. It didn't take long for her to pick the leek and slip inside. The interior was that of a simple cargo container, but the far end had no wall. To her surprise a padlock was facing her, and she stopped. There was a door after all. It didn't take long for her to pick the leek and slip inside. The interior was that of a simple cargo container, but the far end had no wall.

Instead, it opened on to another container, then another another Her heart thudding in her chest, fearful of discovery, Sarah was happier than she had been for days. There was terror and caution, guilt and curiosity; the magical sensation of doing something illicit. Her heart thudding in her chest, fearful of discovery, Sarah was happier than she had been for days. There was terror and caution, guilt and curiosity; the magical sensation of doing something illicit.

There was nothing wrong with getting the job done to pay the bills, but striking out on a new exploration was always better. Ever since she had been a child, the thing Sarah enjoyed most in life was poking her nose into the darkest hidden corners, to make sense of why they were hidden away.

From the third container there were openings to left and right, into areas piled high 'with crates. Sarah, drawn by that insatiable need to know, went into the left-hand area. She tentatively tried to move the nearest crate. She could, but it was heavy.

Terrified that someone would walk in on her at any moment, Sarah still never thought of leaving. She looked around until she found a crowbar and then attacked the nearest crate. It wasn't easy to be strong and silent but, somehow, she was managing it.

The crate she had opened appeared to be full of toy cars; not exactly the stuff criminal empires were made of, though they could be unsafe fakes.

She wanted to dig deeper, and started to do so literally. The toys were on a pallet which she could lift up. Underneath were compact machine guns which consisted of lots of little curves crammed onto the front of a large stock a type she didn't recognise.

Another crate proved to be full of Kalashnikovs, while another was stocked with various kinds of pistol. She was undoubtedly standing beside tens or even hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of arms that were being smuggled either into or out of the country. Digging her camera out of her bag, she took some snaps of these illicit goods before putting the lids back on the crates.

There was a sound of clanking and footsteps approaching. Suddenly recognising the trap she was caught in, Sarah hunkered down behind the crates as the footsteps passed by. The buzz of an alarm suggested it was time to leave, but when she reached the door of the first container she discovered it had been locked again - and the padlock was outside.

Not letting herself regret being where she was, she noticed a chink of light deeper in the steel complex. It proved to be a gap between two containers, presumably for ventilation, which led to a small enclosed space under open sky. Fortunately there was junk on the ground and she could use it to try climbing up through the gap.

But there wasn't enough. She couldn't get quite far enough, and couldn't pull herself up on to the container roof. She might have no choice but to give herself up and hope to bluff her way out.

Then a hand appeared over the edge, dark-skinned and offering salvation.

Sarah took it, not particularly caring whose it was, and allowed herself to be pulled up.

'If I had less taste, I could make some comment about how we must stop meeting like this.' At first Sarah couldn't place the face, but then she remembered the fuss at Bangkok airport.

'Tom?'

'The one and only.' He smiled.

'What are you doing here?'

'Saving your ass. Again.' There was no rancour in his tone, and Sarah could almost hear him thinking about the quality of her ass and whether it was worth saving.

'Thanks, then,' she said weakly, unsure how she was supposed to respond.

'That's OK. What are you doing sneaking around here, anyway?'

'I don't have to justify myself to you,' Sarah said defensively. Having said this, it felt to her as if they were old spouses squabbling. She had only met him once before, but already their lives were dovetailing in a way that made her feel like they'd known each other for years.

It was an entirely false notion, probably derived from the nostalgic feeling of being in danger while partnered with a man, but it was strangely enjoyable. And she did like his smile. 'I'm trying to gather information on a murdered man, who used to work here.'

'Yi Chung?' he asked. As she frowned, he added/I watch the TV news when I'm not saving women from a fate worse than death.' Sarah wasn't convinced for a moment.

'Look,' she told him, 'I am grateful for you pulling me up here, but you really should get out now. You could be in danger if you stay.'

'I believe that really should be my line.'

'Welcome to the /J?9Os.' A deep series of vibrations and clangs precluded further conversation. Both of them were too busy staring at the centre of the Pimms container group.

The roofs of several containers slid aside, like that of a secret base in a Bond movie. Through the gap, Sarah could see a wide concrete floor and overall-garbed men. It was like a hangar rather than the interiors or contents of half-a-dozen steel containers, and she found herself listening out for the beat of helicopter rotors.

She was so absorbed in listening that she barely noticed the thickening of the air around her. It was like the onset of a massive lightning strike, but there was no sign of clouds in the sky. It passed, making her hair stand on end, and then the pseudo-hangar below was suddenly full.

A solid disc of shining metal, the size of a Learjet, had shimmered into visibility a few feet above the floor, and settled on landing gear that Sarah couldn't see. 'Holy 'Holy what the hell is that?' Tom whispered. what the hell is that?' Tom whispered.

'A flying saucer.' Sarah hoped he would shut up and let her concentrate on getting some good shots of this.

Aliens?'

Sarah paused. There was something in the way Tom said the word that tripped alarm bells in her head. It wasn't incredulous or scornful, or eager and amazed. He had sounded very matter-of-fact. Almost knowledgeable, in fact.

'Very likely,' she said finally. 'But I don't recognise the ship.'

That got him. 'What?'

'Let's just say I've seen some very strange things in my time.' She raised the camera to her eye as the Doctor walked into view ahead of a fork-lift laden with crates."There he is is'

A doorway irised open on the side of the ship, and a short ramp descended. A strange man emerged, Chinese but blonde, with startlingly violet eyes more epicanthic than was natural.

'Mr Chiu,' the Doctor greeted him. 'How was your flight?'

'You have flown in one of our skiffs before, have you not?'

'Once or twice, a long time ago.'

'Well, it was like that.'

The Triad men hefted the crates of machine guns Sarah had seen earlier, and began taking them into the ship. Another pair had brought out a crate filled with tightly wrapped white bundles. Through the viewfinder of Sarah's camera, they looked too much like packages of drugs to be anything else.

'Buy drugs with guns, or guns with drugs,' she said. 'It's a simple enough equation; payment in kind.' Sarah nodded. She'd seen it in half the countries of the world. 'Except for one thing: why would a race who can build a ship like that want something as simple as machine guns? Surely they'd have disruptors, or particle beams or kinetic-energy weapons.'

'Maybe they're collectors.' She glared at him. 'I mean it,' Tom went on. 'People nowadays collect firearms from the Old West or World War Two. Maybe this is the same thing.'

If you really believe that, there's a bridge in London I'd like to sell you.'

In the nearest corner, directly below Sarah and Tom, the Doctor was peering through a microscope. He occasionally paused to consult a detailed CGI display of a molecular structure in a small globe that hovered by his side. 'Excellent,' he said to Chiu. 'Precisely according to specifications, and fairly indistinguishable from normal purity unless you absolutely know what you're looking for.'

'It was nothing. A simple diagnostic test for our processing techniques.'

'If we weren't working together, that'd worry me greatly' 'But we are working together, so there is no need to fear.' Once the Triad men had carried the drugs out of sight, the Doctor gave Chiu a smile. 'Well done. I have to admit I'm no actor, but these performances are going rather well.' 'Are they necessary?'

"They are if we're to keep everything in balance.' "These humans are frivolous and unpredictable. That makes them unreliable, and makes it inefficient to waste time and effort on them. We have more pressing practical concerns. You have not yet completed your side of the bargain, and are behind schedule.'

"These things take time,' the Doctor snapped. 'Even for a Time Lord, things can take time.'

'Time we may not have. We have already detected blue-shifted gravitational anomalies. If those are wave fronts, then we have little time if things are to be completed the way we intended. The Gallifreyan technology you are supplying will make the difference. One way or the other.'

The Doctor turned away crossly. 'Even Gallifreyan technology has its limits.

It still needs to be maintained, charged, taken care of and looked after. It's very finicky if it doesn't like the treatment it gets.'

Sarah could hardly believe her ears: the Doctor trading in drugs and guns, giving technology to aliens? Could someone change so much, even over several lifetimes? Below, the saucer was beginning to hum, and faded from sight. She could, however, feel the displacement of the air as it rose past her face.

Chiu suddenly looked upwards. 'We have visitors. The human female, Smith, and a male.'

For a moment, Chiu's eyes locked on to Sarah's, and it felt as if he were grabbing at her soul. Then alarms started ringing and Chiu raised a transparent weapon.

Sarah pulled Tom away an instant before the edge of the container dissolved in a molten spray. 'Time to go.' They ran, taking care not to fall off the container roofs. Sarah soon found it painful going. She was getting too old for this, and regretted having to learn that fact the hard way.

The Doctor pushed Chiu's disruptor aside and turned the alarm off. 'Let her go,' he called to the 49s who were milling around with cleavers and pistols.

'If you kill her, people will know she found something here anyway' Chiu put away his disruptor. 'Allowing the human female to leave is a tactical error. She should be eliminated, or at least be taken to the plantation for processing.'

'No,' the Doctor snapped.

Chiu regarded him carefully. 'You seem keen for her to live. That is understandable. But what harm can there be in processing her?'

'The human brain is a complex and delicate -'

"There should be no secrets or lies between allies, Time Lord. What else is a team based on but mutual trust and respect?' Chiu paused. 'More likely, you are concerned that we would gain access to memories of your actions that you don't wish us to have. We have noticed you are efficient at protecting your own secrets. It's an admirable ability, therefore we offer you the option of terminating her. That way, both our secrets remain safe.'