Dawn breaks on a hungry Thal tribe. Ouch.
Although the supply of Gallifrey-brand Capitol Guard Rations ("from the Castellan's kitchen") is plentiful, the tribe -- now one person smaller with the loss of Alpha Centauri in the previous night's Tribal Council -- is desperate for some variety. Leela and the Monk venture out into the wilds of the Death Zone searching for food, using a still-slumbering Mel as bait. "They will be drawn to the red hair," says Leela. "Animals are stupid like that." "Almost as stupid as the bait," notes the Monk. Unfortunately, the Death Zone animals don't prove quite so stupid, and the trio's mission is a failure.
Things aren't much happier back at the camp. "I miss Alpha's, um, colours," moans Adric. "Maybe we shouldn't have voted her off." "You're right," agrees Tlotoxl. "We should have sacrificed her to the gods, and then eaten her!" Everyone privately agrees to never let Tlotoxl within ten feet of the cooking instruments.
Davros, meanwhile, is becoming increasingly irate about some of his fellow tribe members, especially Mel. "If I ever encountered her on Skaro," he noted, "I would have my Daleks exterminate her into oblivion!" Mel feels the same way about Davros, especially when she finds him about to run over the Rani with his travel machine while she naps.
Things seem to be better over at the Kaled camp, where the full complement of eight WHOvivors still remains. Azaxyr has set about disciplining his companions, forcing them to construct a shelter with military precision at the threat of feeling the full force of his Ice Warrior pincers. Bernice argues with Azaxyr about the location of the shelter, suggesting that it would be better to situate it farther back into the woods rather than at the perimeter where there is less natural shelter.
"I am an Icsssse Lord of the highesssst rank!" seethes Azaxyr. "I have recsssseived countlessssss hourssss of training. I know how to build a camp, and I know that the bessst location isss out in the open, where it isss coolessssst!" Bernice finally gives up the debate, deciding that her flask, if nothing else, will keep her warm at night.
Others, however, are impressed by the discipline Azaxyr is bringing to the Kaled tribe. "Who wouldn't want the Azaxyr action figure?" wonders Peri. Liz, who is feeling somewhat unwell after a chance encounter with a pair of Silurians -- er, Eocenes -- er, Reptile People -- erm, Sholakh and Dervath, okay? -- is less enthusiastic, especially when the Ice Warrior orders Ben and Glitz to fashion him an appropriate weapon to "whip that lazy human into shape!"
At the Thal camp, the WHOvivors have constructed a meagre but comfortable shelter in a cranny of their hillside, well protected from the occasional Cybermat which comes crawling along at night. Davros has proven himself to be an able cook ("What, you think I spent my entire life creating Daleks?") and is doing what he can with the Capitol Guard Rations, especially since the efforts to catch any bigger game out in the Death Zone are proving fruitless, with or without Mel as bait.
The ice is broken somewhat when the Monk admits to the group that he has a thing for Greek poets. "Yes, I'm a Homer-sexual," he concedes. He goes on to tell his tribemates that he's been prevented in fulfilling his lifelong ambition to become involved with a Greek poet because other renegade Time Lords keep breaking his TARDIS.
Surprisingly, the Monk and Davros seem to be striking up a strange friendship, one based on respect if not genuine affection. "Davros and I have an interesting dynamic," suggests the Monk. Before revealing the truth about himself to the rest of the tribe, he had figured Davros would be the least accepting of him. "But he actually told me that whenever he gets around to wiping out people who think and act differently than he does, he'll definitely let me writhe in agony for the shortest amount of time. I think that's a good thing."
Meanwhile, at the Kaled camp, Liz awakens to find small black spots emerging on her arms and legs. These strike her as vaguely familiar, but the black spots seem to have eaten away the long-term memory faculties of her brain, as well. "Well, for the sake of the rest of my tribe, at least it doesn't seem to be contagious this time. And besides, it doesn't seem to have affected me too badly. With enough rest, I'm confident I'll make a full recovery. For the sake of the rest of my tribe, at least it doesn't seem to be contagious this time. And besides, it doesn't seem to have affected me too badly. Did I already say that? Well, at least it's not contagious this time."
Azaxyr is undeterred by Liz's plight. He begins conferring with the rest of the tribe as to whether she would be best served hot, cold, or in a white wine sauce, until Peri points out that they don't actually have any white wine, and besides, it'd be cannibalism for everyone else. "Your losssss, human," replies Azaxyr.
Meanwhile, the Kaled WHOvivors start to wonder if something might be on the go between Ben and Peri, who keep slipping off into the woods together when they think no one is looking. "Don't tell Polly," Ben is heard to mutter. "They took off for fruit or whatever and were gone nearly seventeen days," Liz notes. "No, wait, it was just an hour, sorry. Memory's still acting up."
Day Six
Adric stays up all night constructing "SuperPole eČ", a new fishing rod based on the principles of block transfer computation he's sure will solve all of the Thal tribe's food problems. Then the Rani points out that they're on the top of a hill, not near the ocean, and spends the rest of the morning whacking Adric over the head with it.
The mood at the Kaled camp is equally bleak, when the WHOvivors awaken to discover Azaxyr washing his Ice Warrior armour in the tribe drinking water. Much discussion ensues about which is worse -- the soiled water or the fact that they all just saw an Ice Warrior in the nude.
This is all too much for Azaxyr, who tries to eviscerate his tribemates until being felled by their combined weight (which, with Glitz in the mix, isn't anything to sneeze at). "I am ssssick of you pathetic humansss!" the Ice Lord proclaims from the bottom of the pile. "I order you to vote me out of thisss ridiculousss contessst asss ssssoon asss possssssible!" This is the first thing Azaxyr has said all week which incurs no dissent.
Suddenly, a hologram of our host, the indefatigable Jeff Probst, appears to both tribes, much to the disappointment of those who had totally forgotten he even existed. Jeff gives the Thal and Kaled tribes directions to their next Immunity Challenge.
"Today's Immunity Challenge is called 'You Want Me To Put That How Close To My Mouth?'. You've probably noticed that there are lots of strange creatures crawling around the Death Zone, many of them so horribly mutated as to be unrecognisable from their original form. I thought it'd be pretty cool to get you guys to chow down on some of them.
"We'll go back and forth from tribe to tribe, each person having to eat one Metebelis 3 spider. If it's any encouragement, these little guys would probably try and take over your mind given half a chance, so it's in your best interest to chow down. The first team to have a member be incapable of eating one of the spiders loses the Challenge."
"Why don't you try one first?" suggests Soldeed.
"I would, but unfortunately, I'm just a hologram," replies Jeff. "I'm actually in our studio back in the Panopticon. You don't actually expect me to be out there in the Death Zone with you guys, do you? I mean, come on, how would I keep my hair this immaculate?"
The competition starts, beginning with the Kaled tribe since they're now one member stronger than the Thal tribe. Azaxyr succeeds. Then Leela. Then Bernice. Then Davros. Then Ben, who notes that it's still better food than what he got with the British Navy. And on and on, until all fifteen WHOvivors have stomached one spider.
"Okay," says Jeff, "to break the tie I want each tribe to select one member of the opposing tribe. Those two lucky people will have to keep eating spiders until one of them throws up; then the other person's tribe will be declared the winner."
The Kaled tribe selects Mel, observing that she's so thin that she's probably anorexic and will therefore hurl at some point, just out of habit. The Thal tribe picks Glitz, since he looks naturally queasy to begin with. At a signal from Jeff, the competition begins again, and Mel and Glitz start knocking back the spiders. Glitz seems to be going along fine until the spider he's about to put in his mouth gets away from him, hops up on his back, and mentally compels him to regurgitate its brethren. The Thal tribe celebrates its victory, while the Kaled tribe tries to keep the mind-dominated Glitz from murdering them all.
That night, it's the Kaled tribe's turn to head to the Dark Tower for Tribal Council...
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