The Doctor does not move.
His eyes, however, snap open.
That sound is familiar. That sound is the sound of a bell.
The Cloister Bell.
And that bell only ever rings in the event of an emergency.
In a flash, he is on his feet, and then he is sprinting out of the Zero Room. He makes it to the console room in record time … everything is lit up red. Which is very ugly against the dirty orange of the TARDIS walls.
It's nice of the Ship to tell him things by offending his sense of decency, but now is not the time.
"What's the problem, old girl?" he pants.
The screen on its rotating joint prints up two words: BLEED-IN.
The Doctor's eyes widen in shock.
"Detail?" he says.
REFINING RESOLUTION OF BLEED-IN LOCATOR NOW.
He waits, almost dancing on the deck in impatience. Finally, the results flash up.
HUMANIAN ERA, COMMON YEAR 2209.
It starts to print LOCATION: MUTTER'S SPIRAL but then starts printing SOL but then gives up and prints SOL 3.
Oh no. Not Earth. The single one tiny inconsequential planet where I do not need a bleed-in is Earth.
"How bad is it?" he asks, not wanting to hear the answer.
SEVERE.
The highest level: overwriting history or deleting an entire timeline.
So, not good.
So not good.
He hisses through his teeth, surveying the data the TARDIS throws up in Gallifreyan script … The Moment was the last severe paradox. The Moment he could have used to end the Time War, and still might yet. Severe paradoxes are things that offend the universe, that outrageous things would find unsustainably outrageous, that would drive one mad just from looking at the uncensored timeline graph.
And there's one happening on Earth, right now.
"How far can you refine the resolution, Ship?"
NOT FAR, the TARDIS replies. SIX MONTHS CLOSEST POSSIBLE PROXIMITY.
He winces, but quickly overcomes his annoyance. "That'll do."
QUERY PURPOSE OF PREVIOUS QUERY?
"I'm going in," he says.