In the Throne Room of Peladon a meeting was taking place. It was to be the last meeting that King Garet would ever attend. His seven aides were there, standing under Martian guard. The King himself was kneeling before his throne, upon which sat Commander Sshaarp. The crown worn by Garet at only special occasions was sitting at a lopsided angle on top of Sshaarp’s helmet.

‘I want you all to witness this, this sign of our conquest of Peladon. You will take this news to your people. Resist us, and you will all suffer the fate of your King.’

Sshaarp closed his fist and placed it against Garet’s forehead. The sonic weapon on Sshaarp’s wrist came into direct contact with the Pel’s cold skin. Garet’s instinct was to flinch back, but he held his ground. If he were going to die, then it would be with dignity.

‘Do you have any last words?’ Sshaarp asked.

Garet swallowed, and nodded. ‘Yes.’

Sshaarp laughed. It was the first time the Pels had heard a Martian laugh, and they did not like it. ‘Then it is too bad that no one shall hear them!’

The doors to the Throne Room were flung open, revealing a whole army of people standing outside. Guns were raised and aimed. Standing at the head of the small army was the “Doctor”. He took in the scene, smiled, and looked directly at Sshaarp.

‘Sorry to spoil your fun,’ he said, then ducked, as the Federation troops started firing.

The Martians fired back. The Pels all dropped to the floor, their own survival instincts taking over.

Sshaarp could not believe it. He was in complete control of the situation, and then the next moment he wasn’t. The Chosen Ones were losing since the Federation troops had the element of surprise. A stray shot caught him in the shoulder and he was thrown into a spin, toppling against the throne. Garet stood up and gave Sshaarp a big shove, helping the Martian to the floor. Sshaarp looked up and aimed his weapon, but Garet no longer showed any fear. Instead he stood proud, as the Martians fell around him.

Sshaarp scrambled to his feet, and staggered out of the Throne Room, into a hidden passage behind one of the tapestries. The “Doctor” noticed and set off after him.

The sound of firing had ceased, and just as Garet was about to thank the Federation troops for their help another noise filled the air. Everyone looked around the room, equally unsure. A stone pillar appeared against one wall, blending in perfectly with the others dotted around the room. A section of the pillar opened and three people emerged.

Garet recognised the woman straight away. She had once visited Peladon with the Doctor. He stepped forward to greet them. ‘Welcome to...’

Alf looked around, noticing first the Federation troops, who were saluting the President, and then King Garet who was approaching Nick, Koschei and herself. Of the Doctor there was no sign. ‘Where’s the Doctor?’

Garet pointed at the tapestry. ‘He has gone after Sshaarp.’

Alf looked back at Nick. ‘He’ll need our help. You coming?’

For a moment Nick almost looked fearful, then shook his head. ‘No, I’ll stay here. Help clean up this mess.’

Alf didn’t wait to argue, she just headed off to the tapestry and the passage beyond.




The “Doctor” recognised the passage he was in, for he had only left it a short while ago. He turned a corner and nodded. Standing nearby was the reassuring shape of the TARDIS. Of Sshaarp, however, there was no sign.

The “Doctor” placed a finger to his lips and pondered. He had not passed the Martian on his way through the passages, he was certain that he would have noticed. And yet there was no other way that Sshaarp could have come. Which meant the warrior had to be hiding somewhere. But where?

The “Doctor” looked at the police box, comprehension dawning, just as the solid bulk of the Martian commander stepped out from behind it. Sshaarp raised his wrist gun and the “Doctor” smiled.

‘Why is it always kill with your type, Sshaarp?’

‘Strength is power. And the Martian Empire will have that strength again. You may claim back this world, but you cannot stop the Chosen Ones from reclaiming the Empire.’

The “Doctor” nodded. ‘You know, you’re absolutely right. So why don’t you lower your weapon and let us talk about it?’

Sshaarp’s arm did not move. ‘No. I will not be held prisoner like the old Honour Guard. They became weak and were replaced by Wellarzlee’s Chosen Ones.’

The “Doctor” shrugged. ‘Well, sorry to be the one who has to tell you this, but those Honour Guards are the ones who will win.’ He looked at his watch and nodded. ‘In fact, if I have timed this right, then Commander Xzalnyr has just brought Marshall Wellarzlee’s life to a premature end.’

Sshaarp shook his head. ‘That is impossible.’

‘Not a bit of it. Trust me, I’m the Doctor. I do not lie.’

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