The Voord in London is a passable, if welcome introduction to this boxset which revels in the sandbox of writer Terry Nation's creations and some of Big Finish's most engaging characters from the last decade.

An atmosphere piece not dissimilar to Z-Cars, this opener reintroduces Jane Slavin's Ann Kelso persona, against the backdrop of eighties London, and all of the boys' club baggage of its police force. It's welcome that as much time is spent in stations, on the club scene and under the shadow of night by the Thames; The Sinestran Kill (this story's best comparison) missed a pivotal opportunity to connect with its contemporary Britain, in a way that the Williams era in which it situated itself never did. This is achieved in accordance to the pulp sci-fi that prevails throughout the story, which optimistically presents the Space Security Service as a more optimistic turn the police force is headed toward in the future; optically, it is a little contentious, as police corruption is saddled with the concept of the SSS from their very conception, but nevertheless genre-savvy.

Slavin and Joe Sims' ineffably charming dynamic is broadened out by Madeline Appiah's character of Akinyemi, who tags along with 'Ann Kelso' for the former half of the story. The revelation that Akinyemi is, in fact, a professional standards inspector is played as a twist - as indicated by a music cue - with very little to substantiate it beforehand; a scene afterward haphazardly suggests that she is present in the background, watching Anya as she interrogates a Voord, attempting to make up for the little that precedes it. However, it's a welcome continuation of how the story interrogates police bureaucracy, which encompasses much of the runtime. The omitted depiction of more active, but referenced events epitomises this,as well as Akinyemi's introduction to the SSS itself - again, it's a bit haphazard, but establishes a crucial and continual link to the eighties London setting to remain in conversation with the period.

The treatment of the Voord lends itself well to the atmosphere, too. Despite lending themselves to the boxset's title, they fulfil a similar role here as they do in their first appearance; like The Keys of Marinus, the Voord are one small part of a sprawling environs, their plan for domination not necessarily overlooked but instead, an enrichment of the world the story inhabits. This is achieved in an almost haunting affect, as their sentiment that the waters of the eighties Thames are somehow cleaner than those of the future, or our present, provides a frightening perspective. Their presence is less of an asterisk, and more aptly one small component of a larger, enthralling engine.

Clumsy as it may be at times, The Voord in London is an opener that runs with genre without falter, and welcomely immerses the listener in its setting with the utmost commitment.