Stalin's smile was as icy as the Siberian winter. "Very impressive, Doctor."

 "I try my best," said the Doctor, returning Stalin's distinct coolness. "You'll never guess what I do for an encore."

 "Die, I fear." The Doctor's smile vanished as Stalin aimed the gun directly at his head.

 "How?" Jadi replied. "There's an armed guard on the door, and my blaster is with him." Jadi aimed his hand like a gun directly at Wil's head and 'pulled the trigger.' Wil rolled his eyes.

 "I wish you wouldn't do things like that," he said wearily.

 "We're probably going to be shot anyway."

 Wil glanced at Jadi. The bounty hunter sat slumped in a corner, lost in his own self-pity. *Probably wondering where Angela is* Wil thought.

 "Come on," Wil said, filling his voice with enthusiasm he didn't feel. "We've got out of worse scrapes than this."

 "So we try the sick prisoner routine then?" Jadi sneered.

 "Have you got a better idea?"

 "That's a nice gun," he scowled. "Have you ever thought about losing the moustache though? I find a change every now and again makes one feel a completely different person." Though, he added to himself, he could do without changing just yet. Regenerations, unlike time machines, don't grow on trees.

 "Be quiet, Doctor," Stalin hissed. "You have made a fool out of me and my party for the last time."

 "I have a friend who's a fool," said the Doctor. "Nice chap, wouldn't harm a fly." He frowned. "I thought about being a fool once, but some people have no sense of humour."

 "Like me, Doctor? I know they laugh at me. At my accent, my appearance. My background. But I am better than the ones who mock me. Thanks to what we have started here, people will accept each other for what they are, and no-one will laugh at me then."

 "Because you'll shoot anyone who doesn't agree with you?"

 "Alas, Doctor, sometimes it is necessary to spill blood. Like now, for instance."

 "So you're going to shoot me down in cold blood?"

 "Oh no, Doctor," Stalin's voice was calm again now. "This is no different from any execution. No, you are one enemy of the revolution who will *not* live to see our glorious new Russia."

 Suddenly the Doctor's eyes shifted from Stalin's face to a point beyond his shoulder. A smile broke his handsome face. He gave a little wave. Stalin sneered, "You expect me to fall for that? You are more stupid than even I thought. Please note my disappointment as you die."

 His finger tightened on the trigger.

 A single gunshot echoed down the hall.

 Angela heard a noise from a small room to her right. She pushed the wooden door and it swung slowly open. Mikhail's wife was huddling with her children in the corner, her expression timid. She seemed to be just succeeding in comforting them. As Angela entered the room, four pale faces looked up in shock before Tatiana's face broke into a smile. Krau Staheyev appeared expectant for a moment, but then her face fell and Angela realised she was expecting Mikhail to have been right behind her.

 "The revolution?" the woman asked fearfully.

 "Successful."

 The woman steeled herself before asking, "Where is Mikhail?"

 Angela wracked her brains, desperate for the words that would upset the Tsarist's wife as little as possible. Her mind blanked. She tried to avoid eye contact as she said softly, "He's dead."

 Two of the children pulled closer to their mother, their eyes wide in confusion, too young to understand the words but old enough to sense the weight of the scene. Tatiana knew immediately what had happened and began to cry. Her mother stared straight ahead, one hand idly stroking Tatiana's hair, and nodded. "Thank you..." She paused, trying to erase the shuddering from her voice. "Thank you for coming," she finished, tears beginning to break through her stoic mask.

 Angela swallowed hard, unfamiliar emotions sparking inside her. "I'm sorry," she said, knowing that her words could do nothing to relieve the pain. One of the other children started to cry. Angela wanted to help, to ease the widow's burden. Damn it, she wanted to hug them all and to tell them it would be all right. But she could only shrink back through the door and leave the family to mourn together.

 "Come on," the Doctor shouted. "We have to find Angela and get back to the TARDIS. I think history has had about as much of us as she can take."

 "Well I can't say I'm that taken with her," Wil whispered to Jadi. The two of them followed the Doctor's flapping coat-tails as they disappeared around the corner.

 She stepped inside to find the gas lamp glowing dimly beside Ivanov's bed. He might as well have been a corpse until he opened his eyes. They shone out from his weak body as it turned slowly towards her.

 "It has failed," he stated.

 Angela nodded, fidgeting with the device attached to her left wrist.

 "Mikhail and the others dead," he continued.

 "Most of them," she said. There was a pregnant pause, his question still in the air. "Yes."

 The man's wrinkled features collapsed into a frown. "Then we have failed." He took a deep, wheezing breath, followed by a small groan. "There is nothing more. Poor Katia."

 "Katia?"

 "Mikhail's wife. She cannot work. With Mikhail gone, so are her family's chances." Ivanov may have been about to say more, but he was interrupted by a severe coughing fit.

 "Are you all right?"

 The old man chuckled as best he could. "No," he told her, "I shall join Mikhail soon, where we shall be free of the Bolsheviks and their blasphemies." He reached out a wizened finger, indicating for her to come closer until she was bent over him, her face centimetres above his.

 "You are a traveller," he whispered. "But there is only so much fulfilment from travelling."

 Angela knew what was coming.

 "You are a strong young woman. With your help, Katia and the children need not go hungry."

 Angela shook her head. "This isn't where I belong," she replied quietly. "I don't know this city, even this country." Even this planet. "What can I do?"

 Ivanov pooled his strength into moving a little closer, speaking almost inaudibly into her ear. "You are talented, I can tell. Stay here. Please. Mikhail would wish it, and so do I."

 She opened her mouth to reply but closed it again as the old man slumped back onto the bed.

 "Is he dead too?"

 Angela glanced behind her. Katia was standing in the doorway, her youngest asleep in her arms. Angela checked for Ivanov's pulse; it was absent. She nodded.

 "He said something to you before he left." Angela knew it was a question.

 "I couldn't make out what he was saying," she lied, fingering the locator on her wrist. "I have to go," she added hurriedly. "Er, thanks for the hospitality. I'm sorry about... Well, you know."

 Katia watched, slightly surprised and puzzled, as Angela vanished past her and into the street. Katia closed the front door after her.

 "I should think most of the revolutionaries are preoccupied with celebrating their coup," the Doctor yelled back. "We shouldn't have much trouble finding an unguarded exit."

 "And I've got a gun," Jadi added. Without even seeing the Doctor's face, he knew he was scowling - the disapproval was almost audible.

 "Killing anyone now may irreversibly alter the time stream. This is a crucial point in human history."

 "Tell me about it," Jadi said to Wil, with a mock yawn.

 At the front gate stood a solitary, bored-looking guard, probably ruing the fact that while his friends were out on the streets of Petrograd launching the new era, he was stuck outside the Institute with nothing to do. He barely glanced at the three travellers as they left - even Jadi's parting "Vive la revolution" failed to provoke a response. Jadi was rather disappointed.

 "Why hasn't Stalin sent anyone after us?"

 "I expect he has rather more important things to do than chase us," said the Doctor. "After all, he doesn't want to miss his say on the revolutionary council while pursuing a few inconsequential foreigners. And there probably aren't enough spare soldiers to send off on a wild goose chase."

 "Oh." Jadi sounded almost insulted.

 Standing outside in the freezing, early-morning air, the Doctor looked up at the star-lit sky. "Pretty," he whispered.

 "I have to hand it to you, I never thought the 'Help, guard, my friend is sick' routine would work," said Jadi.

 "Oh ye of little faith," said Wil. "You'll learn."

 Jadi turned to the Doctor. "You OK, handsome?"

 The Doctor turned. "Hmm?" He touched his shoulder experimentally - it was a shame about the coat, he thought, especially since he had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't his. "Oh yes, all's shipshape and Bristol fashion. We Time Lords-"

 "Have a finely honed skill of bodily regeneration," finished Wil. "I know."

 The Doctor smiled. "Ah, Wil, you're learning. Now, as long as you answer the third question on the exam paper..."

 Wil looked blank as the Doctor chuckled to himself.

 "What about Angela?" Jadi asked.

 "I don't know," the Doctor admitted. "I tried to find out where she was, but to no avail."

 "We have to find her," said Jadi, openly concerned. "Doctor, an attractive young woman alone with a bunch of excited revolutionaries-"

 "I'm sure Angela will be fine," the Doctor replied.

 "She's more than capable of looking after herself," added Wil.

 Jadi looked at them both. "Well I don't like it. I'm going to look for her."

 "We'll help," said the Doctor gently, "but I think we should go to the TARDIS first. Angela may have found her way back, and if she hasn't then I may be able to whip up something which will make the search easier - this is a big city."

 Jadi looked ready to argue, but merely sighed. "If you say so, but please let's hurry."

 "I assure you, Jadi, I'm as concerned for Angela as you are, but splitting up and looking for her randomly would be asking for trouble."

 "Fine," Jadi said, raising his hands in reluctant surrender. "Let's go then."

 The Doctor looked at Wil. "It's this way," he called at Jadi's diminishing back.

 Jadi turned, sheepishly, and ran to catch up with them.

 The Doctor, however, was notably absent from the group of damp corpses that she found. Either, she decided, his body had been moved, probably by someone with dubious motives, or he had survived. She desperately hoped the latter was true - it had to be, or she could be stuck in twentieth century Russia forever.

 Her speed betraying her concern, if only to herself, she followed the locator's directions towards her only chance of escape.

 Most of the Bolshevik revolutionaries were either at the Winter Palace, or else in the taverns of the city, drinking to their victory. The travellers crunched their way through the snow which lay thickly on the ground. Above them, the first shafts of morning light had appeared, tinted a shade of scarlet.

 "Red sky in the morning..." Jadi began.

 "...shepherd's house is on fire," finished Wil, with a grin.

 "A Red dawn," the Doctor said quietly. "Today marks a new beginning. Another world war to be fought, two million bombs to be constructed. More than twenty million deaths, and for what, besides resulting in the bloodiest century this planet has so far witnessed? Seventy years of forgotten ideals. All these dreamers fading to nothing, and their dreams..."

 The Doctor didn't finish the sentence. It was cold enough already.

 "How are you, old girl?" he cooed gently as he unlocked the door and stepped into the Gothic interior, closely followed by Wil and Jadi.

 As usual, Wil felt a brief thrill as he entered the ship - whether it was an effect of the dimensional interface or merely excitement he couldn't say. Probably a mixture of both.

 "Wait for me," Angela said, rushing in behind them.

 Wil thought about asking "How are you, old girl?" but stayed quiet while Jadi hugged her. As Angela returned the embrace, Wil wondered whether the expression on her face was pleasure at being back with him and the Doctor - oh, yes, and Jadi - or whether it was simply relief.

 And the red dawn became a fresh blue sky, and October became November, and then 1917 became 1918 as the snow continued to fall on Petrograd. And then Petrograd became Leningrad, and the snow fell on Petrograd no more.

 3 AM, 26 October 1917

 Vladimir Illyich Lenin stood gripping the lecturn, riding out the loud applause from the delegates still remaining at the Second Congress of Soviets. The Mensheviks and the Socialist-Revolutionary spokesmen, including Martov's group, had walked out in protest, belittling the revolution as a mere Bolshevik coup, carried out without proper approval from the Congress.

 Into the dustbin of history with them. No more compromises.

 Finally, after all the years of exile, of struggle and despair -- victory. Time to get down to business.

 When the acclamation had died down enough, Lenin smiled, and spoke.

 "We shall now proceed to construct the Socialist order..."

 The Doctor was lying under the console, only his feet visible. He had mentioned something about fixing the TARDIS translation unit and getting the direction controls back on line, but for all she knew he was lying there just listening to his ship.

 "Doctor."

 He slid into view and flashed her a smile. "Yes?"

 "I did the right thing, didn't I? I couldn't have stayed on Earth?"

 The Doctor looked into her face. The depths of his blue eyes nearly swallowed her.

 "They will be all right won't they? They won't be punished because they're loyalists?"

 The Doctor didn't reply.

 "I can hope, can't I?" Angela said, almost pleadingly.

 "Of course," said the Doctor. "Everyone can hope."

 "Hey, Doctor," he said, sounding as innocent as he could manage.

 "Hello, Morok. How's Angela?"

 Jadi bit his lip. "She seems cut up about something. Won't tell me what."

 "She's been through a lot recently," the Doctor said. "We all have."

 Jadi shrugged and changed the subject. "You know about the future, don't you, Doc?"

 The Doctor nodded slowly. "Sometimes. It's all a matter of keeping your ears and eyes open. Why?"

 "I... Do you know what happened to Lana?"

 "Lana who?"

 Jadi shrugged again. "I dunno. I met her in Russia - I think she was a supporter of Lenin and his lot."

 The Doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid that doesn't ring any bells at all."

 A bell rang three times, deep and sonorous.

 "What's that?" Wil asked, running into the room at Angela's heels.

 "The cloister bell?" Jadi suggested.

 "No no no no no," the Doctor said. "That's my alarm clock. I must have forgotten to turn it off."

 Wil's eyes widened. "When did you set it?"

 "About thirty-five years ago. Give or take a few months."

 Jadi yawned. "Well as long as it's not going to ring again, I'll be off to bed. I'm knackered. Angela?"

 "What? Oh, I'll be along later. Probably."

 Jadi looked slightly taken aback. "Er, OK."

 "Don't ask me then," Wil murmured slyly at Jadi's retreating figure.

 The Doctor rubbed his hands together. "How about dinner then, you two?"

 "I'm not hungry," Angela said. "Sorry," she added, heading off into the TARDIS's labyrinthine corridors.

 The Doctor tutted to himself and turned to his remaining companion. "Mr Young," he said cheerfully, "would *you* honour me with your presence at dinner?"

 Wil grinned. "Certainly, Mr Doctor. There's nothing I'd enjoy more."

 "As the actress said to the bishop."

 "Doctor, don't even *try*."

 "Oh, come on, Wil, there's nothing like a good joke!"

 "No, Doctor, and that was *nothing* like a good joke. I'll be the Fool, you be the Time Lord. Deal?"

 For a moment, the Doctor looked dejected. And then he grinned.

 FIN.