"I've always wondered what a TARDIS looked like from the inside" Bolt mused, "I've only ever seen it in books"

The Doctor looked less than impressed by her reaction, as if he was expecting more.

"This one seems quite extravagant" she continued, running her fingers across the edge of the central console, "We were always told they were just tools to illegally meddle with time" she ascended the staircase to the upper level under the Doctor's scrutinising glare and stopped to admire a bookcase, "It seems they rather simplified things"

"Aren't you going to lecture me?" the Doctor challenged, dashing to follow Bolt up the stairs and stand next to her, "If you're not going to gasp in wonder or ask me how I fit all this in here that is…" he trailed off, grinning impishly.

"I know how a TARDIS works" Bolt shrugged, "And lecture you about what?"

The Doctor's joy evaporated instantly, and he turned serious for a moment.

"Your people eschewed violence at all costs, to the point of their own extinction" he explained, in a low tone, "You haven't even mentioned what just happened!"

"You mean the Syllogists right?" Bolt turned, her blue eyes remaining calm as a gentle ocean as they met the Doctor's own.

"You didn't even react" the Doctor whispered, "That's not what normally happens when someone witnesses a mass suicide"

Bolt picked up an old book from the shelf and examined the cover, smiling once she recognised the symbol on the front.

"The crest of the Panthereon race" she smiled, "I haven't seen that in years" she graced her fingers over the cover gently, "Doctor, I might have been born into the Time Chaser society, and it's true I have inherited most of their memories and customs…" she held the book up to him, "But from the age of ten I was raised by my adopted family – a very different people"

The Doctor took the book from her and flicked slowly through the pages, nodding in understanding.

"A proud warrior race" he confirmed.

"So I understand why you did what you had to do" Bolt placed a reassuring hand on the Doctor's shoulder, and then nodded off to the centre of the room, "I'm not the one you need to speak to"

The Doctor hadn't even noticed Bill come in. Now the elation of Bolt's survival had passed, it was clear she was still not content with the Doctor's justification of what had just happened. From the grimace that engulfed the Doctor's face, it was also clear that he knew he hadn't dealt with her reaction very well.

Silently, he handed back the book to Bolt, who became politely occupied with reading it whilst turning her back on the centre of the room.

Bill was stood by the main console, looking sadly into a screen which displayed the wreck of the Syllogist spacecraft.

"You have to let it go" the Doctor stated softly.

"Why didn't you try another way?" Bill didn't look up from the screen, "You still haven't explained that"

The Doctor sighed heavily. He had lived through far too many tragedies to try and explain every one; each one blending in to the other, dulling the pain of the next one. But Bill – she was untainted by this kind of violence. Looking at her, the Doctor could almost remember what it had felt like the first time he saw something like this; the look in her eyes alone threatened to pull him down into the depths of her reaction.

Innocence could be cruel when betrayed, leaving behind only the remains of the comfortable shelter that ignorance had built for you as a memento of what you had sacrificed for stark realism.

He had to try to rebuild that safety for her, if only enough to keep her afloat.

"Sometimes you have to make a decision Bill" he didn't attempt to move, or to breach the space between them, "Waiting can mean you lose that chance. After that, there might not be another way"

"How is what you did any better than what they were doing?"

That one stung. Bill looked almost ashamed as she spat it out.

"You know why" he breathed, "You know I didn't want that to happen" he cocked his head to one side, "And if you don't know, then why are you here?" he asked.

Bill finally looked up from the screen, taken aback by his short manner.

"Because I trust you" she admitted, seeming hurt by the accusation.

"Then why ask?" he pulled down a lever, spun a dial, and hit a button. The TARDIS whirred into life as they began to leave. The screen that Bill had been watching turned black, "If what you say is true, you should already know the answer"

Bill looked at him blankly before tutting and storming off down one of the passageways.

The "talk" had gone better than he expected.

"Now" he declared, rushing around and attending to the TARDIS as if the preceding conversation hadn't happened, "Let's see where I'll find you this time"

Bolt turned to peer over the edge of her book, before silently returning to the comfort of the pages, wondering at the strange dynamic between the Time Lord and the human.


London – Year: 1899 –Time: 13:30

"How long do you bleedin' need?!"

Jenny's voice rang shrilly through the transmitter on Vastra's wrist, followed by a few dull thuds and the tell-tale swish of a katana blade slicing through the air.

"Patience my love!" Vastra yelled back into the device, "I'm almost there!"

In truth the Siluarian was not feeling very tolerant of the delay herself. The system was proving a lot harder to hack than she had anticipated. Vastra hit what she hoped to be the last few buttons on the keypad and slammed down on the key to execute the code.

She was stood inside a pentagonal control room facing the point, with various keypads and screens surrounding her from her left and right. What was more unusual was that the complex was underground, and until today, a very well-kept secret.

But nothing stayed hidden very long from The Great Detective.

There was a pause as the computer attempted to execute the commands that Vastra had entered. The technology was of course, way too advanced for the time period it had inexplicably turned up in. From the start of her investigations, Vastra had been certain of alien influence, and in a few seconds, she was hoping to confirm this for certain.

She paused to look at the limited surveillance footage that covered four key points of the base. It was simplistic in design, but excellently engineered. Metal grill flooring ran out in straight lines from three points of the pentagon – at the two front sides adjacent to the point, and straight out the back. All three tracked back to the surface. Directly parallel underneath the walkways and down their respective staircases, more metal grills ran into the room directly beneath this control room. It was a storeroom, full to the brim not only with these "death stick" weapons, but various other devices fuelled by this awful, death-driven energy. Strax was currently down there guarding the stash to stop any of them being retrieved by the current owners of the base.

It has been one of those devices which had made Jenny's father incurably ill last year. Vastra had destroyed it, and it had taken a week for her to recover from the aftershock. It had taken even longer to win back Jenny's forgiveness for placing herself in so much danger.

As if compelled by thought, her wife backed into view on one of the cameras, holding back a hoard of humanoid creatures with her impressive swordsmanship on one of the upper walkways. It was hard to make out on the screen, but their skin was a fierce, azure blue, and they were cloaked in gowns of an even deeper blue. They fought back ineffectually with quarterstaffs, occasionally getting a hit on the young human. Vastra knew Jenny could cope, but she couldn't help but feel itchy with agitation. What was taking so long?

Suddenly, every computer screen in the room turned black. The security footage cut out. Vastra held her breath for a moment.

Then the alarms started.

The screens flashed from red to blue, with a large exclamation mark plastered across every centre.

"Outside influence detected" a grainy voice announced, "Initiate emergency protection protocols. Please remain calm. This is for your own safety."

"What?!" Vastra leapt onto the keypad, desperately trying to reverse what was starting, "That's impossible – I cloaked the data perfectly"

"Your co-operation is appreciated"

"Wait, it's trying to protect me…" Vastra's thoughts sprinted rapidly from conclusion to conclusion as she ran a scan over the keyboard using the device on her wrist, "The hack didn't complete?! Then what is causing…"

"Lockdown initiating. Detaching upper walkways. Deadlocking store. Activating password protection"

"No, not the walkways!" Vastra cried, knowing that Jenny was still stood on one fighting. The camera footage was still down, the Silurian couldn't be sure if she'd managed to overpower her attackers yet.

"Invalid command. In case of invasion, removing access to main control room is designated as: SAFETY CRITICAL."

Vastra couldn't help thinking that if that robotic voice was a person, she would have ripped its throat out already.

"Jenny!" Vastra frantically spoke into the transmitter, "Jenny you have to get out of there!"

"Va….tra…." the signal cracked as if being interfered with, "Can't…."

An almighty crash mixed with the sound of static, and then the signal from Jenny cut out altogether.

"Upper walkways detached"

For a few grim seconds Vastra allowed herself the luxury of shock, suspended motionless in the room before the ensuing chaos knocked her back into the present.

"No!" she slammed her fingers into the transmitter, but couldn't reconnect to her wife's signal. A deep nausea threatened to overwhelm her, but Vastra knew she had to remain calm. If she lost her composure like she had done in Trenzalore, she would doom them all.

For now, she just had to assume that Jenny would be ok, and try not to surrender to the all-too-familiar fury that stalked through her nerves. Threatening Jenny had always been the quickest route to allow her once legendary temper to pounce and unleash its full violent potential. But there was still a chance she might be able to salvage the situation yet. The beast would have to wait.

Thinking fast, she switched the frequency. In her preoccupation with her wife she had forgotten about her other erstwhile companion.

"Strax?"

"We are under fire!" the enthusiastic reply was a small relief; at least she had some help.

"Strax what's happening down there?"

"I am hoarding the weapons for our GREAT ATTACK" he proclaimed proudly.

"You have to get out of there" Vastra ordered, but not before rolling her eyes with exasperation, "The system is…"

"Storeroom deadlocked" the hateful computerised voice chimed with terrible prescience.

"I am unable to leave my confinements" Strax confirmed, "Shall I try force?" he asked hopefully.

"Password protection activated. Emergency protection protocols complete" the computer announced. Almost simultaneously, the alarms stopped blaring. The computers remained black and powerless, "Please await extraction. A backup team has been hailed. Expected arrival time of TWO hours"

Vastra's thin veneer of forced composure was beginning to tear at the seams when the sound of a blaster ripped through the air. She jumped and threw herself to the floor, heart pacing hard against her scaled chest, before she realised the sound had come from her transmitter.

"I'm sorry" the sound of the automated system also carried through the link from Strax's room, "I can confirm that" at this the system played back the recorded sound of the blaster, "Is not the password. For your own safety, password attempts are now locked for 30 SECONDS"

"What sort of system is this?" Vastra hissed, "How is this helpful?"

"Shall I try again?" Strax asked earnestly.

"No Strax!" she implored, "I command you to sit and wait for rescue, do not discharge any further weapon. Save power by keeping the transmitter in standby mode"

There was silence in which Vastra was certain Strax was weighing up the pros and cons of pretending to have not heard the command, before his voice rang loudly back through the transmitter.

"Very well Ma'am" he confirmed, cutting off his communications link for now.

Vastra let out a deeply held breath. The outward commotion had stopped for now, but it had left behind so many levels of disaster. Now she was alone, in a silent, useless locked room, with the loud remonstrations of her own angry thoughts as her only company.

She counted the thirty seconds down in her head to relax, and then tried the password which had originally allowed her access to the room earlier. She suspected the emergency password would not be the same, but it was worth trying.

"2805" she spoke.

"I'm sorry. I can confirm that 2805 is not the password. For your own safety-"

"I know. I KNOW!" Vastra shouted angrily.

"Please do not attempt multiple password entry. This will further delay when you can make another password atte-"

"Oh just-" she balled her fists and slammed them into the nearest console, "Just-"

"Please do not attempt multiple-"

"My wife could be dead! My friend might never come out of a storage room! For pity's sake I might not even get out of here alive!"

"Please do not-"

"DO YOUR WORST!" Vastra screamed, tearing gashes into the console and punching holes through fragile keypads in pure rage as the full force of the stress coursed through her veins.

After her rage felt spent, Vastra stood poised, muscles tense and primed, eyes wide and wilde, and breath panting. She was almost daring the system to challenge her. Various wires lay exposed and sparking, and one screen was smashed beyond repair. A buzzing sound had inexplicably started coming from one of the consoles, and wouldn't stop. There was a small pause where only this incessant noise and the sound of Vastra's laboured breathing could be heard. Then the machine piped up again.

"I'm sorry. I can confirm that DO YOUR WORST is not the password. For your own safety, password attempts are now locked for 546 days, 4 hours, and 3 minutes"

Vastra bared her teeth, and the room felt the full force of a Silurian with little left to lose and no access anyone who knew how to calm her down.

If the voice had been a person, there would not have been much left.


London – Year: 1899 –Time: 13:20

"Underground eh?"

The Doctor's Scottish drawl practically bounced with excitement. The rumbling of the TARDIS had been enough to coax Bill back out with curiosity, whilst Bolt still stood on the upper level, leant over the railing.

"Who are these people?" asked Bill, her tone still sullen.

"Old friends" the Doctor answered distractedly, trying to control the TARDIS as she descended, "If you need something investigated, they're your people" he looked up at Bolt, "Will be the perfect place to start for our friend up there"

Bolt smiled back uncertainly.

"So, you staying like that?" Bill called up, "You know, looking human"

The Doctor visibly cringed at Bill's human-centric assumptions.

"This is what a Time Chaser looks like" Bolt clarified, "Like I said, my condition…it's a bit like being-"

"A werewolf, yeah, gotcha" Bill beamed up at the other woman. Bolt remained rooted in trepidation at the unfolding situation, but manged to offer a small nod back, which Bill appeared to appreciate.

"We're here" the Doctor smiled, and with a shudder and a jolt, the TARDIS landed. The Doctor turned a monitor to look outside, "Looks like some sort of base" he pushed out his lower lip and swung his head back and forward whilst thinking, "Probably not dangerous" he concluded, and then made for the door. Bill followed on his heels and Bolt trailed nervously at the rear, descending the stairs and shutting the TARDIS door behind her.

Admittedly, there wasn't much to see. They were on a lower walkway made of metal grating leading in a straight line to what looked like some form of storeroom. Muffled sounds echoed in the distance, and another walkway ran parallel above them, but there was nobody in the immediate vicinity.

"Are you sure they're here?" Bill looked unconvinced, "This place looks deserted"

"I'm positive" the Doctor ran forward and ran his sonic screwdriver through the air, snapping it back to apparently take some form of reading, "We aren't the only lifeforms in here, that's for sure"

"Then-"

Bill was cut off by sirens blaring through the base. The trio threw their hands over their ears against the sound.

"Doctor!" Bill shouted – the noise nearly unbearable.

"Back to the TARDIS" he shouted, beckoning the women to follow him.

"Upper walkways detaching"

"Move!" the Doctor looked up and rapidly changed direction, changing his mind once he saw the trajectory of the upper walkway.

The three ran forward towards the storeroom as the upper walkway detached from the end closest to the storeroom and began to fall down. Sweeping over their heads, it hinged from the back end but was stopped from falling down too far by the top of the TARDIS. It then began to tilt and bend under the strain.

Bill and the Doctor threw themselves into a roll and made it to the door of the storeroom, which opened with some coercion from the Doctor's sonic screwdriver and allowed them inside. But as Bolt came behind them, a small human rolled down the failing walkway and crashed on top of the Time Chaser, pinning her flat to the floor. Before Bolt could recognise what was happening, the storeroom door slammed shut, with a huge metal bolt cutting across the door.

"Storeroom deadlocked"

There was not enough time for the horror of this to sink into her mind however, before she found herself flipped over and straddled, a katana pointing in the direction of her throat. Above her sat a nimble, lithe brunette, two hands expertly holding the sword mere inches away from her.

"Don't move" commanded the woman.

"Password protection activated. Emergency protection protocols complete" rang out a computerised voice. The alarms immediately ceased.

The two sat there in silence, neither willing to surrender before the sound of a blaster from inside the storeroom made them both jump, nearly skewering Bolt on the end of the woman's katana.

"By the stars!" Bolt gulped audibly, the weight of the human not nearly as heavy as the implications of the weapon she gripped so fiercely.

Her condition, as bestowed on her by the Pathereon race who raised her, could be difficult to control in times like this. Strong emotions always tended to set it off. She felt her body urging her to mutate, to turn into the great cat and throw this intruder off with ease. But she resisted, knowing that escalating a fight with a good swordsperson was a poor move.

Bolt took slow breaths, and tried to focus on the face of her attacker, rather than the sharp object pointed at her throat. She was a remarkably pretty human, like Bolt she looked to be in her mid-to-late twenties (although Bolt's demeanour belied her true age of 150). Her face was contorted with anger and greyed with exhaustion. Bolt tensed and relaxed her fingers twice to relieve some nervous tension, and met her assailant face to face.

"Who are you?" the human demanded, her nerves frayed and ready to snap. She had the look of a woman who had dealt with too much in one day to have any time left for patience.

"My name is Bolt" the Time Chaser replied, trying to remain still but feeling anxious sweat start to bead on her forehead.

"How did you get in here" the brunette shuffled on top of Bolt, her arms subtly shaking with the itch to strike, "What do you know about The Azure Guard?"

Despite her current predicament, Bolt felt a rush of excitement; The Azure Guard had been a name which cropped up in her years of investigations with Kate and she knew they had a link to the MURDER weapons and the death energy. They had thought it was a dead end at the time, but it was possible they had been mistaken.

Bolt couldn't help but hope that this woman might know something new. If she ever got off of her chest, that is.

The rush of excitement must have been noticeable on Bolt's face, as her captor gripped the hilt of the sword a little tighter with irritation.

"So you do know something, eh?!" she growled through gritted teeth, "Well-"

A sound came from the upper levels of the building. It was hard to tell, but it sounded like a fight; the human was instantly distracted by it. Masked by the walls, muted roars and tearing noises started to punctuate the uncomfortable stalemate between the two women. Bolt watched with interest as her opponent relaxed her grip, taking the sword in one hand to stare upwards. With her neck free from threat, Bolt craned her neck backward to look up as far as she could from where she lay on the floor. She could only make out the edge of what she assumed was some form of control centre.

"Vastra!" the woman cried, placing her free hand over her mouth.

Snapping her head back, Bolt seized her chance, and bucked her hip to raise up her knees and throw the stranger off to the side. The woman fell with a clatter, the katana falling to the floor. Bolt jumped up to her feet, feeling bruised, but hands poised ready to fight. However the woman was ignoring her now and desperately trying to get a transmitter round her wrist to work. It looked like it had taken a beating from the earlier fall. There was a desolate loss in her eyes as she aimlessly fiddled with the broken gadget.

Bolt knew that look. It took her straight back to the night Aurora was brutally ripped away from her life. She felt a sudden burst of sympathy for the woman, and walked forward slowly to try to offer her hand to help the human up.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I know less about this place that you do" she promised reassuringly, still advancing with caution, "Maybe we can help each other?"

The young woman looked up in surprise, as if she had forgotten Bolt was there altogether. She wore a leather cat suit, and her hair was pulled back into a practical bun. She examined Bolt for a minute, and fears apparently defeated, took Bolt's hand and stood up, brushing herself down.

"I'm sorry" she looked down at the katana guiltily and bent to pick it up and sheath it, "Perhaps I should start again" she held out a hand in greeting, "Jenny, Jenny Flint"


Inside the Storeroom

As the storeroom door slammed behind Bill and the Doctor, the overwhelming sense of relief at escaping had been replaced with the crippling realisation that they had left Bolt behind.

"No, no!" the Doctor turned and hit his palm against the door, running the sonic screwdriver over the lock.

"Storeroom deadlocked" chimed the speaker.

"Well that explains it" the Doctor looked at the screwdriver ruefully and placed it back in his pocket.

A mumbled voice could be heard the other side of the big storeroom, obscured by a large support column in the middle of the room.

"Password protection activated. Emergency protection protocols complete" declared an automated voice, silencing the alarms.

"We're not alone" whispered the Doctor, "Keep out of sight"

Bill nodded and hunched up against the contents of the room, breathing lightly.

"What is all this?" asked Bill, eyeing the piles of storage cargo tellingly.

They turned to fully consider the boxes piled up around them in the dimly lit room. Stacks and stacks of official-looking boxes covered in an array of warnings were pushed into every available space. Peering into a half-opened one, the pair gasped as they gazed into a box of seemingly deactivated death sticks, the same as the ones the Syllogist slaves had carried.

"How many?" Bill breathed, horror infecting her usually light tone.

The sound of a blaster shot loudly reverberated around the room and tore them rudely out of their conversation. The two huddled back down behind the boxes before it became clear that no more shots were coming.

The Doctor edged forward carefully, closely wrapping around the central beam to look around to the other end of the room. Bill waited behind, feeling skittish and helpless as the Doctor moved closer to the danger on the other side of the room.

She was therefore utterly shocked when the Doctor cried out happily, standing and raising his hands out in triumph.

"I should have known it was you old friend!" he laughed, "Bill come over here, it's alright"

The Doctor disappeared round the other side of the beam, leaving Bill with only a moment to consider what to do before huffing her exasperation and bounding forwards in his wake.

What came into view was not what she had expected.

Stood by the opposite exit was a short, brown creature, clad in ostentatiously thick armour, and with a bald, bulbous head. He held a huge futuristic rifle, and seemed to be in a state of constant frown. Around him lay even more boxes, although it looked as if he had started to rip them open, as their various contents lay scattered across the floor. They were weapons of all shapes and sizes, and they all look deactivated.

"Ah my rescue party!" he gleefully declared, "Does this mean I can move now?"