Sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones. And sometimes, not everybody can live.

The Doctor stands; the blood of allies—of friends—drying on shaking hands.

Today is not a good day.

"Doctor! We cannot hold them for long," says the Captain. And on the edge of hearing, the cry of the Dalek advance. Exterminate, exterminate. Their solution. Not the Doctor's. The wrongness of this twists in the chest.

"When I detonate this charge it will set off a chain reaction in the star. There'll be no going back."

"But the Daleks will fall into the black hole."

"Yes."

"It'll be worth it, then."

"No."

But you still have to choose.

A crackle on the Captain's radio. "Zak? Zak? Are you there?"

"We're receiving. What's happening out there?"

"There's another… and … leaving…!" Static garbles the answering message. The Doctor turns the sonic screwdriver away from the star-killer array, to the handset.

"Did not copy! Repeat!"

"Another ship has arrived. The Daleks are… the Daleks are retreating!"

"What ship?" says the Doctor.

In answer, the cracked view-screen behind fritzes into life. "Hippocrates this is the Sarah Connor calling. Request you disengage the star-killer array immediately, over."

"Who are they?" breathes the Captain, pointing with the barrel of her gun to the women on screen.

"Old… friends."

"Clara Oswald," drawls Missy, absurdly school-teacher in tone. "You bring that TARDIS here right now. You've got some serious explaining to do." With that, she kills the screen.

"Doctor?" says Captain Zak, needing a note of sanity injecting into proceedings. "Who's Clara Oswald?"

"Technically," the Doctor replies, "…that would be me."

The airlock door opens with a pneumatic hiss. Clara Oswald strides inside, a strong smell of burnt plastic following her aboard. Her leather jacket is smoking slightly.

"What the hell do you want?" she demands, hands on hips. "This is a class five defence cruiser. You're breaching more interstellar defence treaties than I can count and—"

"Clara, Clara, Claaara," mocks Missy. "You might think you sound like him but—" Her words are lost in a blur of furious movement. It ends with the Time Lady pinned to a bulkhead, Clara's arm laid across her throat.

"I am having a very bad day," hisses Clara. Missy struggles, surprised to find the arm immovable. "The last time I saw you, you were trying very hard to convince my friend to kill me. So by all means: piss me off."

She releases Missy, who rubs her neck, supremely unperturbed. "That wasn't very nice."

"I am not nice."

"Not anymore, certainly. I wonder who's to blame for that?"

"Oh, shut up the pair of you before I smack your silly heads together!" River, reaching the end of her patience. Clara has the decency to look chagrined, Missy merely grins. "We've been looking for the Doctor. Why are you travelling under his name?"

Clara opens and closes her mouth a few times, trying to find the words, but it is Missy who answers. "Because it's not his name," she says. "We three know that better than anyone. It's a title. One you choose when you take on a particular job."

"And what job is that?"

"Being an insufferable know-it-all across all of time and space," sneers Missy. "What else?"

Clara rolls her eyes. "It's a useful one to borrow when you're fighting Daleks." She gives an apologetic shrug. "Professor Song, I'm sorry I'm not the Doctor you were looking for. Can I still be of assistance?"

"Oh, undoubtedly," River replies. She pushes a button on the central console and the anxious face of Madam Vastra appears on screen, flanked by Jenny and the Lady Me.

"God, the whole gang really is here," Clara mutters.

"Did you find 'im?" asks Jenny.

River shakes her head, beckoning Clara forward into view. "Not quite."

"Clara!"

"Yep, hi, that's me," she replies, awkward. "Good to see you… all… again."

Me smiles at her blushes. "You really are a terrible liar."

"How can I help?" she says brightly, ignoring the sly comment.

"We are seeking the Doctor," explains Vastra.

"I'd kinda… worked that one out."

"We believe he may have travelled somewhere beyond the reach of conventional interstellar means."

"But you've… you've got a TARDIS. Missy, you must have…?" She trails off at the Time Lady's shaking head.

"Somewhere even a TARDIS cannot go," confirm Vastra.

"Then he doesn't want to be followed."

"We have no choice," River says softly. "The Ri'Jinn are pursuing him."

Clara passes a hand in front of her eyes. "No. They've got the biggest battle-fleet in the galaxy. Even he's not stupid enough to… Oh, who am I kidding?" She sighs, removing the hand. "Of course he's stupid enough. I'm in. Let's go, ladies."