Chapter One

'Mind your feet, Bernice,' he warned.

The cabin was lying on its side, almost intact. The helicopter had been black, and was unmarked. Even in its current state, the Doctor could see that it was a military transport, a Puma, or perhaps a 212. That could mean that there were fifteen people in there. He clambered hand-over-hand past the hot engines to the cockpit, which was towards the top of the wreckage. The door was already open.

Bernice was twenty-five feet below him, examining the contorted remains of the tail. She seemed a little distant. When his companion had spoken to him, back at the house, she had heightened that accent of hers: the pronunciation was ever so slightly better, she would tilt her head a little as she spoke and draw herself up to her full height. It was the way she spoke to strangers.

'Come up and help me,' the Doctor insisted cheerfully.

'I'm isolating the electrics from the fuel supply,' she said, 'to prevent an explosion. I'll be with you in a moment.'

'Good thinking.' The Doctor pressed himself to the cracked cockpit glass. There was a dead man in the cockpit, his eyes staring ahead, his neck broken. The Doctor tried peering past him down into the cabin. It was dark: the lights weren't working, of course, but neither was the emergency lighting. He suspected that Bernice would find that the electrics were already off. In the murk of the main cabin, the Doctor could discern what looked like someone's leg. It wasn't moving, and there wasn't a sound coming from interior of the helicopter. The Doctor eased himself over the lip of the door, and dropped down into the pilot's seat. The floor beneath him lurched a little under his weight.