In the dim of the cold marble chamber, the echoes of myriad heavy footsteps and squeaking wheels echoed hollowly. The tall doors at the far end of the cavernous space banged open and a small group of armed men streamed into the exhibition hall, their boots clomping and scuffing the polished marble of the floor. Around them display cases sat in isolated pools of fluorescent light, surrounded by a sea of half-light. The walls were lined with canvases and hangings, each with its own display light.

 In the middle of the armed entourage rolled a cart with severely unoiled wheels. The cart's burden was an ominous-looking gray box scored and pitted with age and decay. Faded red lettering covered each side.

 And right beside the cart was a tall, gangling figure completely out of place with the drab soldiers around him. He wore a mismatched jumble of clothes: shabby tweed trousers, untucked tie-dye T-shirt, and an unbuttoned patchwork vest of mainly earth tones. He was forever on the move, dashing ahead to clear the way, dashing back to check on the precious cargo, then back ahead.

 Finally he deigned to slow down to an even pace with the dour officer with dull red hair next to him.

 "I hope you'll forgive the late hour, Professor Tern," the officer said, "but it is very important this artifact be assessed right away. And you are the Diracan National Museum's acknowledged authority on exoarchaeology."

 "I don't mind at all, Major Edek," Tern replied. "To tell this truth, I can't believe this is even happening!" he confided excitedly. "This is the first time we've ever actually gotten an artifact of this size intact. Your group has only released fragments before, you know. Before now we could only hypothesize, but with an intact specimen, who knows!"

 "May I remind you, Professor," Major Edek rumbled, "the only reason Diracan Intelligence has granted you access to this unique find is to assess its military aspects. Any other research is secondary in priority."

 Tern's enthusiasm was only slightly diminished. "Yes, of course, the war effort, I know. But still, even if it isn't military in nature, there's still a lot we might learn from it. The first intact artifact from that entire region of the western galactic arm! This could revolutionize the whole way we view the region's development! Who knows, maybe they were more like us than we suspect."

 Edek shrugged. "I wouldn't know, Professor. I'm a soldier, not an archaeologist. Why worry about the past when you probably won't live to see tomorrow?"

 "That's one way to see things," Tern agreed, taken aback. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go check on the workshop and make sure things are prepared." He beat a hasty retreat, shirttails flapping.

 Now what if something simply decides it's tired of being *here* and chooses to be *there*? What happens to all the things that were already there?

 Oddly enough, these questions have never crossed the mind of the four people who do this sort of thing on a regular basis. They all have just one question on their separate and collective minds: where are we?

 "A museum," she said. "How very odd. Where are the murderous armies, gun-happy soldiers, and ancient threats to all life everywhere?"

 "Very funny," Wil grumbled, pushing past her as he stepped out of the TARDIS' police box exterior. "Leave the sarcastic rejoinders to me. I'm gonna need them."

 Jadi was over by the room's sole exit, scouting the hallway. "Can't stand museums," he said over his shoulder to the others. "What's so fascinating about a clay pot? Unless it pulls in a price, it's not worth the effort to dig it up."

 "Museums are only as interesting as the things you find in them." The Doctor's voice drifted over from the display case of clay figurines he was examining. "I've always been very fond of art museums. You're bound to find yourself in a good painting.

 "Here, on the other hand," he continued to navigate around the room while speaking, "seems to be more of a history museum. Never really been my cup of tea. Why worry about the past when you've already been there?"

 "Doctor?" Wil said quietly. "I think I've found out when we are." He was standing in front of display showcasing different types of fossils. One in particular seemed to have caught his eye.

 "Whatcha got, buzzcock?" Angela asked. Something in his voice was putting her on edge.

 Wil simply pointed to the fossil. "Look for yourself."

 The item in question was ash gray, pitted in places, and, impossibly, perfectly rectangular. Cracks ran along the sides where folds and seams had once been. It was a fossilized pack of cigarettes; an unused butt was poking out of the open end. And it was still possible to make out the brand name, etched in the stone: Yemaya Strikes.

 "Amazing," the Doctor breathed, "it's been perfectly preserved. Look at this," he pointed to the information card, "'Found perfectly preserved in volcanic ash on world P-36548, this artifact is presumed to be the remnants of an extinct spacefaring culture. Initial evidence suggested this was confectionery, but that conclusion is now being disputed.'"

 The Doctor gave a low whistle. "The coordinates were farther off than I thought. The human colony on Yemaya survived at least into the early fourth millennium. And even then fossilization would have taken thousands on thousands of years. And given that humanity is apparently long forgotten, we must be millions of years into the future." He blinked several times. "Relative to when we were before, of course."

 "Doctor, didn't you say once that TARDISes weren't supposed to go beyond a certain point?" Jadi asked. "The moosphere or something like that?"

 "Noosphere," Wil spoke up. They all stared at him. "I got bored one day and flipped through the manual," he muttered sheepishly.

 "Yes, yes, yes," the Doctor said. "The noosphere is something the TARDIS is coming to penetrate with alarming regularity. I try not to worry about it anymore. But this does pin down our position. It's safe to assume humanity has died out by this point, or at least gone into a severe recession. That would put us somewhere beyond A.D. eleven or twelve million according to the human calendar."

 The four just stood there for a moment. A moment of awe seemed appropriate.

 "Now that we've got the when, I'm going to check some of the other halls," Angela said briskly. "Maybe there's a gift shop around here with some local astronomy maps so we can figure out the where. Hopefully they'll have some geographic maps of the area as well."

 "I'll go with you," Jadi offered, relieved at the prospect of getting out of the suddenly cold environment.

 "Good, good," the Doctor said. "You do that." He waved goodbye as they left. "And now, Wil, I think -- " He suddenly looked around the room which was playing host only to himself now.

 "Oh, all right. Just you and me, Doctor. I think we'll go look around at some of the exhibits, get an idea of the indigenous cultures. What do you think, Doctor? Oh, splendid, I'm glad we agree."

 And then the room was empty.

 "Well?" he asked impatiently. "Is it safe open?"

 Tern vaguely waved one hand at him in a conciliatory manner. "I'd like to think so," he answered in a distracted voice. "But the odds are it isn't. Whoever sealed this did his job well. And he undoubtedly had a good reason for doing so. I need to run some probing examinations first. A sonic scan is probably the best way to start."

 He turned away from the table and to a white console set agains the wall. An array of leads with flat ends running back to the scanning equipment had been attached to the artifact at various points. Tern tapped a button on the keyboard, causing the screen to slowly flicker into life.

 "These older models take a moment to warm up," he explained to Edek. "Since all of the new equipment has been requisitioned for the war, this is practically state-of-the-art around here. Still, it gets the job done...usually."

 Edek shifted uncomfortably. "The equipment is needed," he lectured as if by rote. "All resources must be devoted to turning the Merabalan assault."

 Tern smiled understandingly. "It's all right, Major," he said reassuringly. "I understand perfectly. No need to drop into propaganda mode. After all, who am I to question the wisdom of the Diracan matriarchy?"

 "Indeed," Edek agreed. "Who am I?" Before Tern could question his slip of the tongue, Edek suddenly pointed to the screen. "I believe the scanning software is ready now," he said.

 Briskly Tern looked to the screen. "Right," he said happily to the computer representation of the gray casket. "Let's see what you're hiding." And his fingers began an intricate dance over the keys.

 "The Knights Who Say Ni have a falling out," he muttered to himself.

 Then he read the small information card in front of the display and found the exhibit was a recreation of Kathaan preliminary mating rites, where males and females would weed out the weakest in the clan to ensure strong progeny. Wil decided to skip the rest of the Kathaan exhibits, most of which centered around sex and violence.

 As he quickly walked through the cavernous hall, his sneaker clad footsteps muffled, Wil shivered and pulled his baggy army surplus jacket tighter.

 Why do they have to make museums so cold? he wondered. Is there some union rule that says you can't learn and be warm at the same time?

 A slight, chilly breeze ruffled his ponytail just then.

 Air conditioning, Wil decided.

 Another, stronger, breeze this time.

 Really, really good air conditioning.

 And then the wind rose to screeching howl and a swirling neon vortex opened up in the air next to a display of a Kathaan remembrance ritual. Just as Wil found a hiding place behind a particularly gory coming of age rite, two figures clad in black dropped out of the vortex and onto the floor silently in tense crouches. Following them was some piece of equipment, painted the same midnight black as their uniforms. The soldiers caught the device and gently set it down. Almost immediately it began to bleep and the vortex shrank and faded away to almost nothing.

 One quietly made her -- for she did appear to be a woman beneath the combat armor -- way out of the room. The second -- a man -- took up a watchful position next to the piece of machinery, gun at the ready.

 Wil sighed and settled back for a long wait.

 "Back so soon, Major?" he asked. "I'm afraid the scan's still only in the preliminary stages at the moment.

 "That's all right," a silky smooth and utterly unfamiliar woman's voice said. "Don't let us get in your way."

 Someone behind them shouted "NO!"

 The professor began to turn around, but then Tern knew only pain and blackness.

 Another shot rang out, closer this time. He skidded around a sharp corner, ducked into an alcove, dashed through a doorway marked "Museum Personnel Only." A long hallway lit by dim and dying fluorescent lights stretched before him. The bureaucratic blandness of the hallway was marred by the grim tableau before him that him stopped him cold. Somewhere in the distance the Doctor could hear a metarock band began pounding out a tortured three part harmony.

 Two bodies slumped in front of an open door. He rushed to kneel beside them, makeshift bandages ready for action. Even before his fingers touched the neck in search of a pulse the Doctor could feel the skin already growing cool and clammy. Vital lifeblood was already staining the threadbare navy blue carpet. He gently closed the soldier's staring eyes with a pass of the fingers. The second man was only slightly warmer; the second victim, the Doctor guessed sadly.

 He climbed to his feet, not bothering with silence. The music was thumping out of this room, effectively drowning out the gunshots. He was lucky to have heard the shots himself.

 The Doctor's first impulse was to check the room, but a pragmatic and souring thought came to mind: whoever killed these two may still be inside the room. Of course, there may also be innocent people in there who needed help. The decision didn't require conscious thought.

 Careful not to disturb the door, the Doctor slipped through the gap. He was in a lab of some sort, poorly equipped and maintained by the looks of things. A gun metal gray casket looking like a miniature coffin rested on an examination table, hooked up to a scanning array. In front of a battered computer console at the far side of the room sat a young man. And behind the oblivious young man was a woman dressed in black combat gear.

 Muffled words passed between the two, the man at the computer unaware of the danger behind him. The figure in black raised her rifle silently -- not an Earth design, the Doctor noted -- and took aim. The music in the background hit an all-time high, voices and instruments wailing alike.

 "NO!" he shouted and lunged forward. The computer user spun around in his seat in alarm at the same time as the soldier.

 The soldier looked back in surprise and pulled her rifle around to take aim. Diving low, the Doctor tackled her legs and brought the soldier down hard. On the way down her rifle butt struck the man's head, knocking him out as well. She landed face first on the floor, the man on top of her, and the Doctor wound up beneath both of them.

 "Oof!" he grunted as he rolled the pair off him. "This is getting to be a habit, Doctor," he muttered, glad he could hear himself speak again. By now the song had ended and the disc was whirring uselessly in its cradle.

 Checking the two, they seemed fine, barring that they were unconscious. Assured of that, the Doctor turned his attention to the computer screen. A sonic scan program of the casket was in progress, and was just moving into the deep probing portion of the analysis. The scan's initial findings gave the contents as organic.

 "Shall we investigate?" the Doctor asked. "Yes, I thought we should."

 On first glance the casket seemed plain and ordinary; however, something caught the Doctor's eye. Beneath the dirt and corrosion were traces of red surrounded by a practically nonexistent border of thick yellow and black diagonal stripes. Rubbing away the leavings of eons, the Doctor was able to make the remains of a message, letters and words partially obliterated:

 -RYO---IC- ST--AG-E D--IS--N

 P--SE

 Taking a closer look at the last word, the Doctor could see it was some kind of logo. The loop in the "P" was filled by a globe in the shape of the Earth. The Doctor knew this symbol; the last time he had seen it had been eons on eons ago, in cluttered depths under London.

 He traced each letter in the encrusted dirt, slowly piecing it together and whispering each word aloud, "'Cryogenics Storage Division. Planetary Hazard Assault Squad - Earth.'" Across the label a single word had been crookedly stamped. It was still visible, even after all this time: CONTAMINATED.

 The Doctor bowed his head. "What have they done?" he whispered. "What did I let them do?"

 "I'll worry about that," the woman's voice snapped.

 Something cold and heavy smashed into the base of the Doctor's skull.

 "Dammit!" she cursed. No time.

 She slung the rifle over her shoulder and impossibly lifted the metal crate from the examining table, resting on her shoulder. Not too heavy, she noted with relief. It would be a strain, but not impossible. Shifting the box for a better grip, Layra dashed out through the door in the rear of the lab.

 Unsteadily he climbed to his feet, leaning on the examination table for support. Only when he regained his balance did the Doctor notice the casket was gone.

 "Oh dear," he murmured, trying not to exacerbate his throbbing head.

 The clack of a rifle being loaded did nothing to help.

 "Hello," the Doctor said weakly as he raised his hands and turned around to face his captor. "Could you keep it down, please? I've got a bit of a headache at the moment."

 Four more bullets slipped into place in four more rifles.

 "It was just a thought."

 To Be Continued...