Alone at last, the Doctor turned back to his equipment. What struck him the most was the probe that Nick had caused him to drop. Peculiarly, the majority of the probe was immersed in the odd substance on the table, apparently prevented from being submerged only by the wire that connected it to the Doctor’s construction. As for the angle… The angle was completely impossible. If it were at that angle the little puddle would have to be far deeper than the few millimetres it appeared to be…




‘If only I had…’

These are the words that have started innumerable pointless sentences throughout time and space.

A seasoned time traveller knows exactly how useless they are.

The Doctor was loading coffee grounds into the filter of the espresso machine. Whatever that puddle of liquid time was made of on the table, it was proving remarkably resistant to all the analytic techniques he was employing.

It was almost as if it was something that the TARDIS sensors were not properly calibrated to detect.

After the incident of the probe’s impossible immersion, he had withdrawn the probe from the puddle and checked it over. It was working properly, but when he had tried to reinsert the probe into the puddle, instead of replicating the previous situation, he had touched the tabletop beneath the liquid.

So the frustrating hours passed.

Frankly, he had had enough of it for the moment, and a nice, strong cup of coffee would take his mind off its inscrutable presence.

While his back was turned, he did not notice a ripple cross the surface of the puddle. The coruscating lights within the puddle continued to be reflected by patterns on the walls and ceiling, but the passage of the ripple distorted them, twisting them into odd shapes.

Another ripple criss-crossed the first, and a third and fourth, each successive disturbance intersecting and making the surface of the puddle more chaotic.

As the water in the espresso machine reached boiling point, the sound of stream being forced through the coffee grounds filled the kitchen and blocked out all other noise.

A serpentine shape rose from the middle of the puddle, pointed claw-like mandibles probing at the table surface and finding the edge. It gripped the side of the table and, impossibly, a huge mass dragged itself dripping from the shallow puddle on the table.

When the Doctor turned back and saw the creature advancing on him, he could not help himself. He thought, if only I had wanted a cup of tea instead…




It was much later than Nick had planned to return home. He looked out of the window of the gyrocab as it came to ground outside the shop. He smiled across at Alf. It had been a good night out, better than his first visit to the submerged nightclub, and he credited the improvement to the company.

Having paid the fare, he turned to Alf. ‘It looks like the Doctor’s still awake,’ he said, nodding toward the brightly lit shop windows. ‘I wonder if he’s sussed out the puzzle puddle yet.’

‘You be careful – he obviously didn’t like you following him like a shadow earlier. Anyway, dealing with that sort of thing, do you really think you’d spot something that the Doctor hadn’t?’

‘It has been known,’ replied Nick, ‘but point taken. We could always head off to bed after we chat politely for a bit.’ He was pleased to see his smile returned.

Any such thoughts were quickly forgotten when they entered the building. Whatever had been happening while they were gone, it sure was not good.

It was like a small hurricane had run rampant through the shop, with display cabinets smashed open and their contents strewn around the room. The furniture had been overturned and battered as well.

Alf held her hand out towards Nick, gesturing for silence. Following her directions, Nick positioned himself by the doorway to the residential part of the building, while Alf placed herself on the opposite side. Nick noticed she’d picked up a chair leg from the wreckage and looked around for something for himself. He snagged the… well, whatever it was, the thing that you hit a gong with. The donger, he supposed, of a ceremonial Draconian gong that the Doctor had acquired months ago.

So armed, they stepped into the kitchen, Alf in the lead.