Health problems arise as the two tribes awaken. At the Thal tribe, Tlotoxl is starting to lose weight at a disturbing pace. "If the gods wish that I be slim as a lady's waist," he intones, "then so be it! Perhaps soon they will send me a nice juicy calf to fatten me up again. Or I will finally get my chance to dismember Adric, for he has at least as much meat on his bones."
"He's just joking," avers Adric. "We've actually become pretty good pals over the past couple of weeks. We've got a lot in common -- not very popular at home, terrible hairstyles, lousy sense of dress. He can do lots of math that tell him when to do human sacrifice, and I can do just about every other type of math! We're chums. We go out hunting together, and he hasn't tried to garotte me more than three or four times now."
Meanwhile, over at the Kaled camp, Soldeed arises in agony: "Lord Nimon, it is I, Soldeed! My ear has been plagued by a terrible infection! Owie owie owie owie owie!"
"Maybe that'll teach you to shove strange fruit in your ear and pretend it's a communicator," notes Bernice.
That afternoon, our host, the indomitable Jeff Probst, appears to give hints about the next Reward Challenge, that evening. All he tells the WHOvivors is that they need to practise with the three ancient weapons -- a blowgun, a spear and a slingshot -- which materialise simultaneously in both camps, and that they'll have a chance to bring some fruit back to their camps. "What, you mean beside the Monk?" chortles Davros.
In the Kaled camp, Susan sets about handing out the weapons for people to train on. "Why don't you handle the spear, Ben?" she suggests. "And Bernice, I bet you'll be good with the slingshot." As for the blowgun, there was never any doubt: "Here you go, Peri."
The Rani handles the same chores for the Thal tribe. "You will practise on the slingshot, Adric," she instructs. "Leela, I'm sure you're more than capable with a spear." As for the blowgun, there was never any doubt: "Here you go, Monk."
After a busy afternoon of training, the two tribes meet in the shadow of a large mountain. A shabby verandah has been set up, with balloons dangling from the ceiling. Jeff fades in to greet them. "Here's how this is going to work. The slingshotters and, erm, blowers get to take potshots at those balloons for a minute. Each one you hit represents one piece of genuine Gallifreyan drongo-fruit, imported direct from the equatorial region, that'll get added to the prize basket. Yeah, I know, you've all been getting a little better acquainted with scurvy the past few days, haven't you?
"Then the spear-throwers will get two throws each at a large statue of everybody's favourite Time Lord, your friend and mine, the Master. We even made it the Eric Roberts incarnation, just for added incentive. Throw one spear at each heart; the thrower whose total distance from the two hearts is smallest wins the fruit and... and... wait for it... have I drawn out the suspense enough yet?... not one, not two, but three chicken-flavored nutrition globes, enough to feed the whole tribe!"
The preliminaries over with, the two slingshotters -- Adric and Bernice -- have their minute attacking the balloons. They do decently, but neither one is spectacularly competent with the primitive weapons. Then Peri and the Monk go to work with the blowguns, and knock down all the other balloons in about three and a half seconds.
Finally, it's down to Leela and Ben. Leela takes her first throw, and it comes very close to the statue's left "heart". "Two point five centimeters!" announces Jeff.
Ben throws, but it's a little wobbly, not nearly as accurate as Leela's fine throw. "Four point seven centimeters!" Jeff declares.
Leela takes her second toss. It's even better than the first one. "Two point three centimeters! Ben, you need to basically nail this one dead on in order to win."
Ben is about to make his final throw when Peri runs up to him and whispers in his ear: "Ben, three words: Steamy. Forest. Sex." A wide grin from ear to ear, Ben turns, launches the spear, and hits the bullseye. "The Kaled tribe wins the fruit and nutri-globes!" Jeff announces.
"Well, so much for sleeping this night," grumbles Susan as Ben and Peri emerge from the petrified forest, covered in pebbles and wood chips.
"It's, like, all about sex right now," Peri confides. "It's so intense."
"Peri? Hmm, nope, never heard of the bird," says Ben. "Relationship? Nah, mate, I'm a one-woman gal, and I promised Pol that there'd be no hanky-panky outside the TARDIS. You must be confusing me with some other Ben. Hey, yeah, maybe you're thinking about Benny! That's it!"
Over at the Thal camp, Adric regales everyone with the announcement that he's just had his first bowel movement since they came to the Death Zone. Make up your own joke.
Tlotoxl, meanwhile, has managed to capture a Cybermat, which he sacrifices on his makeshift altar at the bottom of the Thal hill -- although the whipped cream that emerges from its circuits in place of blood causes him some consternation. Nonetheless, he spends most of the day deep in prayer, while everybody else watches him from higher up the hill and laughs themselves silly.
"Religion, bah. If I had an altar stone, I know what I'd be doing with it, and it wouldn't be Cybermats!" says the Monk with a coy wink. "And I wear religious clothes for a living!"
The Monk, the Rani and Leela have secretly formed a voting alliance. "It's not too long now before the two tribes merge into one, and we want to be the controlling power when that happens," reveals the Rani. "The stupid fools, we will manipulate the outcome to our satisfaction without their even realising it! After all, who's going to figure it out? Peri?"
At this point, Jeff shows up to reveal the latest Immunity Challenge. "This one is called 'Short Trips'. Tomorrow, we're going to give both tribes a broken down old Type 40 TARDIS stuck in the shape of something from twentieth-century Earth, hopefully nothing too rude. Each tribe will choose one member to pilot the TARDIS. The others will be scattered throughout the Death Zone. The pilot who manages to pick up all his or her tribemates and get back to camp the quickest wins immunity."
The two tribes spend the evening debating who should be their pilot. "I earned Triple-Double-Heptuple-Alpha marks at the Academy," boasts the Monk. "I should pilot!"
"You forged those marks and you know it," shoots back the Rani. "Besides, I got Quadruple-Double-Octuple-Alpha marks, and that was with a minimum of threats and tortures. Clearly, I am the best pilot, not only in this tribe, but in the entire Death Zone."
Meanwhile, things are less heated at the Kaled camp. Although Bernice, Ben and Peri all have minimal TARDIS-piloting experience, they all agree that Susan is the best choice.
The two dilapidated TARDISes wheeze and groan into existence at the campsites the next morning. The Kaled tribe's is shaped in the form of a red American phone booth, while the Thal tribe's is shaped like a port-o-potty. "I think it's for you," Leela tells Adric.
Soon, with the exception of Susan and the Rani, the other WHOvivors are time-scooped to random positions within the Death Zone. "Hopefully the Raston Warrior Robots won't get to any of them before you do," notes Jeff.
Then, at his signal, the two take off. But the Rani, unused to such antiquated technology, soon finds herself having difficulty getting the flux capacitor to initialise with the dimensional controller, causing a flawed temporal orbit. By the time she realises how to fix the problem -- by reversing the polarity of the neutron flow, of course -- Susan has already coaxed her TARDIS into locating and picking up half her teammates.
In the end, it's no contest: Susan returns to the Kaled camp with all the others while the Rani is still stuck with just Adric, the Monk, and four busted fluid links. "I can't believe it," laments the Rani. "Beaten by a junior Gallifreyan who doesn't even have an article in front of her name!"
That night, the Thal tribe makes the long trek to the Dark Tower to vote out one of their own in Tribal Council...
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