The man in black sat cross-legged in the sand, watching the waves crashing and foaming against the beach. He looked up at the twin yellow suns burning in sky, and adjusted his sunglasses. If the baking heat bothered him, he didn't show it. He was waiting, and very soon his wait would be over.

There was a thin, shrill cry from waves. As he looked on, a small shelled creature, not unlike a turtle, broke the surface and started making its way painfully slowly through the surf towards the beach. The man in black pulled a pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket and smiled. Right on time.

He kept one eye on the watch and the other on the slow but steady progress of the creature up the shore towards him. The fingers of his left hand beat time to the inexorable tick-tick-tick of the second hand on the watch. Slowly he rose his left hand and pointed to a spot in the sand just to the left and in front of him.

"And ... now!" he murmured. A second later, a large grey box ground noisily into existence exactly on top of the spot he was pointing at. He frowned, rose his watch to an ear, and shook it gently. 1.7634 seconds late. Either 22nd century Swiss pocket-watch manufacture had declined over the centuries, or the boys in Temporal had got their sums wrong. Oh well, he thought to himself as he slipped the watch back into its pocket and got slowly to his feet, what's 1.7634 seconds between friends? Or enemies, for that matter. Speaking of which ...

A door slid open on one side of the box and a tall figure stepped out. The man in black smiled grimly. So, they were right. An Enari. Well, well, well ...

The Enari paused on the threshold of the TT Capsule, the frill of orange spines on its skull undulating softly in the salty breeze. It rose its leathery snout into the air and flicked its snake tongue out, testing, probing. It narrowed its eyes. Something wasn't quite right ...

A little cry from the surf in front of it. The Enari's eyes darted to the source. There it was! Struggling up the sand, all set for its moment in destiny ... a destiny the Enari was set to change. A triumphant smile creased its leathery, reptilian features and it slowly pulled the disrupter pistol from the holster at its belt and stepped forward.

A low chuckle drifted from behind and it froze, the frill of spines suddenly standing bolt upright on its skull. A horrible chill spread through its body despite the heat from the suns above.

"Does a member of the bold Enari warrior caste really need a disrupter pistol to deal with a simple mollusc?"

The man in black strolled slowly forward, dusting sand from his trousers. He was smiling lightly but the eyes behind the dark glasses were cold and flinty.

"You ... here. How?"

The man in black shook his head. Why a species with such obvious intellectual and technical ability had never bothered to improve their speech patterns beyond that horrible staccato bark had always amazed him. Maybe they should have sold them a few universal translators at the same time. The image of a horde of Enari warriors all speaking with perfect, Home County BBC accents as they rushed into battle flickered into his mind and his smile widened.

"Same as you, my friend." The man in black stopped beside the TT capsule and ran a hand over its smooth surface. "Only in a different mode of conveyance. How much did you pay for this? Army surplus, isn't it? I recognise the type. Did my training in one of these."

"Enough," the Enari barked. It held the disrupter loosely by its side but the man in black could see the thin cords of muscle in its trembling bony arm tensing to bring the weapon to bear. He rose an arm imperiously, snapped his fingers pointed at him.

"Don't even think about. Just let it go."

The disrupter slid from its claw and bounced on the sand, but the trembling did not abate. Standing like that before him, shaking like a leaf, eyes blinking rapidly, the man in black felt a pang of sympathy for the Enari. He didn't enjoy frightening people. It simply wasn't his style.

But it isn't you he's frightened of, a small voice inside him said. It's who you're representing.

Are you sure, he asked himself?

He took a step closer to the Enari. It backed away. He held up a hand.

"Stop there. I don't want you stepping on the thing by mistake, now. And don't get any ideas about trying it. You're too far away, I'm too quick and it's too bloody hot to be playing silly buggers."

"You not understand. I - kill creature. Change destiny. Enari not become slave to technology." It thumped a claw to its chest. "Enari warriors, not technologists! Enari poets, not statisticians! Enari- "

The man in black waved a hand impatiently. "Yes, yes, yes, spare me the Enari back-to-basics propaganda, I've heard it all before. For what it's worth, I agree with you - in principle. I think we could all do with leading a more pastoral existence. A bit of fresh air and hard work under a warm sun wouldn't do anyone in the universe any harm, I reckon. Except maybe to the vampires, of course."

Hope glinted in the Enari's eyes. "Then you - I - make deal?"

The man in black shook his head firmly. "No deals, friend. I might agree with your motives, but I don't agree with your methods. Travelling back in time and killing the creature that starts your evolution? No, that isn't on. And it probably wouldn't work."

"It would! They said- " The Enari shut its mouth with a snap, realising it was about to say too much, and dropped its gaze to the sand. The man in black raised an eyebrow.

"You were saying?"

The Enari remained silent. The man in black sighed.

"Look, it would save a lot of time if you just told me now. We'll find out in the end. You know we always do." No response. He pursed his lips. "I might even make it worth your while ... you don't have to die here. You could have a long life ahead of you. What about your family? Your children? Think about them!"

The Enari looked up at him, eyes narrowed but full of shaky determination. "I do. Why you think I do this? For children!" he barked.

At that he turned and made to leap for the creature wallowing in the surf. The man in black flicked a hand up and a bolt from the staser clipped to his wrist sent the Enari sprawling into the foam. It groaned, clutching at a wound in its side. Treacly green blood pulsed sluggishly from the wound. The man in black stepped closer, jaw hardened.

"You know, I can't take you back anyway. I just remembered. You see, our friend out there is tired. Worn out. Hungry. Near death, in fact. It doesn't have the strength to make it all the way up the beach and to the nice juicy plants and mosses back up there. And it's not just hungry for itself. It's hungry for its little ones. Mama mollusc out there is pregnant, just about ready to pop. And the little ones need food too. Or they'll die. They die, you win..." he smiled crookedly. "Maybe."

He looked to the horizon. "But Mama finds something on the beach, something to sustain it and its young. Something it's never come across before. But something that keeps it and its family alive, just long enough to give them the strength to make it to the plants."

He looked down at the Enari. He wasn't smiling any more.

"Guessed what that something is yet?"

The Enari looked up at him painfully, then realisation dawned.

It grabbed for the disrupter lying in the sand at its feet.

But the man in black was too quick.

Just like he said.

***

The man in black pulled open the ornate iron gates and stepped through them into the garden. He took a moment to take in the majesty of his surroundings. A huge space filled with blossoming trees and lush green grass, flowerbeds full of plants of all colours and sizes from all corners of the universe. It was beautifully looked after. The garden was a piece of work, a tribute to its creator. The man in black wondered how its creator had ever found the time to do it ... but in his position, he supposed time was immaterial.

But then it seemed many things were immaterial to this gentleman.

The man in black wandered slowly along the grassy pathways for several minutes, enjoying the sights, before he came across him. The old man was kneeling in a flowerbed, weeding with an old trowel, dressed simply in an old pair of corduroy trousers and a plain white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. A battered Panama sun hat protected his head from the rays of the artificial sun. He didn't look up, preferring to concentrate on the task at hand, but he spoke.

"Captain Vaidya. Welcome back. Mission accomplished?"

"Would I be here if it wasn't?"

The old man straightened up with a soft grunt. He reached back with both hands and massaged the small of his back for a moment, before reaching down beside him for a pipe and pouch of tobacco at his side. He carefully filled the pipe with tobacco and looked at Vaidya for the first time as he did it. His eyes were cold and hard. The curious old-fashioned spectacles he wore seemed to amplify the energy radiating from those eyes. Vaidya wouldn't have been surprised if they had been augmented in some way.

"But not to our satisfaction, hmmm?" He lit the pipe with an old-fashioned stick-match and took a puff, regarding Vaidya solemnly through half-lidded eyes.

Vaidya sighed and looked away across the flowerbeds. "I did the job. I stopped the Enari from doing what he was doing. I returned the TT capsule to its rightful owners," he said with a measure of scorn in his voice. "Although if the High Council hadn't sold the TT capsules to the Enari in the first place, this would not have happened."

"It is not our place to criticise the decisions of the High Council," he replied gravely.

"No, only to clear up after their mistakes."

The old man looked at Vaidya long and hard. "I am not getting into this pointless argument again. And while we're on the subject of mistakes, I thought it was made quite clear that the Enari was to have been left alive when you left it. The larvae and its progeny would have benefited more from the living body. In fact, figures show that there is now only an 88% chance that the optimum number of the young would survive to make it further inland." He took another puff, irritably. "Plus, it would have served as a warning to any other Enari rebels."

"88%, is that all? Well, well..." Vaidya looked down at the old man, face hardening. "That order was unnecessary."

The old man's face was equally as stony. "It was an order."

"It was sadistic!"

"It was an order!" the old man repeated, his voice raised. For a long moment they glared at one another. Then the anger in the old man's face faded to be replaced by a startling look of weary self-contempt. Before Vaidya could make anything of it the old man dropped his gaze, let out a deep sigh and shook his head sadly. He carefully placed his pipe back on the ground, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Vaidya, Vaidya ... what am I to do with you? You're getting quite a reputation, you know."

He looked away. "I thought that was the point."

"The point is that the High Council will no longer tolerate anyone who displays so much as a hint of renegade tendencies," he snapped, a little of the anger returning. He closed his eyes and continued, as if reciting from memory. "Part of the reason we are in the situation we are in now is that there were far too many lone guns out there operating without any heed to the laws laid down by our illustrious forebears aeons ago."

"You should know, you were one of them." Or so it was rumoured. But then, Vaidya had heard a lot of rumours concerning the hierarchy of the dreaded CIA. And its enigmatic chief of operations.

The old man didn't rise to the bait. He merely dismissed the remark with a flick of the hand, as if troubled by a tiny insect. "That was long ago, when I was your age, and my hearts full of fire and passion and adventure, and my head full of the wonderful, exciting, dangerous stories brought back to Gallifrey of the exploits of these people! But what were the consequences of their actions? Chaos. Sheer chaos. For every Time Lord out there fighting so-called evil there was another one creating it. Non-interference was a joke. It is no longer. Our duty now is to restore order to that chaos, Captain."

Vaidya smiled ironically. "In the name of truth, justice and the Gallifreyan way, eh?"

The old man glared at him, and Vaidya suddenly realised that the glasses didn't augment the old man's eyes - they dimmed them. At full blaze, they were a sight to behold. They burnt now, with anger - and more than a measure of fear. But not for himself...

"Don't mock, Vaidya. There are elements in power, less tolerant than I, who would view such statements as treasonable. Heretical, even."

Vaidya held his breath and looked around, suddenly apprehensive. He replied thoughtfully and quietly: "You never know who's listening, right?"

The old man gazed at him levelly, half-smiled and nodded, like a teacher approving a correct action by a pupil. "Correct, Vaidya." He leaned forward urgently and hissed: "Take my advice: do your duty, nothing more, nothing less. Question nothing: Say nothing."

"Do nothing?" he asked quietly.

The old man slid his glasses back on, looked away and started picking at the ground with his trowel. "For now..." he murmured, just loud enough for Vaidya to hear.

Vaidya nodded his head slightly. He understood. Slightly. "Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Do you have any more orders for me, sir?"

"No, nothing for you at present. Disappear for a while. Take a rest, gather your strength. You might need it." He turned his attention back to his weeding and flicked a hand in Vaidya's direction. "Dismissed, Captain. You have your instructions."

"Sir." Vaidya gave a short bow and turned to leave. As he did, something made him look up at the blue sky and a shiver ran across his shoulders. "I feel a storm coming on."

The old man squinted up into the perfect sky and frowned. "On Gallifrey?"

Vaidya laughed uneasily. "I know. Impossible, isn't it?"

The old man looked around. "Well, the rain would be good for the garden, and a good storm always clears the air."

Vaidya studied him thoughtfully for a moment. "Yes sir." He lingered, hoping the old man would say more, but he was intent on his gardening. Vaidya turned to go, then:

"Vaidya?"

"Sir?"

"Perhaps you ought to remember to bring an umbrella next time. You don't want to get caught in the storm unprotected."

"Yes, sir. You too."

"Thank you, but don't concern yourself unduly. I always take the utmost care to cover myself at all times. Goodbye, Vaidya."

Vaidya hurried from the garden, mind whirling with the possibilities of the meanings of the old man's words...

After he'd gone, there was a peculiar tinkling sound near the flowerbed, like distant windchimes in the breeze. The old man sighed, closed his eyes for a second as if bracing himself, then straightened up:

"I can handle Vaidya. Leave him to me. He is my responsibility."

"He has great potential as a troublemaker. We foresee... difficulties." The voice that answered was flat and mechanical, sounding as if it were coming over a long-distance telephone line. It seemed to come out of thin air.

"What kind?" he asked curiously.

"The less you know, the better."

The old man started to laugh softly. The telephonic voice sounded slightly confused.

"Why do you laugh?"

"I'm sorry, it's just that I haven't heard that particular phrase used on me before."

The voice sighed. "Strange. We shall never understand your humour."

The tinkling sound faded away. The old man gazed long and hard at the spot it came from.

"No, and that's why you'll never beat us," he said quietly.

The old man picked up his pipe, and re-lit it. He looked around him, puffing with quiet satisfaction.

"Not bad for a day's labour. But there's still much to do. So much to do..."

With a weary sigh, the Doctor picked up the trowel and got on with his work.