– and then spat it all over the bar. He bent over double, coughing like a well-seasoned smoker. Martha would have made a move to relieve him of his gun but she could see how tight he kept his grip on it. She decided not to risk it.

The robot barman quickly set to work with a towel, tidying up the mess. Archibald wiped the syrupy drool from his chin with the back of his hairy paw. He shrugged at Martha.

'Heh,' he said. 'Didn't really like it.'

'No?' said Martha, as if she'd not seen anything. 'Oh well.'

He stuck his tongue out. 'An' now I got this horrid taste,' he said.

'Oh dear,' said Martha. 'Maybe you should try something else.'

Archibald's glared at the robot barman, his dark eyes narrowing to slits. 'Nah,' he said. 'I'm bored wiv drinking.'

'Yeah,' said Martha, keen to keep him on her side. 'It is a bit boring. What about something to eat?'

Archibald nodded eagerly. 'Yeah,' he said. 'I'm not bored of eating.'

He followed her to the end of the bar and the silver trays loaded with nibbles. The tentacled aliens hurried out of their way, careful to huddle at the other end of the bay window and not to get too close to the door out into the ballroom. Archibald glared at them, reminding them who was boss, then turned back to the waiting nibbles. There were sausage rolls and posh things wrapped in bacon. Martha watched his eyes light up.

'I never ate this stuff before,' he told her. With great care he reached out for the tray of cheese and pineapple on sticks. He took one and scrutinised it closely, like a jeweller examining a diamond.

'You don't eat the stick,' Martha whispered.

Archibald nodded at this sage advice. 'Right,' he said, but made no move to eat it.

Martha helped herself to her own cheese and pineapple stick and showed him how to eat it. She placed the stick back on the tray, in the little silver box provided. Archibald watched her attentively, as if she'd just performed great magic.

'Right,' he said, and did his best to copy the easy way she'd eaten hers. He nibbled warily at first, but after the first taste of pineapple there was no stopping him. When he'd finished, he dropped the clean stick into the silver box and then grinned a happy, badger grin.

'Good?' she asked.

'S'OK,' said Archibald.

'You could always make sure. Have another one.'

Archibald's eyes opened wide at the thought of this. He waited for a moment in case she changed her mind, then helped himself to another cheese and pineapple stick. Martha laughed to see him so delighted.

'You've really never had food like this before?' she asked as she watched him take two cheese and pineapple sticks at once.

'Nah,' he said between mouthfuls. 'We get food packs. 'Ave to share 'em. They're OK. If they get recycled right.'

Martha didn't understand. 'Recycled from what?'

Archibald wrinkled his shiny black nose. 'What else?' he said gruffly. 'The toilets.'

Martha could see that yes, perhaps cheese and pineapple on sticks were something of a luxury. She felt her heart going out to him, growing up on a spaceship with the other badger pirates, never going to school or getting his daily five fruit and veg. It would be a dull, brutal, compartmentalised life, and he'd not even been born. Instead, he and his colleagues had been grown in a lab, slaves made to follow orders just like the mouthless men she'd met in the engine room. Despite his slavering jaws working on yet another cheese and pineapple stick, despite his gun, despite everything, she wanted to give him a hug.

But that wouldn't do any good. Any minute now Dashiel and Jocelyn would come back and, whatever they'd found, the prisoners would be in danger. So she hadn't been able to get Archibald drunk. But she had another idea, one that would make him see his prisoners as people and make it harder for him to shoot them.

As he reached for yet another cheese and pineapple stick, she slapped the back of his paw.

'Ow,' he said.

'Where are your manners?' she said.

Archibald considered. 'Think I lost 'em,' he said. 'Sorry.'

'Yeah,' said Martha, acting cross like her mum. 'But there are other people here, aren't there? What about them?'

Archibald looked over at the tentacled aliens, still cowering in fright. 'They don't like this stuff,' he said. 'They're bored of it.'

'Are they really?' said Martha, folding her arms. 'Why don't you offer them the tray and see how bored they are?'

Archibald muttered something under his breath but did as he was told, picking up the tray of remaining cheese and pineapple sticks with one paw and stalking over to his prisoners. In his other paw he held his gun, also pointed at the prisoners.

'Here,' he said to the first prisoner, the orange lady Martha had spoken to earlier. With the gun pointed right at her, Mrs Wingsworth didn't dare to refuse. A long tentacle looped up and round and delicately took hold of a stick. With everyone watching her, she took a tiny, ladylike bite of cheese and fluttered her eyes in false delight.

'Why, dear,' she told Archibald quietly, eager to please him. 'That is simply a delight!'

Archibald grinned at her. 'Yeah,' he said, pleased with himself. He glanced back at Martha, still stood at the bar. She nodded encouragingly at him and he moved into the throng of tentacled aliens, who took the proffered food from him more and more eagerly. Archibald seemed overawed by the attention, grinning at everyone for all he brandished a gun. Soon there was a hubbub of comfortable chatter and even a bit of laughing.

'That was good,' said Martha as Archibald returned to her with the empty tray. He placed it carefully beside the other trays of food and helped himself to a sausage roll.

'Yeah,' he said, about to say something further. But he'd bitten into the sausage roll and his eyes widened in amazement at this incredible new flavour.

'Wait till you try the scotch eggs,' Martha told him.

While Archibald tried each of the different nibbles on offer, Mrs Wingsworth came over to join them. 'I wonder,' she said, 'if there are any more of those delightful cheese and pineapple ones.'

'Sorry,' said Martha. 'All gone.'

But Archibald then offered Mrs Wingsworth a whole tray of them. Mrs Wingsworth let out a high, girlish giggle as she deftly took one. 'Oh, you are an angel,' she said.

'Yeah,' agreed Archibald.

'Hang on,' said Martha, pointing at the tray laden with cheese and pineapple on sticks. 'Where did that come from?'

'It was 'ere,' said Archibald, indicating the end of the bar where all the trays of nibbles waited. 'Did I do it wrong?'

'But there was only one tray of these things,' said Martha. 'And we finished it.'

'Yeah,' agreed Archibald.

Martha looked again at the bar. 'Where's the empty tray?' she said. 'The one you just put down?'

Archibald scrutinised the bar himself but could see no empty tray. He shrugged, then seemed to notice the full tray he was still holding. He lifted it up for Martha to see. 'Here,' he said.

Martha boggled. The robot barman was at the far end of the bar, and she was sure she would have seen him if he'd come down this end to restock the nibbles. Maybe they had special trays in the future, she thought, which just filled up again the moment the food ran out. Maybe they used the same technology as the teleporter thing she and the Doctor had seen down in the engine rooms.

'I never had stuff like this before,' Archibald told Mrs Wingsworth.

But no, thought Martha, something was wrong. She could feel it. After all these months travelling with the Doctor, she'd developed a sort of sixth sense for things like this.

Her thoughts were cut short by Mrs Wingsworth's mocking laughter. 'Well of course you haven't had food like this before, dear,' she told Archibald. 'You weren't born to this sort of lifestyle, were you?' She probably didn't mean to sound so unkind, thought Martha, but it was hardly wise to antagonise the badger with the gun.