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corridor. Tekker hedged an immediate answer, but offering the Doctor a full explanation in due course, and not wanting to upset the positive atmosphere on offer, the Time Lord nodded his agreement and followed the Karfelons through to a botanical reception lounge, a delight to Peri’s floral background. The Doctor eyed the changes around him: an android servant, security cameras, and the lack of light in the rather dim, non-reflective chamber.
    ‘It’s changed a bit,’ commented the Time Lord, rubbing his index finger along a row of ornate books on display.
    ‘Must keep up with the times, Doctor.’ Tekker served up another toothy grimace.
    ‘And why not indeed?’
    Peri’s attention had been totally captivated by a bank of flourishing plant life near the large bay windows overlooking the desolate planet surface. She revelled in the unusual features of the exceptionally beautiful flowers. Her mind, caught up in detailed examination, was sharply realigned with her surroundings when the android waiter thrust forward to remove the shiny silver St Christopher medallion from about her neck. The sharp tug from the humanoid robot cut into the back of Peri’s neck, making her yelp more with surprise than pain. Before the young botanist could object, the creature had made a fast exit rather like some fleeing shoplifter.
    Tekker moved quickly to confront his guest offering his sympathy and promising the safe return of the for the pendant.
    ‘Curious,’ said the Doctor. ’Some re-programming is needed for the android.’ A signal above the security camera suddenly summoned the Karfelon host into another room.
    Making polite noises, Tekker whisked out of the chamber leaving the time-travellers to chat. The Doctor had so many questions yet unanswered.
    Tekker eyed the interstellar contact screen, regurgitating hateful venom from deep wounds within his stomach.
    ‘What does the Bandril Ambassador want now?’ he queried, looking at the limp features of Councillor Kendron.
    ‘Peace,’ muttered the assistant, focusing the sharpness of the viewing screen.
    Suddenly the reptilian features of a middle-aged Bandril appeared before the two Karfelons. Adorned in the trappings of his diplomatic office, the long-toothed creature, communicating tones of officialdom, conveyed his important message succinctly: ‘We do not want war, Tekker.’
    He was firmly corrected. ‘ Maylin Tekker.’
    The Bandril continued. ‘Just food which is rightfully ours.’
    Tekker spun around, unmoved and disinterested in hearing more from the ambassador of the starving civilisation. He mused at the strong position Karfel had gained since stopping trade with its hungry neighbours.
    With a smirk, the Maylin gave his final message of non-co-operation, without any possibility of reconciliation two planets. Inevitably it meant war, death and mass destruction, but that seemed the last care for Tekker.
    As the ambassador of Bandril disappeared from the screen, Kendron squirmed on the spot, fidgeting nervously with his thin chain of office.
    ‘That’s provoked an all-out attack,’ he muttered.
    ‘Good,’ Tekker responded, looking pleased with himself.
    Kendron’s worried face summed up the horrific idea of a massive intergalactic attack. Tekker returned a hungry look to the councillor. ‘Just let them try. The Borad’s ready for them, you’ll see. His plans will succeed and our planet will grow immeasurably.’
    Kendron frowned at Tekker’s thirst for power, as he watched the young Maylin glide elatedly out of the room.
     
    He bowed his head between his sweaty palms and prayed.
    Peri kicked her heels as she examined the contents of the reception chamber. The dull lifeless surroundings did little to inspire her. This was not the place she had hoped to travel to for a relaxing holiday. It lacked charisma - sparkle
    - and general atmosphere. On top of this, she had to contend with the Doctor’s uneasiness - things on Karfel were not what they seemed,