FIVE

They stepped out of the lift and paused. It was completely black.

"Who goes home and turns off every single light?" she whispered, unhappy.

"No-one," he breathed from somewhere above her, and to her left. "They'd never find the light switch again."

"Too right," someone said loudly, and they froze.

The sound of many guns whining as power charged through them sounded, and Martha put her hand out to her left quickly, feeling the thick weave of his long brown coat and clutching at it. She was surprised to feel his cool fingers on her wrist, and then they pried hers off, instead taking her hand firmly.

"Who's in charge here?" he demanded.

Lights snapped on and they found themselves blinking into the bright lights of a large room full of filing cabinets and bookshelves.

"Not the power room, then," she hissed at him from the corner of her mouth. She felt his grip squeeze on her hand briefly and held her breath.

A tall, round thing edged up toward them. She didn't take in too many other details; the first thing she saw was the large black gun-like object pointing at her.

"I am in charge here," said a voice, and they looked round the black-uniformed being to another one. "And what were you doing in the lobby? We watched you manipulating and searching the official records," he accused.

The alien was standing, or rather puddling, just behind and to the right of the armed guard. He was a good head taller than even the Doctor, round and deep blue, his jelly-like skin undulating with small ripples of energy or something similar. Martha gaped. He crossed two expansive arms over his red uniform and peered at them with a single, large green eye.

"You watched us?" Martha asked, and the red-uniformed pillar of jelly turned a look on her. She was sure it was either scathing or dismissive.

"This is the town hall," he pointed out slowly, "but I wouldn't expect a female to grasp the advanced technology we use." He ignored Martha's scowl as he pointed up to the corner of the ceiling.

"CCTV," the Doctor breathed to himself, and Martha stalled a huff.

"Tell me why you were looking through the records, before I have you shot," the red-uniformed alien said simply.

The Doctor cleared his throat then reached into his right inside pocket. The guard raised the gun at them, but the Doctor ignored Martha's sudden tight grip on his and instead stiffened, drawing himself up taller admirably.

"How dare you!" he cried indignantly, pulling the small, rectangular black fold-over wallet from his pocket and snapping it open. He brandished it at the guard angrily. "I hope you have another job, my son, or you're going to have a lot of back-peddling to do!"

The guard lowered the gun slowly and the red-uniformed alien sidled past him quickly, bearing down on the pair of Off-Worlders.

"Sir?" the guard asked, his voice a low, clunky approximation of pretending to be awake.

"Wait," he snapped, snatching the psychic paper from the Doctor and inspecting it. He looked up at them. "The Lord Professor Sir Sav'natheen Kerup'ti Nathal?" he demanded.

"That's me," the Doctor said angrily.

"Prendeval's Minister of Engineering?" he prompted sceptically.

"Doctor," Martha hissed warningly.

"In the flesh, young man," he said tersely. "And who are you, keeping me from my job?"

"Colonel Figgo'nalan," he said slowly.

"Well then Colonel, is there a reason your trained amoeba is holding a charged weapon on your Minister of Engineering?" he demanded cockily. "Honestly! I come down here to check your sneaky-sneaky re-routing is all going to plan, and what do I find? No-one actually doing any work, that's what I find!" he barrelled on. He lifted his free, left hand and pointed at the Colonel. "I'm sorry to say I'm really quite disappointed in you!"

"Oh, er –" the Colonel began quickly, handing the wallet back to him.

"Yeah! Exactly!" the Doctor accused, nodding to him with this eyes wide in accusation. "Not much to ask, is it? Siphon it off and keep it secret, and yet, here you lot are, bouncing around like Cybermen on Upgrade-Leave! Now can I see the power room or not?" he demanded haughtily.

"Oh, well, of course, my lord," he said quickly. His gaze flicked at Martha. "And… who is this, my lord? You know we have to check before we –"

"Of all the impertinence!" the Doctor cried indignantly. "She's with me! She's my- er – assistant." He felt Martha's hand on his keenly and realised the soldiers were just staring, disbelieving. "Girlfriend," he corrected hastily. "My assistant-girlfriend," he added confidently. He looked down at Martha, who just stared back at him, gob-smacked. The Doctor winked slyly and she grinned suddenly, leaning on him suggestively.

"Do I get to see the power room? My lord?" she stressed. He grinned daffily, then wiped it off and looked back at the Colonel.

"Some time tonight, perhaps? We're not getting any younger," he pointed out clearly.

The Colonel saluted, then shouted orders to the twenty or so jelly-like aliens, standing and watching and clearly not comprehending.

They holstered their weapons and stood to attention, before sliding to the walls and waiting in perfect silence and stillness. Martha grinned, tapping her index finger across the back of the Doctor's hand. He almost laughed, then sniffed professionally and nodded.

"And about time, too. Do you know what a chore it is to have to do a routine inspection in the middle of the night?" he went on, and the Colonel nodded.

"Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord," he said hurriedly, then waved his thick arm out to show the way. "Please follow me, my lord."

"I certainly shall," he said, pulling Martha along by his side.

They were led down a long, narrow corridor, Martha gripping his hand in excitement. He appeared to ignore her, marching along with all the character-acting of a top-name BBC headliner.

They reached a door and the Colonel paused.

"My lord?" he prompted.

"Well come on then, open it for me," he said imperiously. "You don't expect me to do it, do you?"

The Colonel stepped forward and pressed an odd-shaped key to the door. It slid open with a hiss and they walked inside, stopping to look up and around.

Towers and towers of tall, Lego-shaped blocks were arranged in neat rows, small green and red lights blinking away merrily. The Doctor nodded.

"Marvellous! Right, thank you, you may go," he said, looking at the Colonel.

"Oh. I thought –"

"Well there you go, going about your hobby on the company time again," he said pointedly. The Colonel saluted and slid backwards, and the door slid shut soundly.

Martha sagged and let go of his hand, releasing the tension in a long, loud huff. The Doctor didn't appear to notice. He simply leapt over to the first tower, pulling on his glasses and looking at it.

Martha kicked herself and flew up to the next row of towers, looking them over and wondering just what she was looking for.

"How do we find which one is clamping the TARDIS?" she demanded quickly, looking over the bank of lights carefully.

"With that," the Doctor said, spying a terminal at the far side of the room and racing over. He grabbed it and pressed the screen quickly, following instructions and maps.

"That paper is great!" she said suddenly, backing away from the tower to turn and hurry over to him. "I though we were done for!"

"Us?" he demanded indignantly, "Done for? Martha Jones, you offend me," he chuckled, then stopped short and slapped the screen delightedly. "There she is! Right," he said quickly, pulling the screwdriver from his pocket. She put her hand out over the screen quickly.

"No!" she cried. He looked at her. "If we stop all these right now, they'll know we're not some pompous lord fancy-pants minister and his mistress," she explained quickly.

"So we set this to go offline in say, twenty minutes, while we make our way back out to the TARDIS," he said simply. She gaped, thought quickly, then nodded hastily. "Martha Jones, I like the way you think!" he grinned, and she removed her hand.

The Colonel watched the door open and stood to attention, as the Doctor and Martha appeared again.

"Everything in order, my lord?" he asked quickly.

"It would be contravening several government guidelines and directives to tell you," he said plainly, then smiled slightly. "But I can confirm we've done what we set out to do."

"That's good, my lord," he said, relieved. "Did you find everything you needed? You seemed to be in there a while, my lord," he said. His gaze rested on Martha. "Oh. Just, er… making use of your assistant?" he hazarded.

Martha opened her mouth angrily but the Doctor sniffed, putting his hands in his pockets and stepping in front of her, walking up to the Colonel and eyeing him from mere inches away.

"Oh, my assistant has so many talents," he breathed darkly, "you'd be wise not to judge."

"Of course not, my lord," he said hurriedly, then slewed his jelly-like body sideways and looked at Martha. "My apologies, my lady."

"Accepted," she said stiffly. "Now then, we have better things to do."

"I don't doubt," the Colonel let slip, and the Doctor fixed him with a look that could have been broken up and served in drinks. "I meant cabinet matters, my lord," he said quickly. The Doctor sniffed and turned away, walking off down the corridor.

"Well then, come on you lot. Lady Jones? If you'd be so kind?" he called, walking off. She grinned and followed him quickly.

--------------

They came up on the TARDIS and he hurried inside. Martha raced round the back of the outside, grabbing the yellow line and finding it came free in her hands easily.

"Yes!" she shouted, hurling the end away and running round to the doors. She pushed in just as he bent over the console and yanked on a long lever.

The grating shuddered under her feet and the familiar sound of the Time Rotor started up.

"And we're off!" he crowed excitedly. She laughed, running up the ramp and to the console, grabbing it as she felt the ship lurch and leave solid ground.

"We did it! We actually convinced those Prendevarlans we were state heads!" she laughed, her fingers squeezing the console, jiggling up down. "Did you see that Colonel's face? I thought he was going to have apoplexy when you told him to open the door for us! I can't believe we got away with it!"

"Well of course we did," he said suavely, grinning gamely, his eyebrows scrambling up toward his floppy fringe. "How could we not? You, the genius, and me, the man with all the right tools?"

She laughed, squeaking slightly, and he watched her, grinning. Then he turned back to the console and nodded to himself happily.

"So the entire power-leeching thing is offline?" she asked.

"Oh yes!" he crowed with conviction. "In fact, they're going to have a hard time operating that particular tourist-trap anytime in the near future."

"Why's that?" she asked, calming herself as she realised he might have done slightly more than cause a temporary fault to take it offline.

"Well," he stressed, scratching the back of his head suddenly, "they might find a piece of yellow nightclub glow-band stuffed up the exhaust release vent," he added, managing to look just slightly apologetic. She gasped, then giggled.

"Are you this mean to everyone who picks on your TARDIS?" she teased. He straightened, looking at her with his hands comfortably in his pockets, grinning as he swayed from left to right slightly.

"As my mate Jarvis likes to say: 'They think they've got us beat, but revenge is going to be so sweet'," he winked maliciously.

THE END