the flight computer and the freighter, shuddering slightly as the warp engines were disengaged, slowed to sub-light speed.
Ahead lay Titan Three.
Once more Azmael manipulated the controls and the freighter slipped into orbit around the tiny planet. With a little luck, the Time Lord reasoned, he might be able to use its mass to play hide and seek, thereby giving him the chance to pick the fighters off one at a time.
Hugo Lang thought otherwise. As his squadron emerged from warp drive, their tracking instruments immediately pinpointed Azmael's ship as it slipped over the horizon of the planet before him. Confidently, Hugo spoke into his radio and the starfighters manoeuvred effortlessly into battle formation.
As the squadron sped towards Titan Three, the flight divided, half skirting the eastern rim of the planet, while the remainder, led by Hugo, turned westward. Seconds later the pincer movement was complete and the hapless freighter trapped. Azmael responded with a half-hearted flight of missiles which the starfighters easily avoided.
As Hugo was about to give his final instructions for their attack, his ship started to pitch and toss as though caught in a pocket of turbulence. Hugo checked his flight computer, but the instrument was unable to provide an answer.
One by one, the other starfighters reported similar problems, so Hugo ordered the squadron to withdraw while they reconsidered the situation.
If Hugo Lang had been a more experienced pilot, possibly less arrogant, and certainly less concerned with his own glory, he would have realised much sooner that the further his squadron distanced itself from the freighter, the worse the turbulence grew.
So, instead of pondering on the more immediate problem, Hugo spent the last few seconds of his squadron's existence asking his flight computer questions it couldn't answer. He was still shouting at the confused machine when the cause of the turbulence appeared over the rim of the planet.
At first sight, it was not unlike a massive aurora borealis, except that the whirling mists of colour were contained in a blue haze that undulated like a balletic amoeba. For a moment, the phenomenon seemed to hover, as though studying the starfighters. Hugo gazed back, as much impressed by its beauty as confused why the mass still didn't register on his ship's sensors. Even at this late stage, Hugo did not realise the enormous danger he faced.
Suddenly a finger of blue mist shot towards the nearest fighter and, on contact, the ship vaporised.
'Scramble!' Hugo screamed into his radio.
Instantly the squadron broke formation and built up speed ready to enter warp drive. As they did, a massive blue fist emerged from the main body of the cloud and enveloped three of the fighters. They, too, vaporised.
Realising they couldn't outrun the cloud, the two remaining fighters turned in a steep arc and, with laser cannons firing, flew at battle speed towards the swirl of colour. For good measure, Hugo also fired a full broadside of missiles, but all to little effect. The cloud simply absorbed the energy with an almost graceful ease.
Undeterred, the fighters flew on, this time firing Baston torpedoes.
Under normal circumstances, one torpedo would have been sufficient to destroy a small moon. Two, a planet the size of Earth.
Yet the cloud took four without seeming to disturb an atom of its structure.
As the fighters drew nearer to the mist, Hugo could see a small black irregular shape at its heart. Sensing this was some sort of control centre, he lined up his laser cannons and fired, scoring a direct hit.
Suddenly the soft, Turneresque colouring of the cloud turned harsh and livid. Hugo gave a small, boyish cheer, but his celebration was short lived. Instead of its destruction, the cloud launched a ball of blue fire which rapidly moved towards the second fighter.
Although the pilot took evasive action, twisting, diving, wriggling everyway possible, the ball found its target with ease and the