Chapter Twenty-Eight
Secrets Of Alma'zar: Checkmate

Dozens and dozens of refugees of all shapes, genders, and sizes scurried around the plaza like mice. They hustled from one shack to the next, packing anything they could clench their hands on. It was almost dizzying to Clara, who feared the building sense of anxiety might transform into mass hysteria at any moment. She sat in the dip of an old metal pipe, and watched the Doctor talk with the three individuals who volunteered to help.

Briefly, she wondered if they'd received any more information on what they were actually doing than she had so far. All she knew for certain was that they needed to seek out a 'blatant abuse of one of the Shadow Proclamation's Universal Species Rights mandates,' as the Doctor put it. Whatever the hell that meant...

As she started to fear too much time had passed for the refugees to safely relocate, something mildly warm brushed against her back. The hair at the back of her neck stood on end. Oh please, not now...

Since her worries were almost beginning to form into a mild paranoia, she found herself pleasantly surprised when she turned to see the young, knife-throwing Rena at her side. The girl wore thick, sturdy leggings in place of her long skirt.

"Hello," Clara greeted with a smile, as she brushed a disobedient strand of hair out of her face. "Have you packed your things, yet?"

Rena didn't answer immediately. She backed Clara into a quiet corner at the furthest edge of the square. Clara peered inquisitively at the young girl, noticing that- although she tried to control it- her shoulders shook and her eyes blazed.

Pessimistically, she instantly assumed the worst. (Not one of her better habits.) Did something she wasn't aware of go terribly, utterly wrong?

"Rena? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" she insisted, although her angered expression suggested otherwise. "I just want to come with you and the Doctor. Please, I- I want to help! More than spying. I want to end this. Let me help you, please."

Clara mouth dropped into a small 'o' as she thought out loud. "I- ah... Honestly?" she muttered, caught off guard by her question. "I think it would be safer for all of us if you didn't come."

Rena's lip curled under, and her nostrils flared. She began to turn away.

"Rena. Rena. Come on, don't run away in a pout. Please look at me. I'm very, very sorry, okay, but I know you have personal demons in all of this. And when we have regrets, or anger, or people to avenge, we can act pretty foolishly, even without meaning to."

While she tried to explain her point as gently as she could, Clara knew her words hit some deep insecurity. Something inside Rena snapped. Her pale pupils inflated to twice their original size, unveiling the broken little girl long sealed away inside.

"You think I'm too foolish?" she countered, voice raising in intensity.

"I don't want you to get hurt, not again!"

"That I can't control my emotions on a mission?" Rena continued, ignoring her. "Do you even know what I've been through? Do you have the slightest idea? The whole time, you and the Doctor thought I was only a child, when that's almost the furthest away from the truth! I may look like one, but I feel so much older. Both my parents are dead, and no one here will ever look after me. So that's my job. That's my duty. I have to look after myself. And if that means protecting the only place I can call home- however foolishly- then I'll do it."

"I can't let you go," Clara insisted wearily.

The girl's lips pressed together, and she peered at her with dark eyes. "You think you can stop me from following?" Then, she turned away and hastily trod out of the little alcove, becoming smaller and smaller before she finally disappeared amongst the hundreds of bodies pushing through the plaza.

Silently, Clara sat down on an overturned bucket, nibbling at the side of her lip. A part of her wished she could go back and redo that whole conversation. A new kind of time travel that transmits the conscious mind and not the entire body, perhaps. But even if she did have the ability to travel a few minutes back into her past self's mind, she would bet money that the Doctor would disapprove. For all she knew, there were probably a billion time traveling rules he had to follow.

"Clara, there you are!" he exclaimed cheerily.

She turned on the spot, seeing the Doctor emerge from the edge of the crowd. He became more and more energetic as he approached, until- when he stood only a foot or so away- the air practically sparked with his vigorous current. Her grin spread so wide her dimples showed.

What hilariously inexplicable timing.

"Ears burning?" she said, before he could get a word in edgewise.

His eyebrows nearly crossed his hairline. "Hmm?"

"Never mind, doesn't matter. Where on Earth have you been for so long?"

He sniffed, pulling at his starched shirt collar with his left hand. He stuffed the other in his suit jacket pocket. It held something, but his hand obscured it.

"Where on Alma'zar, you might say," he replied cheekily. "I've been busy meeting some extraordinary people."

Clara's ears perked up. The recruits. Nosily, she edged closer.

"A-and did you explain what they were risking themselves for, perhaps? The mission?"

"Ohhh, they're a passionate bunch. All very loyal," he said, as if not hearing her question at all. "And one of them— her name's Nyhala— has the most beautiful amber skin. Rarely seen anything like it. So I ask about her ancestry, right, and she says her family originates from the Terridesia Belt, which means she's a Brakomian. Brakomians- what an incredible species! And tea," he exclaimed suddenly, jabbing his finger towards her. "They can make the most delicious cuppa tea this side of the galaxy. They specialize in fruit flavors. You know, I'll take you to their planet one day if you like, and we can-"

"Doctor!" she interrupted with a tap to his shoulder. "I know what you're doing. You're purposely changing the subject, when all I want, all I've ever wanted, is to know what the hell I'm supposed to be doing. Even the barest, teeniest hint."

The Doctor nodded in agreement, and glanced aside towards the plaza with an overcast expression. He removed his hand from the pocket, taking out the busy looking device he constructed earlier this morning. He'd attached the bug he found on his collar to the top of the contraption, wired to a telescopic antenna almost like... a transmitter?

"There were an awful lot of children in this square a while ago, Clara," he eventually said. "Where'd they all go? Perhaps we should find them. To be safe."

The realization hit hard. Muscles slackened in her jaw as she made the appropriate connections and pieced everything together. He wasn't talking about the children of the Underground, but rather the hundreds of missing children on board this satellite city... All this time, his plan, all of it... It all linked back to those children. God, she was a bloody idiot, wasn't she? Before, she assumed the disappearances were a scare tactic to keep everyone on the upper levels frightened and in line, but what if the children were taken for some other design? What if they could find them? What terrible secrets might they uncover about the Council, then?

If they exposed these secrets to the public, perhaps they would feel less obliged to follow the Council's orders. They could overthrow the government!

There was one rather large problem with this, however. Alma'zar was massive.

Her nose crinkled as she thought about how they could get around this. "They could be absolutely anywhere," she muttered. "How are we gonna find them in time?"

"I've got an inkling," he replied with a smirk. "And four helpers. Remember, it's all in the power of perception."


The young woman sat hunched in a humid ventilation shaft, a small communicator jammed into her right ear. Her shoulders felt tight from sitting like this so long, a pain that probably wouldn't go away for a few weeks. Blisters on the bottom of her feet burned, growing larger and more fussy every time she pressed them against a wall or the floor. The earpiece's rubber tip jabbed into her neck uncomfortably.

She grabbed her pocket watch from her bag and lifted it to the dim light to check the time. One in the morning, it said. Only thirty-five or so minutes since the Doctor stuck her in this shaft to keep watch. Since when did forty-five minutes feel like forever?

"Are you sure you can't see them on your fancy map?" she asked. "Not even the Doctor?"

Aartin Grezal- the Underground leader's son- sighed so loud Clara had to readjust her earpiece.

"Clara, my answer hasn't changed since the last time you've asked me. No, they don't show up on the scanner. Only the Council's guards do. The point of this exercise is to know where the enemy is, not our allies."

His official duties were to coordinate the stations of the guards for the Council, she learned earlier. He told her that he played havoc with all of the guards' schedules, assigning them all to later shifts and bolting all of the doors in the area the Doctor narrowed his search to. He believed it would hold them off long enough for the Doctor to either find something or retreat, but despite Aartin's positivity, she couldn't help but worry.

"But say you did know where they were?"

"If I did? Well, I couldn't tell you. There's a chance the Council is listening in to this broadcast right now, and I can't risk them knowing your position. I'm already risking my life," he said wearily. "I don't think I could live with myself if I risked yours as well."

Clara nervously bit the side of her lip. That's right. All of them were risking their lives. She didn't like to fully acknowledge it, but if they lost they'd surely die at the hands of the Council. It was a scary, bleak reminder of her own fragile humanity.

Perhaps sensing her fear, Aartin changed the subject.

"Now, the Doctor said he and you were off-worlders. Where do you call home?"

"A planet called Earth," Clara replied, a bit misty-eyed at the thought of it, so far away. She never fully realized until now how much she missed her Earth life, her family, and the Maitlands.

"Never heard of it. Where is it, exactly?"

"I wish I knew. What 'bout you, Aartin? From here?"

She could almost hear his grin. "Yep, born and raised. My father's only taken me off this hunk of metal five times. All to visit relatives."

Clara's eyes instantly widened. Oh, lord, she thought. Aartin, you poor, poor thing.

"Only five times?" she said out loud. "Don't you get tired, always being on this spaceship?"

"No," he muttered. "Not really. Sometimes I think I'm supposed to feel claustrophobic, but- I like it. It's quite busy here, with the tourists and all. There's always new people to meet, new stories to be heard. Or at least, there were. Yalta and his Council ruined a lot of things, but he absolutely crippled our tourist econo-."

Zzzzzrrrng! Zzzzzrrrng!

Clara's ears perked up. That sounded like a laser weapon, and it was definitely close by. Too close for comfort.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered.

"No, sorry. This link's a bit fuzzy. Couldn't hear a thing."

"Hold on, Aartin. I'm switching channels..."

She reached up towards her earpiece, and fingered around until she found the tiny metal dial. She turned it three clicks, just as the Doctor instructed. But she could only hear white noise on the other side.

"Doctor? Doctor?"

No response.

Breathing heavily, she flicked a stray bead of sweat from her brow. Oh god. Please, in the name of everything good, just let him be okay.

"Doctor!"

A rush of static, and then...

"Clara, this really isn't a good time for a chat," he said, sounding more stressed than usual. She heard the buzz of his sonic screwdriver, followed by a loud pop. "There, see? Deactivated. Ha! What did I tell you? Take a quick peek around the corner, would you, Kale? Nyhala, it should be safe to check for a pulse now."

"Alive. He's breathing. Oh, thank the goddess Samuhrdi! Unconscious, but alive," the alien woman exclaimed with relief in the background.

The connection soured, turning to white noise static again. Clara twisted the dial back and forth, trying to reconnect.

"What- what's going on out there?" she asked him

"Security turrets. The Council must have had a pair installed in this corridor, covered by a perception filter. We couldn't see them until it was too late. Hansor got the shock of his life, quite literally."

"And... it only stunned him?" she assumed, going by what she heard Nyhala say. At this time, her entire left leg began falling asleep. Clara attempted to shift the other direction to ease the pins-and-needles sensation in that leg, but this made more noise than she'd bargained for. The metal below her rippled and popped as she moved. "Damn it," she hissed, cringing.

"Yep," the Doctor said, making sure to pop the 'p.' "And from that racket I just heard, I'd reckon you're only around the corner. Crawl to the nearest vent, and I'll find you."

Clara didn't have to be told twice. She began shuffling to the closest opening, less than five meters to her right. Every minute movement she made sounded like an avalanche in here. On her way, she turned the dial on her earpiece, switching frequencies.

"Hey. Aartin. I'm leaving the shaft. The Doctor's just outside, so I'll stay on this channel."

"You got it. I'll keep watch over your sector. Has he gotten any leads yet?"

"Not sure," she responded, and squinted as the light from the corridor just outside the vent shone into her eyes. She couldn't see any shadows. No faces, no feet. Despite what he told her the Doctor was nowhere to be seen, and it was quite a shame.

She was devilishly close to a good stretch.


Clara stood upright (about time) in the low lights of the wide corridor, rotating her tight shoulders. While the Doctor made the barest attempts to introduce her to his "team," she still was not entirely sure what he needed them for. For lookout? For company? To bounce ideas off of? When she first met Kale, she noticed some sort of weapon hooked to his belt. Nyhala's too. Perhaps they here to guard the Doctor? To shoot so he didn't have to?

Oh, but why did it mater? She couldn't completely explain why the Doctor brought her along. Was there even a difference?

She put her right arm in the crook of her left, and bent it until she felt the muscles at her shoulder blades stretch. It burned for a moment, but the pain eased up the longer she stretched it. A crooked smile crossed her lips. Yes, this is bliss.

All the while, the Doctor, Kale, and Nyhala were puzzling about the odd turret they ran into earlier.

"Why didn't he die? A tranquilizer trap doesn't seem very 'Council' like," Nyhala muttered, standing close behind her.

"It has to be torture. It's the only thing that makes sense," Kale said, sounding anxious. "Just think about it. They keep intruders alive, pick them up, and use torture tactics until they crack. We should get out of here while we still can. Hansor wasn't alert, and look where that got him."

Clara turned her head partially to more clearly see what was going on behind her. The Doctor approached Kale, overcoat flying and seeming a tad brusque in manner.

"No, no, no, no, no! We're not giving up now. We can't."

Nyhala shrugged. "Sorry Doctor, but I agree with Kale. It's not giving up. I just don't think we have enough resources to find those children right now."

"It's not the resources that are holding us back, it's our perspective," he said, tapping at his temples wildly. "Common, all of you- think! The question isn't why, it's why here. When Clara and I were on the upper levels, the guards all had lethal weapons. So why wouldn't their security be the same down here, near the core of their operation? Anyone?" he beckoned, gesturing widely. "Clara?"

"I wish I knew," she said quietly, glancing towards the wide expanse of wall from the corner of her eye.

Something glinted and warped there.

Clara snapped her head around to look straight on, but when she did her vision became blurred. Her line of sight shifted a tad to her right, as if she had a lazy eye. A spark of emotion rose in her gut, tumultuous and curious all at once.

Maybe...

"Doctor, come look. I think... I found a thing. A perception filter, like the one concealing Rena's hideout."

The Doctor bounded over, followed closely by Kale and Nyhala. The young alien woman inspected the wall closely, squinting.

"I don't see anything."

Clara bent closer to whisper in her ear. "That's exactly what this sort of filter wants you to think."

The Doctor put his nose right up against the wall, inhaled deeply, and then leapt back. He took out his sonic screwdriver and scanned the area from top to bottom. His face brightened up.

"Clara, brilliant!" he exclaimed.

Kale still seemed confused. "What'd she find?"

"A hidden door!" He moved his sonic over the wall again, and hovered over it until Clara heard a door lock click. Then he placed his hand against the blank surface, and pushed until his lower arm seemed to completely disappear through the wall. The invisible door squeaked as it opened, sounding heavy and metal. The Time Lord glanced back, and grinned manically. "No wonder they set up a security turret there. Didn't want any unwelcome guests. But it looks to me we have an appointment..."

His gaze lingered on Clara for a second before he turned and disappeared through the wall. Kale slowly approached the invisible opening, hesitantly pushing his arm through it. When he felt comfortable, he too walked through the perception filter. Clara closed her eyes and followed behind the amber skinned Nyhala. Passing through a perception filter was easier this time, knowing what would happen. She opened her eyes on the other side, and blinked to clear her spotty vision. An overpowering scent she couldn't immediately identify suddenly met her nose. She grimaced.

Kale left Hansor's limp body against the wall, and joined the group. He inclined his neck, sniffing deeply. "Why does it smell so nauseating in here?"

The Doctor's brow curved downwards as he tested the air. He licked his finger with his long tongue and lifted it up. "The air's metallic. Sulfurous, even."

"Smells like burning meat to me," Clara whispered.

The scent became more intense as they approached an overlook area. As she looked past the rail, Clara realized they stood at the far edge of a factory. A long ways below on the ground floor, dozens and dozens of workers in full white hazmat suits milled around the heavy machinery, constructing what appeared to be... Missiles. Stacks and stacks of gleaming, metallic, sleek missiles. Her eyes inflated and her knees became weak, so weak she had to clutch at the railing in front of her to regain balance. What hellish horrors did they just step into?

The Doctor gently rest his hand on her shoulder.

"Grezal said Cedric Yalta was bitter about the war, and wanted revenge, right? Well," he paused, expression heavy. "We might have found his secret weapon..."

Nyhala, standing at Clara's right, urgently pointed downwards. "Doctor, look!"

Kale's jaw clenched when he noticed what the alien woman saw. "That gorram sonuva bitch."

Clara followed their gaze three stories down, where a worker pulled two carts through a heavy door.

Something lay on the carts, under dark plastic. Humanoid figures, but more petite. Her throat constricted. As she slowly realized what and who the small doll like figures were, a bitter, warm bile began to pool in her throat.

They found the missing children.

But they found them too late.

She watched the worker push the cart towards a messy workstation, smeared a rusty red. Surgical knives littered the table. Not too far away, another set of hazmat suited workers fit small glass cylinders into the core of the missiles and wired them up. Each cylinder contained a single, humanoid brain. She didn't need to see anything else or even hear Nyhala's weeping to make the proper connections. Her eyes began to water.

When she glanced towards the Doctor, his attention was focused elsewhere. She watched him take the odd device he built with the bug out of his pocket and firmly press a button on its side. Her brow furrowed.

"What are you...?"

He placed a single finger firmly at his lips. A green light switched on at the base of the contraption, and it chirped. Then he shoved it deep in his left trouser pocket and glared at the speck-sized workers. His emotions churned- his lip quivering with sorrow one moment, and perfectly taut the next.

"They're making supercomputers, Clara," he spoke finally. "For the missiles. An organic hard drive. The brain is infinitely more complex than even the most sophisticated technology. Even the Time Lords couldn't replicate it perfectly."

"And he used children?" she hissed.

The Doctor swallowed hard, trying to discern the gentlest way to explain this to her. "Children are- they're unique, they think differently than adults. More imaginative, more cleverer. Combine that with advanced missilery, and you've got the ultimate weapon. Weapons that compute for themselves, weapons that think. Oh, and that's exactly what Cedric Yalta wanted," he spat. "All of this, this entire mess- brought on by his sick desire of retribution for his father's death."

"And you think he was gonna use this entire arsenal against the other cities?" Kale exclaimed, caught in disbelief. "For a civil war that ended over forty years ago?"

"I don't think, Kale. I know."

Clara's earpiece buzzed suddenly.

"Clara! Clara! Get out of there right now!" Aartin shouted.

"What?" She adjusted it so his boisterous voice didn't blow her eardrum.

"You've all been compromised. The guards... I'm sorry, they know you're here. For god's sake, if you want to live, just get ou-"

The radio feed cut off. She glanced behind to the rest of the team to find the Doctor, Nyhala, and Kale all staring at her in various degrees of nervousness. They must have heard Aartin shouting.

"Time to go," she swallowed.

"I'm not arguing with that," Nyhala muttered, wiping the stains of her tears away. "I'll get Hansor this time."

She ran ahead and began to pull his limp body up onto her shoulder. Kale rotated his jaw, stepping forward. Without thinking much about it, Clara grabbed the Doctor's hand tight. The four began hotfooting it towards the perception filter they entered through, all considerably more jittered and reckless than before.

Without any forewarning, the hidden doorway just in front of them blasted off its hinges. All of them leapt back like they'd been standing on springs. The sound of heavy boot steps reverberated through the hall as a dozen black armored figures marched in. She heard blood pumping through her ears.

Everything past this moment played before her eyes like individual comic strip frames, choppy and disassociated. She thought she only blinked, but suddenly the Doctor stood in front of her, shielding her with his outstretched arms. The guard at front gave orders, but Clara couldn't quite hear. Everything seemed so far away...

Even the Doctor- who was right next to her- sounded muffled.

"Do as they say, everyone. Hands up. We surrender. No, Nyhala! Do as they say, stand down!"

In the corner of her vision, she caught a glint of silver pointed at the alien woman. A sleek weapon barrel. Alpha meson blaster? Stops heart?

She couldn't hear the sound, but she saw Nyhala's stiff body hit the floor. And then Kale's, after he tried to protest. In front of her, the Doctor's jaw bobbed up and down. Negotiating with them? Reasoning?

Whatever tactics he tried, they didn't work. The first guard raised his weapon again- and this time- pointed it straight at his head.

Clara screamed when he fell to the ground limp. She knew. She felt herself scream. Her diaphragm clenched tight and her throat burned.

The weapon turned to her.


When the Doctor woke up, he couldn't see a thing. He waved his arm in front of his face, but was unable to receive visual proof it was actually there. Next, he tried inhaling, hoping he might catch a recognizable scent, but the air he breathed in was odorless. Where was he? Where was Clara?

The Time Lord extended his hands up until they hit a solid metal surface. Okay, a low ceiling. This was a start. And, he couldn't be alone in here. He felt the others' thermal heat bouncing around the small space as fast as energized atoms. Knowing this, he stretched his hands towards his side until he found another body. The figure had a ridged forehead. Nyhala.

One out of four found. Her pulse beat steady. Alive, but still unconscious.

He prepared to check to see if Clara might be on his other side when he heard a pair of footsteps from outside. And a female voice.

"No, sir- well, not exactly. We found them loitering on one of the service balconies. Above the missile plant?"

The Doctor heard metal on metal. Instinctively, he let his body fall limp and his hearts slow to an almost untraceable level. As light poured into the tiny cubby, he forced his eyes to glass over. They couldn't know he was conscious. As long as they didn't know what was already coming, he still held the upper hand. He only had to wait, to preserve...

"You mean to tell me they know what we're building?"

"It appears so, sir. Three had energy weapons on them. I've already removed them. They're all still unconscious, it seems. W-what do you want me to do with their bodies?"

The Doctor felt the gurney he lay on slide out. He saw the face peering down upon him like he were already a corpse, and immediately recognized him from Grezal's photos. This was Cedric Yalta. The pale faced man made a sneer as he inspected him, and then voiced his executive decision.

"Hm. Dispose of them. The last thing we need now is a snitch."

His throat stiffened as the woman began to push him away from the body cupboard- away from his team- away from Clara. He had to distract them, make a diversion, anything. His sonic. Where was his sonic screwdriver?

"And what about those Underground children we captured in the tunnels?" the Council woman asked, sounding jaded.

"You know the drill. Take them to the plant. Except..."

"Except what, sir?"

"The girl with the knife. She's a rebel spy. Have her disposed, as well. And use the airlock, miss Schmidt. I don't want a mess like last time."

The Doctor blankly stared up at the ceiling, helpless, as the woman pushed him to the hull wall of the ship. When she moved to a control panel to mash some buttons, he managed to sneak a few quick glances around this room. Counting her, there were seven Council personal stationed at different walls, and four other gurneys each holding an unconscious form. His eyes locked for a moment on Clara, lying two gurneys away. Her arm was uncomfortably bent under her back.

A loud warning alarm began blaring through the intercom. A thick suspicion rising inside, the Time Lord deftly turned his eyes to the hull wall. A large panel began lifting towards the ceiling, exposing the glass of the outer air lock, and beyond that... the vacuum of space.

They were going to dump them.

"Let go of me!" a familiar voice screamed from some other corner of the room, becoming louder every second as they dragged her closer. He watched Rena kick and fuss with the guards as they dragged her closer to the air lock platform, closer to their death.

"Let! me! GO!"

Trying not to outwardly panic, he scanned the room. There had to be something clever, some way out of this, right? He was the Doctor, a Time Lord. He'd been through so much worse. Think, idiot!

You've scanned the room, observed your surroundings. What conclusions can you come to now? Quickly! There's seven guards. One busy with the console, four wrangling Rena, and two too far away to harm any of us. Sonic's in my pocket. I might be able to reach it if no one's looking.

The panel has almost reached the ceiling. He's running out of time fast.

How- how can I make a diversion? Air locks, alarm, alarm, intercom? Common, common, notice the details! The weaknesses! The faults! There's a gas extinguisher by the far exit, but it's too far away. Hydronian light fixtures on the ceiling, but overriding them would give everyone chemical burns, too risky. Or- what about- the woman at the console has an earpiece in. Electronic, hackable. What about the others?

One glance was all he needed. Every single guard in here was wearing an identical earpiece. He knew what he had to do. The alarm stopped, signaling the hull door was open, but Rena's shrieks became louder. It was now or never.

The Doctor reached into the inner pocket of his overcoat, tussled through piles of useless junk until he found his sonic screwdriver, and pulled it out. Before the guards could react, he'd pointed it at the intercom speaker on the ceiling and activated the emitter. The high-pitched sonic frequency pealed through the air, riding in waves. Sparks blew from the speaker as the super powered sound waves pushed the Council's entire communication system into overdrive. All seven of the guards were temporarily crippled by the painfully loud feedback blaring through their earpieces, some clawing at their ears, and others falling to their knees.

Rena took this opportunity to shake herself from the four guards' grip and pickpocket one of their alpha meson blasters. She adjusted its settings to stun, and then began shooting at the distracted Council members. Avoiding her fire at all costs, the Doctor did a body roll off of his gurney and dashed to Clara's side.

No joke, every single last one of the guards was out cold before he reached her. He turned, and stared slack-jawed at the young teen girl. She wasn't part cyborg, was she?

Breathing heavily, she slipped the weapon into a pouch on her belt. "Thanks for the diversion."

He blinked, and dropped his sonic back into his overcoat pocket. "No problem. Now, where are the children Yalta captured?"

"Just down the hall," she pointed towards the exit. "There's locks, but I might be able to pick it."

"Good. I would come, but..." The Doctor paused, glancing between Clara and the others and the vast openness outside the air lock window. He ran his fingers through the hair at his neck, mulling over his options.

"What?"

"I'm sort of- waiting for visitors. Here, Rena. Take this with you. For those locks." He passed his sonic screwdriver into the hands of a very shocked Rena. She peered at him oddly, maybe silently questioning how he'd come to trust her with one of his special devices. "Now, there are three rules you need to follow. Do not change the setting, don't break it, and most importantly- return it to me when you're done. I don't give my screwdriver to anyone, so take good care of it. Understood?"

She nodded profusely, and clutched the sonic in her right hand. "Got it."

Once she ran off to rescue all the children that were still alive, the Doctor rushed back to Clara and the others, who were already stirring. Quite a few minutes had passed since he used the Council's own bug to broadcast the missile plant's location to allies. It couldn't be very long now.


AN- The reason this update took so long is that I went through around five separate drafts of this chapter alone. After a lot of thought, I finally stuck with this one. I'm still not one hundred percent thrilled with how it turned out in certain areas, but I suppose that is the curse of a perfectionist.

That being said, I didn't want to leave you— my loyal band of readers— waiting any longer. All of you have been wonderful to me, so I really wanted to return the favor and push to complete this chapter as best I could. Thanks for being patient with little ol' daft me, everyone! There's only two more chapters and an epilogue left until Our Path Through The Universe, and these are already half written. :)