Disclaimer: Doctor Who is owned by BBC international, as are the characters of UNIT. The character Rayna Vitreum, Dr. Weissmann, Dr. Padyesh, and Dr. Alvarez Moore as well as other minor characters not in Dr. Who are my own creations, and means no harm to the show. This story is fanfiction!

by Trynia Merin aka Theresa Meyers

a doctor who story in fanfiction written 1991... at the height of my fandom! But I still am a big fan!

"7:00 AM" blares the alarm in bright red line characters, burning right into her myopic eyes. She feels the contour of her eyeballs as she brushes the sand from them. Pastel shades of morning come into greater focus. In the bed a few beds down, a hump migrates underneath a cream blanket with a moan.

"Tryni, rise and shine," urges a cheerful voice.

"Eh?"

"Remember the trip! Don't forget your geologic hammer this time, girlie!"

"Oh yeah," mutters the girl, sliding stiffly from the warm habitat of her bedclothes. Cold air hits her bare legs as she stumbles onto the chilly floor. Blindly her right hand sorts amongst the litter on her smoothly varnished beside table. A foil wrapper... a Hershey's kiss... nope. Ah, her watch, and her glasses. Slipping the windows up her upturned nose the whole room hardens into angles and lines. Three beds like hospital surplus ones. Two windows on the world glare into the distant few spires of the college town. Oxford says good morning to the three roommates.

"Hurry up, Sharon!" speaks the midlands accent, its broad high tones rolling.

"Coming, Tryni?" asks the confined proper style of a Londoner.

"Just a bit," she replies, gathering up her things. Short fingers fumble with soft thick brunette hair, struggling to pull it into a braid. "Have to fix my hair, y' know."

8:30

"Where's my bracelet!" cries the brunette desperately. Frantically she sweeps through the items on her bed.

"There's no time for bangles, Tryni!"

"You don't understand, it's important!"

"Professor Moore'll be sore!" says Sharon in her midlands accent.

"Do come on, Sharon!" cries the proper accent.

"I'm sure you'll find that bracelet later, when the trip's over, Rayna..." reassures Sharon.

A student group snakes its way into the dark system of Cheddar Gorge caverns. It's the day of the geology department's student outing to study the famed caves there. Rayna, near the front of the long line, kept pumping the guide for the most complex answers to her incredible questions. The guide, not mention Professor Moore her physical science teacher, are baffled. Ever since Rayna had attended her geology class at Oxford, she was fascinated with just how much Rayna seemed to know already. Turning her helmeted head, the professor glances at her. A rather embarrassed Rayna backs down, apologizing to the flustered leader for showing off.

Ahead of the group stretches the aura of the lantern as it illuminates the darkness. Individual headlights on student's helmets dance and bob like fireflies in the midnight cavern. Electric torches displace the blackness. "Millions of years can be pared away in these caverns," explains the guide. To demonstrate his point, he holds his lantern up to the wet wall, shiny in cave slime. Rayna and the other students carefully note the alternating colored bands of rock and sediment exposed there.

"Goodness," whispers Sharon to Rayna. "Dinosaurs probably walked on that very soil, maybe even the first mammals!"

"Another paleontology enthusiast," thinks Rayna with amusement. "Just think, Sharon. The earth builds up layers like human skin does. Only more layers are added to the top, instead of growing up from the bottom."

"It's amazing," adds Sharon, sitting down on a nearby ledge. "How these geology chaps can tell what happened all that time ago by digging up old rocks and fossils." Her battery charged helmet light beams on Rayna, who had just sat down next to her. "It would be really stupendous if..."

"If what?"

"If those paleontologists could figure out what happened a shorter time ago with these rocks here... perhaps only twenty years ago instead of ten-thousand."

"Like a spelunking Sherlock Holmes?" suggests Rayna. "Mystery of the aging rock?" Both friends giggle.

In the thick shadow beyond them moves another student. "You'd have to time travel to know how things really happened, you know," speaks another hushed voice, twanged with Birmingham. Into the little pool of light steps a girl clad in the similar coveralls and hard hat of a spelunker.

"I say Georgianna, its more fun trying to guess and make-believe what happened, than to just traverse time and find out." says Sharon. "Anyway, time travel is just bunk."

"If you only knew," mutters Rayna under her breath. "Wish I hadn't lost that bracelet!"

"Not to disappoint you, my friend, but lately I saw a story on the telly that certain," and here Georgianna looks at Rayna. "American scientists are working on a possible theory for time travel."

"I read about that theory in `Discover' last month. Just a lot of rubbish."

"Maybe not, Sharon," returned Rayna. "Europeans thought the world was flat, and look what happened when Columbus came along. Now children are learning most geography off globes instead of maps."

As usual, Rayna's lighter treatment of history brings smiles to her friends' lips. As the three had been sitting there talking, the group has moved on. "Uh oh!" groaned Rayna. "We've been left behind!"

"No problem, Tryni," reassures Georgianna. "We can go exploring on our own, then catch up later."

"Are you certain?" asks Sharon. "We might get into trouble with the professor, or Mrs. Chadwell, or even worse get lost."

"Oh come now! The prof says every potholing team must have at least three members, and there are three of us here," pleads Georgianna.

"I think I know the way though these caves," volunteers Rayna. "I'll make sure we rejoin the group on the way out."

"Hurrah for American adventurousness!" laughs Sharon and Georgianna. "Lead on then!"

The three intrepid youths venture deeper into the cave system. Georgianna leads the group, because she had the brightest flash light. Rayna follows, with Sharon bringing up the rear. Rayna keeps one hand on the wall, feeling the cool slippery surface. They had not gone more than fifty more yards, when Rayna begins to feel a faint vibration from the walls.

"Georgianna, hold on a sec,"

"What's on?" asked the city girl.

"Do any of you feel it?"

"Feel what?" asks Sharon.

"A sort of faint pulsing, and it's coming from the walls."

"Maybe it's just the autos on the roads above," suggests Sharon. "England has got plenty of motorways."

"I have a funny feeling about this. Let's explore more."

"I'm for that," chimes in Georgianna.

"If you have a queer feeling, why don't we catch us up with the tour and come back later?"

"Okay, you two. We'll just go on a little more, for Georgianna. If we find nothing interesting, then we'll catch up with the tour," says Rayna. With her hand still on the wall, she lead the little party onwards.

Now the pulsing becomes a throbbing in the air around them. The two friends of Rayna can only feel it when they put their hands to the walls, but Rayna's very brain drums with the oscillating. Rayna sees the air about her seem to twist and undulate. Stopping, she rubs her eyes and squints.

"Oh, Tryni," calls Sharon. "Do you feel a sort of... wind at your back?" Just as Sharon finishes, the trio hear a low moan, followed by a rush of wind.

"Nice breeze," comments Georgianna, attempting to mask the nervousness she suddenly feels. She shines her light on the walls. Her torch beam flickers, then suddenly goes out. "Oh, damn it! I just had new batteries put in this ruddy torch!" After shaking it, the light flicks back on. But this time, the beam suddenly twists about, stretched like a rubber band back on itself. Screaming, she drops it.

Sharon and Rayna whirl to face her. "What's wrong," gasps Sharon, placing a hand on Georgianna's trembling shoulders. a stammering Georgianna babbles what just happened, face ghostly pale in the beam of Rayna's light. Rayna listens carefully. The breeze gusts into a rushing wind. Rayna draws in her breath sharply as she blocks her friends from the burst of air. "Get back you two!"

The following events confused all of them. All the signs were there. Some sort of time flux. She shouts to her friends to turn back, to run. Both Sharon and Georgianna race away, the wind slashing at their backs. This was all entirely beyond their comprehension and experience. Uncertainty haunts Rayna again.

At first the others are reluctant to leave Rayna behind. But once overcome with fear, they waste no time in rushing out to find the tour group. Out of range of the wind, Sharon glances back to where they'd left Rayna. The only thing she sees is the light from Rayna's helmet light suddenly moving backwards, then shooting far ahead. Georgianna pulls her arm, wrenching her away.

"Hurry Sharon!" she cries. "Tryni fell down a hole!"

"That was... no hole!" gasps Sharon. She stumbles along behind the other girl reluctantly.

"Do come on, Sharon! Don't hang about! We must find the group so they can get a rope!"

Dazed, Sharon blunders behind her. She couldn't help thinking that some force far beyond reality was at work here. Looking at her watch, she scarcely believes only five minutes had passed. 11:15

If the wind wasn't and indication of a time disturbance, the speed at which motion moved was. Or possibly Rayna's mind could have been rambling at a far greater velocity. She feels herself moving forwards, then suddenly backwards. Then the cave floor dissolves from beneath her feet, plummeting her into blackness. There's a loud whistling, then a bone wrenching thump as she hits the bottom.

The penlight pinpoints a small circle on the wall before her. By now Rayna realizes that the chamber she's fallen into was a natural cistern. Aiming her penlight up, she attempts to see the top. The feeble beam of her penlight rapidly faded into infinity. "Drat!" she mutters.

It was then she remembered her helmet light. What if the fall had damaged the battery attached to her belt? Carefully she switches on the beam. To her relief, the lamp functions flawlessly. She can even see the LCD numbers on her digital watch. 12:30 it reads. What day though?

Looking up, she discovers the hole she had fallen through. "Hey!" she yells. "Georgianna! Sharon! Are you there?"

Her unanswered voice echoed to no avail on the curved walls.

A dark skinned fellow bent over his computer console, his delicate Indian features mirrored in the black screen. Silently he tapped in the next few coordinates, reading them meticulously off the yellow tablet propped to his immediate left.

"Delta seven by thirty nine," he muttered.

"Hey!" she cried. "I'm down here! Can you hear me?"

Sure enough, there was a reply. "Cooee! Hold on down there!"

"Hello up there! Help me!"

The voice was unfamiliar, but that didn't really matter. It was enough just to be found!

"Can you pull yourself up?"

"Yes, no bone breaks!" responded an excited Rayna. "But I can't climb up! Could one of you throw me a rope or something?"

The voices from above tossed down a rope. Hastily Rayna grasped the end, knotting the rope into a noose that would securely hold her weight. She slipped it over her neck, under her left arm. Then, grasping the rope firmly in both hands, she braced her booted feet against the wall and walked up the side of the cistern. All she sensed was the damp nylon of the rope between her palms, and the minds of the party above.

As she pulled herself from the cistern, Rayna attempted to think up a plausible excuse for Professor Moore. "She'll be real mad. Could always say my disappearance was due to my desire for independent studies though." Probing with her left hand, she at long last felt the rocky rim of the cistern mouth under her fingers. To her extreme annoyance, one of the search party shone a light right into her face. "Hey!" she complained. "Don't you know that can damage a person's retina?"

"Hold on chaps!" came the voice shining the lantern. "You're not Miss Grant!"

"Of course not!" exclaimed Rayna. "I'm Rayna Vitreum, and I fell down this stupid hole, and I don't enjoy being half blinded!"

A pair of strong hands hauled her firmly from the pit. "Thanks a lot," she muttered grimly. There was a brief flicker of another lantern as several other people approached. Rayna began to think something was really wrong. The odd orderly and subdued way in which these men thought. Such patterns were typical among soldiers.

One of them reported to his superior. "Yes sir, we found a girl, but it wasn't Miss Grant. What? Yes, she did reportedly fall down this hole, but there's no trace of her now."

Rayna marched out of the caves, thinking it best not to argue with soldiers. She was blissfully pleased to see sunlight again. To her surprise, she saw a military encampment ahead. "Special maneuvers?" she puzzled. The patrol led her to a triangular green army tent.

Behind a folding table sat a major, she could tell from the series of stars on his red shoulder flash. The sergeant saluted him. Soon afterwards, Rayna was interrogated. "Where is the school group that was here?" she asked. This whole thing seemed so inconsistent. Then, quite agitated with herself for forgetting, Rayna remembered the time disturbance. "Maybe I didn't just fall down a hole after all," she pondered. "I must get more information first," she decides. If Sharon and Georgianna were not here... yet she could have been unconscious for some time, perhaps days, and the area could have been cordoned off since then.

The next question snapped her back to attention.

"Why were you in the caves? Were you not informed that the park was closed to the public two days ago?"

"I assure you sir," repeated Rayna. "I am a geology student who was simply studying the caves here with a university tour from Oxford. Can I rejoin them now?"

Her explanation fell on surprised ears. The sergeant exchanged a puzzled glance with his commanding officer. "I don't remember the boys allowing any such tours during this military investigation."

"Military operation?" queried Rayna, her eyes widening in confusion. "Look, if you just talk to the park service people..."

"This area was clearly sealed off two days ago. Didn't you see the signs?"

"Why don't you just let me go, and I'll forget the whole thing. I have no desire to cause you trouble."

Changing his line of questioning, the major inquired, "Well miss, one of our agent trainees vanished in the exact same cave you appeared in. Do you know anything of her disappearance, or are you in any way involved?"

"Nope. I wish I could help you, but I'm just as much in the dark as you are 'bout this. Sorry."

Apparently that didn't satisfy the major. "Look miss, let's start from the top. What is your name?"

Another man in khaki field uniform stepped into the tent. Promptly he saluted the major seated behind the table. "Report, Sergeant Benton," ordered the major. In a capsulized version, the officer delivered his account.

"No sign of Miss Grant sir,"

"I see, Sergeant. Apparently, Corporal Matthew did find this young lady," and here he pointed to Rayna. "Was in the same cave system."

In the distance, Rayna heard army Land Rovers rumble by. Above her head bobbed the green canvas of the regulation tent she was being interrogated in. The officer's minds buzzed with orders and regulations, making them difficult to read. At last the major reached a decision. Rising, he stepped over to her. "I'm sorry miss," he apologized. "But we'll have to hold you in UNIT custody until Miss Grant is found, or until we find out who you are. Do you understand?"

Rayna pushed dark brown bangs from her glasses and regarded the officer. "I understand," she nodded. A sudden thought hit her. "Say, officers! Maybe I could help you after all. I know a few things about science and geology. There's some strange phenomenon in the caves, something real far out and crazy."

"So you admit knowing why we're here..."

"Uh huh yeah, if you like. I was studying the caves. Miss Grant may have fallen down another tunnel... that led to an entirely different set of caves," she lied... although this was partially true.

The major glanced quizzically at his officers. "The cave didn't seem to have any other passages... and there are no other caverns in this area."

"Well miss, your offer is generous..."

"S'cuse me sir," piped in Benton. "Permission to speak?"

"Granted, Sergeant."

"Maybe she can help our Scientific Advisor out on this..."

"Well Miss, your offer will be given all due consideration by our staff. But let me remind you, you will be under strict supervision until..."

"Okay! You won't regret it. It's only logical that I make good use of the time I'm in custody, isn't it."

The geology student clung to the seat of a UNIT land rover as it zoomed down a British motorway. Several cars flashed past them. Rayna noticed with some fascination that most of them were the compact european cars of the late 60's and early 70's. Her trained mind took in all details that might be clues to her situation. A grumbling zoom, and a big bulky auto roared by, speeding well near 80 mph. "Some classic lead burner," she muttered in disgust, smelling the exhaust. "I wonder how the heck I got here," she mused, as each clue brought her mind to realizing that she had indeed traversed time. The foggy English skies gave way to a light drizzle, the tiny droplets brushing damply against her cheeks.

UNIT headquarters stood several miles into London. Inside bustled staff and soldiers, each going about their individual duties inside and outside the complex. Different departments comprised UNIT; everything from military to intelligence information passed through the organization. It was initially formed to protect the interests of the United Nations in Great Britain.

In one important office sat the man in charge of the Great Britain branch of UNIT. He was Brigadier Alistair Lethbrige-Stuart, a tall strongly built man dressed in a beige uniform. This mustached fellow had years of experience behind him, and most of it consisted of unusual circumstances. Now, he was dealing with UNIT's latest task; the strange energy readings emanating from Cheddar Gorge in Avon. For the last few days a division of UNIT soldiers sealed off the area and reassured frightened tourists and residents, but had so far found nothing more promising than an unofficial blast test sight located near the park.

The phone rang, interrupting the Brigadier's last thought. Picking up the receiver he spoke, "Lethbrige-Stuart here... report from Trap 2? Sergeant Benton. Yes, send him in here now." He replaced the phone, and took a swig of hot tea from a ceramic UNIT mug.

Benton entered, dressed in his green field uniform, topped of with his usual beret and field rifle slung over one shoulder. Respectively he saluted the Brigadier. "Benton reporting here sir."

The Brigadier stood up. "Have your men discovered anything that could explain?"

"Detected some more of those strange wave readings, and other scientific mumbo-jumbo the boffins can't make out."

"Any sign of the missing trainee?"

"Afraid not sir. Haven't found a trace of Miss Grant."

"It's just like the child to get lost so easily," sighed the Brigadier.

Benton rattled off his report of the geology student.

Rayna was hastened down a long hallway, when a string of news correspondents with tape recorders and cameras crowds about her. She proved an interesting target, when they note her spelunking gear. One reporter thrust a mike under her nose. "Was it true that you were in the caves for two whole days... without food and water..." At once a half dozen cameras clicked and wheezed, myriad star clusters dancing in front of her eyes. Baffled, Rayna just stood there silent among the sea of chattering voices and pushing elbows.

A door opened, admitting the Brigadier to the hall. Catching sight of the reporters, he angrily ordered them escorted out. "Excuse me ma'am," he addressed Rayna. "Are you Miss Vitreum?"

"That's right sir," she answered.

"Step inside the office, please," he instructed, opening the door and ushering her inside. Sergeant Benton pulled up a chair for her to sit on. At last Benton slammed the door shut, banishing the cacophony outside.

Once they had both sat down the Brigadier confronted her. "Miss Vitreum, I understand you know information about the strange happenings at Cheddar Gorge site?"

"Yes, sir. I was right in the middle of it too," affirmed Rayna, glad to be treated with respect for once that day.

The Brigadier took a closer look at her. Dark green coveralls she wears, with a battery pack secured to her thick belt. The miner's helmet lay next to her chair on the floor. Taking into account her distinct American accent, he assumed she might be an exchange student.

"I'm sorry about your friend Miss Grant," apologized Rayna, shoving back loose brown hair that had slipped from her ponytail. "I hope you all find her."

With a slight smile the Brigadier said, "Er, yes. What is this about you being a geologist?"

"Oh yeah, that's right," chatted Rayna, her face lighting up with enthusiasm. "I'll help all I can. My skills are at your disposal. Just get me a change of clothes, a hot shower, and a room to work in... and I'll try my best to see what's going on with the caves."

"I see, Miss Vitreum," said the Brigadier, with an flare of recognition in his thoughts. "Your offer is genuinely generous, but you have no positive identification as to your business in the caves. Just what were you doing there?"

"Uh, well... It's a long story..."

"Until you can bring yourself around to telling it, I'm afraid you'll have to be arrested."

"What?" asked Rayna. "Surely you know I'm a college student, and an American citizen."

"You'll have what you need. Now if you'll go with Private Phillips here, she'll show you your quarters..."

Vitreum followed the neatly uniformed female private out the door. Before they reach the junction hallway the Brigadier calls after them, "Keep a close eye on her, Private."

Benton ushered in a middle aged woman with curly black hair. Her olive complexion was well complimented with the red blouse she wore and a paisley scarf secured about her neck with a fancy brooch. She brushed off her herringbone jacket and smoothed her matching skirt under her as she sat down. "Ah, so you are Brigadier Lethbrige-Stuart?" she asked in a voice rather english for her mediterranean appearance.

"Dr. Maria Alvarez Moore, I presume. Good to see you... there's been the strangest goings on in those Cheddar Gorge caves."

"Oh, I have no complaints now, but I would have preferred to room next to Padyesh... he's so much more polite then that physicist chap..."

"Weissman?" offered the Brigadier.

Just then, a thin fellow pushed past the Brigadier with a hurried, "Pardon me!" Finally they arrive at their destination, the last door on the left. Before entering the Brigadier knocked. There was no answer, so he entered, beckoning to Moore to follow him into the huge lab. All manner of objects decked the whitewashed brick walls, including wooden cases of butterflies, world maps, and space pictures. A large roll top desk laden with scientific journals sat against the back wall past two or three lab benches laden with equipment.

"Balderdash! This is simply preposterous!" bellowed a voice from the hall. "I vill not have my research shot down by an oferdressed foppish crackpot like you!"

"Overdressed crackpot indeed," retorted an equally incensed voice. "It's a wonder why a scientist who makes a frightful mess of his calculations is even allowed to work here, let alone hold a graduate post!"

"Of all the disrespectful, pompous..."

"My dear Professor," patronizes the second voice. "Men of science are very truthful unless one considers those who alter their data simply to gain undue credit for a hypothesis he is reluctant to admit is incorrect!"

"You are accusing me of being a liar, me a professor at Cambridge?"

The argument ensued for several minutes, in the hallway. Quite forgotten, Moore shook her head. The Brigadier too listened to the conversation, a bit amused. How annoying when they couldn't see who was talking or what was going on. Her mind told her that two very prominent scientists are the very voices arguing. "How typical," she smiled, leafing through one of the journals. Her eyes landed upon a tall blue box nestled in one far corner, with the notable words, "POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX" written at the top. She touched the doors, then suddenly pulled her hand away. A faint pulsing vibrated the side, as if some energy source were inside.

Two figures burst into the lab. A white-haired man wearing a black cloak stormed in; a white coated researcher at his heels. Whirling about, he faced his pursuer, the red silk lining of his cloak flashing. "I've said all I shall say to you, Professor. Now if you will excuse me, I have some pertinent experiments of my own to attend to. Most interesting discussion with you, but sadly rather hopeless."

The other scientist's face flushed red as a ripe beet as he gulped down his rage. "Well pardon me," he retorted, voice chilled with sarcasm. "Go on ahead and play with those expensive gadgets of yours. Who knows how much of UNIT's funds you deplete each day?" Eyes flashed behind his small half-moon spectacles.

Discreetly Dr. Moore coughed, and the two men turned to face her. "Quite a debate I see," she commented, hiding a smug smile. "Oh, how rude of me," said the tall white haired fellow. "We have a visitor Brigadier?"

"This is Dr. Moore, from Oxford. She knows a bit about seismology."

"Here to join your cheerful little unit family," she added, shaking his large white hand.

"Delighted to have you Ma'am. It will be nice to have a bit of stability here... a little change in perspective for once," he commented, glancing at Weissman.

"Professor Weissman, of Cambridge?" asked Moore, her hand extended towards the white coated man.

The german scientist glared at the Doctor, then turned to Dr. Moore. "Enscuhldigung mir bitte, Frau Moore, as we say in my country," he apologized. "You must excuze the conduct of ruffians here... at times ve can be rather testy."

"Speaking of testy times, what has been discovered about the mysterious disturbances so far," asked Moore.

"The Doctor... our Scientific Advisor has been working on this problem for a considerable amount of time..." began the Brigadier helpfully. Just then the phone rang. The Doctor rose to answer it.

"Hello yes?" he greeted, tentatively eyeing the long spiral phone flex. Glancing gingerly at the Brigadier he asked, "Certain you had this fixed?"

"Yes Doctor."

"What's wrong, that expensive phone broken made?" needled Weissman.

"Sssh!" hissed the Doctor. He listened for a moment. "Yes, he's here. I'll put him on straightaway."

Taking the Phone, the Brigadier listened to an excited Sgt. Benton. "Yes, I'll call a meeting of our top boys in ten minutes..."

"So what have you discovered so far, Doctor?" asked Dr. Moore, crossing her arms across her red blouse.

"To make a long story short, I admit that I am baffled," announced the Doctor, striding over to one of his benches. "What do you make of these readings, Dr. Moore?" he asked, passing her a set of printouts. "They were made on a conventional seismograph."

"Can't say really," she mused, biting her lower lip and squinting at the readings. "Afraid this is even beyond my area of seismology expertise... these waves look very strange."

"If it's a seismograph," cut in Weissman. "Certainly it must look like some sort of earthquake."

"I would say it could be anything... from an earthquake, to a large explosion... to anything... really."

"England isn't on a fault line," said the Doctor, leaning against a lab bench and folding his arms. "And the explosives are not quite strong enough..."

"Hah! What's wrong? Afraid your precious prognosis is wrong?" asked Weissman laughing.

"It is the sign of a limited intelligence that accepts defeat..." retorted the Doctor.

"That does it, you overdressed buffoon!" shouted Weissman.

"Gentlemen, please," cut in Moore impatiently. "Where did this last disturbance take place?"

"Several miles beyond Stratford upon Avon...." started the Doctor.

"Idiot! He doesn't know an earthquake from a blast!" shouted Weissman, throwing up his arms in amazement and walking between the lab tables.

"Do keep it down, old chap," called the Doctor. "Some of us are trying to think!"

Nudging the Brigadier, Weissman jeered, "Hear this Brigadier! Your scientific advisor shoots down my generator, and he doesn't know an earthquake when he sees one!"

"Professor, I am extremely busy," sighed the Brigadier, straining his attention between Benton on the phone and the flustered scientist.

"What's on?" asked Moore, walking up beside Weissman.

"A domestic matter, concerning an organization called Engletech..." said the Brigadier. "Yes, I'll call a meeting in fifteen minutes."

"Huh... I thought that was something serious," muttered Moore, scratching her head.

"Brigadier, I must insist that this Doctor is an incompetent fool!"

"Now wait a minute..." protested the Doctor.

"That's enough, Professor Weissman!" thundered the irritated Brigadier, muffling the talking end of the receiver with one hand. "You are acting out of line!"

"No more comments from me sir. Go back to playing toy soldiers with your men!" snapped the Professor icily. Turning to the tall fellow wearing the long cloak cape, he continued. "You haven't seen the last of me, Doctor Jones... Smith... or whatever the hell your name is!"

With disgust the Brigadier slammed down the phone.

The door to Brigadier Lethbridge-Stuart's office slammed with a mighty crash. Professor Zachory Weissman had just about had enough of the Brigadier's adamant defense of the Scientific

Advisor. Likewise, the leader of UNIT was on the verge of firing the appropriately eruptive explosives expert. The Brigadier was having the time of his life in sorting out the tangle of recent events. Not only had there been the strange happenings at Cheddar Gorge, but a new problem had just been entrusted to them.

Jabbing a button on his intercom, he cleared his throat and uttered, "Private Phillips, get me Yates, Bartlett and Monroe in here."

Within minutes the four top officers of UNIT had gathered into the sizeable office. Addressing Captain Yates, Major Bartlett and Captain Monroe, the Brigadier briefed them on the latest developments. "As you see, men, there has been an incident of unauthorized blasting at an old strip mine not fifty miles from Stratford-Upon-Avon," he began.

Captain Yates, a blonde haired fellow with a slender face, was the first to reply. "Shall we send some of the chaps to investigate?"

"Yes Captain, I had thought of that."

Major Bartlett took a drought of his strong NAAFE tea. "Sir, I had some of the men check into that this morning."

Surprised, the Brigadier regarded him. "What have the agents found?"

"Engletech... a private organization..." said Yates.

Moore happened to walk in. She surveyed the room of neatly uniformed officers. "Not interrupting anything, I hope," she asked.

"Dr. Moore, I must insist, this is a military matter..."

began the Brigadier.

"What have you all done so far, besides sitting here and talking of preparations? Why not send someone to negotiate, instead?"

"A good point, Dr. Moore," said Yates. "Don't you think so, Brigadier?"

Coughing, Lethbrige-Stuart tried to grip his temper. "Yes Captain. Since you two are so keen to investigate... I'm sending you Yates, to take command of the situation. And you Dr. Moore.."

"Me?" asked Moore, pointing to herself. "I didn't exist this morning, remember? I must insist that I'm a scientist... not a..."

"You are a fellow scientist... and it was your idea. Engletech should be perfectly willing to negotiate."

"Oh, very well," sighed Moore. "But give me some time to think at least."

The Professor's lab was a small cubbyhole, far smaller than the Doctor's or even Moore's, with one or two lab benches and a small computer. In one corner sat a radio unit complete with a phone. In front of the TV sat young Rajiv, excitedly watching the latest edition of Technology Today. But now the professor seated himself on the edge of his cot. Idly he flipped through several papers in his latest formula. "So he says my magnetic oscillating dynamo is inefficient," he grumbled as he recalculated his diagram.

Turning his head, Rajiv looked at the flustered Weissman. "What is the matter?"

"A nearly clean and exsponential source of power, and no vone to finance its development!" he cried.

"Can't be that bad. I just saw on the TV that Parliament may cut government funding to certain universities. At least UNIT gives us a job now, researching for their new explosives."

Angrily the german scientist dismissed Rajiv's words, "Bah, UNIT this, UNIT that! If I only stayed in Berlin like my wife wanted..." Here he resumed his vigorous recalculations. To his dismay, the error popped up in their bold black and white before him.

"Still, there are alternatives... if you happen to know the right people," said Rajiv, settling back into his easy chair.

"He vas right..." Rejection blended with Weissman's pride, rising in a sinking depression. Naturally this dynamo had been his secret dream for the past ten years, and the truth in this Doctor's accusations and challenges needled him. Wearily he collapsed headlong onto his cot and wept.

Suddenly Rajiv sensed the silence and turned around again. He drew in a sigh as he saw the man simply crying there, and rose from his chair. "Zachory?" he asked, going over to his colleague and tapping his shoulder. "What's wrong? Come now, it can't be that bad, my friend."

"What I put into this place... it's not my life! This one thing... I dream of creating... and its worthless!" he bawled, laying on his cot, wallowing in self pity for his shattered dream.

"Stop this silliness! I've known you for two years, and this isn't like you to let a crazy overdressed stranger you hardly know stop you!" scolded Rajiv, standing over him. "I get so tired too of the lack of jobs."

"Face the reality..." sniffed Weissman, turning up his head to look at Rajiv. "England sacrifices private ones like us to the whims of this state... and the army. If we weren't constructing their blessed krachmachers... they would scarce leave us any jobs to live on!"

"For the sake of what self respect you have as a scientist, Zak, don't relent. Remember what I said about knowing the right people?"

"Eh?"

"Some private investors are quite happy to finance ones like you and me."

"What? To make better biscuit makers?" quipped Weissman scornfully.

"I've been attending meetings regularly. There are many like us... tired of the system chucking us in the swim."

"Who? Where are these people?"

"Engletech," said Rajiv, standing straight up. "We don't have to be alone. Just yesterday, a physicist--Dr. William Price--said he needed a new source of power for his newest experiment. I told him all about your dynamo... the one that runs on geo..."

"Sh, someone may here you," hissed Weissman. "You told him about me?"

"Yes, we're in this together, aren't we? There's a meeting tonight... get your papers and come with me!"

Hurriedly he scooped up his papers and thrust them into a briefcase. The Mickey Mouse clock face pointed its gloved hands to the 4 and the 6.

Yates walked with Moore down the halls of UNIT. Somehow he sensed the woman was quite annoyed with him for supporting her suggestion. "Captain, the next time you lobby for support... keep it to yourself!" she grunted.

"You are a scientist who hates war... I remember reading. Surely you think the idea of negotiation is much more profitable than..."

She cut him off. "What's that little room?" Dr. Moore pointed to a small door with a guard posted outside.

"A civilian... we found her in the caves... spelunking without authorization..."

Rayna tossed down her hand of cards on the upturned crate in front of her. Private Phillips sat across from her on a stool, laying down her hand. "That's a full house for me... and a royal flush. Good hand."

"Why does this happen every time I end up in another new time?" Rayna muttered crossly, drawing her knees up on the cot and hugging them to her chest. "Nobody ever believes me... and if I tried to explain, they wouldn't believe me anyway."

"If you would tell me the right story... you'd be making this much easier," she said. Someone knocked at the door, breaking the tension. Hopeful, Rayna sat up straighter.

Phillips rose to answer the knock. Immediately she saluted the Army captain framed in the door. With a grin towards Rayna he said, "How's the guest doing?"

"Newest guest?" asked Rayna, getting up from her cot and marching straight up to the door. "Look, I offered UNIT my skills as a geologist... I may know what's going on in those caves..."

"Not that story again miss," sighed Phillips, rolling her eyes.

Yet Rayna stopped when she saw the other person standing out in the hall next to Yates. "Professor Moore," she said nonplussed.

"Do I know you Miss?" asked the woman, puzzled. "You said something about being a geologist."

"Yes... you soon will meet me," explained Rayna, scratching her head. "Oh I mean I'm an American Geology student who..."

"She has no identification..." broke in Yates. Moore held up a restraining hand, and stepped into the room.

"Wait... did you say a geology student from america?"

"Yes... I was in the caves at Cheddar Gorge, and the craziest disturbance was going on... and I fell through a hole in the caverns..." began Rayna eagerly.

A bleeping from Yates' polyvox unit interrupted the promising conversation. "Look, Dr. Moore... we must be getting onto the quarry..."

"Can't it wait?" asked Moore, as Rayna looked imploring at her.

"Afraid not..." said Yates. "We must leave in five minutes."

Torn between listening to this strange girl's intriguing story and some imposed duty, Dr. Moore put her hands on her hips. Rayna had this most unnatural sort of spark in her eyes... that wasn't quite human. Where had she seen this before? "I'm sorry," she whispered to Vitreum. "I must go. But there is someone who will listen to you.."

"Who?"

"UNIT's Scientific Advisor..." she whispered.

All along the walls were placed cardboard boxes of rock samples. Overseeing the delivery to the Doctor's lab was the Brigadier himself. He turned to look out the heavy wooden doorway down the hallway. The door to Weissman's lab was shut firmly as usual. "For the last time," hoped the Brigadier. He'd had quite enough of the volatile physicist.

Stepping quickly down the spiral staircase came the Doctor. With approval he noted the delivery of his new rock samples. "What's keeping my electron microscope?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips.

"That's still a bit long in coming, I'm afraid."

With a toss of his head the Doctor inquired, "Where's Doctor Moore? And Captain Yates?"

"Slight bit of problem getting them off to the quarry... to negotiate with the Engletech people..."

"Engletech?" asked the Doctor, raising one eyebrow.

"A rather troublesome lot..." explained the Brigadier. "Using an old quarry for a blast site."

"Rather better than using caves, eh Brigadier," hinted the Doctor, picking up one of his molecular models and peering at it. "Oh drat... this is definitely not phenoalanine," he muttered.

"Let's not bring that up again," protested Lethbrige-Stuart, widening his eyes.

"Speaking of caves, sir," cut in Benton, carrying a particular box. "Here's the set from Cheddar Gorge..." he announced, handing them to the Doctor.

"Cheddar Gorge eh?" he asked, pouring over the rocks.

"A tourist site," clarified the Brigadier, thankful for the diversion from a sore spot between himself and the Doctor. "Where your assistant disappeared."

"Doc, there was a strange thing... we found a geology student in the caves..."

"Thank you for that refreshing update, Brigadier," recognized the Doctor sarcastically, oblivious to Benton's attempts to gain his attention. He hated to remember Jo's disappearance.

"My men are onto it, I assure you." put in the Brigadier.

"Don't know why I ever let you coerce me into allowing that girl to be my assistant. She comes in here... worming her way into..." just then he stopped and stared at Benton. "Who did you say about the caves?"

"A young girl... a geologist." said Benton.

"Some strange American student who says she was part of a school group. Offered her services as a scientist. Said she was sure what was going on. Usual story," recounted the Brigadier calmly.

Rather disapprovingly he regarded them. "And you mean to say you didn't tell me about this before?"

"Honestly Doctor, if I believed every story a crazy teenager had then I'd never get any work done."

"Humph. Indeed." sniffed the Doctor. "As a matter of fact, why don't you bring her to me to find out for you?"

Lethbrige-Stuart picked up the phone.

Benton opened the door to Rayna, who sat sadly on her bunk. "The Brig wants you to meet someone," he said simply with a smile.

"What now?"

"There's a man who wants to speak to you... come with me." he explained, helping her up.

Rayna followed the Sergeant to a wing of labs. He stopped before one large wooden door and knocked.

"Come in..." burbled a Queen's English accented voice. Benton opened the heavy oak door to a huge room. Filled with a mixture of both old fashioned and new fangled equipment, the lab was quite unique. Conglomerations of erlenmeyer and florence flasks sat alongside bunsen burners on various lab benches. A liquid chromatographer and even a transmission electron microscope stood on their own carts. Rayna even noticed an old fashioned ormolu clock ticking away. The walls were whitewashed brick, with large windows set into them. Wooden shelves held a host of various glass stoppered bottles and polyethylene sprayers full of various chemicals, each neatly identifiable with a neat printed label.

Rayna paused, standing next to one of the three windows which permitted sunlight to enter the room through venetian blinds. Judging from the vast range of scientific apparatus in this Scientific Advisor's lab, she gathered he must be quite a researcher.

"Doc... someone here to see you... that geologist." said Benton to a huddled over figure, busy at work examining a rock sample. The geology student giggled to herself when she observed his unpracticed methods. "She says she's majored in a lot of sciences," put in Benton.

All of a sudden he rose from his work. For a scientist, this white haired fellow wore the most curious clothes; a black velvet smoking jacket with the cuffs of a frilly white shirt protruding from the sleeves, a cravat tie which was a multicolored strip of cloth, and black narrow dress trews.

"What a strange theatrical dude," she mutters with amusement. Indeed he was a unique figure. That frilly shirt reminded her of tapes she'd seen of pop stars of the late sixties, particularly the Beatles and the Who. Yet her mind suddenly numbed when their eyes fixed within each other. Rayna felt the telltale sensation of another Time Lord!

Drawing in her breath she stared at the Doctor. "It's you," she gasps. The deeply lined face and silvery locks framing it hardly resembled the short dark-haired chap in the question marked pullover... and the battered straw hat. "Here in the Twentieth Century." The other fellow must have experienced a similar sensation as well. An uncomfortable silence ensued, neither Time Lord moving or speaking as each scrutinized the other's appearance and mind traces.

"I think," stated the Doctor, breaking the silence. "We must have a serious talk." A strange mental exchange seemed to have taken place in the space of those few brief seconds. "You are a Time Lord... but why are you here?"

Benton found the two suddenly conversing in a weird garbled language totally inhuman to his ears. The syllables caught on his ears when they ran right through his mind.

Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, the Doctor walked around Rayna to Benton. With relief the Sergeant sighed when the Doctor spoke in English once more. "Excellent job Benton," he smiled, a slightly boyish warm smile, but nice nonetheless. "I could use a qualified assistant around my lab."

"Lab assistant?" asked Rayna, turning to face them. "Wait, I'm a graduate of the Academy... and I'm to be relegated to the role as an assistant? Rassilon's Rod, Doctor! I have a masters in Planetary Geology!"

Downtown London flowed thick with afternoon traffic. Minister to Parliament Ethridge shifted anxiously in his seat. The traditional black cab was quick, but in London traffic speed was not of the essence. In fact, even using public transport, one was lucky if he could go even a meter in a minute. Ethridge straightened his striped tie and adjusted his collar. He was dressed in a well pressed dark blue suit, indicative of a meticulous M.P. Drawing his leather briefcase onto his lap, he flipped open the brass catches. Deftly he riffled through several important papers inside.

Big Ben chimed quarter to four. Ethridge opened a manilla envelope labelled "Technological organizations." Since the last session in the House of Commons, it had been his particular responsibility to research the progress of the latest government sponsored bureaus. One name in particular caught his eye. Engletech.

"I must bring this up at the next cabinet meeting," he said. His black taxi rumbled past several UNIT land rovers.

The English countryside spread out in all directions, in a network of interconnecting green fields. Windbreaks of trees separated each irregular plot as mortar separates one stone from another in a rock wall. Hills and meadows rolled gently under the pastures, calm and peaceful.

Yet this tranquil, pretty scene was marred by the presence of a strip mine. Stratified layers of earth were exposed in the huge ugly hole in the earth. This abandoned mine now served another purpose. Instead of exploitation of the earth's resources, it served as a cheap test sight for experimental explosives.

Several Land Rovers pulled into the site. Personnel in hard hats scattered about, planting the next batch of explosives to be tested. UNIT was already arriving with a patrol. Major Bartlett had arrived with Dr. Moore from Cambridge to negotiate with the owners of the zone. Strangely, Moore could swear she had just seen Professor Weissman among the scientists.

"I don't see why the Brigadier won't just shut this place down," complained Dr. Moore, who was a stern upholder of anti-war principals.

However the Major replied, "Better to have UNIT test its weapons here under strict control than under civilians."

"Jolly rum thing," muttered Moore, shoving hands into her coat pockets. "Organized violence."

"I told you a thousand times!" fumed Rayna, smacking her fist down on the lab bench. "I fell through a time disturbance, while I was spelunking!"

"That's all very well, but what the blazes are you doing here? And why?"

"Come on now! Of all the crazy speculations... if you're suspecting me of being a Gallifreyan agent sent here to spy on you or something.... Forget it!"

"The fact remains that you are a Time Lord!" he countered, waving an accusing finger at her. Vitreum noticed his imposing height as he stared wildly down at her. "And you are here meddling in my affairs, wasting my precious time... like the rest of those interfering nitwits! From Gallifrey's future indeed!"

"Believe me it wasn't my idea to come! Why the heck would I choose this lousy decade when I could go any other number of places?" shouted Rayna, glaring back in defiance. Opposition of any height made no difference. "I'm marooned here!" Frustrated and exhausted from the argument, and all the past stresses of the time jaunt, she collapsed into a swivel chair beside the roll-top desk.

Turning his back on her, the Doctor stood adamant, his arms folded stubbornly across his chest. Both Gallifreyans sat in sullen silence. At last a knock at the heavy wooden door broke the tension. Answering it, the Doctor admitted a young lieutenant carrying a ream of computer paper. "Doctor...just some of the latest information you requested. It's scientific data and readings from the magnetic disturbances around Stratford-Upon-Avon."

"Yes, yes, thank you very much," sighed the Doctor, waving the young officer aside. "Just lay it there on the table when you go out, would you."

Turning from the visitor, the Doctor wandered casually over to where Rayna sat. Rayna's last sentence struck something very familiar in him. "Ahem, er Rayna..." he coughed.

"What?" she murmured angrily, head still buried in her hands.

Just then, the Doctor realized that the officer had suddenly disappeared, leaving him alone to confront an angry Rayna. "I am, er... very sorry I suspected you," he began rather awkwardly. "Er, what you said.... about being `stuck' here. You see, I am an exile myself."

Rayna sat up, not even looking at him. "Yeah, so what?" she muttered. Her eyes dejectedly examined a handy poster sized Periodic Table of the Elements hanging on the wall.

Standing by one lab bench, the Doctor nervously rapped his hand on the mica top as he continued his apology. "Quite a terrible blow being marooned, tied to one planet and one time. It's enough to make one extremely bitter now and then, towards er, you know who." With this last phrase he looked briefly up at the ceiling.

"No hard feelings," said Rayna glumly, staring at the Periodic Table.

"Could we, er... since we are in a similar situation. I would really welcome your help here for a while, as a fellow researcher."

"I'd like that, Doctor," replied Rayna, at last turning the chair to face him. There was a trace of a smile on her face, a slight sparkle to her dark eyes. "Like it a lot better than fighting with you, anyway."

There was another uncomfortable pause. Groping for a diversion, the Doctor glanced quickly around the lab. Eyes falling on the sheaves of data, he seized them up in one hand. "It seems that there were some peculiar energy readings from the caves in Cheddar Gorge, a few miles from Stratford."

"Uh huh," agreed Rayna. "I experienced those first hand."

He showed her the next few charts. "Similar readings were detected in a radius of twenty miles. One of them was under the Avon river... another at a blast site."

"Could there be a connection between all of these disturbances?" suggests the geology student, tracing a finger across the page. Taking one graph of the events from each site, she held them out at arms length before the Doctor's face. "These charts look a heck of a lot alike to me."

"Perhaps," mused the Doctor, rubbing his chin. Quite intently he leaned over her, perusing the charts. "Hmm."

"I'd say if these weren't magnetic disturbance charts... they look more like seismograph readings. Funny. Anyway, do you have any rock samples from all these sites?"

"As a matter of fact yes. But for a lack of expertise in geology, I haven't a clue what they mean," sighed the Doctor, dropping the papers on the stack.

"You forget," said Rayna, standing up. "I have an official major in planetary geology."

"What? Oh yes of course!" nodded the Doctor, his own eyes sparkling for a change.

"Let's collaborate! Your expertise and mine," babbled an excited Rayna, sweeping up the sheaf of data, and brandishing it before herself.

"Good then," he nodded, ushering her over to the table of rock samples. "You see, this particular sample has quite a structure."

Picking up one of the samples he indicated, Rayna rotated it in her hands with practiced handling. "Oh, this is common basaltic rock here. Formed in ancient volcanic activity, I'd say."

"Quite. But looking at it under a magnifying glass."

Sliding a pocket magnifier from her vest, she poured over the sample. "If I know my volcanology of the Earth's mesozoic era correctly, metamorphic rocks shouldn't have this crystal content."

"How is that unusual?"

"Well, for the type of volcanos here at the time, the silica should usually bunch up and clump together, be more amorphous... at least I thought it did for this Jurassic basalt..."

Returning to the sample, the Doctor suggested making a slide. Once he peered into the scope, he fiddled with the adjustment knobs. "Strange how the crystals of silica are lined up like the ions in magnetite."

"Doctor? Do you by any chance have a magnetometer here?"

"Indeed I do posses one? But why?" he wondered. Still, he rose from the microscope and politely hunted for the small piece of equipment. No mean task considering the huge clutter of instruments stacked in each cabinet and cardboard box.

A half an hour later, Rayna finally had her magnetometer, and the Doctor was the one looking on for a change. How curious it was for him to be led by the hand for once, by a younger Time Lord of a new, less traditional school. You see, the Doctor's science education on Gallifrey was Prydonian, but was very traditional, like learning the classics at Cambridge. However, Rayna's education was less of the traditional "old school" and more of the liberal arts and sciences. She was from a part of the planet where regulations were different. Ultimately, the analogy was very similar to one present on Earth. Americans were originally an outgrowth of English civilization. Strange how Rayna modelled herself after the Americans, and the more traditional Doctor modelled himself on the British.

They had categorized at least two rock samples from the cave site and the Stratford-On-Avon site. "There's just some discrepancies here," muttered Rayna, dropping her magnifying glass.

"Such as?"

"I'm not sure. It just seems the answer to these disturbances could be written in some of these rocks."

"It would be a matter of finding out what would be characteristic of a disturbance," pointed out the Doctor.

"Actually, its a question of which rocks were affected, and aren't normal. This magnetometer says that some of the rocks are less than their proper age, judging from ancient pole reversals of the past."

"Perhaps what you really need is an electromagnetic characteristic dater."

"`Scuse me for asking, but how would that work for lava? I know that each time the lava is formed, it's pole alignment is frozen forever in time. What you're talking about only works for fluid links in fancy equipment. A rock is not an electromagnet, at least not like your advanced gyroscopic stabilizing setup."

"I could rig one together from parts in me TARDIS. Pass an electric current through your rock, then measure the magnetic fluxes it would have had in the past. Compare that to your data from magnetic field and electric field interaction of that epoch the rock was formed in. A sort of magnetic fingerprint."

"But I'm already doing that with the magnetometer!"

"Rubbish, that primitive piece of equipment only tells you about when a rock was formed. Adapting an electromagnetic characteristic dater for lava'll give you instantaneous comparison with..."

"Okay, okay, it's worth a shot I guess," sighed Rayna. "But you're going to have a heck of a time ripping that out of your time machine."

"No matter that. I was repairing her anyway." Pulling out his key, he crossed over to the Police Box. With a click he unlocked the door. "Come along, you might as well see her," he urged, holding the door open for her.

It wasn't the first time Rayna had entered a TARDIS, but since she hadn't been in one for so long, the initial shock still existed. She saw the familiar raised rows of circles, and the six sided console. But it resembled the TARDIS of that one Doctor... some fellow with curly hair and a long multicolored scarf. Which one was he? Andrew and she had scooped up that dispatch ring, and arrived in a much less modern TARDIS, with a shorter console. This Doctor's TARDIS even more closely resembled what she'd seen in a museum on Gallifrey. "Gosh, a real Type 40," she whistled. The walls were a light aqua green, with one wall comprised almost entirely with flashing computer banks. Multiple corridors led off from the main control room, each one vanishing into infinity. "It's different," she commented. "Interesting decoration."

"From time to time I alter the interior. Gets a bit boring viewing the same six walls all the time."

"I really must get this console working again," explained the Doctor, turning to Rayna. She nodded, following his gaze to the familiar six-sided control console. Rayna noticed the whole console was little more than a sorry tangle of wires and spares. Sadly she ran her hand down the gutted console, almost knowing the frustration this Doctor must have felt, or must feel during his exile. "Er, Doctor... what's wrong with the console?"

"The Time Lords exiled me here. I can't quite get the dematerialization circuit to work," he explained, holding up a small tetrahedronal shaped casing with four endcaps. Carefully he passed it to Rayna to examine.

"I could help you fix this mess, but I've never been great at electronics," said Rayna, watching the white haired fellow. "Compared to what I'm used to running... that is, this is all like ancient."

"Ancient?" asked the Doctor, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes. This is a Type 40 and all," she said, turning over the circuit in her hands. "Bet it uses mercury fluid links. Kind of hazardous. Crystalics are far superior."

"When exactly did you leave Gallifrey?" he asked.

"Er... a long time after you did," she answered.

"Not much of an answer," muttered the Doctor, sweeping the circuit from her hands.

"Where's this electromagnetic characteristic dater?" she wondered, hating to think that he'd have to tear another part from the sorry mess of the console.

"It's in the Fault Locator," he answered, rapidly tearing into one of the main computer banks opposite the door.

"It must have felt so awful for you... stuck here in such a crazy time..." sympathized Rayna. "Loosing portions of your memory. Forgetting time travel and dematerialization."

Suddenly the Doctor turned to stare at her. "You! Do you remember Time Travel theory?"

"Well... I do know how to calculate for dematerialization," she offered. "My theory is a bit rusty, but I could try to help you later on."

"Thank you," said the Doctor, returning to his work. Before long he held a bit of machinery cannibalized from his Fault locator. "Here we are. This should do it."

"Oh, you didn't have to wreck that thing!"

"Are we going to use this or not?" frowned the Doctor suddenly.

"Okay, go ahead," relented Rayna, not altogether sure of what to make of this incarnation. He seemed so churlish, and ostentatious. None of the childlike curiosity of the Seventh.

"Of all the times to meet the Doctor, why did it have to be in his exile?" she wondered, rolling her eyes.

As for the Doctor, he was sifting through the reams of data on the magnetic deviations detected by the UNIT troops. Dozens of sheets of computer paper were piled about the desk where he sat. Positioned on a low table to his left was a complex jumble of circuits, transistors, and wires fashioned into a magnetic characteristic dater. So far, neither scientist had noted anything more unusual about the rock samples, other then the fact that the silica structure was odd. "No change in sample 1040a," he muttered, tapping a number two pencil on the mica topped table.

Rayna lay down her magnifying glass, and sighed. "All these rock samples, and no change, no nothing." She thrust her pencil firmly behind one ear.

The Doctor resumed his check on sample 1040b. He paused to reflect, sticking the pencil in his mouth and mumbling as he worked. He made a habit, playing with writing utensils; Rayna noted his pencil language. Whenever he chewed on the eraser, he was pondering a notion. However, when he was agitated or nervous, he'd violently rotate the pencil or pen between his long white fingers. Once, when he was infuriated with someone, he'd twisted a pencil clean in half.

"You found anything yet?" she asked him.

"Just moderate deviations, quite common for rocks of the Jurassic era," he replied. "So what have you discovered?"

"Absolutely nothing!" grumbled Rayna. "Not a single darn thing out of the ordinary. I've been classifying rocks previously known to science, with no unusual deviations in structure! And to think I said I was a geology student! My theories have more holes than a sieve!"

The Doctor rose from his swivel chair and crossed over to her. "From the looks of your work so far, I'd venture to say that you are quite a reputable geologist."

"Why? Because I can tell basalt from metamorphic rock?" she snapped sullenly. "A child could do that! I'm not cut out for this!"

She felt a large hand gently come to rest on her left shoulder. "Often, the most monumental discoveries made in science result after hours of seemingly routine research," he said softly. "Tell you what, I'll examine my scanner, and you take a little break and think more about your theory. Perhaps there's a malfunction."

Rayna stood up and stretched. She began to wander about the lab, examining the other items lining the walls. An old fashioned transistor radio sat upon the table near the window. Flipping it on, Rayna sent classical music drifting faintly through the Doctor's lab. Meanwhile, the Doctor had started to fiddle with a piece of electronic gadgetry from his improvised scanner. He hummed delightedly to the music as he worked, clipping various wires here and there with a pair of small pliers. His long white fingers skillfully manipulated various tools. "If only I enjoyed what I did that well," she thought, watching his progress with a note of admiration.

Over the radio blared the news update. Rayna put her head between her hands and stared at its silver speaker. "This is BBC news... at half past the hour," spoke a proper voice in Queen's English. "Today in events, the international situation in Central america has..."

"Typical turmoil," sighed Rayna, shaking her head.

"In Parliament today, the new budget plan for Britain's technology was reviewed. Several private organizations will be affected as well. Yet M.P. Ethridge stated a list of eligible candidates that may prove prosperous from government aid... a most ironic suggestion, claimed Secretary Masterson."

"Excellent show," commented the Doctor, from across the room. He gazed intently at the radio now.

"Who is this Ethridge guy?" asked Rayna.

"Quite a respectable fellow. He's lobbying for government support of any organization of technology that will uphold improvements for Earth."

"Politicians are all the same," dismissed Rayna with a wave of one hand. "All they do is make life harder for free thought."

"This just in," said the announcer. "The well known seismologist, Dr. Alverez Moore, has become the chief negotiator against the use of an old quarry for a blast test site. She has mysteriously gone missing... during the course of her research."

"Good night," exclaimed Rayna in surprise. "Wonder what happened to her? Hope she's okay. Quarries are real dangerous places."

"Perhaps she's gone somewhere quiet to think away from UNIT's omnipotent soldiers," suggested the Doctor, screwing a new capacitor into his magnetic characteristic dater.

"I wonder," mused Rayna, chewing on her right index finger. "I'd like to take a look there myself tomorrow."

A similar night came to the university town of Oxford. Here, the streets and buildings echoed an age long past, when great scholars discerned the world around them in research. However, this particular night fell far into the 1990s.

Sharon sleepily drug her heels into the lounge of the dorm at her college. It had been a long trip back from Avon. Her whole perception of things had been drastically warped spending those past few hours in the Cheddar Gorge caves. One of her good friends had turned up missing, and a strange young woman had appeared in her place. Not to mention there had been an unexplainable earthquake too.

Sitting on an old couch before the color TV were several young women. Lights from the set flickered aimlessly across their faces. Georgianna lay on her side on the thick carpet, closer to the TV. In the distance, they could discern the light plunk of the table tennis ball in the adjoining room mingling with he chatter of the NIGHTLY News.

Georgianna turned to face the girl right behind her on the sofa. "Did you enjoy supper here?" she asked the fair haired stranger she'd met only a few hours before.

"Yes, thank you," came the reply. "It was so nice of you to all take me in... until my friends come for me."

"Where are you from, by the way? You didn't exactly tell us your address."

"Oh, I come from London."

Wearily, Sharon plopped down on the sofa next to the new girl. "No news," she reported.

"Pretty naff," muttered Georgianna. "She was great, protecting us from that cave in and all."

"I forget your name," said Sharon to the new girl.

"I'm Josephine. Call me Jo."

"Call me Georgia," smiled Georgianna.

"I still can't believe you two saved me. Those search parties and all."

"No problem. Just wish we could find Tryni, though."

"Let's face it, Georgia," admitted Sharon. "Something weird is going on at those caves."

"No, I just tell you that she might have come up in another cave somewhere. They'll find her tomorrow, I'll bet."

"I feel pretty out of place," sighed the petite, fair haired Jo.

UNIT's full-time Scientific Advisor, the Doctor, practically lived in his laboratory. He had no place of residence, save UNIT HQ. This night was no different. No different, except for the fact that his new assistant, Jo Grant wasn't there.

Clearing up his lab bench, he shook his head. Strange, he thought, for he only had known her six months, and already, things were not quite the same without her. He smiled slightly. That scatter-brained youth was a welcome company at times, always driving him crazy with her questions. Yet she was comfort, of a sort, making his exile more bearable.

His present assistant was geology enthusiast RaynaVitreum. She was remarkable in many fields of science. Also, she shared his drive for scientific discovery. Once before, he had an assistant who was a fully qualified scientist. Her name was Elizabeth Shaw, a cool and no nonsense researcher from Cambridge. But the eccentric and lively Rayna Vitreum was a far different type of scientist. Always asking so many questions, but not assuming she knew everything already, unlike Liz, who wandered in a closed vacuum of scientific fact. In addition, she was a Gallifreyan Time Lord, like himself. But he still couldn't help but wonder what she was doing here, in the century, during his exile.

The moon shone softly through graphed lines as he approached the window. In this century, he'd seen the human race first put a man on the resplendent white orb, and label it the greatest step in human history. Through the London smog he could still see the twinkling stars of night almost calling him... and he could not journey among them now.

Click! So caught up as he was in his reflection, the Doctor failed to turn around to even see who it was. "Good evening," he said quietly.

"Hi there Doctor," said an American accented voice.

"Oh, hallo Rayna," he replied, turning his wavy haired head. There seemed a distant and sad look in his deeply lined face. Slowly he put down a cup of cold tea.

"You missed a real great dinner tonight," she began. What a dumb small talk item to open a conversation, she scolded herself. Can't you see he's hurting inside? "That bad huh?" she asked him, shifting gears.

"Mm, yes," he nodded, absently turning to a lab bench. Rayna saw the tagboard screen for the ESP cards, the same one he'd set up for her, thinking she was his latest guinea pig. He shuffled the cards for a bit, then tossed them carelessly aside.

"Doctor? Who was this Josie Grant?"

"My latest assistant," he answered.

"Yeah. I bet you miss her a lot. Sorry about that," sympathized Rayna. "But maybe she's just slipped into my time stream... you know, a sort of exchange."

Resting his chin on his hand, the Doctor pursed his lips in thought. Then, a smile spread over his face. "First time exchange student," he chuckled. "Rather like Jo to take a holiday now."

"What's she like?"

The Doctor was momentarily at a loss. "Oh, I don't quite know how to describe her really," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "Bit of a featherhead sometimes. Asks a lot of silly questions now and then, but rather good company."

"Questions are important to ask in science," pointed out Rayna. "That's how you get answers." She'd just sat down at the lab bench next to him. "About your research into ESP. Found any humans with latent psychic ability?"

"Oh, that?" he asked. "Just a passing fancy."

"Well, I've always had these telepathic powers myself. Among my gifts I can move matter, Doctor," she told him.

"Let's see this now." Rayna fixed a nearby bunsen burner in a hard stare. With a hiss of gas, the methane tap turned of its own accord. Suddenly it burst into flame.

"Not bad," muttered the Doctor. "What else?"

"I can increase the average kinetic energy of that cup of tea there," she offered, pointing to the bone china cup sitting at the Doctor's elbow. Slowly, steam began to rise from its surface. Within thirty seconds the cup rattled in its saucer as the kinetic energy brought the water to a rolling boil. Rayna stared on in delight. But then her face contorted under a sudden strain. "Rats... I think I'm loosing it!" she gasped. Vibrating furiously like there was an earthquake, the teacup nearly jumped three feet before sailing off onto the floor out of control with a sicking crash.

"Oh! I'm so sorry Doctor! Your bone china!" gasped Rayna, watching the Doctor, who dropped to his haunches and examined the shards.

"Ever tried molecular reorganization?"

"What?"

"A sort of sticking the molecules back together," he said, scooping up the shattered remains of his teacup and holding them up before her.

"How the heck would I do it?"

"The molecular structure of this isn't too difficult. Come on, let's give it a try," he urged her. Carefully he placed the shards into her hand. Rayna fixed the cup in a hard stare, and drew in her breath. Nothing.

"It's not working."

"Visualize the structure... macromolecular." Again Rayna tried, grunting with the challenge of a new task. Yet she snorted out her spent breath in despair.

"I just can't do this!" she shouted, in frustration.

"Rayna, relax..." he said calmly.

"I know the cotton-picking thing is just a teacup, but why can't I?"

"Take a deep breath... in and out. Focus your mind. It's only a teacup, after all." His calm face looked down into hers.

A jangling shattered the tense moment. "Excuse me a moment," he apologized, rushing over to one corner where the phone was ringing.

Vitreum stared angrily at the shards on the table. Then, she spotted the Doctor's molecular tinker toys. "Mm, phenoalanin," she muttered, picking up the model of the substance the Doctor had made and discarded on his lab bench. Definitely pre-molecular orbital theory, she thought, noting the absence of proper bond angles. Molecular models. Glancing around, she spotted the crockery cabinet, which held duplicate teacups. "Oh..." she gasped suddenly. Grasping up the shards, she crossed over to the cabinet.

"Yes, I want that magnifuser now! And that scanning electron microscope!" snapped the Doctor into the phone. "What? You don't have one readily available! Of all the unstocked..."

"Doctor! I did it!" cried Rayna.

"Excuse me. Call back later, when you're properly equipped," he snorted and clapped down the receiver. "What is it?"

Rayna had the completed teacup in hand. At first he thought she was excited about her success gluing the remains back together. "Good job," he said. "Now I won't have to break the set."

"No, look at your gizmo!"

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, as she raced over to the bench where his electromagnetic characteristic dater stood.

"Electron covalent bonds!" she chattered. "These rocks are behaving like a conductor... like a metal. You know how poles reverse due to spinning electrons?"

"Yes, but surely that came from the machine's own magnetic field... what specifically are you referring to?"

"This rock here! The readings were not because the scope was wrong. It was what it was measuring. You thought it was time.... but the rock itself keeps switching its poles," she rattled on excitedly. In one hand she brandished the sheaf of new data. "Look, it all fits!"

Rapidly the Doctor scanned the data. "The rocks are creating the magnetic disturbance..."

"And what do all the sites have in common? Basaltic Jurassic lava! The rocks are transmitting the magnetic field via their electrons, and that's why the poles inverted so fast!"

"Eureka!" he laughed, grasping Rayna's hands and whirling her about with glee. At last they'd solved the riddle.

"A new dance, Doctor?"

Quite embarrassed, the Doctor stared right at the amused grinning face of the Brigadier. "Ahem, well I was just er..."

He released Rayna's hands.

"We made a scientific discovery," she explained, coming to his rescue.

Rayna jerked up to a sitting position. Darkness lay menacing about her. The very air reeked with foreboding. Wet with cold sweat, she slid out of the bed and quickly pulled on some clothing. She had to warn the Doctor! In her sleep she saw him lying on the floor of his lab, murdered!

Once in the hall she tiptoed to the lab. Footfalls resonated the floor under her feet. Silently she raced into the lab, ducking under the nearest trestle table. All was still and dim save the horizontal chinks of light cast through the venetian blinds. Pieces of equipment gleamed ghostly in the dark lab, cloaked in strange shadows. She crawled under the tables towards the back.

Peering through the dark, Rayna made out the spiral staircase leading up to the Doctor's living area. A heavily carved dresser sat opposite a brass bed, in the upper loft area. She could look up through the grille floor upstairs. Rayna's acute night hearing only picked up his breathing and the faint ticking of an old fashioned alarm clock at the Doctor's nightstand.

Suddenly, another sound joined these. A sound of feet in the hall. Rayna felt the presence of two other minds. Tensing in concentration, she deciphered them. Plotting, scheming, and hidden with shadow. She froze. A few clicks as the door handle flicked up and down. The door swung open, admitting a pair of stalking shadows. They stalked towards the spiral staircase. Quickly she dove under a lab table. One pair of feet stopped right where Rayna was hiding. Both her hearts sped up into double time. Could he hear her rapid noisy breathing? She wrestled for self control, groping for a plan.

They began to ascend the staircase. The Doctor moaned and stirred with a rustle of sheets, but did not wake. Rayna shot him a mental warning. With a click, one assassin loaded his weapon, releasing the safety catch. Rayna moved closer still, till she was directly behind the man. Shrieking, Rayna grabbed the gun arm, forcing it up. There was a flash and a BANG!

Rayna groaned as her opponent twisted her arm behind her back. She fought back, bashing her foot down on his. Meanwhile, the Doctor's tall form was visible wrestling with his would be murderer. He tossed the man down the staircase. At last Rayna broke free, and switched the light on. She saw two masked men in black, one of them racing towards her. Powerfully she kicked him away.

Quite a sight in his silk pajamas, the tall white haired Doctor assumed a karate stance. He looked for all the world like a fighter in karate gi from a marshal arts movie. His opponent charged at him, brandishing a knife. In one swift move, the Doctor plucked the blade from his hand, then "Hai!", hurled him

effortlessly towards the wall.

Clutching a flask, Rayna was cornered. "Doctor, your bathrobe!" she called, sweeping the robe off the hook, passing it to the Doctor. Hopefully he could use it in his fight. She got a savage elbow in the mid section for that.

"Excuse me," coughed the Doctor, tapping the man on one shoulder. The assassin turned and swung the scientist a left hook. Bending over, the Doctor ducked the swath. All of a sudden, the man found a bathrobe over his head, and a Venusian karate grip to his neck veins. Mumbling, he flopped to the floor. Calmly the Doctor retrieved the bathrobe, dusting it off before slipping it on over his pajamas. He rushed towards Rayna, who still doubled over in pain. "Are you alright?" he asked, leaning over her in concern, his hands reaching to help her up. Rayna's brown eyes widened in horror as she looked up at him. "What is the matter?"

What the Doctor failed to notice was the recovering first assassin, the heavier one that had attacked Rayna, creeping up behind him. He found himself in a half nelson, gurgling. Desperately he tried to throw his attacker over his head, but he was far too heavy. Rayna grabbed a flask from a nearby table and whacked the assassin over the head. It shattered immediately upon impact, dousing the fellow with 2 molar hydrochloric acid.

Just then, the Brigadier burst in with a security team. "We heard a shot! What happened?" he exclaimed.

"Goodness me," gasped the Doctor, leaning over the injured Rayna. He squinted, his chest heaving up and down from the surges of adrenaline coursing through his system. "I am receiving a good many visitors tonight."

The Brigadier bit his lip. "Yes Doctor, all very well. But who are these chaps?"

"Assassins, Brigadier," said the Doctor, wiping sweat from his brow. "I believe someone's not pleased with my recent experiments. If Miss Vitreum had not been here, I might have been killed." As usual, the Doctor's deductive mind was hard at work. He pressed a chemical thermal pack to her bruised abdomen, obtained from the Brigadier.

"Take these two away," ordered the Brigadier, indicating the two unconscious men. Several of the troopers drug the men from the lab.

"Some one must be very anxious to stop me from discovering the cause of those magnetic disturbances lately," breathed the Doctor, shutting his eyes as he sat on the floor to regain his strength. Rayna huddled against the wall, looking rather sick.

The Brigadier sighed. As always, the Doctor had assumed complete control over the situation. But he had to admit that the Doctor was persistent. "Excellent job, Miss Vitreum," complimented the Brigadier, after hearing the Doctor's story. Rayna herself was none the worse for wear after the situation. In fact she had handled herself rather well. "That was very brave of you to save the Doctor's life."

"I don't believe it," she replied, through deep breaths. "I was scared to death, and I saved someone's life with hardly an organized plan?"

"Frankly Miss Vitreum, it's often like that for me as well,"

admitted the Brigadier. "You sometimes must improvise, and go with the best you have."

"The best you have, eh," repeated the Doctor, patting her shoulder. "I think the best I could have now is a nice cup of tea."

"Ice," muttered Rayna, leaning against the wall and hugging her stomach.

"Yes?" sailed the Doctor's voice from above.

"Where is Moore?"

"Quite simple really. Our Brigadier packed her off to Avon."

"Now come Doctor," interrupted Lethbrige-Stuart, rising from an armchair. "It was her idea to go!"

"How convenient," muttered Rayna. Then, straining her head around she asked. "When's she coming back?"

"I expect she'll call shortly," said the Brigadier, sipping his mug of tea. "That is, if Yates has found her."

Down the stairs came the Doctor. This time, he wore a dark burgundy smoking jacket, and the usual narrow dress slacks. However, the neck of his shirt was open, the wide collar splayed free, absent any sort of cravat tie. Instead of fancy leather shoes he wore a pair of high cut leather riding boots, that came to his knees. There was a jubilant air about him, as if the whole idea of danger was a thrilling adventure to be met with casual audaciousness. He rapidly began to pack a variety of equipment into a black leather physician's bag.

"Going off somewhere, Doctor?" asked the Brigadier suspiciously.

"Precisely. I'm off to that mysterious quarry, my dear Brigadier to find our seismologist friend," answered the Doctor. "And Rayna Vitreum is accompanying me," he added, nodding towards Rayna.

"Are you sure?" asked Vitreum, jumping at the chance to get away from UNIT. "You want me to come with you, after all the hassles and disagreements..."

"Of course I do. You're the geology expert, remember," he reminded her, playfully tapping her nose.

"Just one moment, Doctor," interrupted the Brigadier, blocking the door. "I cannot allow this gallivanting of yours!"

"And why not?" frowned the Doctor, his keen eyes fixing on the Brigadier.

"First," began the Brigadier, as if fishing for a reason. "Miss Vitreum is in UNIT's custody."

"Rats!" exclaimed Rayna in disgust, slapping her forehead. "Always these technicalities!"

"And..."

"And second, as commanding officer, I have the duty to deny any activity that may seriously endanger the lives of employees," he ended, folding his arms across his uniformed chest.

"My dear Brigadier," patronized the Doctor. "You know me better than that. In reply to your reasons, I am indeed an employee of UNIT, yes. But if Rayna Vitreum remains under my supervision, she is officially still under UNIT custody."

"He's right there, sir. And Moore may need help."

"Yes Doctor," sighed the Brigadier. "But there is a party attempting to stop you. They won't stop short of anything, considering how they tried to just kill you."

"There are indeed risks to us all," explained the Doctor gently. "But you know most of all that UNIT's business and success depend on the risk of danger, and fewer lives will be risked if I find out what's going on. It's my job, remember."

Defeated once more by the Doctor's impeccable logic, the Brigadier consented. "Alright Doctor. But do be careful. Keep in radio contact regularly."

"You won't regret it," said the Doctor, shaking his hand. Sweeping a cloak from the hat stand, he turned to Rayna. "Come along then, Rayna. Time we were off now." Quite impressively he pulled on the flowing opera coat.

"About time too," responded Rayna, pulling on a brown overcoat she'd been lent by Private Phillips. "Let's find Moore." Casually she tossed a long pastel striped muffler around her neck and followed the tall graceful figure of the Doctor out of the lab.

"Of course!" exclaimed the Doctor indignantly. "My `Bessie' runs quite well for her age!"

" `Bessie?'" smiled Rayna. "Cute! She's great Doctor! Real work of art. I like her lots!"

Hastily the Doctor unbuckled the leather strap holding the hood down, checking the engine. Deciding all was shipshape, he replaced the hood firmly. Then he slid into the driver seat behind the wheel. "Hop in," he invited, nodding to the front passenger's seat. "It will be a pleasant drive, I assure you!"

For a moment, Rayna ran her hand over the smooth yellow paint of the roadster. Excitedly she swung into the seat beside the fellow. "She's a real beaut, Doc."

"A what?" inquired the Doctor, not accustomed to the American slang expression.

"A real beauty, Doctor."

"Ah yes," he agreed. Patting the dashboard, he asked, "Aren't you a beauty, old girl?"

As if in response to his fond gesture and question, `Bessie' purred happily into life.

"Inconceivable," returned the calm reply, a young and rather high pitched melodic voice. "Any suspicious people were already eliminated, or are convinced otherwise."

"You've overlooked one particular person," insisted the Professor. "UNIT's Scientific Advisor!"

"The mission to procure the necessary government support has been successful," it reported. "Mr. Ethridge been briefed of our goals."

"But," interrupted the Professor. "UNIT's Scientific Advisor has been collecting rock samples from both Cheddar gorge and the quarry!"

The scant lighting revealed the sillouhette of a slender female. She strode calmly into view, clad in her violet dress and tall white boots. "Did I hear you say that United Nations Intelligence Taskforce knows of Project Groundhog? At the Avon quarry?"

"That man has received rock samples from there! All week?"

"Who is this man?"

"Er, a doctor. Doctor John Smith, I think.. or was it Jones," stammered Weissman uncertainly. "I can't quite remember his name!"

"I researched a file on that mysterious character. It accounted his presence at one of our last science press clubs. Reviews said he was quite an arrogant man. His latest research is into parapsychology... totally ignorant of anything we were doing."

"But the man has incredible scientific curiosity," broke in Weissman. "His interests are so diverse. Just recently his assistant vanished in the Cheddar Gorge caves."

"Thank you Weissman," said the woman. "You have been most helpful with your information. Be assured that your exponential generator will receive highest priority." Weissman departed, a look of blind bliss on his face.

"Now Powell. You must transport Minister of Parliament Ethridge to the site. His influence could be vital to the reputation and funding of our agency."

"Have I yet failed you in my duty to Engletech?" she asked herself.

"All will be clear once you see the test sight."

"How fast does she go, Cynthia?"

"Plenty fast for our purposes," answered Cynthia Powell, matter of factly. "And that's Ms. Powell to you, Mr. Ethridge."

Ethridge settled into his seat, shrugging. "I see," he murmured. The sports car roared rapidly into life under Powell's control. Her red lips bore a slight smile as the engine revved up to full throttle. As the car roared out of the garage, a license plate was visible. "VIXEN" was what it said.

Speeding along the M-1 in "Bessie" was exhilarating, to say the least. With her face to the open wind, hair streaming out behind her, Rayna really enjoyed her drive with this Doctor in his little roadster. She saw everything from huge trucks called "lorries" to an old American Ford Mustang, circa 1968. Before them, not too far ahead, drove a 1973 Mercedies. "This car's

keeping up pretty good, Doctor," she yelled over whistling air.

Hunched over the steering wheel, the Doctor nodded. He clearly loved driving his sprightly yellow auto. Wind ruffled his silvery-white hair, still tinged with a disappearing auburn. His sharp hazel eyes glued firmly to the road ahead of them. "Where are we now?" he asked, without turning his head to her. Beside him, Rayna unfolded a road map from the glove compartment and spread it out over her knees. Occasionally, the ends of her long muffler blew over the map, blocking the facsimile of the M-1. "According to this rather primitive directional guide, you are passing out of Westminster. If you stay left, you'll be ready for the next exit."

A white BMW rumbled past, neglecting to use its turn signal. The Doctor muttered something unflattering under his breath. Absorbed in the road, he sat rigid in his black cloak. He noted a black Fiero. Next to him, Rayna amusedly noted his fascination for fancy sports cars. Reading deeper she surmised his obsession with any sort of vehicle that moved.

At this time Rayna spotted a red Porsche 1975 cruising several cars behind them. Prodding the Doctor, she directed his attention to it. "Hey Doc! Look at that 4 wheeled streamlined classic."

"Well, well," observed the Doctor through the rear-view mirror. "A Porsche-Audi 1975!"

It passed the seven cars in front of it, sideling up to their left. Inside, minister Ethridge and escort Powell rode speedily towards the northeast. "Hey, Ms. Powell," said Ethridge. "An Edwardian roadster! And in vintage condition too!"

Dressed in a set of trendy clothes, Cynthia Powell pushed up her sunglasses and stared at him. "We are not here to look at classic junque, sir," she stated coolly. "You said you would concentrate on the project."

Honking "Bessie's" old fashioned horn, the Doctor waved appreciatively to the Porsche. "Nice piece of technology you have there!" he called. The well dressed man in the passenger's seat grinned and returned the wave. Rayna herself raised her tie-dyed bandanna in greeting. As "Bessie" pulled past the sports car, the woman in the driver's seat cast Rayna a sour look.

"Funny," noted Ethridge. "That car travels pretty fast for an Edwardian."

"Who does that old bloke think he is?" muttered Cynthia, obviously agitated. "Can't he see I'm in a hurry?"

"That older gent and his companion seemed rather polite," protested Ethridge. Foot on the accelerator, Cynthia zoomed past the roadster. Then, with sport gloves on the padded wheel, she swerved rapidly into the lane ahead of it. Nodding with smug self approval, she smiled with pleasure having put the fellow in his proper place.

Rayna read her thoughts as the Porsche sped past. "What a real witch!" she exclaimed, disgustedly stuffing her bandanna back into a deep pocket. "Some humans think they own the road!"

"Let's show the youngster a little something, then," muttered the Doctor, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Leather driving glove on the throttle, he opened up on the special fuel mixture. "Bessie" sped faster, catching up with the Porsche. "Not very polite today, are we?"

"Why that old crock!" spat Cynthia, to Ethridge's disapproval. "Older cars should be banned on motorways!"

"That was quite rude, Cynthia," scolded Ethridge, not caring about formalities. "That old gent was cordial."

"I'm in a hurry. Besides, he was driving under minimum."

When she saw the old roadster pass her car, and a number of others as well, Cynthia became incensed. They were fast approaching the turnoff for the quarry. The older fellow in the edwardian auto was bound for the same destination as Ethridge and she. Once more, she accelerated past them, burning rubber at nearly ninety miles per hour. Not to be outdone, the Doctor opened up on the throttle once more, quickly catching up. By now several other cars lined up behind the Doctor's car. "Doctor! The exit's right there!" alerted Rayna. "You'll miss it!"

With a mighty swerve that almost flung Rayna out of the passenger seat, the Doctor shot past the Porsche and out the exit. Several cars behind him burst forth in rapid succession, like soda rushing out of a pressured bottle.

Another swerve tossed Rayna against his shoulder. Screechingly the car pulled to a halt on the roadside. "Whoa!" gasped Rayna, shaking her head. "Inertia brakes, huh?"

"Top of the class," he responded, helping her to sit up again. "Where are we now, Rayna?"

"Uh, somewhere near Leamington Spa, I think," came her hesitant answer as she rapidly examined the map. "Keep going a few miles down this road, then pick up the M-31 near the Spa."

Resuming his seat, the Doctor fired up "Bessie's" engine.

The vast gravel pit sloped its grim sides all around. Shimmering pools lay at the bottom, each a pristine blue. It was like another planet. Rocks rolled and pricked under their feet as the tall white haired Doctor and Rayna Vitreum searched for rock samples.

A patrol of khaki suited soldiers randomly dotted the floor of an adjoining strip mine. Even their drab uniforms seemed cheerful next to the dreary grey rocks. They'd been there since yesterday morning, transferred from their previous Stratford Upon Avon encampment. Standing impressively in commissioned officer's braid, a Captain and a major confronted the dark suited mine owners.

"I assure you that our new explosive is much more adequate than current UNIT stocks," said Jung.

Interested, Major Bartlett peered inquisitively at him. "Well, that may be so," he admitted, masking his sudden interest. "But has this explosive been properly tested?"

Jung calmly assured him, "All of Engletech's explosives are most soundly scientifically developed!"

Captain Yates stepped forwards. "Perhaps your explosives experts could test both UNIT's top line blasting gel and Engletech's lot?" he suggested.

"Sergeant!" barked Major Bartlett. "Fetch 300 kilos of top line blastignite!"

Jung nodded mysteriously at Yates. "She is safe, you know," he said.

"Hmm," muttered the Doctor next to her. He looked over some device of his own design.

Suddenly, her face lit up with a characteristic excited expression. "Hey! Look at the magnetometer!" she exclaimed. "It's going crazy, like in the lab yesterday!"

Eyes glinting like the blue pools in the gravel pits, the Doctor dropped to his knee beside her. "Most intriguing," he said calmly. "The periods of deviation between displacement are exactly the same as the oscillations on my device's indicator."

Rayna grabbed her compass, lifting the mirrored lid. The little red needle spun wildly from north to south, then oriented itself to east west. Holding the compass, she suddenly froze. A pulsing in the air arrested her senses.

Noticing Rayna's frozen stance, the Doctor took the compass from her fingers. "Rayna? Are you alright?" he asked.

"Its the same pulsing feeling, Doctor," she said. "What I felt in the cave, before the time slip."

"This magnetic disturbance, relative to time, sounds very familiar to me," mused the Doctor, running fingers through his thick wavy hair.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Rayna. She took her compass back, holding it in her left hand. Stepped a few paces east, turning abruptly west. Continuing this crazy pattern of zigzagging, she headed further and further towards the quarry.

Hurriedly, the Doctor joined her. "May I enquire what you mean to accomplish by this action?"

"Sure. I think that if I follow the compass deviations, I can follow them to the source." She looked up at him triumphantly, hoping her hypothesis was right this time.

Most approvingly he smiled at her, like a teacher whose favorite student is on the right track of a math problem. "Excellent," he complimented. "But there is a far more effective means of pinpointing a time disturbance." Thus saying, he reached into his black leather bag and drew out an improvised magnetic force distortion detector.

"Argh!" groaned Rayna. "Where is my brain?"

"Perhaps this time the poles will properly align themselves," hoped the assistant chief researcher, Saunders. A pair of goggles were pushed up absently onto his sweaty forehead. "Keep your fingers crossed, then," suggested the Indian scientist to his left, Rajiv Padyesh. This fellow slid down his protective tinted goggles. "Add the isotope now?"

"Correct. The Professor's lab notes are very specific."

Workers in radiation suits trundled out a lead lined crate painted bright yellow. With thick gloved hands manipulating tongs, one drew out a small transparent glass cylinder. "I always did wonder why we had to use the isotope at all since this is a magnetic generator."

"Until we find a more efficient means of producing the initial electricity, we must be content with a Uranium 235 isotope reactor to make the initial starting power."

"I see," muttered Rajiv to himself. "Standing by."

"Raise the B field setting, and program for maximum phase. We must have full polar inversional deviation."

"What about that scientist that vanished last time? Frankly I'm worried about this level of radiation."

"You can't make an omelette without breaking some eggs," rationalized Saunders coolly. "Besides, he could have just gotten lost in the caves during the confusion."

"Standby," nodded Jung.

"Benton, set them up," ordered Yates.

"Gel is all go," rapped a technician.

"Blastignite ready," called Benton.

"Do we have your approval, Weissman?" asked Jung to the short researcher to his left.

"Go ahead, sir. Everybody's out of the way."

Accordingly the UNIT troops and the Engletech men bustled behind huge concrete walls of an improvised bunker. Moore gritted her teeth in sheer distaste. It was an abandoned quarry, but still the thought of explosions went against many of her closely held principals.

Inside her head, the pulsing grew to a steady humming. That same fearful sense of the unnatural rushed over her intuition once more. "Hey Doc, are you sure its that way?" However, the Doctor paid little attention to her warnings, enraptured as he was in the flickering digital numbers on his device. The two metallic rod sensors protruding from the top of the rectangular casing leapt madly from their holes. A periodic beeping grew to a steady drone, like the clicks on a Geiger counter for radiation.

"But sir, aren't the explosives being tested today?"

"That's far away from here! The Professor gave explicit orders that the schedule must be maintained for maximum efficiency!"

"Grease the wheels of progress?"

"Exactly."

"Reactor at full now! Setting the dynamo... and B field!" Tensely as before, Padyesh cranked the circular dial for polar inversion. Compasses spun like wild. To his relief, the radiation meter dropped. "Magnetic polarization is at a maximum now! We have perpetual motion now!" It was like this before.

Radiation dropped... and the dynamo would work on full magnetic power as the poles of the giant magnet switched... electrons sheared off one source and passing perpetual from magnet to power system. That is, if nothing else disrupted the cave system. Strange how the clock seemed to crawl so slowly during this trial.

"Grease the wheels of progress?" he heard himself ask again.

"Exactly..." Hadn't Saunders just said that word the same way, with that same exact gleam in his eye?

High pitched whines shrilled from the magnetic detector on the Doctor's gizmo. "Eureka Rayna!" he announced, pointing in the direction of a set of caves. Set into the valley wall they were.

"Doctor, I don't think we should go any further now," said Rayna, rubbing her forehead. She stared intently at a bleeping box clipped to her belt. A waveform traced itself on the miniature screen. "My seismograph number four is picking up tremors... three on the Richter scale."

"Where's your sense of adventure? The crust moves all the time," dismissed the Doctor mildly.

"Right in league with my sense of caution and my common sense," she retorted. "And we're not near a regular fault line!" To his surprise, the metal device tugged at the Doctor's hand. Although he struggled fiercely to keep his hold, the gizmo flew from his aching fingers. "Of course! A magnetic field attracts!" he announced.

Rayna's compass also sailed from her hand, crashing into a nearby rock. "Oh, brilliant deduction," she muttered sarcastically.

Distant explosions caught the Doctor's ears. To his horror, he realized that they were getting closer. "We've walked into a live field!" Suddenly the ground blew up around them, its shockwave catapulting the two Time Lords backwards. Vitreum clapped her hands to her head in agony. Waves surged in her telepathic time sense. Chronal energy fluxed and flowed, and accordingly she saw the rocks blur, almost like lava. Nearly red hot with radiation they gleaming, ready to uncongeal.

"No! It's a time disturbance, just like the one in the cave!" cried Rayna in fear. "And all the explosions were set off prematurely!"

"Great balls of fire! Run Rayna!" he bellowed, tugging her to her feet and racing off.

"Wait up!" cried Rayna, struggling to keep up with the long legged fellow. "Hey, you!" Already he was six paces well ahead of her and gaining. Hands firmly clenched her seismography monitor. Vibrations were escalating to nearly five point six on the Richter scale. Was it just the explosions? Or was the earth itself quaking? "Doctor! Watch the rocks!" Adrenaline surged, granting her the extra strength to slog on.

Another fountain of earth spouted beneath her left foot, hurling Rayna ten feet into the air. She crashed flat on her chest, senseless.

Sensing the absence of her footsteps, the Doctor glanced behind him. "Miss Vitreum?" he asked. His eyes registered her inert body laying among the rocks, and quickly he dashed to her side. "Rayna! This is no time to sleep," he cried in frustration, trying to rouse her. Each explosion so far had been similar to the blasts used by UNIT troops, but this last one had taken Rayna totally by surprise. Her dark hair lay askew of her bespectacled face as she lie on one side, dead to the world. Concern for her welfare sparked in him. Desperately he slung her limp form over his broad shoulders, and glanced all around him. Rapidly he trotted off through the smoke towards the cave entrance. He hardly noticed the ground beginning to vibrate under his pounding boots.

"Acknowledged, Saunders," nodded Weissman. "Read the data and record on the computer, like before."

"Acknowledged, sir. I'll double check the circuits..."

"No damage done," he said, glancing quickly over the barren landscape. Slowly he readjusted his watch.

End of part 1!