The music throbbed and pulsed through the big auditorium, multicoloured lights strobing and playing across the room and the large number of people squeezed within it. The sound was almost deafening, but then that was the point. It filled the ears, it filled the mind; and with a few exceptions, mainly those who were on duty or working in some capacity, everyone was adoring it. The party was in full swing, and everyone was having a great time.

Except one.

A tall, graceful dark haired girl picked her way slowly through the dancing mass, intent not on the music or anyone moving around her but on an entirely different objective. Occasionally she'd have to pause or alter her course as one of the dancers attempted to drag her into the fold. She either refused with a polite shake of the head and a wintry smile, or swayed aside and dodged past them. She wasn't here to dance, or to party; she had a far more serious purpose in mind.

Her popularity wasn't to be unexpected. Dressed head-to-toe in a single-piece figure hugging black leather and lycra creation, the girl turned the heads of many of the people within the room, including that of a man sitting at a table on a raised dais to the side of the dance floor. He was a tall, broad shouldered individual approaching early middle age with thinning blonde hair tied back in a pony-tail, and a chiselled handsome face with neatly trimmed golden stubble and cold blue eyes that glittered like chips of ice behind frameless spectacles. He wore an immaculate dark suit, collar buttoned up to the neck, but no tie. A strong aura of wealth and power surrounded him. It was his office building; it was his party. More importantly, it was his money paying for it all.

Lawrence St. John Montrose had worked hard to build his little empire up, and those that worked for him worked hard too - he made certain of that, and woe betide them if they didn't. And it never harmed to show a little appreciation from time to time for their efforts, so periodically he liked to allow them the opportunity to let off a little steam, mix with a few celebs of his acquaintance who owed him a kindness or two (or who wanted a kindness done), drink a little expensive champagne (though not too expensive) and have a party at his expense. Such acts usually paid off quite well, especially in terms of staff loyalty and appreciation for their benefactor. It was a small price to pay, and Montrose was a man who counted the cost of everything, from money to human value. Principally he was concerned only about the cost to himself - what it cost others didn't really matter to him - but he recognised that one couldn't run an organisation such as his without efficient, hardworking staff. You could only take fear so far; sometimes the carrot was better than the stick.

His ruthless business sense - and a distinct moral flexibility - had made him what he was today, ruler of a business enterprise that specialised in... well, anything you cared to mention. Particularly anything that didn't fall within the boundaries of the law, because that was where the money was to made - so long as you were careful.

And Lawrence Montrose was very careful.

Here he was, holding court at his party. Master of all he surveyed. And what he didn't have, and what he wanted of that, he was going to get. By fair means or foul. He knew he was powerful enough now to get that, though he was still sane enough to remember that absolute power corrupts absolutely.

At the moment, at least.

And there, passing before him was definitely something of interest. He twirled the amber liquid in the tall glass in his hand, the ice cubes clinking softly against its side, and studied her carefully as she passed quite close by. She noticed him looking as a blue light strobed over him and offered him a faint smile with a slight incline of her head - as if acknowledging an equal. Montrose's interest increased; it had been a long while since anyone had treated him with a look like that! He responded in kind before the crowd swallowed her up again. He frowned, and motioned a tall, pale sombre man in a black tuxedo forward with a flick of his finger. The man came over and inclined his head to hear over the music.

"Stack, who was that girl?" His voice was deep, plummy, well educated - an illusion he'd mastered long ago. There was little trace of his original backstreet Edinburgh roots. He had occasionally admitted that he'd been to Eton, but in truth only then to break into the Headmasters' office. That he certainly didn't ever admit.

Stack looked up briefly, then murmured into his ear: "I don't know her name, sir. I believe she came in with the Jagger party."

Montrose raised an eyebrow. "Jagger, eh? I didn't know the old boy still had it in him... I'd like to meet that young lady, Stack. Try to arrange it, will you?"

"Sir." He straightened to leave, then Montrose motioned him back.

"First find out if she is with the Jagger party. If she isn't, find out who she is with. If you find she isn't..."

Stack eyed his boss shrewdly. He was well aware of his employers' nose for problems. "Trouble, sir?"

Montrose allowed himself a slight smile. "Of the very nicest sort, I do hope!"

Stack nodded and departed, leaving Montrose to gaze on at the scene before him, alone with his thoughts. A gatecrasher most certainly, but why? She wasn't interested in the party; not a reporter then. She didn't look the type anyway. Which left open only certain types of criminal activity...

"A challenge," he murmured into his drink. "About time..."

***

The big black Rolls Royce rumbled quickly through the dark and silent countryside, engine purring smoothly. Vaidya loved this car; ever since he'd begun making journeys back to Earth he'd developed a passion for driving. Not for the actual cars themselves, as such,; he enjoyed the smooth ride of the Rolls but he'd have been just as happy driving a 2CV or a Reliant Robin. It was the actual driving he liked. Coming from a society where travel was either instantaneous or automatically controlled Vaidya enjoyed the freedom that driving a car allowed. He especially enjoyed driving late at night. The roads were quieter and he appreciated the solitude. It helped him to think.

He cast an eye at the clock in the dashboard: 12.23. Time was marching on. He'd better get a move on if he wanted to be there on time. He had a feeling Hayzel wouldn't welcome a moment of unpunctuality on this particular occasion. But town was only minutes away. There was still plenty of time. Still, better safe than sorry...

He eased the pedal closer to the floor and the car picked up speed.

***

Hayzel wasn't sure of this plan. She didn't like all the attention she was getting. Worse still, her principal opponent had spotted her and they'd made eye contact; it was definitely too soon for that. The guy was no mug, she read that from the comprehensive dossier that had been provided. But he was fallible; he was vain. Hosting a party in your own headquarters only a few floors from some of your most valuable secrets and commodities was not the most sensible idea in the world, but then what did the guy have to fear? His security arrangements were second to none; he had highly trained operatives all over the place, not to mention a multitude of surveillance equipment and electronic scanning devices. And given the man's reputation, only a total idiot would attempt to steal from the infamous Lawrence Montrose. The man had a reputation for dealing with crime against himself in his own painful way...

No, the question was what did she have to fear; by the standards of the period she came from, his equipment was obsolete and easily jammed, and his guards, well... Hayzel had fought Cybermen in hand-to-hand combat, not to mention a variety of other rumoured-to-be difficult to stop killing machines - non-human or otherwise. A few muscle-bound half-primates with rudimentary weapons and close combat skills would be child's play.

Except for the fact that she wasn't allowed to kill any of them.

Welcome to the new regime, kid, she told herself ruefully.

The entrance to the hallway leading to the executive elevator was set just outside the auditorium, virtually out of sight, which was helpful. One of the aforementioned half-primates was guarding the entrance, hands folded across his stomach, a surprisingly alert look across his face. His employer also had a reputation for being none-too forgiving of those employees who fouled-up. Hayzel had already spotted the bulge of a weapon beneath his well-tailored jacket. Gorillas or not, she reminded herself that she mustn't underestimate these people for a single instant. She'd be dead - or worse - if she did.

She tuned in on the music around her, swaying and gyrating softly in time with the beat as she slowly danced towards the guard, trying to look the part of one of the guests. She held a cocktail glass in one hand, taking care not to slop any of the liquid - which she'd placed in there herself earlier - onto the floor. Dyane had told her that just a drop of her magic knockout elixir would do the trick, but Hayzel was taking no chances.

The guard noticed her approaching and fixed her warily with his gaze. He was a big man with a heavy tan - artificially created, she guessed - and an expensive looking fashionable haircut. He wasn't unpleasant looking, which it made a little more plausible as to why she'd sauntered over. Hayzel put on what she hoped was a suitably seductive expression. This was really Chlorys' sort of thing, she reflected sardonically. Oh well, needs must...

"Hi there..."

"Hello," he replied cautiously. His eyes never left her face. A nasty thought entered her mind; supposing he isn't interested? She had to get him to retreat back out of sight some how. Just batting him aside wouldn't be prudent.

"You work here?" She raised the glass to her lips and pretended to sip, working on appearing to be intoxicated. Just another party drunk...

"I do," he stated. His eyes left her face momentarily to glance at the rest of her, and they paused briefly before returning. His stoic expression softened.

He's interested, she smirked inside.

"So, ah, must be pretty boring just standing here all night, huh?"

He shrugged. "It's what I'm paid for."

"You don't get to leave all night? Too bad..." Hayzel reached up slowly and trailed a free finger up and down the lapel of his jacket. He didn't seem to mind, surprise, surprise...

"I get relieved..." he smirked.

Hayzel allowed herself to smirk too. "Who gets to relieve you?"

"My buddy. He'll take over at one-thirty."

"One-thirty?" Hayzel pretended to blink blearily at her watch. "Too bad... I was looking for a little relief myself." Ouch, she thought. How Chlorys managed to survive with corny lines like that...

She took a step forward. He retreated back, maintaining a gap between them, but it was narrowing with each movement. Another couple of steps and they'd be out of sight...

"Were you now?" A grin started to crack across his face.

She pouted. "But I'm not sure I want to wait 'til then..."

Another step. Nearly there...

He held out his hands, stopping her, and shook his head regretfully.

"Sorry... but I have to stay here. You wouldn't want me to get in trouble with my boss now, would you?" he added condescendingly.

Rats, and so close too. It would have to do.

She pulled a sulky face. "Awww... shame. This party needs a few more guys like you on the floor." Which is where you'll be in 10 seconds, she thought determinedly.

"Maybe later..." he said hopefully.

"Maybe..." she said coyly, raising her glass again. "Drink?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not on duty."

"Spoilsport!" she giggled, then flung the contents in his face, taking him completely by surprise. He had time to blink instinctively, draw in a sharp breath - then he collapsed. Hayzel caught him deftly and pulled him out of sight, checking carefully to make sure no one had seen her. Then she pressed the button to call the lift. She'd have to move quickly now.

She checked him over as she waited for the lift to arrive. He was out cold. She patted his cheek and reminded herself to congratulate Dyane when she got back.

If she got back...

***

The lift journey was quick and easy, and she reached her destination floor with no interruptions. She stepped cautiously out into the long door-lined corridor, looking around for more guards. She knew there'd be plenty on this level. A slight whirring sound came from above and she looked up into the video camera pointed at her head. She gave it a cheeky wave, knowing she was invisible. The equipment wired into her clothing rendered her that way to every form of surveillance, scanning and tracking device known to man at this time.

At least she hoped so, anyway.

She pulled a slender wand from her sleeve and pointed it upward towards the ceiling. The lighting was fairly low, but it was still too bright, and she'd always preferred the cover of darkness. She touched a control and the lights buzzed and went out. The emergency lights sparked, then they went out too. Hayzel smiled and slid the wand back into her sleeve, then touched a control on her watch, setting a field that would wipe out short-range radio communication as well. Covering all possibilities...

From further down the corridor, she heard a groan of displeasure, and a torch beam suddenly arced across a wall in front of her, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps along an intersecting corridor close by. Hayzel padded quickly forward and crouched by the entrance, poised to strike. She didn't have to wait long. A man in a dark uniform carrying a machine pistol wandered through, slowly passing his torch from side to side and swearing softly at the electrical company. Hayzel waited until he passed through then chopped at his neck. The man collapsed with a surprised grunt, weapon and torch clattering to the floor.

Hayzel heard another voice down the corridor. She scooped up the torch and switched it off, kicked the weapon aside and grasped the man by the scruff of the neck, dragging him out of sight of the entrance just as another torch beam flashed down the corridor. Hayzel ducked back and grabbed the machine pistol on the floor, crouching by the wall again as the newcomer approached. For a moment Hayzel toyed with the gun, seriously tempted... "Naw... orders is orders!" she whispered. She reversed the weapon so the butt was pointing away from her, and flung herself round the corner. She came in under the guards' torch beam and he never saw her in time. Hayzel drove the weapon into the pit of his stomach, doubling him over, then smashed him over the head with it. He went down like a stone.

Two down, several hundred to go, knowing her luck.

After breaking into one of the offices that lined the corridor and hiding the bodies inside it, she padded quickly and quietly past, heading for her main objective; the boss-man's office. Right at the end of the corridor. She encountered no more guards along the way, but behind her she could hear raised voices. There were no alarms - she suspected that he wouldn't want to cause his guests any inconvenience. He was quite protective of his newfound celebrity status. That would soon change, she reflected wryly.

A fancy electronic lock that would have had even the best locksmith scratching his head sealed Montrose's door; Hayzel had a device in her pocket that made short work of it in seconds. There was a click and the door unlocked. Hayzel paused, consulting her 'watch'. The display indicated a life sign barely a few metres from the door. Last line of defence, she surmised. Bad luck for them.

Hayzel grasped the handle and swung the door open, ducking back to the side as she did. There was the soft 'phft' sound of a silenced weapon firing and something zipped through the doorway and cracked into the wall at the end of the hallway. She couldn't tell if it was a bullet or dart, but she didn't really care. There was another yell far behind her in the corridor, and running footsteps. The pack was closing in...

Now if she'd had a gun, she could have just blasted the guard inside and had done with it. But she didn't have that luxury, so she had to improvise. She whipped the wand from her sleeve and flung it into the darkened room. There was a clatter and thump as it struck something and hit the floor. It fooled the guard, who fired after it, and as he did so, Hayzel leapt into the room and flung herself at the dark shape silhouetted by the dim light filtering through the blinds that covered the picture window behind the big desk in front of it. The guard barely had time to turn round, let alone fire another shot, and in seconds he was unconscious.

Hayzel retrieved the wand and moved quickly behind the desk and ran her hands down its side drawers until she located the one she was after. Its lock provided as little difficulty as the one on the door and she soon yanked it open.

Inside was a laptop computer. She pulled it clear, opened it up and switched it on. "How quaint," she murmured. While it booted up she withdrew another device, a slim plastic wafer full of tiny filaments, and slotted it into the computers' floppy disc-drive. The wafer, in fact a highly sophisticated computer, warbled as it made the connection to the other machines' hard-drive, and it began to download the data Hayzel was sent to retrieve...

Thumping footsteps in the hall outside. Hayzel's head snapped up, just as a man came running into the room. He gave a yell when he spotted Hayzel and swung his gun round to cover her. He didn't shoot, somewhat to her surprise. The weapon didn't have a silencer, she noticed, so perhaps Montrose didn't want his guests to be privy to any executions. Or maybe he wanted to take her alive; that would make more sense. Her hand groped across the surface of the desk for a weapon, and encountered a large glass ashtray. She clenched it in her hand...

"Hands up!" he yelled.

"Get real!" snapped Hayzel, and flung the ashtray with unerring accuracy at the man's exposed throat. He staggered back, dropped his gun and clutched at his throat before sinking painfully to his knees, making desperate gurgling noises as he tried to regain the ability to breathe.

The wafer chirped again and Hayzel yanked it free. A burst of static crackled from the laptop's speaker as the screen erupted into a storm of pixels. There was a sharp buzzing sound and a minute flash, followed by a puff of smoke. The laptop died; Montrose wouldn't be using that one again, nor any of the information contained on it. Hayzel slid the wafer back into her top and patted it in satisfaction. That should please Vaidya. Now for part two...

More running footsteps outside. Hayzel vaulted nimbly over the desk to face the newcomers; two guards this time. They had barely had time to register that the groaning thing on the carpet was one of their colleagues before a fury of fists and feet laid into them and they were as helpless and senseless as he was.

Then Hayzel was running back down the corridor, but when she reached the end she did not turn towards the lift but the other way instead, towards the service stairwell. Just as well; there were shouts behind her, and the soft repetitive pop pop of an automatic silenced weapon fired at her back. All the bullets missed. Hayzel hit the stairwell door and ran up; she met a man coming down at a high rate of knots and simply grabbed his arm and gave his flight further impetus. He crashed to the bottom of the landing in a boneless heap. Hayzel was already half way up the stairs before the man had even landed.

More guards ran up the stairs, to join those who came out from the corridor. One of them pointed up triumphantly. "That way only leads to the roof - we got her! Come on!"

They charged up after her, guns ready...

***

Hayzel slammed through the door at the top and kicked it shut, jamming a nearby plank of wood under the door handle to keep it shut, though she knew it wouldn't hold them long. But then, she didn't need long. She stepped back slowly towards the edge of the roof, gazing around her. Montrose's office block was by far the largest building in the city and there was a spectacular view of the surrounding area, even at night. The night air was refreshingly cool after the smoky atmosphere of the party and the canned taste of the conditioned air in the offices.

"Come on, come on... I know you're there..." she muttered.

"Expecting someone?"

A sardonic voice drifted from behind the concrete block that housed the elevator machinery. A second later, a tall figure emerged, accompanied by half a dozen or so other men. Hayzel snapped her head round, saw who it was, and nodded.

"Possibly. Fancy meeting you up here, Mr Montrose. I do apologise for dragging you away from your party. Please, don't abandon your guests on my account!"

Montrose smiled laconically. "I think my guests can survive without their host for a little while." He stepped closer, studying her carefully. "My dear, you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don't know yours."

She shrugged, still backing slowly away. The edge of the roof was almost right behind her now. Stack, standing behind his master, motioned to the guards around them and they began to fan out, weapons at the ready. She eyed them warily.

"What's in a name?" she asked.

"Identity," he stated bluntly, then he laughed. "I do so hate killing someone without being introduced first."

"Ah, is that what you're going to do? Kill me?"

His voice hardened. "Only if you persist in playing silly games."

Hayzel favoured him coldly. "I don't play silly games, and this certainly isn't one, unless your definition of games differs radically from mine."

He grinned. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me all about what games you like to play, and I'll reciprocate."

She grinned back. "Some other time."

"I think now is quite a good time... though I'd prefer if you started by telling me exactly why you're here, and why you destroyed a rather valuable piece of equipment of mine downstairs."

"Of yours? I thought you'd stolen it."

"Not stolen," he corrected mildly. "It was... bequeathed to me. By an old friend."

"Did your 'old friend' tell you what was contained within it?"

"Some rather valuable information."

Hayzel wagged a finger. "Incorrect. Some rather deadly information. Had you used it, you and your entire organisation would have been completely destroyed. And possibly most of the planet Earth with it."

Montrose raised his eyebrows. "Indeed! How so?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

He folded his arms casually and smiled patiently. "Try me."

"If you wish... do you believe in extraterrestrials, Mr Montrose?"

He pondered for a moment. "Well, the universe being the size it is, only a fool would believe that humanity is the only species. But as for whether or not I believe in flying saucers, little green men..."

She interrupted. "Not little green men... big green men. A particularly war-like species known as the Veltrochni, who don't particularly like their little secrets falling into the hands of half-evolved primitives." She smiled sweetly. "No offence!"

Montrose chuckled darkly. "None taken... so you mean to tell me that had I used this information..."

"No, just looking at it would have sufficed. Your, ah, friend, was a Dr Kenji Matsuda?"

"Correct."

"A scientist working - or at least was - in a space laboratory orbiting your planet?"

"My planet?" he began to laugh, then noticed she wasn't and stopped. "That's right. He was working on the Coral Sea station before it-"

"Before it was destroyed in what your authorities believe to be a freak accident. It was no freak accident, Mr Montrose. The Veltrochni had the station destroyed before the information, which Dr Matsuda or one of his colleagues and their scanning equipment had stumbled upon, could be passed on."

Montrose narrowed his eyes. "But it was passed on. Dr Matsuda alone survived, along with the information, which he'd had the foresight to download onto his laptop. He was quite lucky to get to the escape pod in time."

"His luck soon ran out," she observed dryly.

Montrose shrugged. "He was greedy. He tried to play me against a few of my, ah, competitors. I don't like people who renege on deals made in good faith. Especially after they've taken my money." He frowned. "But why am I doing all the explaining? Tell me more about why this information is so lethal."

She considered for a moment. She still needed a little time after all. She hoped Vaidya wouldn't be late - that would be very awkward, if not for her, then for Montrose...

"It's a very remarkable program which adapts itself when activated to be used on any form of computer, no matter how basic."

"How do you know I haven't already activated it?" he asked slowly.

"You're still here," she said simply.

He bowed his head ironically. "Touché."

"When it discovers it's not in the hands of the right operator, it sends a distress signal. And then the Veltrochni come running."

"Hence the destruction of the Coral Sea."

She nodded. "Exactly."

"And they'd do the same... here?"

"Oh yes. They'd wipe out this area first, then probably obliterate most of your civilisation just to ensure nobody else saw what they were trying to create."

"Which is? I have to ask..." he added slyly.

"I wouldn't," she stated. "Not that I believe you wouldn't understand, but if you did understand..." she mimed an explosion in the air.

Montrose puffed out cheeks and whistled in amazement. "Deadly data indeed! Can you, ah, actually prove any of this?"

"I thought you'd ask that!" she said dryly. She reached up to pull something out of her top. The guards raised their weapons. Hayzel froze. "May I?" she asked. Montrose nodded, indicating to the guards to relax. She pulled a floppy disc out and tossed it to him. "On that you'll find a confidential report from the chief UN Scientific Advisor assigned to investigating the disaster to the UN Space Security Committee. It details some rather interesting findings, like what caused the unusually high radiation burst that destroyed the station, plus a video file of a rather intriguing sighting the crew made before they all died."

Montrose tapped the disc against his cheek. "Fascinating. Would you care to tell me how you came by this information?"

Hayzel folded her arms. "I would not, no."

He turned around and exchanged a glance with Stack, who was standing beside him. Stack just blinked. He knew better than to offer an opinion.

"Well, well... and I always thought I was ruthless. You live and you learn."

"A sensible philosophy," remarked Hayzel.

Montrose looked at her again with a twisted smile on his face. "If this is the case, then it appears I owe you a debt of gratitude."

Hayzel inclined her head. "You're welcome."

"It still doesn't explain why."

"Why? Because we-" she hastily corrected herself, "I don't want to see the Earth destroyed."

But Montrose had heard. He smiled slowly. "Oh, 'we' don't, do we? And who is 'we'?"

She hesitated. "The Royal We?"

He shook his head. "Not good enough. You intrigue me, young lady. A very great deal. So much so, that we simply must chat again." He looked at his watch. "Say in about, ten minutes, in my private interview room in the basement?" He gave her a grim smile of icy politeness. "You do understand that I must see to my guests first."

"But of course," she replied sarcastically, mimicking his lordly tone. "And I hope you understand that I must decline your... kind offer..."

His sinister smile widened. "Oh but I insist... I haven't had such a charming visitor in weeks, and I'm sure we'll have much to discuss." He motioned the guards' forward.

Hayzel stepped back onto the ledge and held up a hand. "I don't think so, thank you very much. It's time I was leaving."

Montrose sighed. "Don't be silly. You've no where left to run, and that drop will kill you. As you don't look like you have a parachute beneath that rather fetching outfit, and as my guards at the foot of the building don't report either a long rope hanging down or a large mattress in the street, you're coming with us." He snapped his fingers. "Now!"

The guards stepped forward, weapons levelled. Hayzel sighed and raised her arms above her head...

And did a neat backward somersault flip over the edge.

"No!" yelled Montrose, dashing forward to grab her. He peered over the edge, almost dreading what he was going to see...

What he did see made him gasp in astonishment.

"I don't believe it!"

***

Hayzel spun rapidly downwards, the ground racing up to meet her. She reached over and touched a control on her bracelet, activating the anti-gravity lifters built into the soles of her boots. At once her descent slowed, though she used the device to make sure her fall wasn't too slow. There were a lot of people milling around at the bottom by the entrance to the block, mainly onlookers or guests, but there were several guards too. If one looked up - as someone surely would eventually - she'd be spotted and she'd have to make more of a fight of her escape.

She saw the flash of fast approaching headlights and heard the faint squeal of tires on the night breeze. Right on time, she thought. The new guy is punctual, if nothing else.

The crowd at the bottom heard the car approaching too and heads began to turn. Guards raised walkie-talkies to their mouths for instructions. A reply crackled back urgently.

They all looked up as one in amazement.

Hayzel landed lightly on her feet almost right next to one of them. He gaped at her in almost comical surprise before she flattened him with a roundhouse kick. The crowd began to whoop and shout. Some of them thought this was some entertainment laid on by Montrose. The other guards began to push through, yelling and shouting. They weren't armed, but there were enough of them to make fighting them all off potentially hazardous.

An engine roared and headlights swept across the building. A big black Rolls-Royce screeched to a halt, passenger door popping open as it did. Hayzel dived in and the car roared off again, door slamming closed as it did, leaving crowd and guards alike to gape at its passage...

***

On top of the roof, Stack was issuing a stream of instructions into his walkie-talkie, getting a pursuit organised. To his surprise, Montrose laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"Don't bother, Stack," he said. "It's not worth the effort."

"Sir?" Stack frowned. This wasn't like him...

Montrose looked at his subordinate and smiled. "I have a feeling that young lady will prove too elusive for us, if she is what I think she is." He slapped Stack on the back in a rare show of bonhomie. "Anyway, I owe her one, and besides..." he gazed out across the darkened city before and chuckled.

"I have a feeling we'll be meeting again..."

Then he turned on his heel and stalked back to the stairs. He had a party to see to.

***

Hayzel leaned back into the plush leather seat and let out a relieved breath. "Nice timing!"

Vaidya looked round at her and grinned, putting his foot down to get as much distance as possible between them and any likely pursuers. "But of course! You manage okay?"

"But of course!" she mimicked. She reached into her top and pulled out the wafer. "To be returned to the Veltrochni?"

Vaidya's lips twitched. "Eventually."

"Uh-huh," she murmured noncommittally. She tried not to think too much about the more mysterious side of her new job. She felt she might have a change of heart about carrying on if she did.

"Enjoy the party?" he chuckled.

"There was a party?" she replied nonchalantly. "I didn't notice..."

"All work and no play..." he began playfully.

"I don't play, Captain," she responded frostily.

"Not Captain, if you please," he chided gently. "Just Vaidya will do."

Hayzel shrugged. "Whatever." She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, grateful for the opportunity to take a breather after her exertions. It also gave her time to reflect on the mission.

She'd been a little surprised when Vaidya had offered to act in this support role for the mission, though as he was the one who'd planned it she shouldn't have been. Perhaps she was still used to the old ways; Lavarre very rarely came out into the field, and only then after the target had been subdued and he wanted the luxury of a final gloat. Vaidya was obviously keen on a more hands-on approach.

Hayzel found the thought curiously arresting.

Turning her mind - a little reluctantly - back to the issue of Vaidya's appearance here, there was logic to it. As the eyes of his masters, the Time Lords (or more precisely the TCD), he would be expected to monitor that they were complying with the new death-less way of things, and from the very start ensure that they were keeping to their side of the bargain. There might be problems if he continually interfered in this way - Hayzel hated random variables in her missions, always had - but she was aware that Vaidya's role was principally that of advisor and overseer. Probably he had missions of his own to take care of. But he was still required to independently check in on them.

Independently of Chris that was. Chris was probably the only person in the new regime Vaidya didn't doubt in that respect, and his belief seemed to be being proven. Their new leader had thrown himself into his new role with unbounded enthusiasm, running around the house like a kid in a toyshop (she smiled at the comparison; it really wasn't far from the truth), chatting with everyone, discussing plans for the future, etc. etc.... It was hard not to get caught up in his enthusiasm. Even Dyane had been seen to smile, which was an event in itself.

She wondered at first if Chris would see Vaidya as some sort of challenge to his authority, but the two men seemed to share a mutual respect, and Vaidya rarely intervened in any of Chris' discussion sessions. But then Chris was connected to the Doctor; that seemingly magical bond she would have scorned at, if she hadn't met the legend herself a few weeks back. Vaidya too had had some connection with the Doctor apparently, though she didn't know what. She thought it would be interesting to find out.

Vaidya flicked a glance at the dozing girl, wondering what she was thinking about. He had a darn good guess at what, but didn't voice it. He let her rest for a few more minutes, content to watch the neon glare of the city streets fade into the welcoming blanket darkness of the country, one eye always on the rear view mirror for chasers. Then finally he asked:

"Did you make contact with Montrose?"

"Yes," she replied pointedly, eyes still closed. "I made contact with him, and several of his guards."

Concern flickered across his face. "No broken bones?"

She opened her eyes and glanced at him, trying to interpret his expression. "Who, me or them?"

He winked, expression changing to a good-natured leer. "Both!"

She sighed wearily. "Well, there'll be more than a few people waking up with headaches tomorrow... plus the prospect of finding a new job."

"If they're lucky," murmured Vaidya. He checked the mirror. Nobody chasing yet... maybe he wouldn't bother.

She looked at him sharply. "If that's the case, why didn't you allow me to kill them? It would have made things a lot easier."

Her matter-of-fact tone made him frown. She still had a lot to learn. "Because we don't do things like that anymore, do we?" he replied patiently.

She shrugged. "If you say so..."

"I do," he snapped. Then his face softened. "There's a big difference, you know."

"Is there? They'll end up dead either way, most probably."

"True..." he turned and looked her straight in the eye. "But you didn't kill them."

"Might just as well have done," she grunted. "Montrose doesn't strike me as the forgiving type."

"Like Lavarre?" he replied innocently.

Hayzel winced. Her dungeon experience still lingered in her mind and haunted her nightmares. "Nobody could be like him..."

"Exactly... you beat Montrose and his forces fair and square. He'll be grateful for the lesson."

She glanced at him again. "Is that what it was?"

He shrugged. "Sort of." He paused, then: "He'll be more ready next time."

Hayzel glared at him. "Next time?"

Vaidya smiled grimly. "Yes. Next time. We might need Mr Montrose's services in future. He could be very useful. We'll need a few useful contacts like him for our operations to succeed."

She frowned at him. "Why do we need contacts like him? With the sort of connections you've got, why do you need to consort with a criminal like Montrose? Considering how technologically disadvantaged his era is..."

Vaidya shook his head. "Incorrect. Early 21st century Earth is more advanced than you know. Also, it's a very pivotal era in their history. Did you know that in the year 2003 alone there were 48 separate contacts between humanity and alien life?"

She wasn't convinced. "It still doesn't give me the why. You're a Time Lord. You could have zapped into Montrose's office, got the disk and zapped out again. You didn't need me to do that!"

"Oh yes I did," he said firmly. He took a deep breath. "Look, for reasons which I don't have time to explain now, the Time Lords are not in a position at the moment to undertake every little break in time that occurs."

"Little?" she laughed incredulously. "Vaidya, the planet was going to be destroyed. That would really put a crimp in the time line!"

"Yes," he explained patiently, "but in their eyes how it happened is just a little thing. A freak accident. It happens from time to time. Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn't." He paused. "But this case was no accident. It was planned. That Veltrochni data should never have come anywhere near the range of those puny receivers on that station."

"But it did," she said heavily.

"Oh yes. Something caused a flaw that enabled the data to slip through. That's why we were sent in."

She flung her arms up in disgust. "To clean up the mess? Terrific! I was afraid that's what we would become. Time Lord garbage disposal!"

He looked at her levelly. "Hayzel, this was more than just a clean up mission."

She glanced at him. He was deadly serious. "There's more to it?"

He gave her a disapproving look. "You already knew that. Besides," he added quietly, "Why else would the Doctor be so keen to get us involved? He's practically handpicked us all. I suspect it might be because of our independence from them."

That gave her cause for thought. "Good point... so what is it we're fighting then?

He shrugged. "I don't know." He caught her disbelieving look and laughed. "Honest, I don't!"

"How about the Doctor? Does he know?" she asked coldly. She knew something of his reputation for keeping certain things to himself, though she'd heard he'd put all that behind him. Obviously she heard wrong.

But his reply worried her.

He looked almost embarrassed. "Well, to be honest... he's not sure either."

"What! Come on..."

"It's true!" he insisted. "Look, all he knows - and all I know - is that there is an increasing number of these tiny breaks, flaws, distortions what have you, in the established time line. Little... problems... are cropping up all over. This business with the Veltrochni data is just one of them."

"Cause?"

He shook his head. "Unknown," he replied. Then he added quietly: "But whatever it is, it's very powerful, and its attacks are increasing in number."

"And that's not enough to make the Time Lords sit up and take notice? Great!"

He looked at her sharply. "Oh, they've noticed. It's just they lack the resources to investigate. Hence..."

"Hence we get involved."

"Correct. That way, if it does prove to be nothing, they haven't wasted their valuable time." The scorn in his voice was almost tangible, and Hayzel's initial impression that Vaidya didn't quite regard the Time Lords in high esteem was strengthened. "And if it does prove to be something serious, whatever information we provide in the course of our operations may prove helpful in launching a full-scale assault." He smiled grimly. "We're the path-finders, if you like. And a very dark path it's going to turn out to be."

She looked at him coldly as realisation sunk in. "We're being used to flush this thing into the open, aren't we? That's all this is. We're bait!"

To her surprise he grinned. "Looks that way, don't it?"

"Goddess! If the others find out..."

"Oh, I'm quite sure they'll figure it out," he observed dryly. "In fact, I'm counting on it."

"What! Why?"

He smirked. "It wouldn't be in your best interests to trust the Time Lords too much, now. Too many people have relied on them in the past - and suffered for it." His expression clouded for an instant. "Better if we remained as independent as possible, don't you think? The less we have to do with them, the better." He gazed at her through hooded eyes and added enigmatically: "Just in case."

She looked at him for a moment, then laughed. "Trust the Time Lords, sure... tell me, do you fall into that equation?"

Now he laughed. "Very definitely!"

"And Montrose?"

"Him especially! He'll be useful, nothing more."

"He's dangerous," she warned.

He grinned at her. "Aren't we all?"

"Untrustworthy," she continued.

"He can be bought. And I have it in my power to meet his price."

She narrowed her eyes. She still didn't like it. "I'm not sure I like your choice of allies..."

He gave her a sideways look full of meaning. "I'm not crazy about some of them either."

She shook her head wearily. It was becoming too much for her battle-weary brain to comprehend. For this kind of argument, she needed support - and a good night's sleep. "Oh, let's just go home, huh?"

"Oh? Don't you want to experience the thrill of a high speed pursuit?" he giggled. "Montrose is sure to be after us..."

"No," she stated firmly. "I just want to go home. I've had enough for one day." Of everything, she didn't add.

He shrugged. He had better things to do as well, truth be told. "Fair enough."

He leaned over and pressed a red button set into the dashboard. All of a sudden the dark outside the car shimmered and blurred...

And cleared to reveal a long, low room lined with cluttered shelves and full of objects of various sizes hidden under tarpaulins - the house garage. The car came slowly to a halt in front of the wall at the end and Vaidya switched off the engine.

"Home sweet home!" he declared cheerfully.

"Hallelujah," she muttered, and flung open the door, stepping out. She wrinkled her nose at the musty smell in the big room and flapped at one of the covered shapes as she passed towards the door at the top of a small flight of steps. "I thought you were clearing all this old junk out."

Vaidya slammed his door shut and came round to the front of the car, peering at some blemish he'd spotted on the bonnet. "I will be... though there's some interesting stuff down here. Some of you lot were quite collectors, weren't you?"

She grunted, not really interested anymore, flexing her shoulders and stretching her limbs languidly as a tired stiffness began to settle into her body. A sure sign of old age, she observed ruefully to herself, and plucked at her now crumpled and dusty outfit, which was clinging to her stickily after her exertions. "I'll glad to get out of this," she yawned, stretching her arms above her head.

Vaidya had stopped what he was doing, distracted by her stretching exercise. It was an impressive sight, made all the better by her figure-hugging outfit - grimy or not. "Why? I think it's very nice. You look... good," he finished lamely.

Their eyes met and held for a moment, then Hayzel looked hurriedly away, and Vaidya turned his attention back to the car, clearing his throat. "Damn dust," he muttered.

"Yeah, I noticed too," she said, trying to clear something that was making her throat dry as well. "Though I'll blame the party. All that shouting over the music, and the smoke..."

Vaidya raised his eyebrows and grinned. "You socialising? That I wish I'd seen!"

"Huh!" she grumped, heading up the stairs and opening the door. "Just part of the act. I'm not the party type."

"That's a comment I'd have expected from Dyane, not you," he called back.

She paused on the threshold and smirked. "If Dyane went to a party, I expect she'd poison the punch, and turn the sound system into a brain-liquefying sonic weapon."

Vaidya laughed. He'd already noticed the others less-than warm attitude towards their fellow member, and as was his nature, he'd taken an interest in her at once. Kindred spirit, perhaps? He'd see. "That would put a dampener on things, wouldn't it? But don't do her down too much. There's more to Dyane than you think. She's not quite the jaded cynic she likes to imagine, or present to others."

"Yeah?" she replied sarcastically (and was that a faint pang of jealously she felt? No, just tiredness, she told herself). "I remain to be convinced." Dyane's attitude always infuriated her. When she wanted to be, she was brilliant, a clever thinker and a worthy associate; the knock-out draught she'd provided her with was proof of that. But her cynicism - which manifested in several irritating ways - and solitary ways made communication difficult, and friendship next to impossible. If the team were to function as such, she'd need to make more of an effort. In this kind of work, it didn't pay to have enemies covering your back. Hayzel started to close the door behind her then added meaningfully: "She'd still be the death of any party. Do bear that in mind, won't you?"

Then she was gone, door slamming behind her, causing a trickle of dust to drift down from the ceiling and fall onto the car bonnet. Vaidya frowned, licked his thumb and rubbed it off.

"No... you might say that, love," he murmured wistfully, studying his grimy thumb. "But I'm afraid the party has only just begun..."

He straightened up and plodded up the stairs after her, already planning his next engagement.

There was much to do.

Next: Fatal Equation