May I speak with the Doctor, please?’

The cab was about halfway down Prince Albert Drive, between Vauxhall and Chiswick, doing nearly 20 because of the speed humps.

In the back of the cab, Donna took out her ringing phone and stared at the number, but didn’t recognise it.

With a shrug, she pressed accept. ‘Hallo?’

She listened and then passed it over to the Doctor.

He smiled. ‘I had the TARDIS routed to your number.

Should’ve told you. Sorry.’

‘How did you cope before mobiles?’ she sighed. ‘A Professor Melville, apparently.’

The Doctor grinned. ‘And there’s another coincidence – it’s one of those nights, isn’t it,’ he said before speaking into the phone. ‘Ahab! What can I do for the Copernicus Array tonight? As if I can’t guess. Does it involve the phrase Chaos Body?’

Miss Oladini was having her fill of surprising things tonight. First the stars making pictures. Then dotty old Professor Melville having hotlines to the Prime Minister.

Then discovering that the milk in the kitchenette hadn’t gone off for once. Oh, and then her boyfriend phoning at nearly midnight.

‘Spencer? What do you want?’

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t used that bloody great telescope to look at the sky?’

Miss Oladini crossed to the kitchen door, the one that led outside, not into the corridor and peeked out into the cold night air, not really thinking she’d see anything with the naked eye.

So she was quite surprised when she could.

‘Is it some kind of firework display?’ Spencer asked.

She wondered what to say. Ten minutes earlier, the skies had been clear and the laughing face could only be seen in photographs. Now it was very visible across the heavens, and if her daft old boyfriend had spotted it – and not written it off as a lager-fuelled trip – then something needed to be done. She remembered the Official Secrets Act and told Spencer that yes, it was probably just something being projected from the roof of one of the cinemas down Dagenham way. ‘A movie promotional thing,’ she said, adding ‘and they phoned and warned us about it yesterday,’ which was an awful lie, but seemed to make Spencer happy.

After he’d rung off, it crossed her mind that the rest of Britain might not be quite so ready to believe her story –not least because she couldn’t phone each person individually and tell them.

Maybe the Prime Minister would. Or Patrick Moore.

‘How’s the tea coming?’

Miss Oladini turned to see Melville in the doorway, a big smile on his face. She mentioned that the face from the photo was now visible in the sky, and Melville wandered over to the window and peered through.

‘Not to worry,’ he said. ‘An expert’s looking into it.’

‘From Downing Street?’

‘Oh no. Someone far better equipped than anyone there.’ He glanced out of the window. ‘Horrible-looking thing, isn’t it?’ he said, as the kettle began to boil again.

‘Milk no sugar wasn’t it, Miss Oladini?’

She nodded mutely.

‘I’m not worried now,’ he added. ‘The Doctor will sort it all out.’

There was a flash of lights from outside, and they heard a couple of cars pull up in the staff car park.

‘That was quick,’ Melville muttered, frowning slightly.

‘Downing Street or your Doctor friend?’ she asked, trying not to sound nervous. ‘Or maybe someone else from round here, concerned by the thing in the sky?’

But Melville wasn’t listening, really. He was watching to see who was in the cars.

The headlights were left full on, beaming in through the kitchenette window, so they couldn’t see who got out of the car, just heard the sounds of doors opening and slamming.

Miss Oladini shivered. This felt… wrong.

Melville presumably agreed, because he suddenly dashed for the outside door, as if to bolt it. He was too late. Someone shoved the door open.

Melville stood in front of Miss Oladini, chivalrously protecting her from whoever the newcomers were.

There were… well, a lot of them, different ages, not looking especially… government-ish. Or terribly threatening.

But there was something about them, Miss Oladini thought, something about the way they looked around the

kitchenette, their heads moving unnaturally as if they were seeing the inside of a kitchen for the first time.

An old, fat man was at the front, a middle-aged man behind him. Behind them were an old woman and a trio of student-types, two men and a woman.

‘Where are the others?’ the first old man asked in an American accent.

Professor Melville cleared his throat. ‘This is private property. This is the Copernicus Array. You can’t just turn up at gone midnight and—’

The young student woman pushed past the others, looking at Melville as if she couldn’t quite understand why he was standing there. ‘You… work here?’ she said.

English, that one.

He nodded. ‘I am in charge of the radio telescope, and this evening I am in charge of the whole project. I should warn you that you have tripped an alarm and the police will be here in minutes.’

Another student spoke. His voice sounded European, Spanish or maybe Italian. ‘I cannot detect any such alarm system. The human is lying.’

Human? What a strange expression.

But Professor Melville seemed unfazed by the choice of words, indeed, he almost relished them. ‘What planet do you represent? Are you connected with that Chaos constellation?’

The large American spoke again. ‘You may be of use to us.’

Without missing a beat, Melville pointed to Miss Oladini. ‘And my assistant. If you need my help, you’ll

need hers, too. Everything at Copernicus requires two experienced operators.’

Was he mad, Miss Oladini wondered.

‘She’s a highly qualified physicist and is an expert in the field of the cosmic sciences.’

Definitely mad.

‘Something is wrong here,’ said the older woman, also an American, walking forward. Without warning, she reached out and touched Professor Melville’s shoulder. At first Miss Oladini assumed they’d both been electrocuted as a fierce purplish spark shot between them, and Melville staggered slightly, gasping in pain.

‘Professor?’ Miss Oladini found her voice, but immediately regretted it.

Melville turned to look at her and, for a second, she could still see vestiges of that purple light in his eyes. ‘All right, I lied. She’s my temporary assistant,’ Melville said breathlessly. ‘She has no understanding of the Copernicus Array and is harmless.’

‘We can absorb her.’

‘Let her go, please…’

Melville collapsed, and the three students stepped over him as they headed towards her.

Miss Oladini did the one thing no amount of chats with Mrs Lovelace in Brentwood, or Health and Safety forms or 100 words per minute could have prepared her for. She spun round and ran for her life, clattering out of the kitchenette and back into the heart of the corridors and offices of the Copernicus Array. Somehow she knew she was running for her life.

The cab was driving along past the Earls Court Exhibition Centre when the Doctor tapped on the glass and asked the driver, ‘Can you pull over for just one minute, please.’

‘Well?’ Donna asked the Doctor, as the cab slowed down.

‘Ummm, well… Actually you need to head home, because I’m going to ask this nice man to drive me somewhere else.’

‘Chiswick High Road?’

The Doctor frowned, then remembered where the TARDIS was parked. ‘No. No actually, bit further than that.’

Donna realised. ‘You’re going to see matey boy on the phone, at that telescope place. Copper Knickers or whatever it was called.’

‘Where to then, mate?’ the exasperated taxi driver asked.

‘Essex. Just off the A127.’

The driver snorted. ‘At this time of night? I live in Bounds Green. I told you I was off home.’