Part 7 (!) of my Shalka-based series of stories. Those who don't know why an android copy of the Master is travelling with the Doctor will either have to read part 4 "The End of the World" or just take my word for it that there is a good reason.

Chapter One

Alison had a good feeling about this one.

She'd been past the swimming pool, up the colonnade, through the greenhouse, over a river of some liquid she assumed couldn't actually be treacle, into a glass tunnel with a breathless view of the stars, and down a wrought iron spiral staircase which, she was almost sure, should bring her to the door of the TARDIS wardrobe. After all this time she was finally getting the hang of the time machine's mysterious internal layout.

She clattered to the bottom of the stairs and took a cautious look around. It was a standard roundelled passageway, but the TARDIS passageways weren't normally this dark. After a moment's hesitation she set off to her left and thumped straight into something solid.

"Gah!"

She blurted out the involuntary expression of alarm at finding herself staring up into the Master's impassive bearded features and stumbled back out of arm's reach.

"What are you doing here?" she asked crossly.

The Master looked down at her unsmiling and linked his hands behind his back.

"Lurking," he said.

"I can see that, I..." She took another look around. "Is this not the wardrobe?"

"It is," said the Master, "about as far from the wardrobe as the human mind can conceive."

He strode forward to join her and she managed not to recoil when he took her by the elbow and turned her around to face the other way.

"Are you paying attention? You need to go down this corridor into a heptagonal room. There are eight doors in that room. Ignore all of them..."

"Please." Alison held up her hand as she felt her head start to swim. "It's okay, I'll go back the way I came and give it another go later. I can't hang about, the Doctor says we'll be arriving soon."

He released her and re-linked his hands behind his back.

"Arriving?" he queried.

"21st century Earth. I wanted to see my mum. Maybe Joe too, I don't know."

"Oh." He rolled back on his heels and cocked his head onto one side. "You're leaving us? I had no idea."

"I'm not leaving!"

His mock pained look made Alison stop and wonder why her voice had risen in pitch and volume to deny it. She soldiered on regardless.

"I'm just visiting home, what's wrong with that?"

"Oh, nothing at all, I simply observe that if you were as excited by the phenomenon of time travel as you once were, a renewal, however brief, of your previous humdrum existence would be the last thing on your mind."

Alison snorted, conscious that he was deliberately toying with her.

"Sorry to hurt your feelings. Didn't know you cared."

The Master smiled broadly, showing a flash of white teeth.

"Oh, don't concern yourself with my feelings, Miss Cheney. I should doubtless endure your absence with fortitude. The Doctor, on the other hand, is likely to take it to heart that you have grown weary of him."

"What?"

Her nose wrinkled in derision, but at the same time she couldn't help recalling the calm and reasonable manner in which the Doctor had acceded to her request for a visit home. Normally he would dismiss her ideas for where they should go next and claim he knew of a planet she'd never heard of which she would enjoy much more. She should have known. When the Doctor was polite to her it meant something was wrong.

"I won't pretend to understand," the Master continued smoothly in the silence she had left. "It's beyond me why you would want to return to your own drab little snippet of time and space when the Doctor can, as you once remarked, take you to see the pyramids being built..."

"If he ever gets around to it," she muttered without thinking, and regretted it as she saw the Master's eyes flicker with relish.

"Ahh..." he murmured with a smile. "That's it, of course. Feeling a little neglected and taken for granted? It's only natural, how long is it now since you first made that request?"

She drew breath for an answer, then bit down on it and tossed her hair back rebelliously.

"You know what? Screw it. I've known you too long to let you mess with my head for the fun of it. You'll have to get your kicks somewhere else today."

He inclined his head.

"Ah, Miss Cheney, you're too clever for me, I fear."

She gave him a suspicious look, half expecting that there would be some parting shot the instant she turned her back, but he just looked innocently back at her, or as innocently as his satanic appearance would allow. After a final glare she headed back up the spiral staircase, pursued by nothing but an eerie silence.

The Master watched her go. Once her footsteps had receded along the tunnel above, a figure emerged from the shadows behind him.

"Are we suspected, Master?"

The speaker was a tall, hard-faced, strongly-built man in a well-fitted military uniform, but when he spoke his voice quavered and he dipped his shoulders in a subservient crouch. He crept near like an ill-treated dog.

The Master didn't look round, his eyes resting on the staircase up which Alison had disappeared.

"No, Firman, I suspect her coming so close to stumbling on our little secret was a simple coincidence, unless she has learned to dissemble with frightening skill. Let us hope so. The Doctor is fond of her and it would distress me to have to order you to kill her."

The Doctor was circling the console making final adjustments as the control column rose and fell. He glanced up with a frown at Alison's appearance.

"Oh, I thought you were going to change. Weren't you headed for the wardrobe?"

She held up a hand and shook her head.

"Don't start. So, are we there yet?"

He looked back at the instruments.

"Just about. Earth, England, 2004. Not what I'd call a vintage year, but as requested."

Alison hesitated, still uncertain if there was something unnatural in his manner or if it was all something the Master had planted in her imagination.

"I just want to see my mum, you know? I'll only be a couple of hours."

He was scanning the readouts intently and it was a moment before he glanced up.

"Yes, I know. You said."

The column slid down into the console top, the lights dimming and the hum of power fading. The Doctor straightened, looking pleased with himself.

"There. Inch perfect." He reached for his bulky black coat on the hat stand. "Right, let's go. Have you considered who you're going to tell her I am?"

Alison hadn't. The truth was, in her mind, she had seen herself going to visit her mother alone. She bought some time by pushing forward the door control and heading for the exit to check whether the Doctor really had brought her to the right place. She sniffed a fresh cool sea breeze and blinked in the light of a clear blue sky and her spirits rose. She was home.

"Demons!"

She jumped and found herself standing face to face with the wide eyes and bloodless skin of a thickset, bearded man in a worn leather jerkin, rough iron tools hanging from his belt. He stared at her, his eyes flicking from her face to her clothes, to the TARDIS exterior and over her shoulder to the interior, his panic building up by the second till he burst out again:

"Demons! Witches! Black magic! Monsters risen from the bowels of hell!"

He tore himself away and fled across the grass till he plunged into the trees and was lost to view in a crashing tangle of branches.

Alison folded her arms and slowly rolled her eyes.