"We weren't that far off course!"

Alonzo couldn't stop chuckling. "I still win, Sheila! I wasn't even off course by an inch, and I have witnesses! I expect some money to hit my palm within 48 hours!"

Danziger looked at Alonzo in wonder, and shook his head. "You made a bet with the colony ship pilots, too? Don't you have any shame, man?"

"None at all!" He turned his wide grin back to the man and the woman on the video screen. "Where'd you end up, anyway?"

Sheila smiled, biting her tongue, and punched up a readout. But it was Tom who answered.

"We entered the system at the right distance from the sun – but on the wrong side," he said. "We're in the same orbit as planet G889, but the sun is almost entirely between you and us."

Devon turned to Danziger. "That must be why we never saw them in the night sky, even with Zero's telescopic sight." He nodded.

"Well, hurry and get over here!" Alonzo said. "We've been lonely for too long, and we've got a lot of stories to tell!"

"I hope you have a story to explain who the strange guy with the scarf is," Sheila said.

Alonzo nodded, serious again. "We do. If he's who we think he is, you can trust him with your life. You have my word."

"Good enough for me," she said.

"Is he there with you?" Danziger asked.

"No, but he was earlier," Tom said. "He helped us navigate the fastest route possible to meet you."

Sheila added, "Right now, he and the woman and their little doggie are helping Vasquez revive people, helping Hanson with maintenance and repairs, and helping out with any complications the Syndrome children are having. They seem to be exceptionally brilliant in just about every scientific and technological field in existence. It's very weird."

"Sheila, Tom," Devon leaned forward. "Do you have any idea why your scheduled revival did not take place?"

"Yeah." Sheila was grim. "According to the Doctor, somebody canceled our wake-up call, that's why. And whoever it was might still be on board."

 

"Well, that's the last of them," Vasquez told the Doctor, looking down at an empty cryo-sleep chamber. Romana joined them in the corridor, wiping her hands on a rag.

"Any casualties?" the Doctor asked.

"One," Romana replied. "The older sister of one of the Syndrome children died about 15 years ago. It was a coolant leak. She woke up and starved to death. She was only nine."

Vasquez sighed, and closed the cryo-sleep chamber with deliberate slowness.

The Doctor nodded, grimacing, and turned away. "One out of a thousand is actually quite good, Vasquez. But it doesn't make it any easier." He patted him on the shoulder.

Vasquez nodded. "I can tell you are a man who knows full well that death is a part of this universe, as much as anything else. I've had to deal with the Grim Reaper many times in my life, and I expect I'll have to deal with him a few more times before he comes for me. 'The Random Phantom,' I like to call him, and I guess he's just doing his job."

Sheila and another man joined them.

"Oh, Doctor," Vasquez said, "this is Alan Hanson, head of ops."

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, we've already met. Listen – did your work crews go over the airlocks like I asked?"

"Every inch," Hanson replied. "No one has boarded this ship or left it since we departed the stations 24 years ago. Of course...you somehow boarded without using the airlocks, so I don't see that it really means anything."

"Oh, well, that's because I use machinery a bit more advanced than yours," the Doctor replied. "It is possible, I suppose, that someone else could have done the same, but I really rather doubt it. No, I still suspect there's a saboteur on board."

"But if that's true," Sheila protested, "whoever deactivated the ship's computer also condemned themselves to sleep forever! Now who would do that?"

"A fanatic," Romana said simply.

"Or someone who deactivated every sleep chamber except his or her own," the Doctor said. "Maybe the saboteur woke up on time, but nobody else did."

"But I just told you, Doctor," Hanson said. "No one has left this ship! And where would they go, anyway? And how?"

"Also," Vasquez said, "every single person on board has been accounted for. Everyone was asleep in their chambers until my team and I revived them."

"Then there must have been a stowaway," Romana said.

"The resonance scan we ran back on the stations would have picked up a stowaway," Hanson said.

"Resonance scans can be blocked," the Doctor pointed out.

Hanson opened his mouth, thought for a second, and said, "Yeah, good point."

"Doctor," Vasquez said, "it might help if you now described to us exactly what happened since you arrived."

"Sir." A young man, barely out of boyhood, ran up to them. "David's just completed the checks on all the passenger drop pods."

Hanson sighed. "If David's the one who checked the drop pods, we're all in trouble. You know better than to let that fool inspect something important! Tell him to go check the bathrooms or something, it'll keep him out of the way. And get somebody else to check the drop pods. No, wait."

He thought for a moment, then turned to the others. "If there is a stowaway on board, we'd better search." He turned back to the young man. "Have everyone do a manual search of this entire ship from stem to stern. I'll re-check the drop pods myself." He stalked off.

"Well, Doctor," Vasquez reminded him.

Within a few minutes, the Doctor and Romana had told him everything they saw and did since arriving.

"And you saw nothing suspicious, or anything amiss?"

"Not until we reached the bridge and discovered the sabotage."

Vasquez sighed. "Well, there is something which may settle this once and for all. The ship's log should have a record of every cryo-sleep chamber opened during the voyage. If someone on this ship did wake up, for whatever reason, then it will be recorded."

"What?" The Doctor was astonished. "Why didn't you say so earlier?"

"Because I was hoping there would be an easier way. We'll have to search through 24 years worth of records."

"Then I suggest we get started. Come on!"

They headed for the bridge and ran into Hanson, who quickly joined them. "Drop pods are secure, and most of the crew has started the search. What's up?" he asked Sheila.

"We're going to check the logs, see if the computer can tell us if anyone got out of their chamber during the voyage."

They reached the bridge. When the door slid open, Tom stood in the doorway, but made no effort to move aside. He didn't even seem to register their presence.

"Tom?" Sheila asked. "What's wrong?"

Slowly, Tom tipped forward and fell into the hallway. A large knife with an ornate handle was stuck in his back, buried to the hilt.

Romana covered her mouth in alarm. Sheila gasped in horror and stepped back. Dr. Vasquez dropped to his knees to help him, and the Doctor leaped over the body, darting into the room.

No one was there.

Vasquez slowly straightened up. "He's dead," he confirmed.

Hanson stared numbly at the corpse, then slowly activated his gear. "I need a stretcher crew at the bridge. On the double."

Shaking, Sheila stepped over Tom and onto the bridge. "What's going on?" she asked the Doctor, tears beginning to fall. "Who did this?"

"I don't know, but I- DOWN!"

He grabbed Sheila and dove for the door, but it was too late. The bomb he'd seen planted on the console exploded, hurling them both through the door in a blast of heat and light.

The Doctor flew into Romana, slamming her against the far bulkhead. She slumped to the floor, unconscious. Sheila hit Dr. Vasquez, who grunted and caught her as best he could, but stumbled back and hit the far wall also, grimacing in pain. Hanson turned away, shielding his face from the blast.

Coughing, he stepped forward to help the others. The Doctor was sitting up, looking at Romana. Vasquez was struggling to get out from underneath Sheila without harming her.

The side of a computer console was buried deep in her side.

Hanson shouted into his gear, "I need an emergency medical team to the bridge immediately! Multiple laceration wounds, shock, and possible concussions!"

Gently, he knelt down and eased Vasquez out from underneath Sheila. She was still alive, but losing blood fast. Her breathing was irregular. "She's been pierced through the lung!" Vasquez rasped, standing up. "She doesn't have long unless I get her in surgery now!"

 

Clebadee was soaring again. This time, it was night, but there were no stars. And he had no wings. It felt so beautiful, so free, so...connected!

The others appeared, as they always did.

"Come with us," they called. "Come be with us."

"Who are you?" he asked. He tried to use his mouth to ask the question. When he did, dirt poured in, and he realized that he was flying under the ground!

His side exploded in a flash of pain, and he slammed into the wall. He shook himself awake.

"There, you see?" A young Terrian was standing a little ways off. "He was dreaming! I found him in the passage, just like that!"

Clebadee looked up, his heart pounding in terror. He had been dreaming again! And he'd been caught! He didn't even remember slipping into the reverie.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that this, too, was just a part of the dream. But he knew it wasn't.

Elder Darlo stepped forward a little, still keeping his distance. He motioned for the young Terrian who had summoned him to run along. He did, and they were left alone in the passage.

"Well, young Clebadee?" Darlo finally asked. "How long has this been going on?"

Clebadee trembled. "Several moons. I- I was afraid. Please...please help me."

"You know the rules, Clebadee," Darlo said. "For the good of all, any Terrian afflicted with the disease must be cast out. The strangers must have brought it to you."

"I did not meet the strangers until today, Elder."

"Silence!" Darlo commanded. "You selfishly hid this from us, and we may now all be at risk because of you!"

He glanced up and down the passages. "We are too far from the cave exit to cast you out now. Others will see. I want you to go quietly, when everyone is sleeping, so that no one will see, and no one will panic. I shall have to put you with the strangers until then. You know the way. Walk ahead of me."

Feeling sick, the world whirling around him, Clebadee got up and sadly walked towards the chamber where the strange creatures were being kept.

 

"Tell me, Chesterton, what do you make of our captors?"

Ian sat down next to the Doctor. "Well, their skin is rough and brown. I would imagine that's for camouflage and protection. Their lower jaws protrude from their faces, pointing upwards – perhaps to help them dig into an animal for food, or to help them eat some oddly-shaped fruit. They don't seem to wear any clothes, and they live in caves. Yet, they speak a language and have some sort of organized hierarchy, from what little we heard. So, they're not primitive, just..."

"Yes?"

"Simple."

"Well put, Chesterton. Now, we need to communicate to them that we mean them no harm. How can this information help us?"

"Perhaps we can make fire for them," Susan suggested glumly.

"That's not very funny, young lady," the Doctor told her sternly.

Another of the brown-skinned race slowly stepped into the room. Without looking at them, it squatted on the floor just inside the doorway.

"Further than that," Darlo called. "I do not want you trying to escape, or giving the disease to the guards."

Clebadee looked up at him, then, haltingly, over at the others. He nervously slid along the wall a little ways.

"What is going to happen to us, hmm?" the Doctor called to Darlo.

The elder ignored him and left.

"Hmp," the Doctor said, and looked at their new cellmate. After a moment, he said gently, "We didn't get a chance to properly introduce ourselves at the stream."

Clebadee just stared at the floor.

"I'm sorry if we got you into any trouble," the Doctor continued. "You seem to have a very strict guardian."

Clebadee glanced up hesitantly. After a moment, he spoke. "You did not get me into trouble. I am being punished because I have the disease. I am to be cast out of the tribe tonight to prevent it spreading."

"Oh?" the Doctor asked. "Diseases need to be cured, not punished. What's the trouble? Can we help?"

Clebadee looked up at them fully for the first time. "Do you not know? How can the Gods not know of the disease?"

"Simple. We are not Gods, merely visitors to your home. We come from a far-off land, and we do not know anything about you."

Clebadee marveled. Was it true? he thought. Could there be other lands beyond his own which were so different?

Barbara smiled and stretched out her hand. "I'm Barbara."

Clebadee looked at her hand, then at her.

"It's a way we have of greeting one another," she explained, turning her left hand around and clasping her hands together to demonstrate. "Barbara is what I am called. Do you have a name?"

The Terrian slowly reached out and clasped Barbara's hand in his own. His skin felt rough, yet warm.

"I am called Clebadee."

"Hello, Clebadee."

"I'm Susan!" Susan stepped forward. Full of bright energy, she seemed to sense another youngster, like herself.

"I'm Ian." Ian also shook his hand.

"And I'm called the Doctor," the Doctor said. "Perhaps you should tell us of this disease, hmm?"

Clebadee looked at all of them. "It started several years ago. It is called the disease of Dreaming. We do not know how it spreads. It causes Terrians to stop whatever they are doing and fall asleep, in the most curious position."

"Really?" the Doctor asked. "And then what?"

"I do not know what you mean."

"Well, do these – Terrians, you call yourselves? – stay in this dreamlike state forever?"

"No."

"Well, then, in what other way does it afflict your people?"

"None."

The four travelers looked at each other.

"Well, that's a very odd disease to raise such a fuss over," Ian laughed. "I mean, if that's all it does, then the most it will do is interfere in a day's work!"

Clebadee looked at Ian, then at the Doctor. "What does he say?"

"He means that this disease you speak of doesn't sound very serious," the Doctor said. "When you said you were going to be cast out, we thought you meant you had some disease which was deadly, or horrific. But you have described something which seems like nothing more than a mild nuisance! Does that not strike you as odd?"

Clebadee was silent for a moment. "I have never thought about it before," he said. "But you are right. It does seem very strange."

Darlo strode boldly into the chamber, followed by ten Terrians carrying spears. "Line up against the wall," he said. "You are to be executed immediately."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Ian said, "We've got nothing to lose. Fight for it!" He charged the nearest Terrian, who simply swung his spear and smacked him in the head. Ian dropped to the ground, stunned. It was over so quickly, no one else had done anything. The other Terrians advanced, forming a line. There was no escape through them.

"You, too, selfish traitor!" Darlo told Clebadee. "Line up with them! We cannot afford to waste any more time."

Using a rough cloth to shield his hands, so as not to catch the disease, another Terrian pushed Clebadee against the wall to join the Doctor and Susan. Barbara desperately helped Ian to his feet, and they were also pushed against the wall.

Darlo nodded. "Kill them!"

"No, wait!" the Doctor shouted, putting Susan behind him.

The Terrians drew back their spears and hurled them at the prisoners.

Susan screamed.

Five Terrians popped out of the ground, grabbed the captives, and sank back into the earth. The spears passed through the space they'd been standing in and struck the far wall.

Elder Darlo and the warriors jumped back in surprise and terror, looking at the suddenly empty room.