Clara huddled close to the Doctor. He had always been one to provide relief in a stressful situation with a quirky comment or an ominous threat that scared the enemies senseless. Never had she been alone like this, her life on the line, without the Doctor. Clara had managed to run over and throw the things that had toppled on his listless body when the time machine swerved. She dragged him off to the TARDIS wall again once the banging of the Sycorax had momentarily stopped. Clara had a piece of cord that she wrapped around his body, just in case any other disturbances threatened to topple the precious cargo River hadn't called back in 27 minutes, and the young girl tried to act tough and confident, like she was the Doctor strolling around the console, pulling levers and pressing buttons here and there. The TARDIS was holding itself up poorly, the old girl. She was defiant, however, never allowing them to cross the threshold to her Doctor, at least not yet.
Clara had checked the monitor time and time again but all she could see was two Sycoraxan soldiers standing with their backs to the door guarding the entrance. Nothing could get in or nothing could come out, unfortunate in her case. She hoped that she hadn't sent Jack to utter oblivion, a one-way ticket to the entirety of space while he was alone and essentially dead. That wouldn't be a fun thing to wake up to.
"Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm," she repeatedly told herself, "there's no reason for you to get worked up like this. You can do this, Clara, you're an Oswald and Oswalds never give up."
Clara defiantly walked over to the console once more to take another crack at the incomprehensible TARDIS mainframe. The buttons and pulleys seemed to loom around her, the floor tilting here and there. She was becoming shaky, both Clara and the TARDIS.
"Get a grip, Clara," she said to herself, her voice shaking,
There was no hope, a small voice complained in the back of her mind,no point in continuing. The Doctor was as good as dead and there was no reason to give up your life because of it, right?
Shut up! He's the Doctor and he's done everything and more for you and so many others. He has risked his life to make sure that you could have a chance to live and you can repay him by doing the same.
"TARDIS, please," Clara gently touched the console, "is there any defense mechanisms or weapons I can use to protect us?"
A low deep hum and creak sounded throughout the machine. Who was she kidding? The Doctor hated any sort of weapons, despised them in fact. The day she saw the Doctor fire a gun meant the day the universe lost its last good soul. Clara needed to think quick and smart to get them out. River was MIA, Jack was somewhere drifting, hopefully in the right direction, in the Time Vortex, the Doctor was like a comatose, and Clara was just a girl in a big alien box. She could do this, there had to be a manual or something in the TARDIS, I mean how were people supposed to know how to fly the thing in these types of situations? Situations involving a giant, evil, hungry sun parasite that decided to feast on the captain and now the companion had to fly the machine with no possible idea of how to even find her room every night.
She went over to the monitor and typed "TARDIS Engine Details" in the search bar. A series of lengthy paragraphs followed stating the individual composition of the Police Box engine, but she skipped through that. She knew the engine was under the console, she had seen the Doctor hanging there on his makeshift chair fixing it with his ridiculously large engineering goggles.
"The TARDIS sleep mode will automatically activate any standard protocols that must run on auxiliary power. Auxiliary power will restore once sleep mode has been disabled. In sleep mode, TARDIS Model 41 cannot time travel or conduct any transportation protocols. TARDIS Model 41 doors will automatically seal itself within an energy barrier that will surround precisely 1-foot radius of TARDIS Model 41 exterior."
"Sleep mode it is," Clara pressed the button, "goodnight, TARDIS."
She could hear the giant engines slowly powering down, the scratching and screeching of the gears not so loud and heart-breaking. There was a gentle hum in the air, like the Police Box was snoring. The doors would lock themselves, so she'd be okay, but for how long? How long was Clara prepared to sit inside the TARDIS with her Doctor as good as dead and the beautiful blue ship dying? She was clever, the Doctor had said it, she could use her brain and think. Her mind was good with technology, so if it could work with Earth tech than what was so hard about learning TARDIS tech? What could she use to transmit a message…
The Psychic Paper!
Clara bounded over to the Doctor's strapped body, his head still lolled to one side and his hair was hanging degradingly in his face. The tweed jacket pocket still held the little blue booklet and she gently pulled it out, like she was afraid to wake him up if he was sleeping. Yeah, sleeping, that's better than any other alternative. Now the sonic screwdriver. She pulled that one from the coat's external pocket. Gosh, it would be so easy to rob the Doctor now that she thought of it.
That wasn't what she was supposed to be thinking about, right now she needed to concentrate on saving the Doctor. The screwdriver was sonic, therefore, it emitted a frequency that certain people had to be tuned in to hear. Hey, if bats could do it, why couldn't she? The Doctor occasionally would reverse the sonic polarity so the screwdriver would send off ear-splitting sound waves to shut people up. If Clara could encode a message into that frequency and sent it out like the Doctor did, then maybe someone would be able to help, someone had to be willing to help her poor alien after everything he had done.
Clara held the psychic paper in her hands and closed her eyelids tightly. She thought about what she wanted to say and re-said it over and over again. The little blue booklet seemed to send off tingly feeling up her arms and into her mind as if to say, "Yes, I understand." The screwdriver in hand, Clara pointed the glowing green tip to the Psychic Paper and pressed the button down. The familiar screwdriver sound soaked up contents of the paper and began to analyze it like it was meant to do. She quickly did a flip switch by taking off the little wiring panel and reconnected a few wires.

"Please work, please work, please work," Clara prayed.

She held the screwdriver to the ceiling and pressed the button. A series of powerful and obnoxious ear-piercing waves sounded from the screwdriver tip and sent a message to anyone who was open to listening.

THE DOCTOR NEEDS HELP,

PLEASE, THE DOCTOR NEEDS HELP.