* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 Grace coughed. "I beg your pardon? My psycho-what has replaced the TARDIS records?"

 Romana's face quickly gained *that* look that Grace so often saw on the Doctor when he started to explain his high, muckety-muck science.

 "Psycho-symbolism is the relationship between the vortex and any form of matter in the material universe. Normally a TARDIS's psycho-symbolic architectural map is fairly insignificant, seeing as the majority of a TARDIS exists outside of the material universe. But now, for some reason, your psycho-symbolic architecture, or vortex print, a map of how your psycho-symbolic structure interacts with the vortex, has been juxtaposed with the TARDIS's vortex print map in the Matrix. The Matrix isn't equipped to deal with a living being's vortex print. And yours is taking up a large section of the Matrix's storage capacity, and making any predictions concerning how we're going to survive this little episode extremely sketchy."

 Romana paused. "Grace, are you listening?"

 "Hmm? Oh, yes, but what does it mean?" Grace asked, snapping back to attention, her eyes having glazed over after the first ten syllables.

 The two Time Lords glanced at each other, both with expressions of concern.

 "Simply put, since your psycho-symbolic structure has replaced the TARDIS's, that means the TARDIS's has replaced yours. No living creature outside of a Legion can cope with a multi-dimensional vortex print and still exist in our universe." Romana's face hardened and Grace, her attention firmly fixed for the moment, got worried.

 "Grace, unless we can switch the structures back, your mind will soon dissolve and be absorbed into the TARDIS's own print, creating an imbalance in relation to your own vortex print contained in the Matrix and causing a chain reaction. That chain reaction would then catastrophically dis-align the diametric balance of the Eye of Harmony. The overflow of energy from the Eye would then spill over the event horizon, flood the dismembered vortex and cause the universe to collapse about three hundred billion years too early."

 Romana paused. "Of course, since you're already linked to the TARDIS, complete integration with the TARDIS will occur much sooner until the vortex is restored and we can switch your vortex prints back."

 Grace brightened at this while Romana continued. "Provided of course the Doctor doesn't attempt to dematerialise the TARDIS; that would instigate an energy cascade that would pull you in immediately. But that should be impossible at the moment."

 At that point Grace thought of daffodils and fell over.

 Romana looked at the Abbot and sighed. "It would appear that Grace is already succumbing to the pull of the TARDIS. I suggest you find a way to isolate her from the Doctor's TARDIS or all of creation will come crashing down about our ears far sooner than it should."

 The Abbot nodded somberly.

 ***

 Crispin backed away. Givenchy looked even worse than the last time he had seen her in the TARDIS sickbay. Her hair was almost non-existent, her face looked like they'd weathered a thousand years, and the bony fingers she was currently aiming at him like daggers were, in fact, as sharp as daggers.

 "Look, Professor," Crispin began, still backing like a Mack truck, "why don't we just sit down and talk about this, rationally."

 "Quiet!" Givenchy shrieked, her voice screeching like a soprano hitting her death note. "Where is the Doctor? I want him, he did this to me! He must have done this to me!"

 Crispin backed up again and realized he was up against the wall. And the revolution was coming.

 ***

 Anna managed to turn her head in Stuart's direction. "Stuart!" she hissed. "Wake up! We've got to get free!" She kicked her feet at him, provoking a response.

 "Wha - ? Whuzz goin' on ma? Lemme 'lone, juzz a lil' longer, promise," he mumbled into a Persian rug, drooling slightly.

 "Stuart!" Anna was getting angry. "Wake up you dumb oaf! Who knows what those barbarians could do to us, they might be into all sorts of strange rituals and sacrifices involving virgins!"

 "I beg your pardon, heathen?"

 Anna blinked and looked up, where the lead Chattermalian was leaning over her.

 "Oh, um, nothing, nope, I didn't say a thing."

 The Chattermalian bent down. "No, I'm fairly certain you called myself and my friends over there barbarians and that we were 'into all sorts of strange rituals and sacrifices involving,'" Here the Chattermalian turned red, "'virgins.'"

 Anna could hear the quotes and turned an equal red in embarrassment. The Chattermalian continued, "It's nothing like that at all. My friends and I are just going to purge you and your unconscious companion there of the sorcerer's unnatural taint."

 At this point he gestured over to the fireplace where the other Chattermalians were stoking up the fire and sharpening their swords. Hearing themselves named, they looked up, smiled and waved.

 Anna took one look, and started her only bid for freedom. "Oh, well, don't worry, we're not tainted, no siree, no tainting over here. The Doc - um, *sorcerer* captured us and was forcing us to do his, uh, bidding. He was trying to, erm, corrupt us, that's it. He was trying to corrupt us and seduce us to the, er, the dark side. Luckily, we were barely able to resist his hypnotic powers."

 Anna nudged Stuart rather hard in the ribs as best she could. "Isn't that right, Stuart?"

 Stuart yawned and rolled away. "Mmmf, go 'way."

 "See? The sorcerer was going to kill him, when poor Stuart was already dumb for life!" The barbarian scowled when Anna mentioned poor Stuart's destined fate at the hands of the sorcerer/Doctor.

 Anna continued, "Yeah, that's right. Stuart defied the sorcerer, refused to come over to the dark side. Then the sorcerer took his mind, but still Stuart disobeyed. The evil fiend was just about to kill him when you came in and saved us all from the foul creature." Anna paused and hoped that the Chattermalian hadn't noticed that particular plot hole.

 "This Stuart, he must have a strong will to defy a sorcerer that could create such a place as this," Blastock said, seemingly impressed one so small could seemingly resist a creature of darkness.

 Anna nodded. "Oh yes, very strong, very strong indeed. And he cares for nature too and all sorts of things. Yup, why just this evening he freed hundreds of defenseless animals from the clutches of an ugly old crone who wanted them for a dark sacrifice, donchyaknow."

 Anna sped up her story at this point, seeing that the Chattermalian appeared to be buying it.

 "He helps old ladies cross the street, he picks up litter, he contributes to both campaigns," Anna was just rambling now. "He helps wash the neighbor's dog, he recycles, he doesn't litter, he pays his taxes on time!"

 By this point Blastock had had enough. The poor girl had obviously been sent round the bend by the sorcerer. Still, crazy people could carry things. And there were a lot of sorcererous things to burn and they needed wood.

 The Chattermalian stood up. "Well, it sounds like you're sincere. And it would be nice not to have kill non-blasphemers who've been duped. I suppose could untie you." Here Anna perked up.

 "But do you promise to help us? We need someone to help carry things, wood for burning the unnatural wizardly things, but it all gets rather heavy."

 Anna nodded violently, smiling her best Monty Hall smile. "Yup, uh-huh. No problem. Absolutely, you betcha."

 The Chattermalian bent down, cut her and Stuart's ropes, and gave her a hand up. "Well, glad to meet you then."

 His face twitched into an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, we haven't been properly introduced. I'm Blastock," and then he pointed at the others in turn, "and that's Folintarc, that's Turncwart, and that's Salistinog." Each Chattermalian waved in turn.

 Anna waved at each, they didn't seem so mean anymore, just dirty; in fact Blastock was kinda cute.

 "Hi, nice to meet you all. Well, um, my name is Anna, and as I said before, that down there is Stuart."

 She waved downwards at Stuart as he curled up and mumbled, "Ma? Whur's the toast?"

 ***

 Outside the TARDIS, and some blocks away, silence reigned with a tight fist. The wind didn't move, the night became oppressive in between pools of sickly yellow lamp light.

 Nothing moved; Nothing made a sound; Nothing played the spoons. Nothing got bored and went home.

 On the corner, where Nothing had stood before, Something was happening. This Something appeared to be rectangular, about six feet tall, and green. It was hard to tell because this Something was fading, in and out to an irregular beat.

 While this Something was deciding whether or not it wanted to be real, it was accompanied by a hair-curling mechanical screeching, a screech strangely reminiscent of a dying steam engine. Sometimes this Something would disappear altogether, the screeching nothing but a memory on the wind; or the Something would be almost real, only to fade again.

 Then, finally, agonizingly, as the screeches reached a glass-shattering crescendo, the Something became solid and proclaimed its existence with an almighty thump that shuddered lamp posts up and down the street.

 The front of the Something, now a green box, split, separated, and protruded forward with a whine.

 A head poked out from behind the door, peered down the street in both directions, and grinned mightily. A body followed the head and it eased itself from the box.

 The man looked up and down the street, rocking on his heels, whistling "Swanee River", and grinning like a maniac. Finally, he chose a direction and started off, still whistling.

 Had Nothing hung around for this sight, Nothing would have been bowled over not only by the whole strange affair, but also found what the man said as he walked away extremely strange:

 "And Thete said a SIDRAT wasn't good for anything 'cept moving rubbish!"

 ***

 Not too far away from that remarkable occurrence, and not too long afterwards, Something very similar happened, like before. The box gasped and screeched like nails-on-slate its way into existence, like before. A head poked out, like before. Only this time the head didn't smile - it wasn't even a man, it was a woman, with what normally could've been a soft, round, kind-looking face, except that this woman was extremely, and perpetually, annoyed.

 The mystery woman grimaced at her surroundings and, after giving the green box a swift kick, walked down the street, maintaining her sour face all the way.

 As she walked down the street she could be heard - had Nothing been to there to hear her speak - to grumble to herself in a most irritated tone.

 "SIDRAT lifeboat, hah! And I'm Rassilon's third aunt! Thing's a pile of junk. Should've been scrapped years ago. Last time I ever try to navigate *anything* through the vortex fringes, no matter if the vortex is in pieces or still as glass.

 "Ooh, I bet this whole problem is *his* fault, too. Not good enough he's got to fly around in a museum piece; nooo, now he's got to make sure everyone else has an Other of a time getting anywhere as well! He's in big trouble this time, the irresponsible git. They're gonna owe me big for this job." The woman continued down the street in this fashion, grumbling and occasionally stopping to boot a lamp post.

 Had Nothing been witness to this most extraordinary event, Nothing would've packed it up and gone home for a nice lie down, had Nothing not gone home earlier.

 ***

 Drax wandered down the street, taking in the sights of a deserted Clacktown. He had been wandering about for the past half-hour now and hadn't seen anything to indicate that something was amiss. And normally when the Doctor was around, things amiss went in spades.

 Drax had just come to an ice cream stand on a corner and was checking out the flavors when he heard a familiar voice float towards him, grumbling, just he remembered it.

 "I swear by the three Eternals I'll drag him in this time. I'll have him court martialled, keel hauled, drawn and quartered, and whatever other charges I can get."

 *There's only one moaner like that in the cosmos,* Drax thought. He peered around the corner and his suspicions were confirmed.

 "Dessia!" Drax rushed round the corner, arms wide.

 The woman glanced up and grimaced. "What the - ? You too, Drax? This is it, this is it! First the vortex falls to bits, then I'm packed off in an antique to find a renegade, and now you! Well that's just great, isn't it?"

 "It sure is!" Drax swept up Dessia in big hug, ignoring her attempts to swat him away.

 "You oaf, put me down! I am not glad to see you! Especially after last time when you bumbled into that case with the Rani and her Uber-rabbits on Cygnus VIII! You better put me down, Drax!" Despite Dessia's rantings, Drax continued to hug her.

 Dessia began to get angry. "Drax, we may be cousins of Dooranor House, but that does not give you right to hug me, you jerk!"

 Drax set the ranting woman down, before she started with her fists. "Sorry, Dessia. It's just that, well, it's been a long time since I saw any family. And that was weird Uncle Irving, you remember Uncle Irving, right? From Lungbarrow House? You know, he's got the biggest library now - "

 Dessia cut in. "Drax, shut up. How in the name of Rassilon's Kazoo did you get here?"

 "It was easy," Drax shrugged. "When we used to skip class in the Academy, Thete and I used an old TARDIS they used for driving lessons, one of the SIDRAT models, which only traveled through the vortex fringe. I thought maybe the fringe wouldn't have been affected as drastically. So I converted my TARDIS into a SIDRAT."

 "You thought of that all by yourself?" Dessia asked disbelievingly. "it took the CIA days to even think of using one of the museum models. How did you...? No, never mind, I don't want to know. Come on, you can help me find me, since we're both here for the same thing."

 Drax thought for a moment, "What? You mean you're here for ol' Thete too?"

 Dessia exploded. "Of course you sandcrawler! Who else? Odds are he caused this mess! The CIA sent me here to get him and get him I shall!"

 "Now Dessia," Drax calmed her. "Just cause he happens to be in the epicenter of a cosmic catastrophe doesn't mean he caused it."

 She glared at him long and hard, looking any hint of sarcasm. "Drax, sometimes I wonder whether it all fell out of your head after your first regeneration. Now come on, we've - " Dessia cocked her head.

 "Listen, someone's screaming, that way. It must be one of the Doctor's china-ankle companions; and where the screamers are, so is the Doctor! Come on!"

 Dessia dashed off down the street towards the origin of the scream, dragging Drax with her.

 ***

 Crispin was in trouble, he could tell that easily enough. Givenchy had obviously lost it - assuming she still had 'it' after eighty years, and had blamed it all on the Doctor for some reason. It was if she already knew the Doctor from before, and was afraid of what he might do to her.

 But now was not the time to ponder unanswerables. Because at this point the good professor was threatening to slash his throat if the Doctor didn't show up.

 "Look you little twerp!" Givenchy screamed. "I want the Doctor, and I want him now! This all is his fault, and he will pay! I was young and beautiful again, but then he took it all away. Again! As if once wasn't enough!"

 Crispin tried to answer that, but she had him trapped against the wall with a strong grip around his throat. For all her apparent age, she was unnaturally strong.

 "*Gurgle* I don't...know *haughh* let go...pleeeaasse." As the light faded, Crispin's last conscious thought was that now he wouldn't be able to tell Anna how he felt.

 As the darkness fell, Crispin thought he heard wood crack and splinter, and someone shout, "You, back away from the boy!"

 But the darkness had fallen.

 ***

 The Doctor stood up. He had a splitting headache and when he opened his eyes the light of the TARDIS sickbay blinded him.

 Wait a minute. TARDIS sickbay? What had happened to the musty old house with Crispin and the rats?

 The Doctor opened his eyes further and squinted in the light. Yep, TARDIS sickbay.

 "Hmm, perhaps the splintering of the vortex created instabilities in the local space around the TARDIS," the Doctor mused aloud, "which was similarly weakened by Givenchy's lab being spliced into it. And perhaps these instabilities are linked so that travel between two 'holes' is possible, which would explain why I landed in the sickbay." The Doctor glanced at the lectern and partial chalkboard sitting in the corner, and nodded, for the moment satisfied with his hypothesis.

 "Wait a minute, if the vortex instabilities are connected, then they would have be connected through the vortex. And unshielded passage through the vortex is fatal due to the Time Winds. So how did I survive?"

 The Doctor began to pace up and down the length of the sickbay, paused and looked down. His trouser ends were piled up on top of his shoes and his legs felt shorter.

 "Well that's curious. I hope I'm not shrinking again, once was enough to teach me not to open the doors in mid-flight."

 The Doctor considered this new revelation concerning his height for a moment, then felt his face.

 "Oh no, not again, it's too soon!" This time when he spoke, the Doctor noticed the distinctive burr in his voice.

 He stumbled over to the wall mirror, eyes shut, afraid of what was there. When he opened his eyes, he reached up and pulled at his dark brown, short, curly hair. He prodded at the lines on his forehead. He looked into his dark brown eyes.

 What was it he had said to Peri so long ago? Ah yes.

 "Regenerate, yet unregenerate."

 The Doctor stared at his previous - and now present - self.

 To Be Continued...