(Then)
In this dark room with the blinders drawn, there was no clock marking the passage of time. Instead, the steady blip of a heart monitor sat in its place. It had been steadily chiming for months now, the woman hooked up to it a victim of one of countless Dalek attacks. She lay here comatose; kept just barely alive in a painful, dreamless sleep. The room itself was rustic, dark wooden walls and cheaply carpeted floors compromising the bulk of it.
The bed was very much in the same way, old, but past the age where it was at all charming. Near the window, an unfinished crib for a baby never born lay in disarray, the crumpled instruction manual sitting next to it. A chair was placed by the bedside, having been subject to an inordinate amount of use as of late.
On the far side of the room, a door was carefully opened. It was as if the man entering was hesitant, hoping against all odds that something may have changed in the short time he was gone. As he poked his head into the room, the unchanging chime sadly reassured him that everything was the same. Gentle orange light that usually filled the room with a soft glow had subsided, the sun having already set behind the distant mountains.
"Hi, Laris." He said, walking towards the bed.
As he drew closer, his eyes fell on the unfinished crib. He sighed, shuffling it to the back of his mind like he had did so many times before. As he reached the bed, he moved off to the side and sat down in the chair, leaning back into it. It had been a long day, and he had toiled under the hot sun harvesting crops for seemingly unending hours.
He always thought that if he worked hard enough, good things would come to him. He thought that if he worked hard enough, Laris would wake up. Mason worked very hard, but neither good things not his wife's awakening were ever waiting for him when he returned.
"Mother thinks I shouldn't enlist. She says... She says that one man won't make a difference out there, but one man will here. She says she needs me here. But if I can change here, why can't I change out there?"
Mason leaned forward, running his hand gently through Laris' obsidian hair.
"I don't know if I can stay here, love. I don't know if I have the strength to watch you wither away any longer. All I have to do is send out the signal, and the recruitment ships will come and take me away. They always need more men. No matter what Mother says. Always more."
Mason pulled his hand away, resting his head on it. "I used to be able to cry about you. I used to be able to let it all out, and I felt a little better afterwards. Now I'm just... numb."
Mason was offered no response outside of the heart monitor's steady beat. "I feel like I'm falling. Falling, and I don't even care."
(Now)
Mason collided with the ground, landing in a large snow bank. Tremors dashed across Ribos, just under the surface, and the base was already shuddering. He pulled himself to his feet, rushing inside. The courtyard of the base also served as a hangar, and mason knew once he saved as many people as he could, they'd be able to escape this new attack.
Soldiers ran every which way, each scrambling to try and escape, or secure themselves. It was a wild dance as they slammed into each other as they passed. It was disorganized chaos.
"Assess the situation. Assess the situation." Mason repeated to himself, rushing up a flight of stairs to the control room which overlooked the courtyard.
Having finally reached the room, Mason saw Lord Fop rushing around, demanding answers from panicking scanner operators.
"What's happening?!" He screamed, voice shrill with terror. "R-Rogue Planetoid! The Daleks must've... oh... oh no. No, I'm sorry!"
The operator shot up out of their seat and ran past Fop and Mason. Outside, things were getting worse; the hangar beginning to split as the ground tore open.
"Massive gravitational imbalance..." Fop uttered, face white as a sheet.
"Sir! Sir, we have to leave!" Mason called out. Fop turned to Mason, stunned by shock. "I was supposed to stay away from all the fighting... Take the cushy job, I..." Fop's voice cracked, eventually fading.
"Sir, please!" Mason ran forward to grab him, only to be stopped as the tremors cracked the room in two.
Fop and Mason were separated by a large gap, Fop being thrown backwards as his side of the room dangled over the hangar below.
Having been slammed into the already cracking glass, Fop was not at all composed.
"Mason!"
Mason ran to the gap, not daring to cross it. "Sir, I can't get to you!" He reached hand out to the fallen Time Lord. "I need you to jump to me!"
Through the window, Mason could see the ground tear even more, several ships crashing into each other and falling into the newly created chasms. Above, the rogue planet was close enough to seemingly swallow the sky. It was unimaginably large, looking as if a mess of paint was thrown over an already completed image. It was a dazzling cascade of color, bringing with it certain doom.
"I can't!" Fop cried, paralyzed by fear.
"You have to! Come on! I've got you!" Mason tried his best to reassure Fop, stretching his hand out even further than he had originally dared.
"Okay! I'll try!" Fop said, readying himself.
He stood up, trembling like mad, and began running towards Mason. The room behind him seemed to fall out from beneath his feet.
"Mason!"
Mason readied himself. "I've got you!"
Fop jumped, the room finally breaking off as he did. Fop flew through the air towards Mason, who managed to catch his flailing arms. Even as he did, the front of the control room crashed into the ground below. Pulling with all his might, Mason just barely managed to drag Fop up to safety, both men gasping for breath.
"Thank you." Fop gasped.
"Just... Just doing my duty si-" Before Mason could finish, more of the room broke off, sending Mason falling to the ground below.
He managed to secure himself on the remainder of the ledge, hanging on for dear life. He was no high-born Gallifreyan. If he died here, there would be no second chances. There would be no regeneration.
"Sir! Help me up!" Mason's knuckles whitened as he held on.
As the world collapsed around him, all that he had to put his faith in was a bit of rock and a proven coward. For a moment, Fop seemed set on saving Mason, reaching an arm out. As the base fell apart, he pulled his hand away. Without so much as another word, Fop turned tail and ran.
"Sir!" Mason pleaded, his cries falling on deaf ears.
His grip on the rock began to slip, and despite his best efforts, Mason knew he was going to die. He would not be mourned, nor would anyone remember his passing. The value of his life would be summed up in Fop's retelling of this tragedy with himself as the hero, commemorating the destruction of this nowhere planet.
He would become a statistic, another notch on an infinitely long belt; just like Laris. Mason accepted the inevitability of all this and eventually let go.
As he fell, the mountains being upended around him, he thought back on his wife. He thought of the life that could've been; and the child that never was, and he cried out in anguish. It was a pitiful sound, matching so many across the universe.
Yet something was wrong. Mason was falling for much longer than he had anticipated He was almost certain he should've hit the ground by now. He looked around, the rubble that came with him from the destroyed base appearing to be at a complete standstill. Ribos itself seemed frozen, having ground to a halt. Mason seemed to be the only moving thing here, all sound having vanished except for approaching footsteps.
Appearing from inside the base, and talking measured steps to walk along the frozen rubble towards Mason, a man presented himself. The man had long brown hair, stopping just before his shoulders. He wore a frock coat over a wingtip collar shirt and silver cravat, a matching vest and watch, and plain trousers and shoes.
He was tinged purple, his eyes glowing purple as well. He exuded an otherworldly aura that both fascinated and terrified Mason. As he opened his mouth to speak, his voice sounded distorted; as if coming out of a damaged radio.
"Hello, Mason. We should speak."