by Clive May (clive@cj4386.demon.co.uk)

Fifth Doctor:  rated U

Doctor Who is copyright BBC

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

Part 1


'It's Traken!'

The Doctor laid a hand on Nyssa's shoulder.  'No, Nyssa.  It cannot be
Traken...It was destroyed.'

'But Doctor...Look! Over there!  That's the College of the Union and
there's the Palace of the Keeper and over there...'  Nyssa was pointing
excitedly at massive, but superbly elegant stone buildings about the
square.

'Greeshingzs Honoured Guests.' A very familiar voice spoke behind the
quartet standing before the TARDIS.  'All lish in readinessh.  The
celebration may now begin.  You are mosh...mosh...welcome, Raish Prime.'

There was one long moment of utter confusion as the Doctor, Adric and
Tegan stared at Nyssa.  But she had not spoken; she was staring past
them - her eyes wide.   As one they swung around to behold a most
baffling sight.

A few yards away, at the edge of the lawn where the TARDIS had
materialised was Nyssa.  She was berobed in the most splendid gown of
silken material that shimmered and gleamed green and gold in the warm
sunlight.  Her hair was piled up in a stately coiffure and she was
discretely adorned with tasteful jewellery.  It would all have been very
becoming, were it not for the fact that she was in a state of advanced
inebriation.

She stood there regarding them with bleary eyes, swaying slightly.  She
frowned as if trying to remember something important.  She giggled, then
said in an alcohol slurred voice: 'Mosh...mosh...welcome indeed.' The
tipsy Nyssa hiccoughed and very prettily put a hand to her mouth.
'Pardon me good people.' Giggling again, she drew herself up regally
making a magnificent effort at a more sober bearing.

'I greet you officially on behalf of the Queen and invite you as guests
of honour to attend the Enfleshment Consecration Celebrations.'  she
waved an arm to indicate an open carriage with two large, grey horse
like animals in the shafts, waiting at the kerb-side.  Their harness had
been bedecked with yellow ribbons, and a crest of electric blue stood up
between their ears, flashing in the warm sunlight as they tossed their
heads impatiently.

'Your transport awaits.'

She thought on this for a long moment,her face solemn, then seemed to
recollect that something more was needed; and made what, considering her
intoxicated state, was a very brave attempt at a formal curtsy.  Only
the Doctor's quick lunge averted the impending ceremonial catastrophe.
He caught and supported the shoulder of the Nyssa Ambassador, steadying
her until she had found once more her precarious equilibrium.

'The transport...'  She waved at the carriage with a little more
circumspection.  'Please.  Your presence is awaited eagerly at the
Palace.'

In a most gentlemanly way the Doctor handed the berobed Nyssa into one
of the velvet plush covered seats of the carriage.  He mounted and
settled into the seat next to her.  He evinced no surprise to see that
the liveried coachman was also a Nyssa look alike, and quite as drunk as
the ambassador. She swayed back and forth on the driving seat, hugging
herself and giggling.

'Come along you lot, ' the Doctor urged his companions who were standing
by the TARDIS, gaping open mouthed.  'Seeing as this celebration is in
our honour; we ought not to be late.'  He set his hat upon his blond
hair at a very proper angle.

Eventually, in a daze Tegan and Nyssa were steered into the carriage and
settled into the plush seats.  Adric had recovered his wits rather more
quickly and as they started off with a jerk (which almost percipitated
the driver into their midst) was staring round at the trees decorated in
bright paper flowers and at the buildings festooned with bunting of an
odd design. Other than themselves, the square was completely deserted.
But thousands of brown eyes watched from concealment behind the mirrored
surfaces of the tall windows.

'I don't understand,' said Nyssa.

The Doctor, who had been discretely maintaining the Ambassador's decorum
by judiciously propping her up in the corner and preventing her from
sliding under the seat opposite, turned  to look at her.  'What don't
you understand?'

Nyssa pointed to the horse like creatures.  'They are Imperial Prancers.
They are kept specially to pull the ceremonial coach of the Keeper on
his Grand Processional.'  She brushed a hand over the plush  atop the
side of the coach.  'And  this is THEE Coach.'

'Just enjoy the ride,' the Doctor told her.  'I'm sure our hosts will
explain everything in good time.'

You had to hand it to the Doctor, Tegan thought, nothing ever seemed to
faze him.  He had instantly assumed his honoured guest poise at the drop
of a hat.

Actually, though, the Doctor was not feeling quite as comfortable as he
was endeavouring to look.  He was having serious misgivings about being
driven by the intoxicated Nyssa driver.  Only the fact that the Imperial
Prancers seemed to know what they were about and, thankfully, seemed
quite sober, kept him from trying to take over the reins.

Fortunately,  the ride was very brief.  They merely drove around to the
bottom of a grand flight of marble steps leading up to an imposing set
of doors in the middle of the Palace facade.  They drew up, the driver
leapt up, caught her feet in the reins and plunged headlong from the
coach to land with a most unpleasant splat on her face.  The Doctor went
to jump up to help; but the Ambassador restrained him.

'Zoright, Doctor.  Iss quite zoright.'  She giggled and added:
'Clumsyoaf.'

To their mutual amazement, the driver sat up.  A trickle of blood ran
from her nose and a gash on her forehead.  Giggling, she got unsteadily
to her feet, wiping at the blood with one hand.  A superb effort at a
sober countenance was only partially successful as the driver opened the
coach door.

Tegan squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation as the driver attempted a
low bow.

'Are you quite certain she will be alright?' inquired the Doctor as they
stood around the driver who was laying on the paving staring bemusedly
up at nothing in particular.

'Oh, quite.  Do come along we are all so anxious to meet the Race
Prime.' As the ambassador said this, she directed her unsteady gaze at
Nyssa, peering at her.  For one horrified moment Tegan thought she was
going to attempt another curtsy.  But the Doctor, ever alert to any
danger, gently took the Ambassador's arm and steered her up the steps
towards the doors.

In silence the doors swung inwards.  They processed through, the
Doctor's firm grip keeping the Ambassador from walking into one of the
giant pillars framing the doors.  They were, he noted in passing, carved
to represent two giant sticks of celery.  He raised a quizzical eyebrow
at that.  They went into the darkness beyond.

And found themselves at one end of a vast hall, a good fifty yards in
length.  At the far end was a raised platform with a spread of
comfortable looking chairs.  The middle one, the biggest, was the only
one occupied. On the edge of the raised platform, to the right of the
chairs, was a dark shadowy shape.  At that distance, even the Doctor's
keen sight could not make out any detail.

All along the walls of the grand audience chamber were people in
splendid robes and gowns.  They were of all designs, colours, and
styles.  All the waiting throng of people had brown hair, every one of
them was a Nyssa, and every single one was in a state of advanced
inebriation.

Not unexpectedly, Nyssa felt the tiniest bit uncertain at this point,
tried to hang back and looked longingly back through the doors at the
tiny blue box visible on the lawns in the centre of the square, wishing
she could bolt for it.

Because she was looking back just then she noticed something that none
of the others saw.

The massive doors were pushed shut.  Unfortunately, one of the Nyssa
door wards stumbled and swung through the gap just as they came to.  The
leg projecting into the great hall was shut in the door.  There was a
nasty soft crunch; and the leg toppled sideways to the marble porch-way
floor. The other door ward stared at it for a long moment, then made a
lung for the severed limb, missed - and went flat on her face.  Nyssa
saw no more as the Doctor took her arm and began to drag her reluctantly
down the isle between the crowds of intoxicated Nyssas.

It was the longest walk that Nyssa could ever remember taking.

but at last the little group arrived at the steps that led up to the
raised platform.  The Ambassador Nyssa stepped forwards.

'Revened Mosher, queen of the...'

She trod on the hem of her robe and went flat on her face.  She made no
effort to rise but just lay there giggling.  Two liveried Nyssas made a
wavering line for the prone Ambassador.  It was quite  a spectacle as
they struggled to over come their own alcohol induced clumsiness to
assist the Ambassador to rise.  The Doctor, the absolute epitome of
diplomacy, found something absorbing in the dark recesses of the ceiling
while the unseemly kerfuffle went on at his feet.

'Eh...Tegan...It is really rather rude to gape like that.  At least
close your mouth;' he admonished in a whisper, with a completely
straight face.

The giggling, scuffling and general distraction went on for some time.
At last the Ambassador was restored to her feet.  She pulled her robes
straight and was about to launch into her prepared introduction when she
was thrown completely by the figure in the high chair in the center of
the dais.

'I shink we can dispense wish the formalishieze Nyssha,' she slurred.
The Nyssa Queen made a truly noble effort to rise from her throne.
Wavering unsteadily, her head weaving about, she got half up; then the
exquisitely worked tiara slid down over her right eye.  To preserve
dignity, she lifted a hand to set it back into position on her piled up
brown hair.  This was a mistake.

For a few seconds she floundered around before admitting defeat with a
muttered:  'Oh blow it!' and subsided back into her throne.

She waved an arm.  'Please, Race Prime, Honoured Time Lord, friends,
join me and we...let...let the festivities begin.'

The four at the foot of the dais exchanged looks; all except Nyssa, who,
for some reason, did not seem able to meet their gaze.  The Doctor
stepped in to smooth over the moment that was rapidly growing awkward.

'Come along,' he commanded and ascended the steps with great poise.

As they all gained the top of the raised platform the Queen bestirred
herself and brandished a long sceptre, almost braining adric with the
jewel encrusted knob.


The dark mass at the left edge of the dais revealed itself to be an
oblong about ten feet long, three feet wide and about four feet in
height.  It was completely covered by a blue drape.  Strange, alien
patterns were embroidered all over the cloth in golds, reds, greens,
blacks - indeed all the colours of the rainbow.  The design was hard on
the eye.

On the top of the block, carefully positioned in the exact centre, was a
tall, dark wine bottle.  That wine bottle looked very familiar to Tegan.
She Cringed inwardly.

' At the Queen's spirited, but uncoordinated gesture with the sceptre, a
liveried Nyssa stepped up to the block and lifted the wine bottle with
as much poise as  she could manage.  Two more stepped forward and drew
the rich drape from the shape.

Which proved to be a block of clear glass or crystal with a recumbent
Nyssa in the centre.  The Nyssa with the bottle began to pour wine onto
the block.  It did not run off; but seemed to be absorbed into the
substance of the crystal.  A vague red haze settled on the form of the
Nyssa resting in the centre.

The Queen sat up, taking on a more animated aspect.  The Sceptre dropped
from her hand and rolled unnoticed down the steps.

They settled themselves into the chairs while the Queen ruthlessly
smothered another fit of the giggles.  When they were all seated she
straightened and clapped her hands - the signal to start the
festivities. It must be admitted that she only achieved this on the
third attempt, and then more by luck than judgement.

The gathered guests began to circulate.  Somewhere a hidden orchestra
struck up and launched into a stately waltz. At least that was probably
what it was meant to be.

Tegan buried her face in her hands when the dancing began.  Adric
grinned madly; it even raised a smile on the Doctor's lips.  Nyssa's
cheeks glowed red hot.

After the first dance had ended and while the Doctor and Tegan were
considering the appalling thought that they may have to join in the
milling staggering confusion when it resumed, the debris of the first
dance was cleared away.  During this lull the Queen leaned over, almost
toppled out of her chair, and began to make small talk.

She addressed her first remark to a cringing Nyssa.  'The Hive is done a
great honour by your presence, Race Prime.'

Nyssa was simply not up to making an answer, so the Doctor stepped in.
'Your Majesty?  Might I inquire as to why you are addressing my
companion with that title?'

The Queen fixed him with a glassy stare; the tiara slipped over her eye.
It was pushed up; it slipped down.  With a sudden oath the Queen dashed
it from her hair and flung it on the plush carpeting of the dais.
'Bothersome thing!  I have to wear it for all State occasions.  The
Swarm be praised that we only hold these Concecrations once in every
Avartar..I'm sorry, Honoured Time Lord...Your question sheemz to have
slipped my ...'

The Doctor deftly relieved a Nyssa waitress of a tray of refreshments as
the unfortunate woman plunged past and went headlong down the steps.  No
one helped her up; and eventually she crawled away behind the dais.

He handed out drinks, giving Nyssa a long, thoughtful inspection before
handing one to her.  He set the tray down and courtesly reminded the
Queen of his question.

"Why, Time Lord?  Do you not know?  Has not your companions told of the
great service they have done the Hive in the time of our greatest need?'

The Doctor's gaze fell upon Nyssa and Tegan.  He contrived to look hurt.
 'Secrets?  You have been keeping secrets from me?'

Tegan and Nyssa looked at each other, they both had the grace to look
sheepish and a little contrite.  They exchanged a long look; and then
Tegan turned to the Doctor.

She took a long pull at her drink to fortify her resolve, then began:
'Well, Doctor...It was like this...'

Down below on the dance floor the second apology for a waltz was just
staggering into motion.

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

Part 2


'Sassy's?'

Three pairs of eyes turned in Nyssa's direction.  The blue eyes of the
Doctor flicking from the fountain in the middle of the lawns and flower
beds of the little public gardens.  He had been watching the rainbows
coming and going in the cascades of water droplets as a fitful summer
breeze swayed the streams back and forth.  He had been lost in a reverie
of other fountains, other rainbows and other gardens.

The black eyes of Adric looked up from his glass of lemonade standing on
the cafe table in front of him.  He had been idly speculating on a
formula to predict the track of bubbles as they rose and burst in the
clear liquid.

The brown eyes of Tegan lifted from the A to Z of London she had been
perusing.

All six eyes focused on Nyssa's flushed face.  Two spots of colour
warmed her cheeks.  She was suddenly self-conscious.  She pushed at the
waves of brown hair that the playful breeze kept pulling across her
pretty, usually serene features.  She giggled.

The muted hum of the central London traffic was a restful backdrop to
the quiet chatter of the patrons at the other tables of the little
garden cafe, walled off from the rest of the bustling city.  It was a
peaceful oasis of calm, exactly what the word paradise meant.  A late
nesting blackbird filled the air with its mellow fluting from the
branches of a plane tree, its mantle of silver green leaves shivering in
the gentle zephyrs.

The Doctor regarded Nyssa, a little disapproving.  'Hmmm.  Perhaps a
little more lemonade with it, I think?' He picked up the bottle and
stretched out to top up Nyssa's wine glass.  She snatched it away and
took another gulp of the pale liquid.

'Nyssa!  I really think you've had enough.  Your Traken biology will not
tolerate alcohol very well.'

She gave him an over-bright smile.  'I'm fine, Doctor.'

The Doctor did not look convinced.  He bent his disapproval on Tegan,
who failed to meet his gaze.  She took up her own wine glass and took a
sip to cover her discomfort.

Damn it!  He knew!  She was certain of that.  And yet she had told no
one. She knew he would not have approved; but it was all she could think
of to get Nyssa into a frame of mind where she would agree to the little
excursion.  Tegan loved her friend dearly; but she could be such an old
frump sometimes.

Drastic action was called for - for her own good, of course.  So Tegan
had hit upon the plan.

She set the glass down, tapped the A to Z and announced: 'I've found
it.' She scanned around the pleasant garden.  'Bernard Street is over
that way.' She pointed vaguely past Nyssa to the north.  'It's just a
few minutes walk.  The appointment is for 2.30.  There's plenty of time
for another half bottle.' She took up her glass and drained it.

The Doctor picked up his hat and settled it on his head.  'I really
think Nyssa's had enough.'  He regarded the Traken girl who was smiling
radiantly at a little toddler who was regarding her seriously from a
baby buggy parked at the next table.

'Nyssa's fine.  Don't be a spoil sport, Doctor.'

The clock chime in the little church tower across the garden rang the
hour of 2.  The Doctor drained his glass of mineral water and stood up.
'Come on Adric.  Time we were going.  Professor Latimer is expecting us
at 2.15. We can have a slow stroll over to the university.'

Adric rose, leaving half his lemonade untouched.  The Doctor surveyed
the two women; he seemed reluctant to leave.  'We'll all meet back here
at five,' he declared.  He looked hard at Tegan.  'And Tegan...'

'Yes?'

'Tegan, try and stay out of trouble...Please.'

Tegan pulled a face at him.  'What possible trouble can we get into at
the hairdressers?'

'I'm sure I don't know, he answered her in a tone that said: "But I'm
sure you'll find some way".  'Come along, Adric.' He resettled his hat,
straightened his little stick of celery and threaded his way among the
tables on the little patio fronting the flower beds.

Tegan watched him out of sight with a very sour look on her face.
Taking up her faithful old airline bag, she took out her purse.  'Right!
 How about another half bottle, Nyssa?  There's plenty of time.'

Nyssa just blinked at her, feeling too mellow to be bothered with
answering.

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

Tegan stopped abruptly.  Nyssa walked into her, rebounded and would have
fallen had not a convenient parking meter leapt in to save her.  She
hung onto it, giggling, her face flushed.

Tegan regarded her ruefully, clutching the strap of her battered air
line bag over her shoulder.  She shook her head.  Perhaps it had not
been such a good idea.  'Oh bother!  why is the Doctor always right?'

'Wassat?' Nyssa swayed dangerously into the path of a small neat man in
a business suit, jacket and tie, despite he humid heat of August.  Nyssa
grinned, a huge foolish thing, and stuck her tongue out.  The little man
leapt back as if he had been stung.  He glared at her with withering
disapproval; then he turned an accusing look on Tegan.  She smiled an
apology, and took Nyssa firmly by the arm.  'Nyssa!  Behave yourself.'

'Snot my fault ...  Wassamadder with the world?  It keeps tilting
around?' She risked releasing her grip on the meter.

'Oh bother!' Tegan repeated.  'You're drunk.'

Nyssa drew herself up in a haughty and regal posture.  'I am Nyssa of
Traken,' she declared loudly.  'Daughter of ...  of ...  Well, whoever.
I do not get drunk.'

Tegan put her hands on hips.  'Well - if you're not drunk then you
should be on the stage.  Just look at you?  That's quite a performance.'

Nyssa poked a tongue out at her and, very solemnly, put a finger tip to
Tegan's nose.  She made a stoic effort to focus her eyes on Tegan's.  If
I'm drunk then it's your fault.  I thought you were my friend.'

Tegan turned away to look at the frontage of the exclusive hair
dressers. Beyond the tinted glass shadows moved.  In a tasteful arc
across the top of the window was the name "Sassy's".

The door opened.  A polite bell tinkled; and a very expensive woman in
the latest fashion came out.  Tegan studied the hair with a jaundiced
eye.  It did not look to her like the sort of confection that ought to
issue from such a salubrious emporium.  The word that sprang to her mind
was: "disheveled".  In looking at the hairdo she completely missed the
odd, unfocused look to the eyes.

The woman stopped at the kerb.  She shook her head and frowned, puzzled.
 A highly polished Mercedes came purring down the street and pulled up.
A liveried chauffeur leapt out and swept the back door open.  Still in a
daze, the woman slid into the seat, demonstrating the decorous technique
for entering a motor vehicle that one learned only at the very best
Swiss finishing schools.

The car swished off along the narrow side street.  Tegan shrugged,
rescued Nyssa from an undignified slide down the stem of the parking
meter, and hauled her through the door.

The receptionist was staring, blank eyed, straight ahead; but as Tegan
approached the desk she gave a little jerk, like a wind up toy starting
into motion.  A tiny blue fire lit her eyes for a moment as she swept
Tegan up and down, assessing the cut of the clothes.

Tegan had not missed the eyes examining her clothes and making a snap
judgement as to their wearer.  She grinned good naturedly at her.

The receptionist smiled back at her with a cold, plastic smile.  'May I
help you madam?' The tone bordered on contempt.

'I have an appointment,' Tegan said in her most haughty voice.  She
sneered down her nose at the blond haired beauty.  She could give as
good as she got.

'You have?' The receptionist actually sounded surprised.  She held out
her hand and took the card, holding it with finger and thumb.  She
scrutinised it with an expression that screamed: "there is obviously
some mistake here".

But apparently there was not; and they were shown into a sumptuous
waiting area.  Nyssa flopped untidily into a seat and began to pull
faces at herself in the mirror on the opposite wall.

'Nyssa!'  Tegan nudged her.

Nyssa poked a tongue out at her.  'I want to go to the toilet,' she
announced in a loud, penetrating tone.

Tegan cringed as several expensively made up faces turned amused eyes on
them.  'You'll have to wait,' she whispered out of the corner of her
mouth while offering a tiny helpless smile to the watching women.  She
was going to die of shame; she could feel it in her water.

She began to look round for some dignified means of escape.  A tall thin
man, impossibly handsome, entered from the arch at the far end opposite
the reception area.  He looked around with eyes that somehow contrived
to be expressionless.  Another of those plastic smiles glazed his
features.  His dead gaze lit on Tegan and Nyssa, particularly on Nyssa.
He came over.

'Miss...ah...Traken?  Now there's a strange name...And familiar,
somehow.' A tiny spark of blue fire flickered in his dead eyes, but was
gone in an instant.  He switched his attention to Tegan.  'And Miss
Jovanka?  Would you come through to the salon, please - we are ready for
you now.'

Without too much loss of dignity, Tegan got Nyssa up and hustled her
after the tall man.  At exactly the wrong moment, she swayed, collided
with the side of the arch, and cannoned into the tall man.  He gave a
strange, mewling cry, and overbalanced.  With arms windmilling, he
stumbled to the right, bounced off a hair dressing position.  His
out-flung arm hit the dryer hood as he went down.  There was a most
unpleasant crunching, ripping sound and the arm came away.

It flopped horribly at Tegan's feet.  A strangely pale blood ran out of
the severed end and over her shoes.

Her scream was cut short as something reached from around behind her and
clamped itself over her mouth.  The world dissolved into a maelstrom of
psychedelic swirling patterns.

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

Part 3

They were all there, laid out in a neat row against the wall, even the
tall man, mercifully intact.  They looked pale and lifeless under the
single bulb illuminating the airless little room, but Tegan knew they
were only unconscious.

She felt the pulse of the receptionist.  Yes, they were all alive.  She
got up and looked around the small cupboard like room where she had
awoken. There were no windows, and only one door.

She tried it - just for the sake of appearance.  It would, of course, be
locked.  To her amazement it was open.  She peered out cautiously.

Beyond was a large cellar like room lit by a dim blue radiance.  It came
from a large blue sphere about the size of a beach ball hanging in the
air at the centre of the cellar.  It infused the air of the room with an
eerie radiance.

Dimly seen in the light all around the cleared centre space were shapes
of equipment, shrouded in grey dust sheets.   High up in the far wall
was a small window covered with a blanket.

Beneath the sphere, in the cleared space, was a large oblong block,
glowing blue, that looked for all the world to Tegan like an altar.
Lying on the alter under the globe was a familiar shape.

Tegan was through the door in a single bound, and beside the alter in
three strides.  She had no idea what was going on, but she was NOT going
to just let it happen.

'Nyssa?' she called softly and leaned over the supine form.  Something
tingled in her mind and she drew back from the cone of light startled.

A voice spoke from the darkness behind her.  'Please, Miss Jovanka.
Come away from the scanner.  There is danger.'

Tegan spun around to see the tall man, still minus the arm, standing
over her.  She shrank back, colliding with the alter.  The man took hold
of her wrist and yanked her away.

'Please, Miss Jovanka!  We mean you no harm! But you must not interfere
with the transfer of the Pattern.  It is the most suitable we have found
on this world.  The Hive will be honoured to have it for the
enfleshment.'

Tegan did not struggle; for some reason she was afraid that if she did
she would tear out the arm that held her.  This thought made her
unhappy; but as to why, she could not at that moment say.

'What are you doing to her?'

'Nothing harmful.  If it is any consolation, Miss Jovanka, your friend
has very kindly given her consent to the enfleshment.  She is a truly
kind being.'

'She agreed?'

'Most assuredly.' The man turned her gently to face the sight of Nyssa
lying on the altar.  She had a huge contented smile on her face.  Oddly,
Tegan felt no sense of threat.

'What is this "enfleshment"?  What are you doing to her?  What's
happening here?'

'An enfleshment of the Hive.  Every thousand or so of your years the
Hive abandons its fleshly state and comes together in the spirit form to
divide, to reproduce.  When we have become two, we must again seek a
pattern or a physical body within a few short weeks or the Hive
intelligence will dissipate.  In fact, we die. We were on our way to
Lascivia to make our next enfleshment.  The Hive was enfleshed there
once before and it was a most memorable avartar; so we thought to
experience it again.  Alas, our transport failed and we were forced to
put down here to make our enfleshment.  We took over this shop for our
testing - something, I assure you, the Hive regrets; we do not interfere
with other races; but our need was desperate.'

'I've seen the staff.  They're unconscious.  Will they be alright?'

'They will come to no harm,' the man assured with almost painful
sincerity. He went on with his explanation.

'Until we sensed the Trakenite in our midst, we despaired of ever
finding a suitable pattern.  These Terrans are not telepathic.  It is
necessary that we only enflesh in telepaths or empaths.  We MUST have
such a race for the patterning.' He broke off and peered intently at the
sphere.  'Ah...The transfer is complete.'

Nyssa opened her eyes and tried to sit up.  She only managed it with
Tegan's help.  She was still feeling the effects of the alcohol.  It was
only Tegan's support that stopped her from sliding to the floor when she
stood up from the table.

Out of the darkness the rest of the salon's staff moved to stand in a
semi-circle around the altar.

'The Enfleshment begins!  The Hive is reborn!' They all chorused in
unison. Tiny blue sparks flickered from all their eyes, and merged into
the globe as the Hive withdrew its presence from the temporary proto
morphs.  The six seemingly human figures sank down to the dirty cellar
floor and dissolved into piles of white dust - even the clothes
disintegrated and melted away. A draft began to stir and move the piles
of dust.

An intense hum built up in the dim little cellar.  The glowing blue
globe lowered itself onto the block, began to sink into the substance
until it was lost to sight.  Then the block began to grow transparent,
revealing in its core, a shapeless blue something.  As the two women
watched, it changed and flowed, taking on a more familiar human
appearance, finally settling into a form that was unmistakably Nyssa.

The Nyssa turned and smiled at them - a blissfully happy expression,
still coloured by the alcohol.  She winked outrageously at them.

The hum increased abruptly.  The block became first translucent, then a
dazzling opaque blue.  In moments the light had become so intense that
Tegan and Nyssa were forced to turn their backs.  The light died with a
little popping sound.

When they turned to look again, the cellar was empty - save for them,
and six small piles of white dust slowly scattering around the floor in
the draft.

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

'And you've been drunk ever since?' the Doctor asked.

'Yessh...Gloriousshly drunk...Isss been the most enjoyable enfleshment
shince...shince the Lascivian Avartar...Now there wash a most...' The
Queen trailed off into a fond remembrance, and blushed most decorously.

'Hmmm,' the Doctor hummed thoughtfully.  He looked around at the carnage
of the second dance being cleared away.  Stifling a smile, he turned
back to the Queen.  'Your Majesty...I...eh...'  He broke off in some
considerable indecision.  He began again with more determination.

Tegan could barely contain her amusement at his diffidence.  She had
never seen him so at a loss.

'I do feel that I should point out, Your Majesty, for I feel partly
responsible for this...But...This state of intoxication is not
exactly...Well...'

The Queen nodded gravely - another mistake; her intricate hair style
flopped brokenly down over her face.  She brushed it aside with a
peremptory sweep of her hand.

'Oh yes.  We know that, Doctor.  And the cost of importing that wine -
ruinous, absolutely ruinous.  It's costing the Hive dear to maintain the
level of that alcohol chemical in the system.'

She broke off to eye Tegan accusingly.  'And the quality leaves a lot to
be desired too!'

Tegan looked defensive.  'I didn't have enough money to...'

The Doctor interrupted.  'Then, if you do not mind my question - why do
you continue to maintain it.' The Doctor waved a hand at the clear up
operation underway in a stumbling and desultory fashion on the dance
floor.  'This must be a most serious drain on your resources, and I
always thought the Hive were keen on efficiency to the point of
obsession?'

The Queen shuddered violently and for a moment was almost sober.  'Oh we
tried that, Doctor....Not nice...Not nice at all.  The Hive grew sick.
Terribly sick.  .There was a most profound physical discomfort.  Here.'
She touched her head.  'And here;' she touched her middle.

'Hangover,' said Tegan with a weight of experience colouring her tone.

'And we were troubled by visions.'

'Visions?'  The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

'Yes.  Giant pink Pobbelmanders and Glorinches kept haunting us and
chasing us...Then they would vanish.' The Queen shuddered again.  'We
thought it was the end of the Hive!  So we re-instituted the alcohol.
It really isss mush better like this.  The new maturity will be
achieved, eventually.  It will take a bit longer thash all.  But the
Hive dossnt mind.  It really hash been the most enjoyable avartar in a
very long race history.  We can live with it honoured Time Lord.  We can
live with the extra expense.  But that is not to say we have not had
some trying moments.  The first two planetsh we steered in from the
outer reaches of the system to nudge into a favourable orbit plunged
into the sun.'

'Wasn't that a bit wasteful?'

'Yesh.  I supposh sho.  But it made a pretty display...Very asthetically
shatisfyving.  Very well worth the effort.'

And so saying the Queen hiccoughed several times, slumped back against
the support of her Throne, slid in a most regal fashion to the floor and
began to snore loudly.

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

The End.