Time runs forward.

One second coming before the last has past. A minute crosses in fifteen seconds, an hour in a minute, years in minutes.

Time runs forward.

Sweeps across the community, a gale force wind rattling windows and lifting panels. Dust cakes the walls of the shelters, or the main buildings. Cobwebs appear out of nothing, coating skeletons that used to be living souls moments before the storm struck.

Time runs backwards now, a cross current against the gale, a counter wind that turns strong soldiers into foetuses in the blink of an eye, changes fleeing victims into primordial slime.

Above the settlement, a cloud, ominous and charged with electricity. Lightning strikes raze the ghost town below. Shrapnel rains down and across the settlement, a lethal razor storm slicing anything and everything into ribbons....

Time folds back in itself, leaves only a carcass of the town, covered in dust and ancient death.

***

Ha'Ala-Mith.

A small planet orbiting a young yellow star, known for its remoteness and raw organic materials.

Also for the time storm(s), as history showed.

The native intelligent life were called Bolshoi now. What they called themselves is unknown, as they had no language - written or oral. It was rumoured they communicated in a gestalt form, a group mind.

The images recorded in the Matrix showed the Bolshoi as a bipedal race; skin colour running from deep purple to light blue; 1.5 to 2 metres in height; large, multi-celled eyes that changed colours (reasons unknown); a series of tentacles attached to the skull, ending in hard tips; long arms ending in three fingered, clawless hands; long legs ending in three-toed feet. Analysis suggests that genetic modification accelerated evolution might have given the Bolshoi the ability to generate the time storms detected on Ha'Ala-Mith.

It is the High Council recommendation that an Agent be sent to Ha'Ala-Mith to investigate the findings of the matrix in regards to the Bolshoi. If it is shown that the Bolshoi can generate time storms, then the Agent may use all means possible to prevent the Bolshoi from using these abilities.

***

"I knew there was a reason I hadn't been here in centuries."

A Wardrobe cabinet stood next to a giant tree standing well over 70 metres tall, one of about thirty in the immediate area as tall, or taller.

Edna took in the woods, the grass, the trampled dirt paths, and scowled the way a lifetime urbanite would if dumped into Yellowstone National Park. She pulled the backpack off her shoulder and placed it on a moss covered stone.

"Now, do I have everything for what I'm about to do?" Edna said. She pulled out several small boxes covered with buttons and antennae. Out next was a complicated remote, the buttons covered in Gallifreyan symbols. Then came her notebook, and the plans she needed, which were more important. Edna had never done what she was about to do; temporal engineering wasn't her specialty. Biology and Bio-Chemistry had intrigued her since she took her first class in general science.

"All right, Johnny-O, what would you do?" Knowing him, he'd have something lashed up out of goodness-knows-what and held together with duct tape and bailing wire.

Edna opened her notes, read with an eye for details and potential faults. She found a second rock to perch on, settled down with her long legs extended. As she read, she regretted she never followed old Johnny-O's advice and took more courses on temporal engineering beyond basic TARDIS piloting. The directions were concise, but Edna worried more about the whys and the details between the lines that might cause more problems than solve. Besides, she had little trust in the engineers on Shada.

Engrossed in her reading, Edna failed to notice the subtle change in forest sounds. Then again, wilderness environments weren't her favourite places. Her long time experiments required live subjects of certain intelligence, and seldom would they be found in the woods. But the forest soundscape did change, the wind whistle died down and subtle crunching noises drifted between the mammoth trees.

The scent drew Edna's attention. She caught a hint of perspiration in the air, an animal scent that cut across the pleasing flora odours in the woods. Out of instinct, she pulled her blaster out and placed it on her knee while she concentrated on the plans.

The scent shifted, then increased in strength. Edna put the plans down, stood up and scanned the woods. Blaster raised. All Edna saw were dancing shadows and light beams.

Is it paranoia, or is there something really here, Edna thought. She spun around, took her time to examine every shadow, scan every potential hiding place.

And then there were hands on her back arms; purple, three-fingered hands with remarkable strength. She shook, desperate to break loose. More hands, clutching her hand, covering her mouth, eyes, ears. Too many to fight off. The blaster fell out of her hand, and she was lifted into the air.

***

Smith turned off the comm unit, frowned. The frown came from the report, not from who generated it. The Time Lords wanted him to go to Ha'Ala-Mith and investigate the ruins of a scientific colony. No big deal, a lot like the past when he used to meddle because he enjoyed it.

"Hey, what's the next stop on the Magical Mystery tour?"

Diamanda walked over to the lounge, sat in it with legs tucked under her.

"Ha'Ala-Mith."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What's the job?"

"Some detective work. Investigate a ruined scientific community." Smith set the coordinates. The ship lurched, spun off in the vortex in a new direction.

"Ruined by?"

"A time storm, if this information is correct," Smith said. He pointed to the Philco.

Diamanda read the bullet points displayed on the screen. "Is that possible?"

"Anything is possible," Smith said, "the proof is in the details."

"And how would be able to tell?"

Smith furrowed his brow. "Look for chronons. Discrete particles of time. If there are any present, then on to the next part."

Diamanda stood up. "I suppose I should put some shoes on."

"Unless you want to walk barefoot on jagged bits of metal and other forms of wreckage."

Diamanda smiled. "Shoes it is, then."

***

A rush of images, disturbing pictorials that made little sense at first. A purple biped captured, dragged in a net to a metal hut, locked in a cage, drugged, bound, led to operation theatres with bright lights and rusty equipment, small groups of pale beings in white suits attacking the purple biped, injecting and infecting them with worms and parasites...

The face of a clock.

Time runs forward.

Time runs backwards.

Runs in both directions at once...

***

Smith shuddered. He heard his companion gasp, felt her body shake against his, as they saw what was left of the community.

It reminded him of Hiroshima. What was left of the ruins was drained of all colour - a washed-out grey dominated the wreckage. Only a few of the smaller buildings on the edge of the community survived in any form. The centre of the community had been reduced to fragments of metal, dust and the ever-present cobwebs that coated all surfaces, vertical and horizontal.

"Crikey," Diamanda said.

"'I give you fear in a handful of dust,'" Smith said. He turned to Diamanda. "If you want to wait in the ship while I check this out, I'll understand."

"No." A sad smile formed on Diamanda's face. "Who are you quoting this time?"

"T.S. Elliot. Come along. The sooner we get this done-"

"The faster we can leave."

"Couldn't have said it better myself."

Smith peeled off his pea coat, draped it over Diamanda's shoulders. In his hand was a lash-up chronon particle detector. Not bad for five minutes work in the lab. An LCD screen, a pair of sensors and a tone generator tossed into a Gameboy case.

The tone pulsed the moment Smith turned his lash-up on. The display confirmed what his own eyes had told him.

"That's bloody annoying," Diamanda said. "Sounds like a cat being strangled."

"Sorry, no volume control." Smith turned the device off. He had all the information he required. "I want to collect a few samples and then we can go back to the ship."

"Thank goodness," Diamanda said.

***

The pieces joined together, formed a whole.

A clear image. Two pale bipeds clamouring among the wreckage of the storm site.

The whole took it as an insult.

The whole could do something about the bipeds. Had they not realised what had caused the devastation? What caused the demise of those who dwelled there before?

It was time they found out.

A second image. The Bolshoi fanned out, formed a circle around the remains of the colony.

The whole created the focus.

A single cloud would be sufficient. One cloud full of Nanites ready to manipulate time as the whole desired.

And what the whole desired was limbo.

***

Diamanda felt the change in the air first.

Smith busied himself at the centre of the wreckage, tweezers in one hand, test tubes (some filled, others empty) in the other, engrossed in his forensic and scientific endeavours.

"Hey, I think something's wrong," Diamanda said. She wrapped the pea coat around her tighter.

Smith kept on with his forensics. "I don't feel anything."

"I can feel a tingling sensation on my neck." Diamanda stepped over a piece of twisted steel. "There's something in the air that's not right."

Smith finished his collection, stood up. He pulled the Gameboy case out of his pocket. The detector emitted a shriek that forced Diamanda to cover her ears.

"Diamanda, back to the ship," Smith said.

The expression on his face spoke volumes.

"Something's up?"

"Yes, come on," Smith said, "and be careful." He moved and glided around the debris with uncanny grace.

Diamanda looked up and froze when she saw the black cloud expand over the wreckage. Panicked, she ran towards the comforting sight of the TARDIS, ignored the minor nicks and bangs as she caromed off the debris.

***

The whole decided to have limbo materialize as a funnel cloud.

It snaked away from the black mass above the wreckage, reached down towards the ground, kicked up bits of debris.

The whole concentrated on the biped still in the centre of the wreckage. It had fallen hard, landed unmoving on top of a large sheet of metal.

The tornado touched ground, picked up speed, swooped down on the fallen biped.

***

"Diamanda!"

Smith took a few steps back into the wreckage, stopped as the tornado picked Diamanda off the wreckage. For a brief moment, he could see her black locks helicoptering inside the chaos, then nothing.

Smith caught the second tornado in his peripheral vision, dashed back to the ship. The funnel was mere yards away when he slammed the door to the TARDIS.

Inside, he felt his heart race, felt the scar on his chest ache. He leaned against the door and listened as the tornado bounced off the TARDIS doors. The third smash pushed Smith away from the door. He broke into a crouched run, pushed himself upright and dove on the console. Smith flicked a few switches and the ship was in the vortex, away from danger.

He had made it, but his mind was on Diamanda.

***

Edna heard grunting, felt the sting from the blow to the top of her head. She knew opening her eyes would be painful, so instead, she took in a few long breaths to relax her body. The scent of perspiration Edna smelt in the wood had turned into a stench. The grunts grew louder, and then the hands were all over her again.

She opened her eyes into slits and saw the local natives - Bolshoi - decided to move her into a cave. The cave was covered with straw and in a myriad of smells that helped cover the stink of sweat from the Bolshoi. In the centre of the cave, a rough platform had been erected out of stone and some of the wreckage from the colony. The Alphas of the Bolshoi, silver backed and much larger than the others stood on three sides of the platform.

Edna closed her eyes and relaxed her mind. Bluffing her way out of this situation the way Johnny-O might wasn't an issue. Nor was getting into a physical encounter. She would have to bide her time. At least she didn't have to worry about Imelda, this time.

The Alphas grabbed her and laid her out on the platform. Edna felt the vines and rope being wrapped around her wrists and ankles. She lolled her head to the side and watched one of the Alpha Bolshoi secure the rope to the platform.

Don't they know I'm too old to be a sacrificial virgin? Edna thought.

There was more grunting, and then she heard mass steps. The perspiration odour faded ever further away. Edna waited a few beats before opening her eyes.

The Alphas, eyes burning white hot, stared back at her.

***

Smith landed the ship away from the wreckage. A peek at the scanner showed that the storm had vanished. Disheartened, anger rising, Smith exited the TARDIS, found himself in a wooded area. The trees were immense, ripping into the sky like giant spikes. He pulled out his detector, scanned the woods. All was calm; no shrill noises filled the air.

"You seem out of sorts."

Smith turned in the direction of the voice. "Things are not going well at the moment, as you can see."

"What?"

"Diamanda got caught up in a time storm. Even if she survived, she could be anywhere."

He stepped over to Smith, dishevelled as ever, moptop turned grey. He pulled out his recorder, held it to his lips for a second before returning it to his pocket.

"I don't know how I can help, you're the older one."

"Anytime I seem to be alone, one of you shows up," Smith said.

"There seems to be general concern."

"I heard that before."

"Can I help?"

Smith shoved his hands into his pockets. His counterpart did the same.

"Find Diamanda for me. I would appreciate that."

Smith saw him clap his hands and smile. "I think that can be accomplished." He frowned, his face a mass of wrinkles. "She means a lot to you."

"Yes. They all do in their own way."

"But this one?"

"Lets just say she keeps me sane," Smith said.

"I'll be off then. As soon as I know something, I'll check back in with you. By the way, what are you doing here?"

"Janitorial work. Call me a cleaner."

"Oh, my giddy aunt! I know all about that sort of work."

"'Every time I think I'm out-'"

"'They drag me back in,'" he said. He gave Smith a smile, then disappeared behind a tree.

Smith stared at the tree until the detector screeched to life in his pocket, a different tone from his checks in the colony.

He found the wardrobe cabinet a few minutes later, gave his face a rough wipe with his hand.

"What brings you here?" Smith said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, went to find the lock.

***

A single source was needed for efficiency, it determined.

The whole decided this after the storm dispersed. It had trapped one of the bipeds; the other had locked itself in a time vessel, impregnable to the storm.

It took much effort to prevent many of the Bolshoi to stay attached to the gestalt. The effort had cost the whole needed energy.

So the whole made the decision to unify itself in one mind.

And the Bolshoi had secured the mind for it.

***

'A thesis on the probability of converting intelligent life forms into time sensitive beings.
By Rachel Lark

Contents of this report are considered property of Jordan, Howe and Ybonton (JHY), and all affiliated companies under the JHY umbrella. Revelation of this information on any storage form without express written consent by JHY is strictly prohibited.'

Smith read the report and cringed.

He didn't recognise the alias, but knew Edna's writing style - dry, dense, no sense of style in the writing. Then again, when Edna wrote this, style points would have been the last thing on her mind. Smith pressed on through the fact-choked thesis, absorbing all he could.

Part of him had been impressed by the path she chose to achieve the expectant result. And the report suggested that any race with a minimum of intelligence could be converted....

"This is not good," Smith said. "Not good at all." He started a thorough search of Edna's TARDIS. He didn't know what he'd find, but hoped there might be information on what she was doing here. The general answer - time storm - was obvious. Smith was interested in specifics.

***

It was before and during and after all at once, viewed through a fisheye lens.

On the left, the community, buzzing with activity.

On the right, a ghost town.

In between, chaos.

Diamanda couldn't keep her eyes off the storm. She felt drawn to the destruction, despite the rising bile in her throat and the screams (her screams) that sounded miles away and under water.

Time runs forward.

One second coming before the last has past. A minute crosses in fifteen seconds, an hour in a minute, years in minutes.

Time runs forward.

Sweeps across the community, a gale force wind rattling windows and lifting panels. Dust cakes the walls of the shelters, or the main buildings. Cobwebs appear out of nothing, coating skeletons that used to be living souls moments before the storm struck.

Time runs backwards now, a cross current against the gale, a counter wind that turns strong soldiers into foetuses in the blink of an eye, changes fleeing victims into primordial slime.

Above the settlement, a cloud, ominous and charged with electricity. Lightning strikes raze the ghost town below. Shrapnel rains down and across the settlement, a lethal razor storm slicing anything and everything into ribbons....

Time folds back in itself, leaves only a carcass of the town, covered in dust and ancient death.

Diamanda found herself in the eye of the storm, helpless to act. She witnessed the chaos, felt the colliding time winds run through her. She felt herself regress back to childhood and forward into dust, covered in cobwebs and primordial slime.

Diamanda screamed. Screamed at the scientists at work, ignorant of the impending disaster. Screamed at the Doctor as the tornado swept her away. Screamed at the wreckage, screamed and screamed and screamed...

***

Edna closed her mind as best she could. The Alpha Bolshoi attempted to bore into her mind.... no not them... something stronger.... something cold, unfeeling.

It pinged her, a single shot to find weakness in her defences. Edna forced herself to forget about being trussed on an altar, forget about the rising, unpleasant odours filling her nose.

It pinged her a second time, another check on her mind. Edna locked away her anger, her fear, her desire to see Imelda again; anything that was a distraction.

She could sense that whatever was probing her mind in this deliberate way was gaining strength. Grunting, footsteps filled her ears, and she tuned it out.

The pings came faster, probing her mind from all angles. Edna blocked them as fast as they came. Her mind closed breaches in the defences as fast as they opened. The attacks were unrelenting, stronger with every probe, looking for openings, analysing the blocks she put up.

Edna ignored the exhaustion, the dull pain throbbing through her mind. She came up with a plan and hoped it would work. She braced herself and allowed the gestalt inside.

***

The concept of surprise was unknown to the whole. Therefore, when it found itself able to slip into the vessel it had chosen, it had assumed that it had been successful in its aim.

The whole sent a myriad of tethers out to absorb the physical constructs of the vessel. If the whole was going to exist here, it needed to know everything.

One of the tethers found a certain section of the new mind home that dealt with purges. The whole received the signals from the tether and decided it would not allow the vessel to use the purge ability, unless it wanted to.

There would be a settling in period, but soon, the whole would have a new home, a strong and complete home.

***

Edna went to fire off the proper neurons, send the right chemicals to the proper sections of the brain and body...

And that's when the enemy slammed her consciousness into the darker regions of her mind and slammed the lid shut.

***

"I hate to interrupt you, but I think there's something outside you should see."

Smith stopped his search, saw him standing by the control room doors.

"What is it?"

"I think the owner of this ship was on to something, but left their equipment outside."

Smith frowned. What did Edna get herself into?

"Oh, by the way, this ship looks frightfully familiar."

"It's Edna's," Smith said.

His face contorted with worry. "If she's mixed up in this-"

"Settle down. She's come a long way. Methinks you know who sent her along."

His face shifted to righteous anger. "What are they playing at?"

Smith shook his head. "You don't want to know." He opened the doors to Edna's TARDIS. "Let's see what you've dug up."

***

The whole seemed indifferent to its new host. All that concerned it was that its existence would no longer be fragmented. The former owner of the vessel was now in storage, deep within the mind. A purge would be out of the question. It had studied the purge mechanism -regeneration, the former occupant called it - but understood it might be eliminated with the old owner. It would be best left in its cold storage. Besides, it might have its uses.

The whole had the Bolshoi untie it from the platform. No longer tied into the gestalt, the Bolshoi herded themselves into groups of three and four, and all but ignored the vessel in the centre of the cave, more interested in grooming and other social animal instincts.

The whole needed to conduct a simple test. It called over a Bolshoi, one of the Alphas. The Bolshoi stood there, grunting, its multi-celled eyes dull black. The whole concentrated, channelled its processes toward the Nanites within the Bolshoi.

The creature slumped forward before withering before the whole. The shiny purple skin turned silver like its back, the flesh reduced before fading away to bone.

The other Bolshoi saw this and fled the cave in a grunting, odiferous mass.

The whole was satisfied. It had the vessel bend over the crumbling skeleton and absorb the Nanites within.

***

"This is quite interesting," Smith said.

"Let me see."

Smith handed the plans over to his younger self. "It would have worked, too."

He read with his fingers. "Yes, it would have." He pulled out his recorder and butchered a Beatles song on it. "You know. I have an idea."

Before Smith could react, he was setting up the equipment, running wires pell-mell between the boxes.

"Well?" Smith asked.

"Well what? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

He stood up, eyebrows flared. "I plan on opening the gateway and checking to see if your friend might be around. While you were ransacking that TARDIS," he pointed at the wardrobe, "I took a look around the remains of the community."

"You taped into my mind for a description," Smith said.

"Yes." He looked indignant. "It's my mind too. Anyway, I found no traces of her remains in any form -"

"Which means the storm swept her off the planet-"

"Or into an alternate dimension." He smiled, picked up a small control box, put it back down, pulled out a coin. "Flip for it?"

Smith gave his past self a sharp look. "Don't bother, I'll go in."

"Okay then." He pocketed the coin, picked up the controls. "Here we go then."

***

Diamanda wrapped herself into a ball, throat raw from her violent screaming. She watched the time storm play over and over, from a distance and with her trapped in the middle. An endless loop of decay and recession dressed up as sharp winds and blinding rain...

And then she felt a firm hand on her shoulder, felt the strong arms pick her up.

She saw the Doctor, brown eyes filled with comfort and concern, and cried with relief.

***

Smith emerged from the pool of light, Diamanda limp in his arms. His past self shut the equipment down.

"She's a tall one."

"And rather heavy," Smith said. "Bring her back to my ship, would you?"

"Sure."

"And thank you."

He smiled. "Not a problem. We've got to stick together, you know."

Smith stood Diamanda up. Her body still trembled from the events in the dimension.

"Can you walk, Diamanda?"

"There was nothing I could do," Diamanda said. She locked her hands around his back and laid her head on his shoulder. "Nothing I could do."

Smith picked up her head. "I have a friend who is going to bring you back to the ship. I'll be back soon."

"That's my cue, then?" He took Diamanda's hand and led her away from the woods, back to the ship.

Smith heard Diamanda babbling. Whatever she saw in there, it would be a while before she could let it go.

Now, it was time to find Edna.

***

The whole identified the biped in the mouth of the cave as the one who had escaped into the time capsule. The biped opened his mouth and spoke:

"Edna, how are things?"

The whole took a few seconds to enable the speech mechanisms of the vessel.

"There is no more Edna." Speech was a strange form of communication, inefficient.

"What do you mean, Edna is no more?"

"I have taken over this vessel. No more pieces. Just one whole."

The biped thought this over. "You were a gestalt entity?"

"Yes. This is more efficient."

"So, now what?"

The whole didn't understand the biped's question.

"Now that you have this vessel, what do you plan on doing next?"

"The vessel has a time machine. From there, we are limitless options."

"You can't just take over people on a whim, you know."

The biped seemed hostile. The whole determined it would be better to eliminate the threat instead of speech. It began to tap into the Nanites.

***

Smith saw Edna's face contort, her eyes change colour. He dove to the side as a sheet of wind blew past him, reducing anything it its path to dust.

"If you keep doing things like that, you'll make me angry," Smith said through clenched teeth. Edna turned toward his voice and generated another time wind. Smith rolled away from the squall.

He scanned the cave. Edna stood before a platform. The rest of the cave had little else but piles of straw and small rocks.

A third gust missed him by inches. Smith flattened himself on the ground, cursed himself for being too old to be face down in a cave.

He looked up at Edna. Her eyes had returned to normal, her face relaxed and passive.

"Come to your senses, have you?"

Smith watched Edna pull a pistol sized blaster out of her pocket, toss it in his direction.

I don't have much time, Johnny-O. It had to let me out a bit to speak with you. I had a plan, but it shut down my regenerative functions. I need you to force a regeneration. Aim for my primary heart.

And as soon as Edna's voice appeared in his mind, it had gone.

Smith saw the gun, just to his right. One shot to get it right.

The gestalt took over Edna again, the eyes glowing with Nanite power.

Smith leapt for the gun, another wind burst missing him. In one motion, he grabbed the blaster, rolled and fired.

Edna took the bolt in the primary heart and collapsed.

***

The whole lost its tethered control on the vessel. It felt the pain of the blast, felt the occupant regain control. It tried one last, desperate assault to lock back onto the body.

But the purge mechanism had already fired. The chemicals in this vessel had started on inevitable courses.

The whole felt itself fracture, splinter and fade away...

***

Smith took a seat next to the long bed. Edna had been unconscious for a few hours now. The regeneration had been stable, despite the severity of the wound inflicted.

Edna's new form was dominated by the long black hair and the porcelain skin. She'd also lost a few inches in height. Otherwise, she looked as serious as always, even asleep.

"Johnny-O?" The words stumbled out of her mouth.

"How are you?" Smith asked.

Edna opened her eyes. "No more gestalt, which is a positive step." She turned her head toward the mirror and frowned. "A brunette? Never been one before." She turned back to Smith. "What do you think, Johnny-O?"

"Not bad," Smith said. "What's with the Johnny-O?"

"Since you've been calling me Edna all these years, I thought it appropriate to come up with a pet name for you!"

"I deserve that," Smith said. "Question?"

"Go ahead?"

"Did they send you along to keep an eye on me?"

Edna sat up. "No. This was an independent action on my behalf." Her face darkened. "Having a conscience is a tough thing, you know. I only gave JHY the report as a way to generate more income for myself. Never thought they would be able to put it to use."

"And?"

"Well, when they called you in on the job, I tapped the transmission and decided I had to clean this up myself."

"Conscience?"

"Absolutely. By the way, that body suits you."

"Thanks, I think. I never thanked you for what you did," Smith said.

"We're even now. A life for a life."

"You could have left me for dead, you know."

"Johnny-O, not the way I am now. Although, if one of the others had run into you, it might have been a different story." Edna reached up, patted his cheek. "You never told me what happened."

"How I ended up like that?" Smith said. He stood up, paced. "I still don't have a complete record of events. I have a vague sense of my ship being attacked, penetrated. My first clear memory is of you carrying my body into your TARDIS."

"The burns on your body were horrific. You were lucky to survive for as long as you did."

"Force of will." Smith sat back down. "Same as always."

Edna took his hand, smiled. "And now?"

"Since the new management team took over, I seem to be their lackey for the dirty jobs."

"Same as always?"

"Worse than ever, Edna." He stood up. "You okay?"

"I'll be fine," Edna said. "I'll spend a couple more days recuperating here, then go back and pick up Imelda."

"Does she-"

"Understand regeneration? Yes. Far more than you realise."

Smith opened his mouth, closed it. Best to leave that alone. "I'll be off then. Um, if you need me, don't hesitate to get in touch."

"Sure thing, Johnny-O."

***

Smith walked into the ship, found Diamanda in the lounge chair scribbling into a notebook.

"Diamanda?"

"The little guy said I should write down what I saw," she said, eyes still on the book. "It's supposed to help me eliminate the memories."

"He's a smart man."

Diamanda put down the pen. Despite the cheery tone in her voice, the dark ringed eyes spoke volumes about how she was. "He reminded me of you. Uncanny. Who was he?"

Smith shoved his hands in his pockets, mumbled.

"I see. I wouldn't understand?"

"Well, yes and no."

Diamanda got out of the chair, padded over to Smith. "I think we've been along enough to let me in."

"It's not that, Diamanda," Smith said. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I've kept a lot of things to myself because I don't understand them myself." He dropped his hand. "The little guy was one of my past selves, Diamanda."

"Past selves?"

"Yes, there are twelve other incarnations of me in existence."

"Reincarnation?"

"In a way, yes."

"So he popped in to lend a hand?" Diamanda asked.

"That's where it gets complicated."

"Okay." Diamanda smiled, then grabbed Smith in a fierce hug. "Thank you for rescuing me, Doctor."

Smith smiled. "It's what I do."