Presto Affrettando
The present
Lady Tis'hania, along with most of the rest of the Council Chamber's century-long prisoners, stood before the broad glass entryway, gazing out onto the frozen scene of their dying world, waiting. Just waiting.
It had been at least a half hour since their two rescuers had climbed back into the half-grown TARDIS coral and oozed out to the coordinates she'd provided of the wide hallway on the next level down (past the blocked staircase the Councillors had never been able to clear). They had looked at each other, those two earnest, open young faces, and then asked her to come with them.
She'd smiled, sorrowfully. "There's only room for two in there. And I will not sacrifice the future – my son's future, with both of you – in order to prolong the dead and dying past. But I thank you. And..." Tears unexpectedly prickling her ancient-feeling eyes, she'd turned to Rose, her son's bondmate. "Will you give him a message for me?"
The young woman had caught her breath, the pain from the empty spot inside her mind where her bondmate's presence should have been stabbing through her eyes again. She'd swallowed hard, then whispered, "If I ever see him again...."
Tis'hania had caught up both her hands and held them tightly, willing Rose to look into her eyes. "You will," she told her, with the quiet emphasis of absolute certainty. "If I know my son at all, and I do, he will move the stars themselves to find you again." She'd waited until Rose nodded, trying to smile, and then gave her the message.
Now she waited with the others for the results of their quest. She'd tried to follow them with her mindskills, but the ancient forcefields which had kept them trapped in this half-life also dampened those skills, as they always had, and the two had simply vanished beyond her ken.
Time kept ticking away, and the Councillors at the edges of the group were beginning to shift, melting away back to their seats, dejected. Another failed attempt at escape. Still Tis'hania stood, statue-like, gazing out past the two men in their death throes just outside the door.
And then... and then....
With a sound like a gigantic, planet-sized piece of silk were being torn apart, the world outside began moving again. In tiny fits and starts at first, as though the god who had pushed Pause so long before was now clicking through a frame at a time, then faster and faster until suddenly things were moving at normal speed, they.... moved. Time had begun again at last.
The Time Lock was broken.
Gallifrey could truly die at last.
Just as the realization was dawning upon the watchers inside the Chamber, yet another now-familiar sound occurred behind them.
CRAA-AAA-AA-AAACK!
As one, they whirled, to find the crack between the worlds open once more in the center of the Chamber. And it stayed open.
"Go! GO!" Tis'hania's regal voice rapped out above the dying echoes from the thunderclap. Stiffly, the crowd began to move toward the crack, then they began to run, up the stairs to the dais, then through the crack and, incredibly, unbelievingly, out onto red grass under orange skies, not seen by their eyes for centuries.
Tis'hania started to move with the rest, then stopped and whirled. There were still people outside the building, as well, people who had been frozen in mid-step on their way to the supposed safety of the Council Chamber for a century.
"Help me!" she called to the others nearby. The guards reacted first, realizing what she needed, and together they pulled open the huge glass doors. Rassilon and the Master had indeed fallen lifelessly on the ground; the guards hurriedly pulled their corpses to one side, then stood waving everyone in. Tis'hania and a few others stood just inside the door, making a living corridor to the crack, urging the refugees on.
When all the people who were in view had made it, scrambling through the re-started rain of death from above, the guards turned and charged inside after them, sweeping the others along and through. They barely made it.
A tremendous rumbling sound had been building, coming from far beyond the skies, beyond the Dalek ships, coming closer and closer. As a massive shock wave hit the planet, grinding every bit of organic matter instantly into dust, the crack between the worlds shuddered and snapped closed, blowing the refugees in the new world off their feet and deafening them with the thunder of the gods.
As her hearing slowly cleared, Tis'hania groaned and pulled herself back to her feet. She looked around, trying to get a quick count of their numbers, trying to see if anyone needed medical assistance.
Everyone seemed shaken, but basically OK. She walked, a little unsteadily, over to the last one who'd made it through the crack before it was sealed forever: a woman in old-fashioned robes, crouched shakily on her hands and knees, head down.
"Are you all right?" Tis'hania asked her.
Exhausted, dazed, – and triumphant, Romana raised her head and smiled.