Previously:

"How did you survive the Time War?" asked the Doctor.

"They survived through me," replied the Dalek Emperor.

The Dalek saucers moved towards Earth and began launching missiles at the surface. Millions of people were incinerated when the bombs collided with the ground. Entire continents were submerged underwater. "We shall create heaven on Earth!" The Dalek Emperor watched in satisfaction as his brethren invaded Earth.

The chain snapped just as the panel on the console came loose. Rose looked deep into the glowing vortex of energy which the console contained. The heart of the TARDIS. A thin column of light streamed out of it and into her eyes. The TARDIS dematerialised and spun through the vortex. Back to the Game Station.

After using the powers of the vortex to incinerate the Dalek fleet. The Doctor took Rose in his arms and kissed her deeply. The TARDIS reabsorbed the powers of the vortex and trapped them back beneath the console. The spectacular gold-and-white light show ended. All was calm.

The Doctor carried the unconscious Rose back into the TARDIS. Captain Jack Harkness arrived only to see the time ship leaving without him. With a look of sad resignation, he turned and left.

***

The man was well-dressed. He was wearing a smart, black suit. Complete with shirt and tie. His close-cropped black hair, pale green eyes and slightly tanned complexion were enough to give him the illusion of being Human. He was, in the Human sense of the word, quite handsome. He wondered how many of those would feel the same way if they saw his true visage. He was standing, admiring the Shakynada, in Xekros IV's Universe-renowned Museum of Rare and Priceless Artefacts. The Shakynada was a sculpture from the past of a planet that no longer existed. It had been this man's first contribution to the Museum, and had earned him more than enough credits to buy anything he wanted.

The Shakynada depicted a struggle between two brothers - in primitive wrestling garb - engaged in a battle to the death. No one knew the names of the brothers, no one knew what they fought over. It had been rescued by the man from its planet of origin minutes before the planet itself was consumed in the fires of the Time War.

This was the man's job. He was known throughout Xekros as 'The Collector.' It was his job, which he performed well in his sophisticated space-time vessel, to travel the Universe of space and time and to rescue important artefacts before they were lost to time.

Every exhibit in the Museum was held in a temporal stasis field; if the field was ever to be de-activated, the artefacts would fade from existence. They were the last relics of races that no longer existed.

After completing his daily ritual, the Collector did so enjoy the Shakynada - it often left him wondering if he could visit these planets for longer, learn their true history. However, he was not paid to speculate, only to deliver the artefacts on time - he left the Museum and headed towards Xekros's main spaceport. It was a large, stone-white building; two levels of three spars connected to a central domed building. The spars held docking ports for a number of small shuttles. The central building held all the logistic centres. The miles of runways and hangars held all sorts of vehicles from all over the Universe.

It was a bustling hive of activity; everywhere was the sound of ships taking off, landing, being examined by technicians. Being taken apart and rebuilt by same. There was the caterwaul of drilling, welding, sonic implements, and a variety of noises from the myriad of species who used the port.

The bars here were said to be the roughest in the Universe.

***

The Collector's own vessel, the Tijd, was like a ship found from science-fiction serials of old. A veritable flying saucer. It was made of a polished silver metal that gleamed in the twin yellow suns of Xekros IV. It was capable of travel through space as well as time. It was able to travel through the space-time vortex created by an ancient race of time travellers so long ago.

The Tijd was being fussed over by a group of grey jump suited technicians. Although they all appeared roughly Humanoid - two arms, two legs, one head - this was merely a facade for the tourists; an advanced skin-suit that had been developed by a race of liquid-based beings called the Gabrildeans. Skin-suits were utilised widely throughout the Universe; many, as Humanoids would consider them, ugly species would use them to put their Humanoid colleagues at ease. The Xekrosian's own visage was truly hideous and said to cause madness in anyone who was unfortunate enough to see it.

"Ah. Good to see you, old friend," said a man who was as equally well-dressed as the Collector. He was the Collector's boss, the curator of the Museum. To Humanoids, Xekrosian names were impossible to pronounce, so they tended to use the names given to them by tourists.

"Curator." The Collector nodded curtly at his boss. "I assume you have another assignment for me."

"Not here, Collector," said the Curator in a conspiratorial whisper. "In private."

The Collector nodded once more and gestured to his ship. Taking a device from the pocket of his jacket, he pressed a button and the ramp slowly lowered. "Come on, old friend."

The two ambled up the ramp which swung shut behind them.

***

The Collector and the Curator sat in a well-furnished cabin in the ship. The Collector sat a bottle of Xekrosian Brandy on the table after pouring two large glasses. "Tell me," said the Curator eventually, watching his long-time colleague drink. "Have you ever heard of a device called 'TARDIS'?"

"I've heard of them from the legends of the Time War. Advanced space-time machines; capable of transforming themselves into anything; armed to the teeth, if the legends are true."

"The legends are true," insisted the Curator. His passion was Time War relics. There was a special wing of the Museum dedicated to even the smallest object from the war. Thus far; he had the only surviving Dalek shell - transmatted out of a bunker on Earth a split second before it self-destructed - the last of the De-Mat guns - taken from a Time Lord colony before the Daleks destroyed it - and, if the rumours were to be believed, the heart of a Time Lord - no one knew how he'd gotten hold of that - if, indeed, it was a Time Lord's heart. "And our researchers claim they have found the last TARDIS in existence."

"Really?" The Collector's curiosity was piqued now. He was already a very wealthy, and well-respected man, but capturing a TARDIS would bring him much fame and glory - something he had sought all his life. The one thing he wanted more than anything was for his name to be remembered long after his own death. And it would also cause much more jealousy among his peers; none of them were as skilled, or as regarded, as the Collector was.

The Curator took a sip of the amber-coloured liquid and then set his glass back down on the wooden table. "Mmm-hmm," affirmed the Curator. He was smiling as broadly as his skin-suit would allow. There had been a number of close-calls when suits had started to wear out and people would see patches of the monstrous form within.

The Collector raised his glass to his lips, he took a long drink and then set it down. "So, when and where do I find this TARDIS?" Already, he was itching to get the Tijd into flight. Wanting to find this new exhibit, wanting his money, wanting his fame, fortune and glory.

The Curator leant forward, as if worried about someone overhearing. "Do you remember that other legend we have often spoke of? The rumour that there was a survivor of the Time War?"

"I suppose," hazarded the Collector. "Owing to the survival of the Dalek on Earth; it was always possible that a Time Lord had survived, too. And the fact that you've found a TARDIS would add more credence to that particular rumour."

"Think of it," smiled the Curator. "A Time Lord and his TARDIS. What better exhibit of the Time War could you ask for than that? Two enemies, fighting for mastery over time, side-by-side in the Museum."

"You'd have to start charging double for admission," chuckled the Collector. He suddenly muttered as the skin around his lips creased a little. "I'll have to have that repaired before I leave," he muttered. "One wonders how the Raxacoricofallapatorians used these so effectively, and with so few problems."

"Have you ever been next to a Raxacoricofallapatorian in a skin-suit?" The Curator was shivering at the memory. "Their gas-exchange is extremely poisonous. Not to mention the hideous noise..."

"Anyway," said the Collector, feeling that Slitheen were unimportant when faced with the greatest relic of the Time War. "This TARDIS, where can I find it?"

"Our temporal scans indicate it is about to materialise on Earth. In a region they call the 'Antarctic Circle,' I believe."

"Time zone?"

"Late 22nd century," replied the Curator. "The exact co-ordinates will be relayed to your navigation computer prior to your departure."

"Is there anything else?" asked the Collector. He drained the last of his brandy and then handed the empty glass to a service mechanoid. It trundled away silently. It waited patiently by the Curator, waiting for him to finish his glass.

"I shouldn't think so. Obviously, if there is a Time Lord pilot, I would prefer to have him - or her - alive. But dead is just as good. I just hope the body won't be too badly damaged. Repairing it would probably cost a fortune." The Curator finished his drink and placed it on the mechanoid's tray. The tray disappeared inside its body and it rolled away to the galley.

"And my standard fee?"

"Will be doubled. Tripled, if you bring me a Time Lord."

The Collector smiled. "All is in order, then. You'll soon have the last TARDIS - and the last Time Lord - as proud exhibits in your collection."

The Curator stood up and shook the Collector's hand. He nodded once at his colleague and said, "Good luck, old friend." The Curator turned and disappeared out of the cabin.

The Collector sat down on the double bed. He wasn't sure if the giddy sensation was from the promise of a new adventure, more money, or the drink.

The mechanoid returned a few minutes later; it set down a glass of water and two pink pills on the table. It new it's Master would need them in the morning.

***

The Collector, sitting at the controls of the Tijd, watched as streams of data poured into the ship's complex navigational computer. Plotting a course through the vortex was often difficult; it was a challenge for many ships not to get lost in its ever-changing matrices.

"Alright," said a voice from the comm. The Collector knew it belonged to Control, one of the many operators in the spaceport building who oversaw landings and departures. "The co-ordinates have been fed into the navigation computer. Good luck."

"Thanks. I hope you've transmitted them properly, I'd hate to materialise in a sun," replied the Collector. Although he was jesting, there was a note of seriousness in his voice. In the early days, many Xekrosian ships had been lost in the vortex after receiving incorrect co-ordinates. There were many legends and rumours; sightings of ghost ships within the vortex.

***

The retro-thrusters underneath the Tijd burst into life. The ship slowly sailed into the air; spinning around like a plate-on-a-stick as it did so.

"Bringing temporal engines online."

That was the Collector's voice coming over the comm of the spaceport's equivalent to 'mission control.' A large chamber where several Xekrosian's worked at computers; monitoring the inbound and outbound flights. Control stood at the centre of the room, talking into a headset. "You are cleared to activate temporal engines." Scans showed that there were no anomalies nearby that would interfere with the temporal drive.

The Tijd began to grow indistinct; fading from visual sight, as well as mission control's tracking systems. It had dematerialized smoothly, with no problems.

***

The TARDIS - a battered blue Police Box exterior hiding its amazing interior - raced through the space-time vortex. Its own dematerialization had been nowhere near as smooth as the Tijd's. It was spinning chaotically out of control; it had been heavily damaged during its last encounter with a sinister race called the Daleks. Most of the energy from the Dalek missiles had been vaporised by the force field, but residual energy had caused massive damage to the internal systems.

It turned over wildly; operating on random co-ordinates in the vortex was dangerous. There was no telling where you would end up landing - if you ever did land.

Fortunately, the TARDIS's operator had a habit of defying the odds.

***

"Hey, Rose, are you alright?" asked the Doctor. He was standing over the prone girl; she was recovering from the experience of carrying the soul of the TARDIS within her. Through the power of the vortex, she'd been able to wipe out the Dalek fleet.

"What happened?" Rose got to her feet, with help from the Doctor.

"Don't you remember?" The Time Lord studied his companion thoughtfully. "Nothing?"

"No," Rose said. "Why?"

The Doctor smiled and replied, "No reason."

All of a sudden, warning klaxons blared throughout the console room. The Doctor and Rose raced over to the console. The Doctor hammered several switches and then yelled, "Rose, hold down those two switches!"

Rose grabbed at the two switches the Doctor indicated and tried to force them down. "Doctor, they're stuck!" exclaimed Rose. "I can't get them to move!"

"Damn!" cursed the Time Lord. He abandoned the lever he'd being working on and moved over to Rose's position. Taking something out of his pocket, a slender, tube-like device; he set to work on the console. The device hummed to life, a blue glow at its tip, and the Doctor trained it on the jammed switches. When his work was completed, he forced the two switches down. "There that should..."

Before he could finish speaking, the console room rocked wildly and both he and Rose were thrown to the floor hard. "Or maybe not," groaned Rose. The blonde-haired girl rubbed her sore backside.

The Doctor stood up straight; he grabbed a hold of the guard-rail that lined the console room. He took a firm grip on it and then moved around to where Rose lay prone on the floor. He reached out and grabbed Rose's hand. "Doctor, what's the problem?" Rose clambered to her feet with the Time Lord's assistance.

"The lateral drift compensators were damaged in the attack!" explained the Doctor. "I think we may be in for a bumpy landing!"

Rose studied the Time Lord, her travelling companion: He was a tall man, standing a shade over six-feet, he had short-cropped hair, liquid blue eyes and a dazzling smile that, no matter what the emergency, seemed to project re-assurance. Although he had told Rose several times that his age was nine-hundred, or thereabouts, he seemed no older-looking than a forty-year-old Human. Rose's thoughts were interrupted by the bucking of the TARDIS console room. "Well, a bumpy landing is hardly new for us."

"No," admitted the Doctor sadly. "I wish there was somewhere I could take the TARDIS for an overhaul."

Rose could hear the sad strain of emptiness in the Doctor's words. During the course of her adventures with the Time Lord; she had learned that his home planet, Gallifrey, had been destroyed in a devastating conflict known as the Time War. All his people, his family, his friend, had burned along with the planet.

The Doctor crossed slowly over to the TARDIS console. It was a mushroom-shaped contraption. The underlying infrastructure was a green-organic substance; it was covered by esoteric components that had been built over it in its many years of existence. Apparently, the Doctor had had to rebuild the console on many occasions. The console room itself was a large room; high-domed and there was a large, metallic housing built into the roof which contained the Time Rotor. At the moment, it was jarring wildly in rhythm to a wheezing-groaning noise that pulsed through the ship. Rose could feel the deck below her vibrating with power.

The Doctor hit a series of controls on the console, the pitch of the wheeze-groan changed. Rose knew this was indicative of a landing. She raced over to the console and gripped the brass rail that lined it as tightly as she could. She felt the Doctor's hand reaching out to hold hers. She smiled briefly as she felt his warm fingers encircling hers.

"Hang on!" he yelled over the wheezing-groaning noise.

Rose shut her eyes. She felt the vibrations of the ship run through her. The Time Rotor hammered up and down like crazy; plumes of white smoke began to billow out of the console.

***

The silent, frozen wasteland was suddenly alive with noise; a high pitched grinding noise. It grew louder and louder until it climaxed with the appearance of a blue Police Box. The TARDIS's exterior form.

***

The Doctor grinned enthusiastically and said, "Fantastic!"

He and Rose were lying on the mesh walkway that lined the area directly around the console. Faintly, Rose could see the lash-up of components that sat underneath the console. The Doctor's hand was still grasping hers. She gave it a squeeze to let him know she was still alive. "I take it you're pleased, then?"

"Quite," said the Doctor. He stood up and helped Rose to her feet. He elaborately brushed down his battered leather jacket. "Are you alright?"

Rose shrugged. She was still clad in her grey T-shirt, red jacket and blue jeans. She turned around and gazed into the Doctor's blue eyes with her own brown ones. "I'm fine. So, where are we?"

"Uh," the Doctor went back to the console and brought the screen online. It was like a liquid crystal display common on laptops. He pressed a few switches and the screen showed the outside landscape, along with some information. "Nowhere really interesting. Antarctica, 2170."

"You know, you said to me that the TARDIS could go anywhere in the Universe. To any place or time. Why is it we always seem to end up on, or around, Earth?"

The Doctor muttered a few choice Venusian curses under his breath. Without answering Rose's question, the Doctor pulled a panel off the console and said, "I'm going to have to make some repairs before we can get moving again."

"Oh, yeah? And what am I supposed to do? Sit here and give you cups of tea?" Rose frowned at the Doctor as he seemed to be ignoring her again. Instead, the Time Lord was burying himself in the TARDIS's innards and gleefully tearing burnt circuits and components from the console.

"Why don't you go for a walk?" suggested the Doctor eventually. "Antarctic One should be about two miles east of here."

Rose looked at the empty wasteland that the TARDIS had materialised in.

"Doctor, do you know what happened to Jack?"

"I don't know," admitted the Doctor. "I thought I was going to regenerate again; I didn't really have time to worry if Jack was alive or not. Fortunately, the TARDIS reabsorbed the energy from the vortex just in time." The Doctor examined the lash-up of equipment that made up the TARDIS console. "Anyway, right now, we'll be lucky to move anywhere. Ever."

***

The Doctor was uttering curses in Jovian, Venusian and several other languages. The TARDIS console sparked and billowed smoke as the Doctor's sonic screwdriver plied its energies into repairing the damaged components.

"Going well is it?" asked Rose, chuckling.

The Doctor looked up from his handiwork to glower at Rose. "Why don't you make yourself useful?"

"And do what?" Rose winked. "Would you like me to be your nurse, Doctor?"

"Come over here," said the Doctor, indicating with his finger. Rose joined the Time Lord by the console; the Doctor grabbed the girl's hand and placed it on a small, metallic sphere deep inside the console's innards. "Hold that down, please." While Rose held the device down, the Doctor welded it back in with the sonic screwdriver.

"There we go."

"Finished?"

The Doctor put the console's panel back into place and pressed a few switches. "It'll take about half an hour for the power cells to recharge."

"Well, at least there aren't any rifts around here that can cause problems." Rose looked over at the Doctor, who was still busying himself with pre-flight checks. "There aren't any rifts around here, right?"

"No. But, before we landed, there was a spike in the vortex. As if there was a ship on the same time track as us." The Doctor frowned and brought the TARDIS scanner online. He set it to replay the ship's dizzying flight through the vortex. He suddenly froze the image and pointed excitedly. "There!"

Rose looked at the screen; all she saw was a small dot, a blip. "So?"

"So, there was something there," explained the Doctor. "Someone, or something, followed us here."

***

The Tijd kicked up a storm of ice as it's powerful retro-thrusters burned down on the frozen land below. The Collector had detected the TARDIS in the vortex and trailed it here, setting his ship to materialise a few seconds afterwards. It would be a simple case of snaring the Time Capsule and storing it in a temporal stasis field. The stasis fields aboard the ship were primitive; they would last the flight back to Xekros, though.

His scanners had indicated two life forms within the TARDIS; he wasn't sure, as yet, if either one of them was a Time Lord. A closer scan, once the capsule was in the Tijd's cargo bay, would clear up that little mystery.

***

"There's another ship out there!" hissed the Doctor angrily. "Somehow, someone detected us in the vortex and decided to come snooping!" The Doctor was quickly working on the TARDIS console. Hoping that there would be enough power for an emergency takeoff. The Time Rotor wheezed and began to rise and fall slowly. "Come on, old girl, don't let me down now!"

"Who followed us, Doctor? I thought the Dalek fleet was wiped out?"

"It was," replied the Time Lord. "We saw it happen." The Doctor was, however, in no mood to discuss the 'whys' and 'what's' of the situation. He was too busy trying to make his beleaguered time ship move. The old girl had been through a lot in her many centuries of life. She was as battered, and as scarred, as the Doctor.

***

The Collector watched, on his ship's screen, as the small blue box faded and re-appeared. He did a quick scan of the box's interior. "Engine trouble." He chuckled over the thought of a machine like the TARDIS running out of power.

He slowly, and very carefully, manoeuvred his ship into position over the TARDIS. A tractor beam in the Tijd's under section was brought online by the Collector. A white beam of light engulfed the TARDIS and slowly, but surely, the Police Box was dragged into the Tijd's cargo bay.

***

The TARDIS's console room shook like a leaf in a breeze as the time ship was pulled into the Tijd's belly. The Doctor randomly hit switches and pulled levers on the console, desperately hoping that some combination would bring the TARDIS's ailing engines back online. "Damn it!" cursed the Time Lord. "A hundred years ago, we'd have broken out of three tractor beams like this!"

"What's a tractor beam?" asked Rose.

"It's a gravity beam, used for drawing one ship to another," explained the Doctor hurriedly.

***

The bay in which the TARDIS had been stored was mostly empty, except for a few crates. There was one other object of interest, a small statue. Slowly, the doors of the TARDIS opened up and the Doctor and Rose stepped out. The air was stale, but definitely not toxic. The bay was extremely dark, though. "Recycled air." The Doctor sniffed a bit huffily. He walked around a bit and touched the wall behind the TARDIS, his touch made the lights come on. "Touch activated. So, whoever has us, is Humanoid."

Though the cargo bay was largely empty; there were, however, two flights of stairs at either end of the bay which led to a catwalk a few meters above the floor. It was at the far end of the catwalk that the door - presumably leading to the ship's interior - was located.

"Or it could be something like a Slitheen," suggested Rose worriedly. "Some slavering, horrible, disgusting beast in a suit."

"What, like Jackie?" The Doctor chuckled.

Rose frowned at her friend. "That's my mother you're making fun of."

"Sorry," said the Doctor sheepishly. The Doctor wandered around the cargo bay; he crossed over to where the statue was being held in the stasis field. He reached out to touch it, the field repelled him. "Ouch!" he announced, shaking his shocked finger.

"What's the matter?" Rose joined the Doctor by the statue. Like the Time Lord, she reached out to touch it. The Doctor grabbed her hand before she could do so.

"Temporal stasis field," he explained. "It'll give you a nasty shock."

"What does it do?"

"The stasis field? It holds objects frozen in time." The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and examined the statue. "Wow! This is pretty old."

"Older than you?" grinned Rose.

"Funny," replied the Doctor sarcastically. "It's a statue called Frekesh, it's from a planet that was destroyed..."

"...800,000 years ago," interrupted the voice of the Collector. The Collector joined the Doctor and Rose as they studied the statue. He introduced himself. "I am the Collector; this is my ship, the Tijd." He had remodelled his skin-suit. Basing it on current Earth fashions. He was now dressed in a casual shirt, jacket and trouser combination. All in black. His hair had been grown out a little.

"I'm the Doctor, this is my friend Rose Tyler." The Doctor looked at the Collector suspiciously. "I can assume, then, that it was you who dragged my TARDIS into this ship of yours?"

"Yes, Doctor," replied the Collector excitedly. "I was sent from the Museum of Rare and Priceless Artefacts on the Xekros; we specialise in all sorts of items."

"All taken, I presume, from planets shortly before they're destroyed?"

"Exactly. Yes. We like to think that we're preserving history," explained the Collector.

"I'd call it kidnap," interrupted Rose. "If you're doing this with people..."

"No, no, no ... I can assure you that we'd never use live specimens in the Museum," said the Collector hurriedly. "We were simply interested in the ship - the TARDIS - having you two is simply a bonus."

"A bonus?" growled the Doctor angrily. "Is that all we are to you?"

"Well, yes," admitted the Collector. Why did Humanoids have to be so touchy about these things? "You're welcome to enjoy the comforts of the Tijd for the duration of the voyage. The journey shouldn't last more than an hour, anyway."

"No thanks," said Rose.

"Your own ship is off-limits," said the Collector. "And sitting in a cargo bay while we traverse the vortex won't be comfortable - or pleasant."

"Off-limits?" enquired the Doctor.

"Yes. I placed it in a temporal stasis field shortly after you stepped out of it. It'll remain preserved in its current condition until we reach Xekros IV." The Collector tapped a few switches on the control box he carried in his jacket pocket. "The field is tamper-proof, by the way. Any attempt to interfere and ... Well, you've already had one shock today, Doctor."

"Thanks for the warning," replied the Time Lord bitterly. He was already going over the TARDIS with his sonic screwdriver. Looking for some way to break the field. He gave up his attempts after a few short minutes, however. "Not enough power," admitted the Doctor. "I'd need something with two-or-three thousand times the power this little thing can put out."

"The journey to Xekros won't take much time," said the Collector. "In the meantime; a service mechanoid will lead you to your cabin. The food-replication system is capable of creating any dish in the known Universe, I suggest you give it a try. It's practically indistinguishable from real food."

The Collector sauntered off back to the bridge of his ship. The service mechanoid, a seven-foot tall robot, all polished silver and dressed like a 19th century butler, appeared and gestured towards another set of doors. The Doctor and Rose followed it into the interior corridors of the ship.

***

"So." The Curator's face was on the video-screen. "Did you get the TARDIS?"

"Yes, Curator," replied the Collector. He was smiling as widely as the suit would allow. "Plus, a bonus or two."

"Two?"

"Yes. A male and a female. The male appears to be a Time Lord - the scan did show him to have two hearts - While the female is only Human."

"Pure-bred or mutt?" asked the Curator.

"Pure-bred." The Collector went over the scans he'd taken of the Doctor and Rose. "Her temporal signature shows that she was born in the 20th century; that was long before the Human race became diluted through contact with other races."

"A pure-bred Human for the Museum? That would be almost as good as the Time Lord," grinned the Curator. "No one has seen a pure Human since the Lady Cassandra died."

"Can we consider my fee quadrupled, then?"

"We shall see. Incidentally, did the Time Lord give his name? It always is a messy business having to use the mind probe to extract information from people."

"Yes. He called himself 'The Doctor.' A rather esoteric name, yes?"

The Curator's face fell. "Something wrong?" the Collector asked innocently.

"The Doctor. That particular Time Lord has a certain reputation."

"What kind of reputation? Good? Bad?"

"They say that he destroyed both fleets in the final engagement of the Time War. That he destroyed both Skaro and Gallifrey," explained the Curator. "And, so they say, time doesn't work the same way with him. That he has the ability to manipulate time as he sees fit. One source even claims that the Doctor was shot at point-blank range by a Dalek, and the beam distorted itself around him."

"He probably had some kind of force field," muttered the Collector. "Old friend, not every legend is true. No one believes the legends of the Great and Bountiful Human Empire anymore. Yet, people to this day claim that it existed."

The Curator seemed unconvinced. "Regardless, I expect you to keep an eye on this Doctor and his companion. It would be unfortunate if they were to escape and you were to return empty-handed."

The Collector just shrugged. He'd heard this threat before.

***

"Doctor, Rose."

"Yes?" asked the Doctor. He and Rose were sitting in the cabin they had been appointed. The Doctor was lounging on the double bed, sipping at a cup of tea the food-replicator had made. Rose was sitting on a chair at the table, the food-replicator had made her a hot chocolate - which had long since gone cold. The Doctor had discovered the door locked, naturally. And even the sonic screwdriver failed to find the frequency to open it. So: He'd decided to make himself comfortable while the ship made it's way to Xekros.

The Collector's voice was coming over the comm. "The ship is preparing for entry into the space-time vortex, it gets a little bumpy at times."

"Don't worry about us," said Rose sarcastically. "We're used to bumpy."

There was a click and the comm was shut down.

***

As the Collector had said, there was a brief jolt as the Tijd entered the space-time vortex. The jolt had knocked Rose off the chair and, for the second time that day, she'd ended up with a bruised tailbone.

"This had better not become a habit," she muttered, picking herself up and sitting down.

"He did warn you," grinned the Doctor. He appeared entirely unmoved with the shuddering of the ship. Then again, why would he? He travelled around in a bone-shaking TARDIS.

"So, Doctor, what's the plan?" asked Rose.

"We arrive on Xekros, get the TARDIS out of the stasis field, and then get moving," replied the Doctor.

"That simple, huh?" remarked Rose. "Nothing is ever that simple with us."

"No," agreed the Doctor. "Still, in the absence of some fantastic power source right at our feet, I don't have any way to free the TARDIS. Short of getting the codes out of the Collector, but I hardly think he'll be willing to part with them."

"Well ... It only seems to be him," said Rose. "No crew; only those mechanoid-things."

"What should we do, then?" The Doctor suddenly grinned. "It's too bad Jack didn't come with us. He'd be very handy right now."

"Yeah." Rose sighed. "So, we just sit here?"

The Doctor swung his feet back onto the bed, fluffed up the pillows and lay down with his hands resting on his chest. "Yep."

***

The Tijd materialised above Xekros. The saucer-like craft quickly coalesced into existence; unlike the TARDIS, though, it was completely silent. Within seconds of its appearance, it began to drift down towards the surface of the planet.

"Welcome back." It was the voice of Control over the ship's comm.

"It's good to be back," replied the Collector. "Is the hangar ready?"

"Door's open; we're awaiting your arrival."

***

The Tijd landed on a small runway a hundred meters from the hangar. An anti-gravity field was brought online and the ship was pulled along the runway towards its dock in the hangar. Once the ship was in the dock; refuelling lines appeared from the maintenance hatches located in the side of the hangar. They connected to nodes on the ship's hull. Once the engine had properly cooled down; the lines would carry the raw fuel required for powering the Tijd's space-time drive.

***

"Doctor, Rose, the Tijd has landed. The door to your cabin is now unlocked. If you'd please proceed to the cargo bay."

"Aye, sir," said the Doctor sarcastically. He grabbed his battered leather jacket from where he'd left it the night before.

"Have you ever been to Xekros before?" Rose asked as she put her own jacket back on.

"I don't think so," replied the Doctor. "I might have slipped by it on my way to somewhere more interesting, though." The Doctor walked over to the door and found, as the Collector had said, it was unlocked. The mechanoid was there waiting for them, gesturing towards the cargo bay.

***

"Ah. Hello, Doctor, Rose." The Collector seemed in a jovial mood. Most likely because he wasn't about to be stuffed and put in a Museum. "I trust the flight was pleasant."

The Doctor seemed distracted. He kept shooting suspicious glances at his TARDIS. An expression on his face of if-you've-done-anything-to-my-ship-you'll-live-to-regret-it! "How's the TARDIS?"

"Perfectly fine," assured the Collector. "Less that 0.5-percent decay during the journey. The stasis fields in the Museum itself are much more powerful. You, the TARDIS, and Rose Tyler, will be preserved forever in time."

"Us?" gasped Rose.

"Yes." The Collector indicated the Doctor. "He is the last of the Time Lords, and you, Rose Tyler, are the last pure Human in the Universe. Think of the amount of money you'll make when we put you on display."

"That's ... That must be illegal!?" cried Rose.

"No," said the Collector. "As the last survivors of your respective races; it is the Museum's sworn duty to ensure that you aren't lost to time."

"But we're living beings; you can't just expect us to co-operate with this!"

"You'll have no choice; once you've been placed inside the Museum's stasis field, you'll...cease to be."

The mechanoid appeared with two sets of binders. It clipped them to the Doctor and Rose's hands. "If you stray more than ten-feet away from me," explained the Collector. "You'll get a nasty shock. So, please, don't try to escape."

***

A hover-car was waiting outside the Tijd's hangar. The chauffeur had orders to take the Collector, the Doctor and Rose straight to the Museum. A second vehicle, something like a lorry - except that it floated - had the TARDIS loaded onto it. It followed a few meters behind the car. "That building looks oddly familiar," the Doctor muttered as the car drove past the spaceport building.

The Collector overheard the Doctor's muttering and said, "That's the Xekrosian Spaceport Building. It was built one-hundred-and-fifty-years ago. No-one knows the name of the architect, though."

The Doctor watched the building as it slid out of view; as the larger sun of Xekros set, the smaller one began to rise. There was never night on Xekros. The building was stone-white. It reminded the Doctor of a flower; the spars like petals. "A flower?"

"What's wrong, Doctor? We're about to become Museum exhibits and you're worrying about flowers." Rose frowned at her friend as he studied the building.

After an hour's driving through the crowded central city of Xekros; the car pulled up outside the Museum. It reminded Rose of the Museum's she'd seen as a child during school trips. Except stacked on top of each other. It looked as if someone had stolen the Tate Modern and then stacked the London Natural History Museum on top of it. It was a vast array of stone buildings; conflicting architecture; scaffolding, where new wings were being built. All sorts of creatures were coming and going. One large banner announced proudly: "Coming Soon - New Relics Of The Great Time War."

The Doctor's jaw hardened as he saw the banner. "They've taken the greatest - and most devastating - conflict in the entire Universe, and turned it into an excuse to make money."

"Come on, Doctor," said the Collector. He was leading the Time Lord and his companion up the stairs to the building. Rose took the Doctor's hand. "I'll take you to meet the Curator."

***

The Collector took the Doctor and Rose to a large office. It was situated at the very top of the Museum; as such, it had a view of the entire central city. The Curator was sitting in a large leather chair, reading the last known copy of Kaled poetry.

The Curator put the book down and nodded at the Collector. The Collector - after deactivating the safety control on the Doctor and Rose's binders - turned and left the office, the door sliding shut after he'd left. "You must be the Doctor and Rose Tyler."

"So we've been told," replied the Doctor sarcastically. "Tell me, how long have you been running this little operation of yours?"

"A number of years, Doctor. Not that it's any of your concern."

"Since we're to become exhibits in this Museum of yours, I find it very much my concern," growled the Doctor angrily. "Is that what you've been doing, Curator? Taking objects that are about to be wiped out in the Time War and preserve them?"

"My collectors are the one's who get the artefacts, Doctor. I merely tell them where to look."

"Does that include people?"

"Sometimes, yes. Many planets were destroyed in the Time War, Doctor. Something you know very well, I believe." Ignoring the Doctor's look of angry contempt, the Curator continued: "So, yes. We try our best to preserve life wherever possible. The stasis fields have ensured that a number of species that could have gone extinct will still be around for millennia to come."

"But at the cost of never moving, never feeling, again."

"A small price to pay to save a race from obsolescence."

The Doctor snatched the book of poetry from the desk and read a few verses. "You know, I was there when Mantle wrote this. It was just after the first Dalek travel machine had been tested. He was trying to express his fear that both the Kaled and Thal races would be coming to an end."

"We're not the Daleks, Doctor. We're trying to save lives."

"By trapping them in suspended animation. Never allowing them to see or experience the world; how does that make you better than a Dalek?"

The Curator stiffened visibly. He pressed a button on his desk and two security guards came into the office - pistols drawn. "Take the Doctor and Ms. Tyler to the preparation chamber. We'll need to install the Doctor with a class-three temporal field. His unique biology may make him immune to the older classes."

The guards indicated which direction the Doctor and Rose should go; they guards walked behind the Time Lord and his companion, guns trained on their backs.

***

The preparation chamber was like a hospital ward. The high ceiling was dominated by a bright white light, which shone down on the beds below. White-jacketed surgeons milled about carrying a variety of different surgical tools. On a tray sat four devices - their appearance akin to microchips - about the size of a fingernail. One of the surgeons finally spoke, addressing the Doctor and Rose who were sitting, still bound, to a metal bench. "We'll be installing two temporal stasis fields in your body. The primary circuit and the redundant circuit. Obviously, if the primary develops a fault, the secondary takes over while the primary self-repairs."

"What if the primary circuit doesn't repair?" asked Rose. She was eyeing the units with a look of contempt. She didn't like the thought that a piece of machinery - no matter how tiny - was going to be inserted into her body. It reminded her, somewhat, of the nano genes: That a simple mistake can lead to very dire consequences.

"That has never happened in the thirty-years I've been doing this operation," said the surgeon obstinately. "If the primary and secondary circuits both did fail you'd die. It's that simple."

"Great," muttered the Doctor.

The surgeon prepared two syringes; loading the circuits into a solution that would implant them into the body's blood-stream. He nodded at one of the nurses; she stepped forward to remove the binders from the Doctor and Rose. As soon as the Doctor's hands were free, he shot out of the chair and, in one move, grabbed the nurse and held the sonic screwdriver against her neck. "Anyone moves and she's toast!"

The surgeon held up his hands, dropping the syringe to the floor. "Alright, Doctor. No-one will move. Just let her go."

The Doctor activated the screwdriver and it whirred to life. "Alright," he said, indicating the surgeon. "I want a clear path out of here, otherwise..." To make his point; he pressed the screwdriver harder against the nurse's neck. The skin-suit began to tear a little as the vibrations from the device shattered it's molecular bonds.

With his free hand, the Doctor grabbed Rose and, after pushing the nurse towards the surgeon, they bolted for the open door.

***

"Just like old times," grinned Rose. Alarms had gone off shortly after their escape; now, almost the entire Museum was looking for them.

The Doctor smiled and, when they came to a locked door that led to the underground car park, he used the sonic screwdriver to open it. "Fantastic!"

The car park was filled the all varieties of hover - and ground based - vehicles. "Just pick one!" yelled the Doctor as Rose spent several seconds admiring the different cars. They finally settled on a dark blue car. The Doctor used the screwdriver to hot-wire the car's ignition. Just as several, heavily armed, guards appeared; the car raced off.

***

"Where are we going?" asked Rose. "The TARDIS is still in the Museum somewhere."

"I know," said the Doctor. "I want to check out the spaceport. Something about it is familiar."

As the Doctor finished speaking, a shot rang out and there was a loud clang as a bullet ricocheted off the car. "Looks like we've got company," said the Time Lord. Looking in the viewer that showed what was behind the car, Rose saw an assortment of different vehicles - all of them having the same insignia as the Museum.

Several more shots rang out; some of them hitting the car, others thudding into the road. "Doctor, look out!" yelled Rose. The hover-car had nearly crashed into an oncoming lorry. The lorry had skidded aside moments before impact. Rose briefly noted the insignia on the side: "Bad Wolf Corporation."

"Doctor, that lorry had Bad Wolf written on it," said Rose.

"Yeah, I saw. I guess that someone else has taken over running the company. I just hope they aren't as bad as the Daleks."

While the Doctor wildly drove along the crowded streets of central city; his pursuers got ever closer, they continued to fire wildly. Hoping to knock the hover-car's engine out.

***

"I think we lost them." Rose kept looking back to see if any of Museum-owned cars had managed to get close to them. Evidently not. The Doctor must have lost them when the hover-car swooped under the central city tunnel. Many of the Museum cars had become stuck in traffic.

Soon, the spaceport was coming into view. The Doctor smiled to himself. This mystery would soon be revealed. And then, he'd get his TARDIS back and move on.

Parking just outside the spaceport building, the Doctor and Rose were stopped by a security guard. "Identification."

The Doctor took out the slightly-psychic paper, which the guard read. "Doctor John Smith - Mission Control Specialist." The guard frowned, but waved the Doctor and Rose through to the building.

"Fantastic!" grinned the Doctor enthusiastically.

The interior of the spaceport was as bone-white as the outside had been. There was a strange decoration on the walls, though. Those that hadn't been covered up with machinery, that is. The Doctor patted one of the walls and felt a faint vibration in it, a surge of power. The Doctor smiled. He knew what the spaceport was.

"We need to get to Mission Control," he said to Rose.

***

The Doctor burst into Mission Control. He brandished his sonic screwdriver at the technicians as if it was the deadliest weapon ever conceived. "Alright! Everyone, clear this room in ten seconds!" No-one moved; instead, they looked at the Doctor as if he was insane. The Doctor, noticing their reactions, pointed the screwdriver at one of the banks of machinery and activated it. Within seconds, the machinery exploded in a ball of orange flame.

"And that'll happen to you lot, too!"

Staring at the machinery; the technicians bolted from Mission Control as fast as they could go. When it was empty, Rose turned to the Doctor and asked, "What's going on here? What's so special about this building."

Grinning, the Doctor began to operate certain computers, seemingly at random. When he was finished, Mission Control began to melt away to be replaced by...

***

The Curator, cursing and breathing heavily as he ran up the stairs to Mission Control, was suddenly confused as the corridors began to melt and change. Instead of the bone-white structures; they began a more marble-like texture, panels of gold roundels appeared on the walls. The stairs melted away, too, to be replaced by smooth, flat ground.

"So, Doctor, you've figured it out."

***

"The spaceport was a TARDIS all along?" said Rose. Her mouth hanging open as Mission Control was remodelled to a console room. Unlike the one from the Doctor's TARDIS; this one was gleaming white, with a state-of-the-art console at the room's centre. The central column's spars, almost crystalline-looking, glowed with power.

"I haven't seen a console room like this since my Fifth incarnation," said the Doctor proudly. "This TARDIS remodelled itself based on my memories."

"Huh? Then why didn't it make the one that you have now?"

"This one was always my favourite." The Doctor grinned. The Time Lord started working on the console. "Ah, well. It couldn't all be good news, could it."

"What's wrong?" asked Rose. Taking her customary place by the Doctor's side.

"Half the ship is missing. It must have been damaged during a battle with the Daleks. Only half of it materialised. It transformed itself into this shape; hoping someone from Gallifrey would notice and take her..." The Doctor's voice became wistful. "...home."

"Almost correct, Doctor," said the Curator. He was holding a gun at the Time Lord and Rose. His skin-suit was ripped and covered in sweat and viscous green goo. "The TARDIS materialised intact, except for a damaged door. The technicians who first found it were able to reverse engineer much of the technology."

"So: You created your own little fleet of time ships; based on the half-alive shreds of a damaged TARDIS."

"Exactly. We used components from the engines to build our prototype space-time ships; we used pieces of the armour to retro-engineer our own hulls, capable of withstanding the fury of the vortex. We never figured out how the weapon systems worked, however."

"How did you manage to alter the interior configuration? Even I can barely do that. And I'm a genius."

"It wasn't easy," replied the Curator. "It took our best technicians nearly fifty years to work out how to alter even the simplest of things. Once we figured it out, though, we were able to use this TARDIS as the Mission Control for our entire fleet. Our researchers would use the ship's temporal scanners to locate objects throughout the Universe; I would then commission collectors to go out and ... Well, collect them."

"I knew that I recognised the spaceport's design," explained the Doctor. "It reminded me of a flower. I just wasn't sure which kind until I actually got inside the door. It's called a Flower of Remembrance. They're dropped from baskets at funerals to honour the dead on Gallifrey. My TARDIS was turned into one once."

"We knew that TARDIS's had a cloaking circuit..."

"Chameleon circuit," interrupted the Doctor acidly.

"Chameleon circuit," said the Curator, rolling his eyes. "But we could never get this one to change its form."

"No," said the Doctor. "Once they get locked into a certain form, it's hard to get them to change."

"Now, Doctor." The Curator advanced, gun still pointing at the Time Lord, towards the Doctor. "Before you make your little contribution to my Museum; would you care to show me how to operate this machine's weapons? Think of what the Xekrosian race could accomplish with it's own armada of heavily armed space-time ships."

The Doctor looked at the Curator pitifully. "You'd go the way of the Gallifreyans, Curator. Extinct."

"Enough, Time Lord. Will you show me how to operate the weapons, or will you die?"

"It's not much of a choice, really, is it?" asked the Time Lord. He was trying not to look at Rose who was inching towards the Curator. The Xekrosian didn't notice the girl until it was too late. Rose delivered a swift kick to the Curator's stomach. He doubled over with an oof of pain. A deep hole had formed in his skin-suit where Rose's trainer had sunk in. More green fluids dripped out of the wound.

"I think it's time I abandoned this form!" spat the Curator. He ripped the damaged suit off and revealed his true form. Rose backed away quickly from the eight-foot tall; covered in green slime; many-tentacled and covered with eyes creature. One of the tentacles snaked out and wrapped around Rose's throat. The pressure on her neck making her choke, spit and curse.

"Doc ... Doctor, help!" cried Rose. The Time Lord was already in motion; like all tall creatures that had to wear a skin-suit, there was a compression field around his neck. The Doctor leapt onto the creature's back, jammed the sonic screwdriver inside its compression field and activated it. The Curator let go of Rose and grabbed, with all of its tentacles, at it's neck. The compression field was now crushing the Xekrosian down. The Doctor and Rose watched as it shrunk further and further; the Curator's bones popped with a hideous cracking sound, green blood spat out of his veins. Finally, there was nothing left except for a puddle of green sludge.

"So," grinned the Doctor. "Pea soup for lunch?"

"I think I'm going to be sick," said Rose weakly. She staggered back to the console and sat down.

***

"Can we go and get our TARDIS back now?" asked Rose. Even though the Doctor had cleaned most of it away; there was still a faint odour of something burning in the air, and there was a small green stain on the floor of the console room.

"Just a second," said the Doctor. He manipulated a few controls on the console and then pulled a lever down. Seconds later; a familiar blue, Police Box was materialising.

"I've never heard anything so wonderful in all my life," said a relieved Rose as she listened to the wheezing-groaning of the TARDIS.

The Doctor patted the Police Box affectionately; after taking the key from his pocket, he opened the door. "Wait right there, Rose!" The Doctor disappeared inside the box and Rose watched from the doors as the Time Lord worked on the console.

"What are you doing?"

"You'll see."

***

500,000 Xekrosians watched in consternation as the spaceport dematerialized with a wheezing-groaning noise.

***

The bone-white structure rematerialized inside a large, empty area within the TARDIS.

The storage hold. It had gone unused in years. Normally, the hold would be filled with components and tools allowing the TARDIS's operator to perform virtually any task - any repair, any modification - within the vessel.

Within seconds; instructions that had almost become forgotten started to re-awake within it's ageing consciousness. The petals split apart and tendrils began to wrap themselves around the coral-like support structures in the TARDIS's storage hold. Pieces of information were being transferred from the tendrils into the TARDIS's navigational systems. Co-ordinates.

It's task completed; the tendrils retracted back into the petals and the machine dematerialized. There was none of the usual trumpeting roar, it was simply gone.

***

The wildly shuddering console room was a far cry from the smooth flight of the Tijd, but to Rose and the Doctor, it was home. "What did you do with the other TARDIS?"

"I materialised our TARDIS around it. It's safely housed in the storage bay. With more than half of her mass missing, it'll take some time before she fully regenerates."

"So, Doctor, where are we going this time?" asked Rose.

The Doctor didn't answer her; instead, grinning, he began inputting new co-ordinates into the TARDIS computer.

Next: 2046