"What do you mean she's escaped?" Morda shouted, voice echoing through the castle as she stared at the legion of men now bowed before her in the great hall, the front of which held her singular throne. She paced slowly and looked over them. "She's a little girl, barely capable of lacing her own shoes and you let her escape?"
The man at the front glanced up, mouth set in a frown, and he offered, "With all respects, your majesty, by the standards of these people, she's a grown woman."
"Twenty four, a speck of life I've had to put up with to get home," she pointed, "To get you home, Sloren, and all of our people, and you not only let her get away, but she somehow got a hold of explosives." With a smile, she questioned, "Any idea of how she could have gotten that?"
Scratching at the scruff of his cheek, he sighed and offered, "We'll take a count of the armory."
"You know our supplies are limited, and we'll need that when we return."
"Yes, your majesty," he allowed, turning and motioning for his men to stand.
"Sloren," she called as soon as the men had started to depart, "A word?"
Light eyes turning to meet hers, he shook his head, "I'm sorry mum, we were assured she had your permission to be on the grounds; I've already sent a squad into the forest, but in the dying light it will be hard to search, made worse by the antics of the rebels that hide out there." He nodded, "Come daylight, I'll gather my best…"
"I want you here, son," she interrupted, "Don't think I haven't seen the way you look at the girl." Then she scoffed, "A child, Sloren; barely a quarter your age, and human." She made a noise of disgust, "I trust I'm wise to believe you had nothing to do with…"
"I would never betray you, mother," he spat angrily. "She's a charge, nothing more – you asked me to look after her and I have."
Nodding, she allowed, "Just yesterday you were in the garden…"
He interrupted, "Following her closely, at your command."
"A laugh easily on your lips," she sighed.
His mouth betrayed him, a small grin sneaking onto it before he huffed, "Are the jokes of a child not to be entertained? You asked me to gain her trust; I've done so, and because of it, she's been fairly content behind these walls for twenty three and a half years."
"Then I needn't remind you of her purpose."
"No, mother," he growled.
"And how valuable she is to us."
"We'll find her and return her to the castle."
"I need her alive, Sloren," she warned.
"Understood," the man told her before adding, "Your majesty."
She waved a hand and turned away with a small exhale of annoyance, telling him, "Run along, boy – your soldiers will be mindless without their prince."
Sloren gave a curt nod and then turned, keeping his steps calculated as he exited the large room and moved into the hall, closing the doors behind him with his teeth clenched, ready to release a small breath of relief when Gonther cleared his throat as he approached from the side. Straightening, Sloren gave him a scowl and muttered, "Any news from the air?"
The older man, hunched slightly with age, pushed glasses further up his large nose and shook his head sadly, lifting a hand to pat Sloren's shoulder, "The girl's all but disappeared into the forests, but we've detected something far greater."
"Greater than…" he began, but he swallowed his words and nodded, "What have you found?"
Lifting his head in the direction of the forests, Gonther offered excitedly, "Time Lord Technology, sitting somewhere out in that forest."
Sloren shook his head and laughed, "That's preposterous – you know as well as I that the Time Lords, all of Gallifrey, it was wiped out in the Time War – nothing survived."
"Daleks remain, roaming the skies like scavengers – why not Time Lords?" He tilted his head and nodded, "If there's a Time Lord here, we may not need the girl."
"You believe the technology could transport us back home?"
Gonther nodded and he inched closer, muttering, "Some of us, anyways."
Clapping a hand to the old man's back, Sloren offered, "Best news I've heard all day, Gonther." Then he turned, "Have you come to tell the Queen?"
Dropping his shoulders heavily, he nodded, "No choice – I wasn't alone when it was discovered; if I don't tell her, I'll be branded a traitor – beheaded before dawn."
With a small nod of appreciation, Sloren told him, "Then tell her it exists, but if you find its location, you bring that to me at once. If there's a Time Lord meddling in our affairs, surely they'll have a way to find Clarice."
He began to move, but Gonther raised a hand and called his name and as he turned, the older man warned, "Best you keep your enthusiasm about the girl hidden well, Sloren – I doubt the Queen would spare her son's head if she finds reason not to trust it."
"What do you mean I'm an echo?" Clarice said slowly, staring at Clara as she continued to stare, wide-eyed and amused, "Is this sorcery?" She asked.
The Doctor stepped up between them, quickly looking from one woman to the other and he raised his hands towards Clarice, giving her his best smile and explained, "Great big universe, there are bound to be echoes of a face here and there – you're simply echoes of one another, scattered to the wind and, by random chance, you're meeting." Then he turned, "Or possibly not by random chance?"
Clara's gaze shifted then, meeting his to ask, "What do you mean not by random chance?"
"Clara, we were pulled out of the time vortex by something." He turned back to the visitor as the horse clopped it's front hooves into the Tardis, "You're not, by chance, technologically inclined?"
Head jerking back slightly, Clarice allowed, "If by technologically inclined, you mean capable of pulling a ship out of the sky, then no, sir, I am not."
"Good, yes," he smiled, "Good then, not you." He shook his head, "Of course not you."
"Sorry," Clara told her quietly, watching the Doctor move to the console to begin tinkering with buttons and levers, looking to his screen. "He's a bit out of sorts at the moment; can't wrap his head around our current predicament," and she stopped when she felt the finger push into her shoulder, looking to her side to see Clarice staring down at her finger in confusion. "We're not the same person," Clara told her, then tilted her head, "Well, I guess that depends on how you look at it."
"Clara," the Doctor warned.
"Who are you?" Clarice questioned.
"Doctor," the Doctor reminded, then pointed, "Clara. And what's your name? Where are we?"
Taking a step forward, eyes roaming the controls of the ship, she muttered, "Clar, uh, Clarice. And you're in Euwan, but you said," She pointed, "You said pocket universe before; how do you mean this is a pocket universe?" She looked to Clara, "That sounds small, tucked away, can you make sense of it?"
With a laugh, the Doctor supplied, "I can make sense of it."
But Clarice turned, "You're the strange man not making sense of anything at the moment."
Clara snorted and explained, "There's the universe – the stars you see in your sky, they're other planets…"
"I know of other planets," she nodded, "We're supposed to be shielded from them. No one comes to Euwan and no one leaves. It's written in the books in the library."
"Ah," the Doctor shouted, "Someone must have hidden this place here then. Folded a bit of time and space and pushed it in for safe keeping, but from what…" he looked up at Clarice and Clara, both giving him identical looks of frustration. "The books, do they mention anything like that? Euwan," he repeated under his breath.
With a shrug, Clarice replied, "No, it just says we're shielded."
"Shielded like a marble zipped into a sweater pocket, something must have put you there, or pinched you off – perhaps someone was ridding the universe of this planet for a…"
"Doctor," Clara interrupted, "Let's worry about getting Clarice home for now, shall we?"
Clarice jumped at the words though, both hands coming out to grip Clara as the Doctor grimaced, but the contact did nothing to either of them and he stared, perplexed. "I can't go home; I ran away from home."
"Why would you run away?" Clara asked curiously, watching the fear that was immediate on the other woman's face as she considered them, as if trying to choose whether she could trust them and Clara reached up and slipped her fingers around Clarice's forearms, smiling and acknowledging, "I know we're strangers, but we're here to help."
Bowing her head, she said softly, "It's my mother," then she lifted her eyes and Clara could see the anger there as she corrected, "She's not really my mother – she's from one of these other planets from beyond the shield, outside of the pocket. Somehow they got through and they killed my parents and took over everything. They've been making something, some machine, and they intend to use me to power it somehow."
"A machine," the Doctor questioned, "Powered by a human?"
"Is that possible?" Clara asked, pulling Clarice into a half-hug the other woman accepted gratefully.
He shrugged and looked to them, brow knotting, "I suppose it's possible, but she's an echo. A pin you dropped in the haystack of time, one of thousands, one in…" he trailed, considering it, "An echo still tethered to the original; an echo still echoing." His hand touched to his chest and reached out and the back, eyes widened slightly as he stared at Clara, head shaking slightly against the thought in his head.
"Doctor, you're freaking me out," Clara told him forcefully.
Clarice uttered, "I'm not following; why does he keep calling me an echo."
The horse behind them stomped one foot angrily and they turned to it just before the Tardis gave a shake, and then another, and suddenly they were moving.
