Chapter Twenty-Five
Secrets Of Alma'zar: Conspiracy

Clara Oswald gazed warily at the crowds of alien people sitting all around her. Some were completely, inexcusably alien, with red skin or ridged foreheads. Others looked a lot like humans. The only big difference she could see was their abnormally pale skin. She wondered if they were a different species, or if they really were humans. Future humans, perhaps?

It would be easier for her if she could simply kick back, relax, and enjoy being in such a wonderfully alien environment. However, that wasn't happening for her today. There was something off with this ship- something weird- and personally, she was deadly curious as to why. She had given herself a small mission to take on: strike a conversation with an absolute stranger, and see if she could pull up any information.

Only problem was, how the hell should she start?

"It's a pub, don't you see?" the Doctor had enthusiastically told her only minutes ago, nudging her arm. "An alien pub! Look around you, Clara, take a nice good look. There's species and races and languages of every kind in here. Diversity... beyond belief. One can almost smell it if they inhale deep enough."

"It smells like liquor and grease to me," she chuckled, somewhat reassured that some things never change.

"You know, this is what I meant to show you, when I brought you here," he continued, beaming, "'coz there's a certain wonder about it, seeing all these people and stories collide together in one place like this. And it's not just out here, in the depths of the universe. You can find that wonder anywhere, if you search for it. Even on Earth."

One of his hands stuffed in his pocket, he treaded around the pub entryway, poking about at any objects that took his fancy. Framed pictures, a spear hanging on the wall, a coat hook, the alcohol license, anything. Suddenly, his attention was pulled to an odd looking device on the left side of the entryway. It looked like it had a set of speakers attached to it. Once more, a contagious smile broke over his face.

"Ohhh, brilliant! They've even got a jukebox! This would be an antique in this time, it was developed on one of Earth's colony worlds in the late 4000s." He knelt down and started fiddling with the controls, trying to figure out how it worked.

Clara prodded his shoulder lightly. "Doctor? If we want to know why the market is so... desolate, then who's better to ask than the locals? We should split up, talk with a few people," she suggested.

He smirked at her, almost coyly.

"And is that an order, Miss Oswald?"

"Nope. More like a suggestion, really."

The Doctor gazed at her for a moment, a spark of humor in his eyes, before raising to his feet. "I'll handle the bar scene if you'll talk to the people in the dinning area."

"Done."

They gave each other a short nod before proceeding their separate ways. It was time to delve into the local flavor...

~8~

{Collecting information on local affairs, take one}

The Doctor sat down at the bar, and quickly flashed his psychic paper at the barista who came to serve him. "Hullo! John Smith, local ambassador of... ah, the Intergalactic Board of Tourism."

This barista was a gaunt, pale woman with a ridged forehead, who barely had enough hair to pull into hair ties. Alcohol stained her saggy apron. Adjusting for the general lifespan of the species, he guessed her to be in her mid thirties, still really young for her kind. Her lips appeared to be suspended in a perpetual frown.

"Good fa' you. Ale?"

"No, but a glass of water would be nice," he replied, and scratched at his neck. "I- it wouldn't be too much to ask for a few minutes of your time, would it? I have a few questions about conditions aboard Alma'zar. Specifically, the circumstances around the curfew."

The barista pushed a small glass of water towards him- bit of a brownish tinge to it, though... their water tanks must have a bit too much iron in them- and if possible, he could have sworn her frown deepened.

"If you're local, you should already know."

"Introverted. I stay indoors."

"'Aven't you heard 'bout it on the Council's broadcasts, then? They're mandatory viewing."

"Psssh, mandatory viewing?" he said with a slight laugh. "No such thing, unless this ship has access to technology that downloads it all straight into your visual cortex. Though theoretically, that is possible," he mentioned in a ramble. "Energy spikes, from Satellite Five... Wow, long time ago. Anyways, energy spikes don't come into shops until around the year 199,890. A long way into your future. So, in all circumstances, you're probably safe. Well, at least from mandatory viewing. I don't know what else goes on around here. You know. 'Cause I stay indoors."

The barista stared at him, her confusion obvious. "You're rottin' mad." She looked away, did a double take, and then hurried away to assist another customer at the bar, an older gentleman who had been blessed with a lot of hair for someone at an advanced age.

"Oh, am I?" he muttered to himself, while subconsciously adjusting his tie. Ever so slightly, the corner of his lip slid up in a smirk. "I hear that more and more every day."

The Doctor picked up his glass, and- keeping a close eye on his surroundings in the pub- took a swig. When he finally tasted the water, he grimaced. He was right; it had too much iron in it. Wasn't harmful, though. With a shrug, he quickly finished off the rest, too thirsty to be picky about its taste, or the composition of its mineral content.

~8~

{Take two}

"Tourists?" the older man at the bar chuckled, causing deep laughter lines to appear around his eyes. "Who are you kidding? Haven't been any tourists here in months! Alma'zar is in full lockdown. Nobody can get in or out," he said, his face quickly growing solemn, "or at least they shouldn't. We've barely been getting food shipments as it is."

The Doctor's brows furrowed as he listened to this new development, and leaned forward with his elbows resting on the table. "Why? What's the lockdown for?"

From the way his body stiffened, the Doctor could tell this wasn't a preferred topic of conversation for this man. There was just a spark of uncertainty in his eye, a spark of fear.

"The Council set it up. Hopefully," the man swallowed, "to neutralize the cause of the weird disappearances we've been having lately."

~8~

"So... What's with the street curfew? Why was that made?" Clara gently prompted the woman at the table in front of her. So far, this was her fourth attempt at striking a conversation. Most people simply didn't want to talk, and she could understand why. Not everyone was comfortable chatting with strangers.

"Safety," the woman replied, making small gestures with her hands. "It was mandated by the Council to keep us protected."

"Protected from what?"

"Do you not live here? It's the children! Children have been disappearing off random decks, at random times! It's mostly been the deck-less affected, just- just the orphans! But people are afraid, afraid it'll be our own young next."

Clara's brow creased, her features darkening. This was terrible news to learn of. Her heart went out to all these scared families, and she began to understand the motives behind such an early curfew. "Do you not know why they're disappearing?"

The woman nodded vigorously. "That's why we're afraid." She paused to peer at her closer then. Her eyes narrowed. "Hold on, why are you asking about all this? Why didn't you know?"

"I'm just passing by, really, I-" Clara trailed off in the middle of her sentence, catching a glimpse of the Doctor at the bar, who was chatting away with an older gentleman.

The woman rocketed to her feet, almost knocking her chair over behind her. "So many questions, dear! Such falsified innocence! You say you're just passing by, but what if you're one of them?"

"But I'm not, I'm just-"

"Get away from me!" she hissed. "Get away from our children!"

Without looking where she was going, the woman grabbed her bag and hurtled away. She collided into another woman, whom, for the meanwhile, Clara decided to refer to as 'woman number two'. The beer woman number two was holding splashed all over her threadbare dress. Furious, Two slapped One right in the face. A man Clara assumed was One's husband hurried to the scene and began yelling at Two. Yet another man darted up, and promptly punched this man in the nose.

She knew for a fact she saw blood fly.

Shouts and hollers came from every direction as the fight quickly became the center of attention. People on the sidelines laughed as if it were only a show. Completely shell shocked, Clara didn't know what to do but watch as well. Her feet were practically glued to the floorboards. What could she do? Against those men, she wouldn't stand a chance. Yelping, she ducked to avoid a flying bottle as the fight escalated.

A cool hand grabbed hers. The Doctor's.

"Come on, time to go!"

~8~

They ran through the doors of the pub clasping each other's hands. Once they reached the alleyway outside, Clara stumbled to her knees, both physically and mentally drained. After the high excitement of the bar fight, what she really needed was a moment to relax. She spent a few moments for herself, choosing to close her eyes and let her mind unwind. For a few heartbeats, the only tangible reality was the inhale and exhale of her lungs.

"Ready?" she heard his voice ask. Her eyelids fluttered open. The man stood in front of her, gesturing to the alley towards their left. "Come. This way."

She frowned slightly, noticing that the Doctor's countenance had darkened. His mouth was pulled in a taut line. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as usual, but there was a stiffness about him this time that didn't seem normal. There was no swagger in his step. As they continued through the alley, she began to realize something was eating at him.

She quickened her pace so she could be next to him. "Where are you going so fast? A flash of disappointment came upon her. They weren't leaving, were they? "We're not heading back to your ship, are we?"

He stopped on a dime.

"No. We can't leave, not now," he insisted, his eyes flashing with an anger she'd not seen before. "I don't know what you heard in there, but I heard enough. Children are going missing. Dozens of them." His gaze drifted away momentarily, as he spoke more to himself than to her. "And to think I was having such a good day..."

"I heard the same thing as you, Doctor, and I understand. I want to help, I really do. But don't you think the situation's getting too big for us to handle? Maybe if we fly somewhere and get help, a bit of backup, then we can-"

"Didn't you listen?" he interrupted. "Alma'zar is in total lockdown. We might be the only ones who can get inside undetected. It's us, or no one."

"This is too much for two people," she insisted, barely able to keep her voice above a weak whisper. She didn't want to yell at him. The last thing she wanted to do was start an argument. "One of us could get seriously hurt."

The Doctor's eyes flashed again, but with something deeper than anger. In fact, Clara wasn't sure if it was anger at all. There was a sort of serenity tied in it, an acceptance. It transcended any kind of emotion she had ever seen. He said he was alien before, but now he seemed alien. He seemed ancient. Without knowing specifics, Clara suddenly realized that this was the gaze of a man who had seen everything, down to the very horrors of existence, yet still chose to live on.

"And that's the risk I have to take," he told her frankly. "Because this is what I do, Clara. I can't avoid it. At every moment, somewhere in this vast universe there's darkness, greed, malice. And if I can diffuse even one piece of that- if I can save a single life- that makes mine a little more worth living."

She was quiet for a brief quantity of time, reflecting on what the Doctor had just revealed to her. He yearned so much to do good, it hurt when he couldn't. There had to be stories locked away in his mind, stories of darker days he was reluctant to relive. Something had to have pushed him towards this...

As she though about this, a shape stirred in the left corner of her peripherals. She snapped her neck around, trying to find it, but was met with only shadows. Still, she had a niggling feeling creeping across the hairs on her neck that someone was following them...

The Doctor noticed her uneasiness, and instantly shuffled towards her, all deep emotions buried away and his normal persona returned. "Clara? Clara, what's wrong?"

"I- I don't exactly know, but... I think... there's someone watching us," she said, barely able to form the words.

"Where? Show me."

She pointed to her left. "In that corner. In the shadows. I think they followed us out."

He followed her finger, and saw nothing but darkness and the vague outline of wooden storage boxes. However, he heard breathing that wasn't their own. She was right. There was definitely someone back there, waiting for them.

"Come on," he prompted with a hardness in his voice, gradually crossing in front of Clara. "Show yourself, won't you?"

Silence. Only then did Clara realize how loud her heartbeat was. It was kind of fascinating, how it was easiest to hear the organ that kept them alive when in life threatening situations.

Then, there was a gruff voice.

"Watch. And wait."

The Doctor squinted, confused. "Watch? Watch what?"

"The pub. You'll know."

Clara glanced down the alleyway, just barely able to see the furthest reaches of the pub they left behind. A few more heartbeats passed, and suddenly, a blue shimmering field materialized around the whole establishment.

"Containment field set up by the guard," the gruff voice explained. The individual this voice belonged to chose then to step out of the shadows, revealing himself. He was older, with a scruffy beard and age-worn clothes. A kind of communicator was strapped to his belt. "All the patrons there will be taken for mandatory questioning, and anyone found guilty will be executed."

"It was just a bar fight," Clara pointed out. "Is that really necessary?"

"Right now, it's the only way we can keep the peace."

The man stepped closer to them, and put his arms around both of them. He patted his hands on their shoulders, chuckling slightly. She squirmed a bit under his arm.

"Now, mysterious wanderers," he said. "Have a bit of curiosity about the missing children, do ya'? I think I know someone who could help you. There's an ambiguous young fellow who likes wandering about the back of the shops at night, in the alleys, never mind how dangerous it is... Never seen 'em myself, but the stories spread like wildfire here. Goes by 'Ren', I think. 'E's a hard one to pin down, but I reckon if anyone knows what's going on 'round these parts, it's Ren."

"Thank you," the Doctor nodded. "We'll look for him." He glanced towards Clara for a moment, before starting to move.

"No problem, no problem at all. And good luck!" the old man waved, watching the mysterious people walk away, into the shadows of the night. "Good luck indeed."

~8~

Seconds blurred into minutes, and minutes blurred into unknown spans of time. Crossing between the stalls in the alleyway was like traversing through a jungle, except with less vines, and no monkeys. Clara knew she was on a spaceship orbiting a whole 'nother planet, and she knew that was supposed to be impressive, but right now she honestly felt like she was creeping through the Sunday farmer's market at night.

"If stories travel quickly here like that man said," she began, ducking for the cloth of an awning that had fallen down, "why haven't the curfew guards found this 'Ren' yet?"

"I dunno," the Doctor said quietly, taking the lead. "Must be clever. Or, the guards are just really, really thick..."

"Oh, clever. I bet you like that."

"Yeah, sure I do. I love a good mind-bending confrontation. Like any good muscle, the brain needs exercise. And, don't go underestimating yourself, Clara," he said, turning around and facing her directly, with a smile. It wasn't a smirk or a smug grin this time, but an honest smile. An uplifting smile. "Look at yourself! You've got a brilliant mind."

Clara couldn't help it, and beamed at his compliment. Some days she wouldn't agree with him on that sentiment, but she could tell there was no arguing with him over this. She watched as he reached into his overcoat pocket and took out his sonic screwdriver. He began scanning for something unknown. The slender metallic tool in his hand gleamed as dim lights from the building tops shinned upon them. They provided enough illumination that she could step around the messy alley without hazard of tripping, but not enough that the 'cave' feel she hated was stripped away. If it weren't for the fact that the main streets were swarming with curfew guards with deadly weapons who were more than likely to shoot on sight in this civilization and time, she'd have no desire to be stalking through these alleyways.

The Doctor stopped in front of her, staring down his nose at his sonic device. Its high-pitched whirring noise intensified as he brought it closer to a wooden wall at the back of what Clara assumed to be a private shop. He stepped back briefly, and looked back and forth, towards the alley, and then back towards the wall. The kind of smirk one might have when they discover some kind of deep secret they're not supposed to crossed his face. She stepped closer, unsure as to what was so special about a simple wall.

"What? What is it? There's something there?"

"If my intuition is correct," he started, still staring intensely at the side of the wooden building, "which, it almost always is, then someone's set up a perception filter here."

"A what?"

"A perception filter. Here, look at this wall. Stare at it, directly where I'm pointing. Do you see it? It's like your eyes want to see something there, but every time you try you can't look straight on..."

"That's so strange," Clara said, as she began to see exactly what the Doctor described. She felt like her line of sight kept being knocked a bit to the left as she tried to peer towards the center of the wall where he was pointing. She blinked to clear her vision, and gaped at him. "Does that mean there's something hidden, right there? Invisible?"

"No, not invisible," he replied, and began running his hand up and down the wall. "Just unnoticed. It's got low level perception properties, sort of like my TARDIS. It's too streamlined to disable, or at least not with this old thing," he muttered, briefly gesturing to his sonic screwdriver in his other hand. "Can't find the right frequency for once. I can, however, usually find the right frequency for door locks."

He activated his sonic and pointed it at a spot in the wall. Clara heard a click. Triumphantly, the Doctor gave a soft "Ha!" and pushed directly through the invisible doorway he unlocked. Her heart leapt a bit, however, because from her viewpoint it appeared he walked through the wooden boards. Gathering her courage, Clara closed her eyes and followed after him with the intense hope that she wouldn't open them to discover she'd walked into a solid wall.

While it shouldn't have surprised her by now, she was greeted by different surroundings when she pried open her eyelids.

"Whoever set this up is smart," she said as she slowly walked into the dark hall, slightly impressed. "Guards and shoppers could walk by and not have a single idea this was here!"

The hall was tiny, if it really was a 'hall'. Clara found it too long to be called a room. It was cluttered, but in an organized way; boxes of metal scraps and various other objects were stacked four high against the walls. Two lights hung perilously from the ceiling, one at the end, and one towards the middle. They were too dim to provide much of anything.

"It just looks like storage."

"It looks like someone's been here recently," he said, and prodded at a box full of wet, soiled clothes. "Damp, but not musty. Couldn't have been here long."

She hummed in agreement, and soon came upon a wobbly metal table that was missing half of a leg. A basket sat on this table, holding almost a dozen half-carved pieces of wood, some shaped like flowers or faces. A few knives were laid on rough cloth next to these. Someone had a hobby. She gently ran her fingers over the dainty details in the largest wood carving, which was in the shape of a doll. This one, unlike the others in the basket, was completed.

A door was at the end of the hall, although this one was not locked, luckily. It was sturdy, but lacked a window. Personally, she wouldn't want to go in without knowing what was in there. (She'd learned her lesson years ago when she accidentally walked in on her parents, who were... preoccupied at the time.) Of course, the Doctor operated by different standards. He put his ear up, listened, and then slowly began opening the door. She sighed, and began to rub her temple. Anything could be at the other side, anything!

Nonetheless, she ended up looking through the cracked door as well. She saw only a flash of metallic equipment, when the door hinge squeaked.

Oh, no.

Clara heard someone moving fast from inside. She couldn't see anyone, because the door was still cracked, but she saw their shadow in the candle light. Suddenly, she heard something slice through the air, and the tip of a knife hurdled through the wooden door. The Doctor and her jumped back, narrowly avoiding it. Then he pushed the door completely ajar, to be greeted by a pale girl gripping a knife, ready to throw. He extended his hands out in front of him in protection. It seemed that he'd done this so much, it had become a reflex reaction.

"Whoa! Hold on, hold on, no need to throw knifes at us, we're innocents, ya' see? We're not the guard, we don't have weapons." His brow creased as he tilted his head towards her. "Clara? You didn't bring anything dangerous, did you?"

Clara slowly lifted her hands over their head, hoping the sign of surrender was a universal thing.

"Maybe I have something dangerous if she has peanut allergies," she snarked, thinking of the granola bars in her bag, "but otherwise, no."

She peered at the girl curiously, not sure if this was the individual they were looking for or not. From what that older man in the alley told them, she expected to find a man around her age. This girl in front of them couldn't be any older than thirteen or fourteen.

The Doctor carefully edged closer, attempting to reason with her. "You're Ren, am I right? That's your name? Listen, I'm the Doctor, this is Clara. We were told you could help us. Put the knife down, we won't hurt you. I promise."

The girl's arms shook as she gripped the knife with white knuckles, not much paler than her arm. Clara could tell that her elbows were locked. She knew from her grandfather that one had to bend their elbow to throw a knife properly, so either this girl didn't know proper stance, or she was too frightened at the moment to care. Since she was able to throw one of her knives straight through the door earlier, Clara assumed the latter.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" she asked in a soft, yet demanding voice, raising a thin brow.

"You don't," he admitted, his mouth in a taut line.

Clara rolled her eyes. "Well, isn't that comforting."

"No, no, I'm serious! There is nothing we could do that will validate our claims, at least not in your eyes. That's why you have to trust me. Just trust me."

He extended his hands out to her in good will, motioning her to come closer. She swallowed hard, still squeezing the knife in between her fingers. She looked back and forth, from the knife to him. A bead of sweat dripped down her forehead. It was clear she had no inclination to trust them.

"If we really wanted to harm you," Clara whispered then, just loud enough that the girl could hear, "don't you think we would have already tired?"

The girl hesitated a moment more, but eventually loosened up, and set the knife down on the desk behind her. She fell back against it, breathing heavily.

"Thank you, Ren," he said sincerely, relaxing.

"And that's Rena," the girl corrected. "Not Ren. But if people are chatting to others about me in public, then I guess it's best they mix that up." She pulled a chair up behind her and sat in it, ignoring the fact that they were still standing. "Now, what do you want so badly you'd break through a perception filter to get it?"

The Doctor opened his lips to speak, but Clara beat him to it. This room was filled with layered shelves of foreign technology- some motionless, some pinging, some connected to futuristic ear pieces- and she wanted to know what they were for.

"What exactly do you do here? What is all this?" She shuffled closer to one of the shelves, and gawked at the devices, noticing dials on them. "They look like radios..."

"They are," Rena confirmed quickly.

"Did you build these?"

"No. I only use them. I piggyback on Council radio signals and listen in. I spy, basically... because it's necessary. Even the tinniest bit bit of information could save my life, and the others'."

"Now, this council of yours," the Doctor began. She turned her head to follow the sound of his voice, and found him leaned against the wall, feet kicked back, with his hands in his pockets. "Wasn't it set up after the war?"

Rena frowned, as if realizing she was supplying information to people she didn't know. It seemed she frowned a lot, based on the premature lines beginning to appear on her face. "What did you really come here for?"

"Like I said, we were told you could help us."

"With what?"

His lips twitched. Clara wasn't sure if it was a half smirk or a grimace. Unlike everyone else she'd met, she found it hard to put her finger on him at all. "I have questions," he said. "About the children like you who've disappeared. Have you seen anything?"

"I'm not a child," she snapped.

"But have you seen anything?" he repeated testily, leaning towards her.

The girl shot a small glare at him. "I firmly believe the Council is behind all the disappearances."

Clara waited expectantly for her to explain her theory, but nothing more came. Perhaps this was all the information they would be trusted with.

"Why make a curfew, then?" she asked hesitantly. "Wouldn't that make it harder for them?"

"By creating the curfew, the Council can claim that they're trying to protect the people. The interplanetary community would never suspect them."

"Clara, Rena, quiet," the Doctor whispered harshly. Instantly, he was on full alert. His body stiffened, and his eyes scanned the tiny room diligently. He pulled the door slightly ajar, and peered through to the hall. Clara bounced towards him from the desk, and peered through as well. She couldn't see anything, but her ears picked up on footsteps, rustling nearby. They likely were in the alley, which meant they had to evacuate quick.

"We need to leave the area immediately," he said, and pulled away from the door to talk with Rena. "Are there any other safe places we can talk, places the Council's monitoring won't be able to find us?"

Rena shrugged. "We're there now. This whole room has a blocker installed, the Council shouldn't be able to see us here!"

"Well, I hear people, approaching around the corner, apparently they can!"

Her eyes jumped around nervously. "There is another safe place," she answered, "but it's almost fifty decks down. We'd have to take the stairs, back by the maintenance shafts."

Clara grimaced as she mentioned how many flights of stairs there were. It wasn't as if she was physically unfit, but long flights of stairs were something she avoided if possible.

"Stairs, by the maintenance shafts, fifty decks down?" the Doctor confirmed. The girl nodded vigorously. "Sounds good by me. Is there another way out?"

She pointed towards the desk, and both noticed the trapdoor hatch concealed behind it. "This way. If you're going to find the stairs, you'll have to trust me."

~8~

Clara had probably run little less than two kilometers, and she was already exhausted. Her feet felt like she'd stepped on a nest of vicious fire ants, her side was yelling at her, and the muscles in her legs hurt so bad she wondered how soon they'd give up. She never sprinted so hard in her life. Of course, she also never had to run from men with weapons that could stop her heart before, but that was a different matter. At least they had a decent lead on them, now.

The Doctor was a little ahead of her, still breathing perfectly normal and at the same pace he had at the start. He acted as if running was something he did every day. (It probably was, too.) Rena, the young girl they had recently befriended- if they could even classify this as 'befriending'- was keeping up with him fairly well; she was just slightly ahead of her. She barked out directions here and there, but remained quiet besides that.

They all turned the corner, at Rena's instruction, but were met with a solid metal wall. No door, no path, no stairs, nothing. It was only a silver, riveted wall.

"Oops," she whispered, visibly horrified. "Turned the wrong way."

Before they could backtrack, a handful of guards rushed around the corner they had come from. Clara gasped. The Doctor instantly stepped in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Clara..." he told her.

She closed her eyes and calmed her pattering heart, trying to sow acceptance for her fate as she heard their alpha meson blasters charge up.

Please don't hurt, please don't hurt, please don't hurt...

A small hand pulled on hers. Rough leather brushed against her skin.

"Hold on tight, we're skipping the stairs," Rena exclaimed.

All too suddenly, she heard a roaring noise, and her eardrums popped. Shocked, she yelped, and opened her eyes to realize they were now in what looked to be a dark sewer. She was standing in disgusting sewer water. As suddenly as they had materialized here, a horrendous scent hit her nasal canals. It smelt like a mix of feces, mold, and food scraps that had rotted. Her stomach tumbled, and she quickly pinched her nose.

The Doctor's expression was one of shock. He looked at the leather device on Rena's arm with complete fascination. "H-how'd you manage to get your hands on a fully operational vortex manipulator?"

"I stole it," she replied simply, as if this should be obvious.

"But from a Time Agent?"

"When you're desperate, you tend to learn a trick or two. And don't give me that look, I needed it more than he did."

Clara looked on as well now, realizing that this device was what must have taken them from the middle of a street to this sewer.

"Now, why didn't we use that in the first place?" she asked. "It would have saved us a lot of trouble."

"Limited charge," Rena explained, as she fiddled with the buttons on the vortex manipulator, as the Doctor called it. "It's hard to find the right materials to power this, so I only use it when absolutely necessary. Anyway, it's not important. We're almost there..."

She looked into the distance, but all Clara could see were shadows, concrete, and- was that feces floating on the surface of the water, or a rotten banana peel? "Almost where? I can already feel water in my shoes."

"Well, it's dry, for starters," she smirked, and started to walk through the dark, wet sewer.

With horror, Clara realized that it was almost like a cave.