'Well,' said Mrs Wingsworth. 'I never expected this!'

'Better than what you've got?' asked Martha.

'It's not the privation one minds,' sniffed Mrs Wingsworth. 'It's the unfairness of it. Why should the captain have such luxury?'

'The captain's recreational area is prescribed by intergalactic law, Mrs Wingsworth,' said Gabriel. 'The regulations require that she does not spend more than thirty consecutive hours on duty, for the safety of the passengers.'

'Oh, I'm sure she's very deserving, dear,' said Mrs Wingsworth. It occurred to Martha she wouldn't normally have called a robot 'dear' – that this was her and the Doctor's influence. 'I just think we should all have the same.'

'It's funny there's no officers about, though, isn't it?' said the Doctor. 'They shouldn't all be on duty at once.'

'They fell off the ship when we came here,' said Archibald. 'Sorry.'

'Even so,' said the Doctor. 'There's no one here.'

'I believe, Mr Doctor,' said Gabriel, 'that many were called to the bridge at the first alarm.'

'Ah,' said the Doctor. 'How many people are there likely to be on the bridge?'

Gabriel considered. 'There are six officers on duty, Mr Doctor, including the captain. There are then twelve reserve officers of which seven are also on the bridge.'

'And why are they there?' asked the Doctor, though Martha suspected he already knew.

'I regret I am not at liberty—' began Gabriel.

'Oh come on,' said the Doctor. 'You know the safety of the passengers is at stake.'

Martha watched Gabriel struggling with his robot conscience. They are there in a protective capacity, Mr Doctor,' he said.

'They're there to fight anyone trying to get onto the bridge,' said the Doctor. 'What do you think of that, Mrs Wingsworth?'

'I think it's perfectly understandable, dear,' she said.

'Really?' said the Doctor. 'It doesn't seem very fair to me. Why aren't they out here, protecting the passengers? That's their first responsibility isn't it?'

'Oh,' said Mrs Wingsworth. 'I suppose they did rather leave us in the lurch.'

'We was expectin' to fight,' said Archie. 'But no one 'ere would fight us.'

Martha felt herself growing hot with anger. 'The crew left the passengers to die,' she said. In her mind the crew were already villains anyway: they had to be to employ the poor, mouthless men in the engine room.

'It does look that way,' said the Doctor. 'But let's not judge them until we've heard what they've got to say in response. Here we are.'

They had reached a huge double door at the end of the passageway. Gabriel went forward and, without having to press or say anything, did whatever he had to do. They heard the heavy locks untangling from deep within the doors. Gabriel stepped backwards and the doors swung slowly open at him.

'Oh,' said the Doctor, disappointed. 'Well, yes, I should have thought of that.'

The doorway was blocked by a wall of what looked like scrambled egg. Archibald reached out a hairy paw to prod the strange material. Even when he punched it, the scrambled egg did not yield.

'What are we going to do, dear?' asked Mrs Wingsworth.

'Oh, don't worry,' said Martha. 'The Doctor can get us through. Can't you?'

'Oh yeah,' said the Doctor. 'Nothing simpler. I'm just wondering if I should. It's like with the engine rooms, isn't it? We can get through it easy, we just can't come back out.'

'It's the only way,' Martha told him sternly.

The Doctor gazed at her for a moment. 'Yes,' he said, taking the sonic screwdriver from his inside pocket. 'Yes, I suppose it is.' He clicked the screwdriver to setting twenty-eight and aimed it at the scrambled egg.

Archibald and Mrs Wingsworth watched in wonder. 'What is that?' said Archibald.

'Well, it's just sound waves, really,' said the Doctor, busy at work. 'Vibrations you can aim. This scrambled egg stuff resonates at a certain frequency and that's why it seems solid. If I can change the frequency it all loosens up. And then we just walk through. Simple, really.'

'Yeah,' said Archibald.

'Did you understand that?' asked Martha.

'No,' said Archibald. Martha, despite what he had done to her before, laughed. Archibald grinned at her.

'See, dear?' said Mrs Wingsworth. 'He's rather a darling once he can stop being such a rascal.'

'Yeah,' said Archibald.

'If you say so,' said Martha. Keen to change the subject, she turned to Gabriel. 'Don't suppose you can get us a drink while we're waiting, can you?'

'Certainly, Ms Martha,' said Gabriel. 'What would you like?'

'I'll have a cup of tea if one's being offered,' said the Doctor, still busy on the door.

'Is tea good?' Archibald asked him.

'Oh,' said the Doctor darkly. 'It's not for everybody. It can be quite dangerous.'

'I'll 'ave a cuppa tea,' Archibald told Gabriel.

'And me,' said Martha. 'Just a bit of milk, no sugar.'

'Certainly, Ms Martha,' said Gabriel. And Mrs Wingsworth?'

A gin and tonic,' said Mrs Wingsworth. 'Well,' she added, seeing how Martha looked at her. 'I am on holiday.'

By the time Gabriel returned with the drinks, the Doctor was nearly finished with the wall of scrambled egg.

'Ms Jocelyn,' Gabriel informed them, 'instructs me to tell you that Mr Dashiel is awake but continues to recuperate.'

'That's good,' said the Doctor, taking his tea from the tray Gabriel proffered. Martha sipped her tea, the hot, familiar flavour making her feel so much better. There was something brilliant about being so far in the future and still getting a dainty china cup of tea. However far into the past or future she went, she was constantly amazed how much people were just people, with the same worries and loves and things to eat. And that made it all the worse that Archibald had never had any of that. She looked over at him, where he was finding it difficult to get his cup of tea to fit round his long badger nose.

'Maybe you need a straw,' she said.

'Yeah,' said Archibald. He didn't seem to know what to make of the tea. Martha could see the wonder in his eyes at yet another, different flavour. She thought of all the things he would love to try for the first time: chips and chocolate and fruit and Sunday roasts. In a way she envied him.

'Right,' said the Doctor, prodding the soft scrambled egg with a finger. 'That's looking good.' He turned to Martha. 'Ladies first again?'

'No,' said Martha. 'We go through together this time.'

'OK,' said the Doctor. He turned to Archibald, Mrs Wingsworth and Gabriel. 'We'll just be a moment,' he told them. And then it should all be put right.'

'You mean, dear,' said Mrs Wingsworth appalled, 'you're leaving us behind?'

'Nah,' said the Doctor. 'This is going to be boring. But we need you here covering our backs.' Martha knew what he was really up to – keeping them safe from whatever dangers awaited. The crew, after all, were waiting to fight anyone coming through. 'Big responsibility that,' the Doctor went on. 'If you think you're up to it.'

'Of course we are!' said Mrs Wingsworth, so affronted she spilt some of her gin and tonic.

'Yeah,' agreed Archibald.'

'Mr Doctor,' said Gabriel. 'The crew may have instructions to shoot you if you enter the bridge without authority.'

'Yeah?' said the Doctor. 'Well I'm the only one of us who hasn't been killed yet. Probably my turn. See ya!'

And he grabbed Martha's hand and moved quickly forwards.

Again the scrambled egg pressed close against her, threatening to hold her fast. But Martha held the Doctor's hand tightly, and in a moment they were out the far side.

The bridge was a long, grey room with a horseshoe of computers at its centre, each computer at the command of a different tall, athletic human. Their tight grey uniforms showed off fine, sculpted muscles.