Donna’s face burned. ‘Domain Haldoran is provoking Domain London!’ she exclaimed. ‘He wants to take control of the country, and my father won’t allow it!’

‘Ah.’ The Doctor gave her a piercing look. ‘And would this father of yours happen to be Lord London?’

Donna sighed, cursing her stupid mouth. She hated people to know that. ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘But don’t spread that around.’

‘Why?’ he asked lazily. ‘Don’t you get on with your father?’

‘I love him,’ she insisted. But honesty made her add, ‘Most of the time.’

‘Typical father‐daughter relationship,’ the Doctor said. ‘So, why keep it hidden?’

‘Because people always treat me as if I’m fragile when they know who my father is,’ she explained. ‘They get all funny on me, bowing and scraping. And they’re scared that if they upset me, I’ll have them executed or something.’

‘And would you?’ he asked.

‘Of course not!’

‘Good.’ He grinned. ‘Then I don’t have to worry about you getting my head chopped off. That’s a relief.’ He sat forward, his eyes burning into her. ‘But I think you’re accepting the party line a little bit too readily. Is it possible that your father is the one starting the aggression?’

‘Certainly not!’ Donna insisted. Then she hesitated.

‘Ah…’ the Doctor said with a sly grin. ‘Now you’re starting to be honest with yourself. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to pass judgement. In fact, I’m just here to say hello to Susan and David and to look for a friend whom I seem to have –’ he frowned for a moment before continuing – ‘misplaced. Then I’ll be on my way again, leaving you all to get along or murder one another, whatever the case may be.’

‘You don’t have to sound so condescending,’ Donna said, stung a little by his tone.

‘I’m not.’ He sighed, ‘In some ways, you and I are very alike. I, too, travel all over, trying to make things a little better where I stop. But neither of us can cure every ill, can we? So we have to choose our battles carefully. And sometimes we make little mistakes.’

Donna smiled. ‘Surely not?’

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said, smiling faintly. ‘I never make little mistakes. My mistakes are always huge blunders.’ His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Earth’s underpopulated, you said. At a guess, I’d say that everybody’s into rabbit mode right about now, trying to breed like crazy.’

Donna’s throat tightened, and she nodded. ‘Yes. It’s government policy that everybody should marry young and raise large families, to get the population back up as soon as possible.’

‘And that doesn’t apply to you?’ he asked perceptively. ‘I don’t mean to pry.’

‘Then don’t,’ she snapped, blushing again.

The Doctor held up his hands in surrender. ‘My mistake,’ he murmured. ‘Apparently, another of the major ones I told you about. Would you like another crumpet?’

‘What I’d really like,’ Donna informed him, ’is a good bath. You have no idea how sweaty and smelly you can get inside a suit of.’

‘Actually, I do,’ he replied, not meeting her eyes. ‘I’m sitting down‐wind of you. Let’s see about getting you cleaned up, shall we?’

‘You have a bath in here?’ she blustered, trying to disguise her embarrassment.

‘Of course,’ he grinned. ‘Otherwise I’d smell worse than you do. And I’m sure I can find you a nice change of clothes, too. And a bed for the night. Unless you want to camp out with your horse.’

‘If there’s a genuine bed in the offing,’ Donna replied firmly, ‘my horse can sleep alone.’ She scowled at the Doctor. ‘This bed wouldn’t have any conditions attached to it, would it?’

‘Conditions?’ The Doctor looked puzzled, and then realised what she meant. ‘Ah. No, no conditions. I rarely sleep.’

Donna grinned. ‘It’s not whether you wanted to sleep in it that concerned me,’ she admitted.

The Doctor cocked his head to one side in the manner of a puzzled dog, then spun neatly on one heel away from her.

Smiling, Donna allowed him to lead her off in search of the bathroom.

‘Barlow – a word in your ear!’

Slowing his steps to allow the other man to catch up with him, Toby Barlow found himself looking into the steady gaze of Craddock. He inclined his head slightly. Is there some way I can help you?’ he inquired politely.

‘Yes,’ Craddock answered.’ You can cut the polite crap, for one thing. I think we need to talk.’

Barlow nodded, glad that this was to be on a personal level. ‘Here?’

Craddock managed a thin smile at that. ‘It’s probably the safest place,’ he said, gesturing down the corridor they were traversing. ‘It’s simple to bug a small room, but it would take a fanatic to wire the whole castle for sound.’

‘And you think Haldoran isn’t a fanatic?’ Barlow mused.

‘He’s not that kind of a fanatic,’ Craddock replied brusquely. ‘Just what kind he is remains to be seen. What do you think of this idea of using Dalek technology?’

Barlow had been fairly sure that this was what was on Craddock’s mind, and he was pleased to discover that he was right. ‘It will give us quite an edge in the coming war.’

‘A safe, if disgustingly poor, answer.’ Craddock sighed. ‘Let’s agree to trust one another, Barlow. To be frank, you re the only one of us all I’m willing to trust.’

‘I’m flattered.’

‘Don’t be.’ Craddock gave him a sharp look. ‘The others are all fools or self‐servers. They’d turn me in to Haldoran in a second, not even aware it wouldn’t be in their own best interests. You, however, are different.’

‘You mean I’m neither a fool nor self‐serving?’ Barlow suggested. He was amused by Craddock’s perceptions – particularly since they matched his own almost exactly. He would have selected Craddock to confide in himself And, perhaps, Malone.

‘Whatever you want to be in the end doesn’t bother me. How you want to achieve it does.’

‘I gather you object to using the Dalek guns,’ Barlow said gently.

‘Damned right I do.’ He rubbed his almost bald head. ‘I spent years fighting the Daleks, and the one thing I learnt from it was that Dalek technology is just as nasty and tricky as the Daleks themselves. I think we’d be insane to use those guns.’

Barlow nodded. ‘I can see your point. But there’s one you seem to be overlooking. We don’t have a choice about using them Haldoran’s made up his mind –’

‘Haldoran’s a fool,’ Craddock snapped. ‘Just as his father was. He wants to be king so badly his judgement’s shot to blazes.’

‘Agreed,’ said Barlow. ‘And Estro is the one with the supply. He’s chosen to help Haldoran for reasons of his own that I’ve not been able to fathom. The price for his help seems to be utilising Dalek technology. If we persuade Haldoran to give it up, I’ve a strong suspicion that Estro would then offer the same deal to London. In that case, we’d end up at the working end of those Dalek weapons. And, given a choice, I’d sooner be firing them than dodging them.’

Craddock smiled. ‘Well thought through,’ he said approvingly. ‘I’ve no doubt that you’re correct. Given the chance, Estro would certainly go over to London’s side. If he were alive to do so.’

Barlow was starting to understand the point now. ‘You favour killing him and wiping out the supply right now?’ he asked. ‘I doubt that Haldoran would look kindly on the thought.’

‘Haldoran’s gone too far,’ Craddock said. ‘Even thinking about using Dalek technology is too much. We have to stop this now.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you with me?’

Barlow considered his answer carefully. ‘No,’ he replied, holding up a hand. ‘I’m simply not convinced that using the Dalek guns is necessarily a bad thing. I want to think about it some more, and see if my agents can’t find out what Estro’s up to. I’ve been watching the man carefully, and he doesn’t look like he’s willing to play second fiddle to anyone. I don’t think he’s got Haldoran’s best interests at heart.’