But when they arrived the guardroom was empty. Tyran had given specific orders that the prisoner was to be watched closely, and nothing left to chance.

So where was the guard? Trying the monitors, Tyran found all the surveillance equipment out of action.

He tested the door com to cell one and found it unresponsive. He punched in his master code hopefully, but the door remained stubbornly shut. Removing the emergency cover below the com, Tyran reached inside and tugged out the manual lever. Pumping furiously, they watched the door slide slowly ajar. The cell beyond was completely dark, except for the wedge of yellow light that sliced in from the anteroom. By the time the door had opened a few centimetres 177 they were just able to see the figure on the bed gazing back at them with hope and fear and a whole mixture of other emotions on his fretful face.

A figure in the black uniform of the Military Guard.

As the scuffling and scratching intensified around the lift, Anji found it impossible to see a thing. She wondered if they could smell her fear. If they could sense her vulnerability. She grasped herself tight, unable to stop the shivering that had taken over her entire body.

Then the light came on. Not the soft-glow white panels that had illuminated the lift originally, but a pathetic yellow light embedded in the ceiling, like an inexpensive torch with dud batteries installed. But at least now she could see.

The sounds of scuffling abruptly cut. Anji remained still and silent, listening for them coming back, waiting for their courage to return. But the silence was complete and, it seemed, permanent.

The lift had remained roughly upright, but now it was tipped at a slight angle that meant the doors were leaning about ten or fifteen degrees forward at the top. She tried the door b.u.t.ton optimistically, but wasn't surprised at all when it failed even to mutter in limp response.

OK. Don't panic. Where there's a will there's an escape route. Emergency trap. . . Emergency trap. . .

On the ceiling, by the light, she could make out the faint lines of a panel. Pretty well disguised unless you were stranded and in bordering-on-the-hysterical-mode. There was probably about a foot of empty air above her, but when she leapt she was able to push the panel askew. A trail of black dust swept down towards her and she jumped back, coughing.

Achieving a fissure in the ceiling gave her hope and trepidation. Whatever she'd heard scratching outside could well still be there, biding its time, waiting for her to get desperate. She experienced a flash memory of the enormous rat she'd disturbed on the way up. Remembered its black little eyes and lapping pink tongue. She'd never been comfortable with rats. Not rats. Shortly before she left Earth with the Doctor and Fitz, Earth at the very beginning of the twenty-first century, she'd heard a news bulletin that not a single living soul in Britain was ever more than twenty feet away from a rat. She'd shivered when she heard the item, just an 'and finally' tagged on to the end of a report, and now she was shivering again. It wasn't a phobia. No. She didn't suffer phobias, as such. But her dislike of the filthy, disease-ridden creatures did sometimes border on the irrational. And when she found herself alone in a darkened lift and the only way out was through a roof hatch and possibly a whole herd of 178huge rats (they were too big to const.i.tute a mere pack, she decided), then she felt she was allowed the luxury of senseless terror.

Listening for signs of motion outside, she heard only silence. Throwing herself into the air again, she managed to dislodge the panel completely, this time sending it clattering into the blackness outside. She stopped and listened carefully. Nothing.

Taking a deep breath, she launched herself at the open hatch, grasped the edge with her fingers, and managed to haul herself out into the gloom. Perching on her elbows with her legs still dangling below, she gazed about in the shaft. There were metal ladders on the walls, and, about five or six metres above, she could see what looked like a pair of doors set in the wall. Unfortunately, the only source of light was that in the lift, and it was almost impossible to see any detail so far above. She would need more light.

Dragging herself on to the roof of the lift, she found the emergency light and pressed it with her fingers. It moved under the pressure, and she found that it was screwed into place from this side. After quickly uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the fitting, she pulled out the lamp and positioned it beside her, trying to aim it roughly towards the doorway above. Better! Now she could The light extinguished. There was movement in the black. A quick commotion she could hear but couldn't see. She jerked the light and it came back on.

Used it to pierce the dark. Found nothing. Her heart thrashed about in her chest, threatening to burst free any minute.

A moment of quiet. A moment when she thought she was going mad and imagining everything. Then she saw it nearby. The sleek black fur and glinting black eyes. Only a metre or so away.

Instantly she was scrabbling up the ladder. She could hear the scuffling behind her, and she was certain now that there were more than one. Far more.

She could hear them making low squealing noises, hear them chattering and hissing and scurrying about. But she didn't look back.

She found a handle by the pair of doors, and discovered that the doors would open slowly when she turned the handle furiously. Lots of turning for very little opening. And the chaos of sound behind her was getting closer. It took a few seconds to open the doors just about enough to see through. Out in the corridor beyond she could see thick ochre light that contained people dashing about. They seemed panic-stricken by the collapse of the power. There were hushed and frightened conversations nearby.

Then she felt the tugging. Something pulling at the hem of her smock. Something remarkably strong. And big. And black.

179.

And the scream finally tore out of her throat Trying to race down the service stairs to Medicare Central, Tyran found himself in a crush of emergency patients who were shouting and arguing, pressing the hara.s.sed-looking staff for treatment. There were people with cuts and small wounds, people who had obviously been in the middle of something when the lights cut. The whole reception area was in turmoil, and when Tyran tried to get through he was accosted by an overzealous civilian medic who wanted to know where he was going.

'I'm here to see Dr Peron,' Tyran told him, doing his best to sidestep the man.

'You'll have to join the queue, I'm afraid,' the man said, pushing Tyran gently back.

Brushing the man's hands aside, Tyran glared at him furiously.

'I'm Gaskill Tyran,' he yelled, forcing the man out of his way and barging with Domecq towards med-ops.

They left the medic watching after them with a dumbfounded look, and Tyran slammed open the door to let himself and Domecq through to the deserted corridor beyond. They found Peron's office empty. Tyran slammed his fist into the window in mounting frustration. The whole operation was falling apart.

With a furious snarl, he led the way to check on the Kapoor girl, and that was when they found the body of Danes on the floor by the bed. While Domecq checked the body, Tyran glared about the room in silent wrath. This was one young woman. Peron had the entire might of Military One at her disposal.

What the h.e.l.l was wrong with these people?

Domecq looked up from the body. 'He's been dead a short while.'

Marching for the door, Tyran was astonished when it crashed shut in front of him. He tried the handle, only to find it secure. The comps around the room were glimmering with life, colours swirling and merging. A voice filled the air.

The voice of the WorldCorp hologram.

'Danger,' it warned them flatly. 'Biological hazard. Secure this area. Biological hazard. Area secure. Please wear your masks. Biological hazard.'

Tyran saw Domecq jump up from his position by the bed, startled and alarmed. He backed away with his hands raised, and abruptly Tyran saw why.

Danes's corpse was rising on its arms, its blue face animate but its eyes completely blind. It raised a hand in Tyran's direction, pointing accusingly. Then the thing spoke, its voice a rasp of cold air from its throat.

' We don't belong! We don't belong! ' it hissed. ' it hissed.

180.Then the body slumped back to the ground and Tyran found Domecq's eyes wild and staring.

' He was dead! He was dead! ' Domecq a.s.sured him, almost screaming. ' Domecq a.s.sured him, almost screaming.

Slamming his fists into the door, Tyran felt himself tumble helplessly off the edge of a steep precipice into delirious rage.

The doors jerked open and she felt fingers grasping her wrists, tugging her out through the narrow gap into the corridor. Then there was a face, close-up, peering into hers with concern and puzzlement.

'Are you all right?' the woman asked.

Anji fought for air and light, jumping to her feet. The corridor was in a state of yellow-tinted gloom that she took to be emergency lighting. There was a general air of panic, people talking in furious whispers. She was attracting attention from others in the corridor. A tall thin man observed her curiously The woman who had pulled her out of the lift shaft gazed down into the abyss behind her.

'What was that?'

'Rats,' Anji gasped. 'b.l.o.o.d.y big ones.'

'Did they bite you?'

She was middle-aged, Anji guessed, kindly-looking and harmless enough.

One of those busybody women who want their nose firmly inside your business.

'No. I don't think so.'

'You ought to report to medicare,' the woman said.

'No,' Anji yelped before she knew what she was saying. 'No. Really. I'll be all right. Honestly. I'm fine.'

There were soldiers further down the corridor who appeared to be trying to calm the panic. They were making their way towards Anji. One of them caught her eye. They were probably just coming to check if she was OK. Probably nothing to do with Peron and the medicare lot. But she didn't want to take that risk. She had to get moving. Get on her way. She could lose herself in the confusion. It would give her cover while it lasted.

'You look a bit peaky to me, dear,' the woman told her confidentially. 'Look at the state of you. What were you doing down there?'

'Trying to get out,' Anji told her in all seriousness.

'Why don't you come in for a minute?' the woman asked, indicating an open door nearby.

She meant well, Anji knew, but she felt exposed among these people. She didn't have the clothes to fit in. Wasn't au fait au fait with the social customs. There 181 with the social customs. There 181 was a good chance somebody might report her to the authorities. She had to keep moving.

'No,' she said. 'Really. Thank you.'

The woman accepted her refusal and let her go with a gentle tap of her arm.

Anji wandered off down the corridor, pulling the Doctor's coat tight around her shoulders, feeling vulnerable and alone. Her Plan had been derailed. The Doctor was in trouble and she didn't even know where she she was now, never mind where was now, never mind where he he was. She had to get to him. Had to tell him about the children in the cells. About her link with them and about the awful waking vision she'd had of one of them dying in horrible pain. If anybody could make sense of what was happening to her, it would be him. was. She had to get to him. Had to tell him about the children in the cells. About her link with them and about the awful waking vision she'd had of one of them dying in horrible pain. If anybody could make sense of what was happening to her, it would be him.

Glancing back, she was relieved to see the soldiers being accosted by a short dark-haired man who was shouting about the lights in his apartment. The one who had caught her eye was still watching her curiously, so she quickened her step and tried to lose herself in the crowd.

Bains had lost track of the time he'd spent in For'ard Obs. He'd been so consumed in his own head that time had become meaningless. But he was brought back to reality when the lights blacked out and people began to scurry about with flashlights. There was a turmoil of light and black that lasted a few minutes, along with an outburst of excited comments. The comptechs on the next table were on their feet immediately, dashing for the doors, only to find them jammed. They'd had to use the manual release, and it had taken them over a minute to get through.

Bains waited in his seat, watching the swirling storm through the observation panel. He remained still and thoughtful until the emergency lights ignited.

Then he decided to make his way home in the semi-darkness and the bustle of people returning to their families.

The lifts were out of operation and they were all forced to take the service stairs. Pretty much swept along by the flow, it still took Bains a good thirty minutes to get home to his apartment, and then he found his door com reso-lutely defiant. Using his key to unlatch the emergency handle, he pumped the door open manually and finally stepped inside, automatically trying to switch on the lights. They refused and the apartment remained drenched in shadow.

Somewhere, he had a flashlight. Somewhere among all his equipment in the study. It wasn't something you normally needed in the city. Not something you usually had to keep to hand unless you were out in the field. He made his way across the living area, tripping over books that the Doctor had left piled all over 182the place earlier. He fumbled towards his study, and when he opened the door he stopped abruptly.

There was somebody there. In the dark. No sound at all. Not even the sound of breathing. But he knew for absolute certain that there was somebody in the room.

Then the light hit his face. His hands shot up to cover his eyes. He squinted back, trying to make out who the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l was trying to blind him with his own flashlight. There was motion. Black blobs moving about beyond the edge of the bright white sheet. The light moved, swept round, and finally Bains saw a grotesquely uplit face gazing at him from across the room, thick shadows in all the wrong places making the thing appear frighteningly horrific. The phantasm spoke. Its voice was cracked and strained.

'We wondered where you'd got to,' the Doctor said.

Veta and Josef were marched at gunpoint back to Medicare Central. They took the staff route to avoid contact, and they were nearly back in medicare when the lights had gone out. Instantly, the failsafe flashlights built into the military armour flared into life, and any chance the prisoners might take to run was quashed.

Peron followed them up at the rear, letting the others have all the fun with the guns. Since hearing the whispers in the static she'd felt decidedly uneasy, particularly when the lights and coms had started acting up. There was something in the air. An unspecific threat that her military training was alerting her to. Nothing definite, but a feeling as if a sniper were watching her back, waiting for an opportunity to pick her off. When the lights went out she was ashamed at the yelp of alarm that escaped her, but Veta and Josef had also cried out and she'd managed to get away with it In the momentary hubbub.

They continued on their way using the flashlights, having to manually operate all the doors en route, but finally they got the prisoners into one of the isolation rooms. The door was locked and a guard posted where he could keep a close eye on them through the inspection window.

Peron watched them pacing about in the darkened room like a pair of caged animals, and she was lost for a moment in thought. She was suddenly sure that this was the same room in which the falsified projection of their dead baby had been shown to them two months ago. She felt a pang of remorse when she caught the woman's shadowed eyes gazing back at her, and for a split second she remembered glimpsing a precarious humanity in the eyes of one of the creatures.

183.

Slamming down the mental shutters, she snapped at the guard.

'Don't let them out of your sight.'

Then she marched back to her office, trying her com repeatedly while she went. As she tramped down the corridor she became aware of a ruckus ahead.

A handful of men in black uniform crowded around the door to med-ops. As she approached, she saw that they were frantically winding the manual door mechanism to release somebody from inside.

Tyran burst out of the room, closely followed by Dr Domecq. She noticed they were both ashen and Tyran seemed to be wiping perspiration from his face. When he saw her approaching, his eyes locked on to hers and she saw his teeth clench.

'Colonel Peron,' he said, clearly struggling to keep his anger under control.

'Is it too much to ask that you keep one young girl locked in one room for one single day?'

She didn't have a clue what he was talking about, until she positioned herself by the door and saw Danes's body slumped by the bed. She glared at Tyran.

'I gave specific instructions that she was to be '

'I don't care what instructions you gave, Colonel, they were obviously not carried out. And I just found one of your so-called guards locked in the cell which should have contained our prisoner. What the h.e.l.l kind of operation are we running here, Colonel?'

'Sir, you have no idea what '

'I have a very good idea what you've been up against, Colonel. And, although you have my sympathy, you also carry full responsibility when your people fail in their duty.'

'Yes, sir.' She became acutely aware of the troops nearby.

'D'you think you could find Kapoor and the prisoner and bring them to me?'

'With the comps offline, sir, it will take some time under these conditions.

We can't access the biodata to trace them using the detectors.'

A head materialised into the air in front of Tyran at that moment. It was full of static, but it was just about succeeding to remain discernible.

'Mr Tyran,' the head hissed and spat, 'we've managed to get some services back online. They're erratic, but coms and comps should be just about usable.'

'Very good,' Tyran said. 'Keep me informed.'

'Yes, sir.' The head was sucked into a fizzling pinp.r.i.c.k in the air.

'Looks like you got your detectors back, Colonel. If I were you I'd make the most of them while you've got the chance.'

'Yes, sir,' Peron snapped, turning on her heel to the nearby men.

184.'Come on, you lot. Grab some detectors and get Kapoor's biodata inputted. I want every available man on search duty.'

The men jumped to attention, saluting and dashing off down the corridor.

When Peron turned back, Tyran was already stomping off in the opposite direction, taking Domecq towards the creatures' cells. Uncertain whether to follow or not, she decided to let him stew and return to her own office to check on the state of her comp. She needed to get some security 'grams set up. There were just too many things to watch and not enough staff to delegate responsibility to. She could really do with some help down here, and there was one person she could trust to supply that help. She jabbed her com as she swept down the corridor.

A head materialised at her shoulder. It was difficult to make out, but she could just about recognise the features.

'Captain Foley,' she said, 'could you report to my office, please?'

Everything was happening at once. The impostor Domecq had vanished into thin air along with the girl, and suddenly the whole city-machine had ground to a halt. It was obvious to Tyran that it would take more than two people to cause such widespread havoc, and the only explanation was that the creatures were exacting revenge for his killing of one of them.