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centimetres from Sarah’s face. ‘... No apparent strategic significance... presence on Earth Planet unexplained... result of tests will follow...’ The microphone snapped back into its housing and the Sontaran tapped out rapid instructions on the touch-button panel in the front of his belt.
    At once the Scavenger clattered its relays in acknowledgement. It retracted its tentacles, rose a metre into the air and glided out of the hollow into one of the ravines, its scanner sweeping from side to side as it hummed out of sight.
    ‘Soon I shall have your companions,’ hissed Styr, dragging Sarah along as he lumbered towards one of the gullies on the far side of the hollow, ‘but for the present...
    we shall proceed with you ...’
    The Doctor moaned and stirred slightly. Then he began to thrash about in spasms of panic. The TARDIS was surrounded by a host of colossal rats, their teeth squeaking against the frosted glass windowpanes and their claws tearing at the creaking woodwork of the battered police box. The wretched machine was completely out of control, and nothing the Doctor could do would make it respond. It had drifted too close to the edge of a rotating black hole and been pitched and tossed like a cork in a typhoon, hurling the Doctor against the controls. His head raging with pain, he struggled to activate the stabilisers as the voracious rats gnawed hungrily at the windows, fighting to get at him.
    Just as they seemed to be on the point of breaking in, a huge black cat, its fur on end and its claws gleaming viciously, sprang out from the TARDIS’s Control Assembly, spitting and snarling, and devoured all the rats in an instant. Then, purring contentedly, it stretched out on the Doctor’s chest and went to sleep. The Doctor lay on the floor of the TARDIS, struggling for breath beneath the heavy, furry body pressing against his face.
    ‘Off... Off Greymalkin... Off...’ he panted, grabbing the warm fur in both hands and trying to fling the enormous creature aside...
    The Doctor came to in the semi-darkness. He was flat on his back among sharp rocks, his whole body aching. He was clutching his hat screwed up in both hands at arm’s length above his face. He raised his head and blinked a few times, wincing with pain. After a minute or two he shook himself.
    ‘Rats...’ he muttered scornfully and dragged himself slowly to his feet, rubbing his eyes and peering around. He pushed his hat back into shape and set it gingerly on top of his throbbing head.
    There was a sudden rustling and scrambling sound above him. For a second the Doctor hesitated, not quite sure whether he was still dreaming, or whether he really was awake. He looked up at the daylight. The pit seemed even deeper from where he stood now.
    ‘Sarah... Sarah Jane?’ he called softly. The sounds abruptly ceased. Something brushed the Doctor’s face: it was the scarf. He tested the swaying, woollen ladder. To his intense relief it held.
    ‘Sarah... I’m coming back up,’ he cried. Still there was no reply. The Doctor shrugged and began to pull himself slowly and painfully upwards.
    When at last his head appeared above the edge of the hole, he saw a blurred, triple image of Roth watching him from the cluster of boulders.
    ‘Hallo,’ he cried, blinking furiously, ‘I really must have banged my head down there. Where’s Sar...’ The Doctor’s cheery voice died away: the spacesuited figures of Vural, Krans and Erak stood watching him with ironic smiles.
    Vural was gripping the end of the scarf securely round its anchorage, while Erak held an ion gun levelled straight at the Doctor’s head. Sarah and Roth were nowhere to be seen.
    The Doctor grinned faintly. ‘Oh... it’s you again,’ he murmured.
    ‘Keep climbing,’ Vural snapped. ‘And no tricks.’
    The Doctor shook his head. ‘Absolutely no tricks,’ he agreed, his eyes flickering up for a second to something which had suddenly appeared above and behind his three captors. ‘Not