The globes - the Toclafane - descend. There seem to be no end to them. Millions upon millions; an entire race, bringing destruction and death to another.
This is an invasion, but this is not war.
There was a war against the Cybermen. They fought back then.
This is not war. This is slaughter.
Barbara's hand tightens around his and Ian finds himself praying.
Not to any god: he never was much of a churchgoer. To a hero; to humanity's (surprising) champion.
The world seems to be ending with alarming regularity, these last few years. But the Doctor always manages to save them. And life goes on.
They're too old to die like this.