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looking at the prone headmaster.
    ‘Stomach ache.’
    The Doctor grabbed the headmaster’s arm and started to drag him away from the doorway. ‘Give me a hand.’
    Ace was outraged. ‘Professor! He tried to lock you in.’
    ‘Ace,’ the Doctor said sternly. Ace took the other arm and together they pulled the man clear. The Doctor checked behind the man’s ear and exposed a dull red implant grafted into the skin. Ace looked at the Doctor –
    his face was grim but not surprised – then they both ran out of the school. As they reached the exit a vast bang echoed down the corridor.
    ‘That was the door,’ said the Doctor as they quickly ran across the playground.
    A military Land-rover was parked outside. The portly uniformed man beside it with sergeant’s stripes looked bemused as Ace and the Doctor bore down on him. He opened his mouth to speak.
    ‘What are you doing here?’ demanded the Doctor. The sergeant’s mouth closed and then opened again. ‘Never mind. Get this vehicle out of here.’
    ‘I was ordered to deliver the ATRs to this position, sir,’
    he said defensively.
    The Doctor’s eyes snapped round to the truck, ‘ATRs –
    anti-tank rockets?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘Wicked,’ said Ace, ignoring another stern look from the Doctor, ‘we can use them against the Da...’
    ‘No.’ said the Doctor. ‘Violence isn’t the answer to everything.’ He turned to the sergeant. ‘You’ll have to pull back.’
    ‘My orders were to stay in this position,’ the man said stubbornly.
    ‘This particular position,’ the Doctor said evenly, ‘is about to become somewhat untenable when that Dalek catches up with us.’
    ‘Except it hasn’t come out yet,’ Ace pointed out somewhat snidely.
    ‘I wonder why not?’
    Ace noticed that the sergeant’s eyes were getting a bit glazed. ‘Maybe it went back to fix the transmat?’ she suggested.
    ‘Probably,’ agreed the Doctor.
    There was a short pause.
     
    ‘Don’t just stand there,’ said the Doctor sharply to the sergeant. ‘Break out the rockets.’ The sergeant quickly cracked open a crate and pulled out a bulky metal launcher. He seemed reluctant to hand it over. ‘What’s your name, sergeant?’ barked the Doctor.
    ‘Kaufman.’
    ‘Sir!’ snapped the Doctor.
    ‘Quartermaster-Sergeant Kaufman, sir!’ He saluted smartly as the Doctor relieved him of the rocket launcher.
    ‘To get it ready, sir,’ he started helpfully, ‘you...’
    The Doctor snapped the sights upright, pulled the trigger guard into position, released the firing restraint pin and checked the battery power. Kaufman mutely handed over a rocket which the Doctor slotted into the correct position before re-engaging the safety. He gave the assembled weapon to Ace.
    Kaufman still made the Doctor sign for it before they left. ‘Sorry, sir, regulations,’ he explained.
    ‘We’re not after the Dalek,’ explained the Doctor, ‘we’re after the transmat.’ He flattened himself to the wall one side of the entrance, motioning to Ace to take the position opposite. He carefully checked inside and then burst through the doors; Ace followed, rocket launcher ready for use.
    The hallway was deserted.
    ‘Won’t the Dalek try to stop us?’
    ‘Quite possibly,’ he warned. ‘Stay close behind me.’
    That’s clever, thought Ace, seeing as I’m the one carrying the weapon. She was just suggesting that the Dalek must have gone back down into the cellar when a bolt of energy slashed past her and blew a cast iron radiator off the wall.
    They quickly hid behind a table that the Doctor had upended. Wisps of smoke rose from a charred hole in one of the classroom doors.
    Things then happened very fast. The Dalek came through the door, smashing it into toothpicks, and fired. A trophy cabinet to Ace’s left burst in a shower of glass, the splinters bouncing off the walls.
    Ace raised the launcher to her shoulder, lined up the sights as best she could, and pulled the trigger. There was a