The Light of the Moons - Chapter 3

[whosintheattic]

Title: The Light of the Moons
Author: whosintheattic
Beta: DavidTennantsTrainers
Chapter: 3/4
Rating: T
Characters: Tenth Doctor and Original Character
Spoilers: Doctor Who up until The End of Time [stop reading now, because the the Author's Notes have spoilers too].
Summary: Three years after the events of Journey's End, the Doctor meets Sara Parker while investigating a wave of disappearances on a university campus in America. After rescuing her from the clutches of danger, the two set out for Fentiern, a three-mooned planet in serious need of help.
Authors Notes: This goes AU after Waters of Mars and sticks to canon as much as possible other than the death prophecies throughout series four, the specials, and whatever I might get wrong due to lack of familiarity with Classic Who.



The Doctor dashed up the catwalk and immediately set to work manipulating the TARDIS’ controls. Sara walked over to her backpack, which she’d laid near the entrance to one of the corridors. She placed her shopping bag next to it. She carefully folded the Gaffel leaf and placed in on top of her backpack. The entire time, the Doctor used his unstoppable gob to fill her in on the details of Fentiern. He flipped a switch and a three-dimensional hologram appeared.

“This is the Fendel System,” he said as the image zoomed in and shifted, “This is Fentiern,”

“And Estriid, Tieramenaat, and Hexaat,” she said, pointing in turn to the translucent orbs.

“Yes,” he arched an eyebrow at her as she looked at the map, Excellent pronunciation, he thought amusedly to himself. “And the message I received said, ‘It happens tonight, the plague will claim us all.’” He furrowed his brows, “Which is quite concerning considering that there is no record of infectious disease on Fentiern; not in seven million years of records.”

Sara looked at him wide-eyed. “Seven million years.” She couldn’t even begin to wrap her mind around the idea of a place having seven million years of recorded history. She shook her head to clear it. “So what’s changed?”

“That is exactly what I’m hoping to find out.” Dashing to the controls on the far side of the console,   he looked at the monitor. “Oh,” he said.

“What is it, Doctor?”

“You might want to brace yourself.”

Before Sara had time react, she felt the TARDIS shudder beneath her feet. She grabbed the rail of the catwalk to steady herself, but she lost her grip and fell to the floor. “There’s fire in the sky!” She screamed. She clutched her head between her hands, pressing her palms over her ears. “They’re so loud!” She cried. The Doctor rushed to her side. She was lying on the catwalk, turning slowly from side to side, her body twisting in pain. Her face was red from strain. He waved his sonic over her several times, and was stunned to find that Sara was telepathically linked with the Gaffel; she could hear their thoughts. Not just the one she’d encountered, no…these readings were off the charts. Her mind was connected to the collective consciousness of the entire species.

“Sara!” he cried, taking her face between his hands. Her eyes were full of pain and fear. He grabbed her wrists and pulled them from her ears. “Sara, you’ve got to listen to me!  Don’t be afraid. Don’t fight it.”

“What’s happening?” She gasped. The TARDIS was rocked by another explosion.

“The planet is under attack.”

“I mean my head,” she choked, attempting to cover her ears again. The Doctor’s grip on her wrists wouldn’t allow it.

“That won’t help you,” he said, “Because the noise is in your head. You need to focus.”

“It hurts. It feels like-“ she groaned and fought against his restraining hands.

“Like your head is going to explode and your whole body is on fire?” Sara grunted and nodded. The Doctor thought quickly. “Human brains weren’t built for a collective consciousness; you need to concentrate. Concentrate on your memory of the Gaffel from this afternoon.

“I can’t,” she croaked. Another explosion went off somewhere outside, and Sara winced. He frantically searched the room and his eyes lit up when they fell upon the Gaffel leaf.

“Of course you can,” he said letting her go. He jumped over the catwalk rail, and snatched up the massive leaf from her pile of belongings. He ran back to her side and draped the leaf over her. “Think of the Gaffel that gave you this.”

The pain in Sara’s head subsided a little when the leaf made contact with her skin. She pulled it closer to herself, drawing up an edge to her face and breathing in its silken fibers. She closed her eyes, and could see a forest stretching for as far as her eyes could see. She could feel herself reaching out into the vastness, and suddenly she knew where she was going. The pain in her head dissipated. As she drew nearer to her target, the other voices started to fade, and her head grew quieter. Her mind fell upon the familiar Gaffel.

My gift will give you strength, its will echoing in her mind.

The Doctor watched Sara shut her eyes, and slowly her body became less rigid. Her face was no longer contorted with pain; instead she wore an expression extreme concentration. Suddenly a grin spread across her face, and she opened her eyes. “I found him.” Her voice was unsteady and a bit breathless. She sat up carefully and clutched the leaf to herself again. “I know what to do,” she said dreamily, her gaze seemingly looking through the Doctor. She got to her feet and darted down the hall. Once out of sight, she stripped herself bare and wrapped the Gaffel leaf around her. The silk was exquisite against her flesh, and as she threw it around her shoulders, it began to shrink and change. It tightened around her and molded itself to her, fusing to her skin. Becoming her skin.  Her hands, feet, face and neck were as they’d always been, but the rest of her had become the blue-green of the Gaffel leaf. She was streaked with silver lines, and when the light from the corridor touched her skin, she shimmered.

With the leaf now a part of her, she could make better sense of what was happening in her mind; the Gaffel forests were panicking. They were talking and speculating amongst themselves. There were whispers of the water, the moonlight…she could hear the panicked cries of tourists through the ears of the forest. There was fire in the sky, and she could see images of the flames from thousands of different angles. She redressed herself as quickly as she could; she could hear the Doctor’s footfalls moving hesitantly up the corridor.

“Sara? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said, pulling her t-shirt back on and stepping forward as he came along the corridor. “More or less,” Sara continued as his eyes fell upon her.

“Oh my,” he said.

“My head stopped hurting,” she smiled.

“I should think so,” he nodded, reaching out and taking her wrist gently, bringing her arm closer to his face to inspect the patterns. He was close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin; the sensation made her breath waver.  “This leaf is teeming with psychic energy! As long as it is bound to you, it’s locked onto your brain waves, creating a sort of psychic resonance that increases your abilities to communicate and-“

“Aaaand my head hurts again,” she cut in teasingly, grinning. He looked up from the silver tendrils that streaked across her arm for a moment to search Sara’s face and confirm her statement was only a playful jab, before resuming his inspection. She watched as he ran his fingertip along one of the silver veins, beginning at her elbow and trailing it down to her wrist. He was feeling for consistency, she imagined, but all it did was make her heart race. The butterflies returned to her stomach. “Enough of that,” she said, drawing her arm back. “Someone or something is fire-bombing the planet.”

“From orbit,” he added. Moments before the explosions rocked the landscape, he’d seen them on his monitor.

“Then why are we still standing here?”

The Doctor raced to the TARDIS controls and began setting course for the unknown craft in orbit that had fired upon the peaceful planet. As he manipulated the controls, the ship began making a pulsing mechanical sound that she’d heard before. Only it wasn’t exactly the same.

“What is that noise?”

“The sound of the universe,” he grinned, “and here we are.” Sara went to the TARDIS doors and stood on her toes to peer out one of the small windows.

“We’re definitely on a ship,” she said. She inspected what she could see of the corridor. Outside the TARDIS, she could see rubber tubes, colored wires and ductwork running along the ceiling of the nearly-circular corridor. The pale blue lights hung from the apex of the ceiling every three feet or so, pulsing at intervals; the effect made the slick grey walls look as if they were undulating, “A very strange ship.”

The Doctor opened the door and stuck his head out, craning it in either direction. He sniffed the air and inspected the machinery. He squinted at the walls and cocked an eyebrow. “I know where we are,” he whispered over his shoulder. He slipped his head back inside and closed the door. “We’re on a Hendica ship.” He sprinted up the catwalk, spun on one foot and dashed around to the far side of the console. She followed behind him quickly, and just as she was rounding the controls, he bolted toward her and gripped her shoulders tightly, “A Hendica ship! This is brilliant! Organic matter is grafted by the Hendica onto non-organic foundations, and once it has taken root-once it has started growing on its own-crystal growth is encouraged and accelerated on the exterior.”

“Growing on its own?!”

“Yes.”

“This ship is alive?”

“Yes.” So it wasn’t isn’t  the lighting, she thought, the walls really are pulsating.

“And we’re going for a walk out there, aren’t we?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’ and giving her a crooked smile.

“Can I use your bathroom first?” Sara feigned a little embarrassment.

“Down that hall, last door on the right.” He gestured. She scuttled off without a look back, darting into the hallway. Sara went inside and locked the door behind her. She felt like she was going to throw up. She turned on the faucet and splashed cool water on her face. As she drew her hands away, she took her first clear look at her arms in the bright light of the bathroom. Her skin was a deep blue-green, and shimmery. Silver veins ran like rivers along her arms and legs. She lifted the hem of her shirt to see the same pattern repeating itself across her stomach; she lifted her shirt more. It was everywhere, and suddenly she was frightened. She scratched it, but it wouldn’t come off. She knew it would eventually; she had gleaned that from her contact with the Gaffel tree. How long is it going to last? Hours? Days? Years? She panicked, What if I still look like this when he dumps me off back home? Had she really just thought that? She pushed away her mind’s choice of words and corrected herself, Would he really take me home looking like this?” Sara was staring at her forearms. No, no; of course he wouldn’t. She shook her head, and then leaned over the sink, gripping the sides. She took several deep, calming breaths and thought of home. She imagined her cluttered bedroom in her mother’s house, and her bookshelf full of stories with plots much like her life had been for the last several hours. How long had it been? She mentally chided herself for dawdling when Fentiern was in danger. She stood up, raked her hair into a decent shape and stepped out of the bathroom.

Sara strode down the hall at a determined pace and re-entered the main control room, “Alright! Let’s do this,” she said, clapping her hands together and rubbing them back and forth in the very same way the Doctor had done earlier.

The Doctor stepped out first with Sara close behind, being sure to pull the door shut behind her. She looked all around her and over her head. The walls were pulsing and dripping with mucus. Thankfully the ceilings were not. The crew probably didn’t like the idea of slime dripping all over their heads either, she thought. She was standing inside of a living bagpipe-at least that’s how she imagined it-and that was looking at it humorously. She felt her heart starting to race again, pounding so hard that her lungs burned and her vision blurred. Nausea pooled in her guts, and just as she thought she would retch, the Doctor reached back without looking and took her hand in his, pulling her into the shadows of an adjoining corridor. This time, it wasn’t the usual butterflies she felt bouncing around at his touch; the stone of fear in her gut began to dissolve. Her nausea dissipated as calm washed over her, and she straightened herself as they crept along. He let go of her hand and took out his sonic screwdriver and began taking scans. She looked at the back of his head as he continued forward. Had he felt that? If so, he hadn’t given himself away with as much as a twitch. She’d had a distinct sensation the moment they’d touched-a feeling like electric sand- and it traveled through his palm and into hers, flowing up her arm before washing over her heart, slowing its pace, and then settling into her belly.

When they reached the end of the corridor, they turned left and found a series of small portholes lining one wall. Sara looked through one, and gasped, “Doctor!”

He looked through the glass, “Escape pods,” he said, “Fentiernian emergency protocol: in the event of crisis, all non-residents report to designated ports of departure.”

“They’re just leaving?” She looked at the pods, darting in all directions away from the planet like fleas from a dog in a chemical bath. The mixture of disbelief and something a few shades lighter than disgust on her face made the Doctor proud of her.

“Let’s keep moving,” he whispered.

“But-“

“Hendica tactics,” he said distastefully, “fire a few warning shots to scare away the foreigners-“

“The witnesses.”

“Yes-and minimize the scandal of collateral damage, of course. Then they can make their move.”  They were moving along the corridor once more, the Doctor tugging her along.

“Is anyone going to do anything about it? Like space police or space courts; the Shadow whatsit-someone?”  Space police? she thought. She felt like a fool with those words coming out of her mouth. Galactic council, though just as naive would have sounded less childish. The Doctor looked at her, smiling toothily.

“They’ve got better,” he said, “They’ve got us.” He winked and Sara’s face broke into a smile of her own, which quickly dissolved when she saw three large, heavily armed figures round the corner. The Doctor turned away from her just in time to bump into them.

Without missing a beat, he greets them. “Oh hi! You wouldn’t happen to know where the Machreein garden is would you? I seem to have lost my visitor’s map.”

“You are trespassing,” the figure in the center said. “Your presence is unauthorized.”

“Many apologies,” The Doctor said, “Perhaps you can take us to the captain of this vessel and we’ll get it all sorted and be on our way.”

“Protocol Seven-Dash-Nine-Six-Dash-Alpha states that you are to be confined until the completion of military engagement.”

The other guards then drew their weapons and trained them on Sara and the Doctor. Smoothly putting himself between the guns and Sara, speaking quickly, and raising his hands slowly, the Doctor said, “Very well then; I suppose we can wait until then to get this sorted. No need for guns.” The guards lowered their weapons, and Sara was able to breathe again. Barely. The three towering figures surrounded them and marched them to where they would be ‘confined,’ The Doctor took Sara’s hand. It was a tight grip, their fingers entwined, his forearm against hers; she held tight to him, fearing that the three goons would separate them.

They were led into a room and the door whisked itself shut between them and the pinkish-blue brutes who had led them here. Only then did they release their grip on each other.  Sara sighed deeply, and asked, “Now what?” The Doctor didn’t respond. He had his sonic out and was working the perimeter of the room. “Doctor, what are we going to do?” She asked, her voice cracking. She had tears in her eyes, and all she could think about were the escape pods leaving Fentiern, and the warmth of the Gaffel’s mind pressing against hers. She thought of it in flames, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. “What do they even want?” She said loudly, desperately. She wiped her eyes with the heels of her palms, “Why are they doing this?”

“The usual; resources, real estate.” The Doctor said, not acknowledging her emotional state. He was still combing over the slimy walls with his sonic. “If I can find a weak point in the wall, we may just be able to get out of here.”

“What are they going to do with us?”

“Sell us on the slave market, I suspect. Hendica don’t take kindly to trespassers; they’re a very territorial lot. Quite xenophobic; if we weren’t such fine specimens-“

Just then, the door slid open and two brutish figures entered. Were they the same as the ones before? Sara couldn’t tell. “Your craft has been impounded. You will receive no audience with the captain. Our orders are to relocate you to the export bay.” They entered, one seizing the Doctor as he tried to reason with them, still playing the role of the lost tourist.

“Oh come now!” He said, “All this isn’t necessary, is it? We just got a bit lost, no ill intent here,” but it wasn’t working. He squirmed in the first soldier’s grasp as second seized Sara, who immediately began to struggle against her alien captor. The Doctor could only watch as Sara’s mind seemed to overload; her eyes grew wide and projected a flurry of untold thoughts awash in terror. She was losing control.  “Sara! It’s okay. It will be okay.” He squirmed against the hold of the large Hendica who clutched his arms in his fists, pulling the Doctor’s arms behind his back. But when the soldier clutching Sara retaliated by twisting her arm and pushing her toward the wall, there was no reasoning with her; Sara’s tenuous control unraveled and she succumbed to the waves of terror that flooded into her in electric waves.  Adrenaline flooded her system, and the whispers of the forest poured into her head. I have to get out. Out. Out. OUT, her mind screamed.

The Doctor was stunned by the explosive reaction unfolding before him; Sara kicked into the fleshy pink-blue wall with her left leg. It gave a thick thud, but didn’t break through as she hoped it would; the wall only seemed to bristle. The massive guard moved to sure up his hold, and she slipped free, sinking her fingers into the fleshy wall like claws. This time the Hendica guard seized her around the waist and tugged. By the sheer force of her own terror she managed to cling in place. Now the guards were shouting, both at her and each other.

“Execute her!”

“Executions are prohibited outside the execution bay!”

“Let go!”

“Assistance requested in Containment Bay Nine!”

The Doctor, still restrained by the third alien soldier, was shouting, trying to reason with the panicked girl, “Sara! Sara listen to me!” He tried desperately to get her attention. “Let me go,” he yelled at the soldier, “I can help!” but the soldier paid him no mind and tightened his grip.

Sara didn’t hear the commotion in the room over the din in her mind. Their shouting was gone, instead replaced by the howling of wind. She knew what this sound was; it was the weeping of the Gaffel forests of Fentiern, every elder and every sapling wailing in unison in her mind. She was only vaguely aware now of another figure entering the room. This new figure shouted something at the one holding her, and the next she knew, she was pressed entirely into the wet clammy wall of flesh.

Sara was someplace else; she was in a forest, speaking to the trees, only distantly aware of that fleshy, square room. She didn’t struggle as the Hendica guard forced her face into the spongy wall, nor did she recoil in disgust her clothes soaked through with the thick mucus that coated it. It was in her nose; in her eyes. Its bitter taste filled her mouth, and still she didn’t struggle.

The Doctor looked on, helpless and horrified as Sara went limp. “Let her go! Let her go she can’t breathe!” he shouted. “She’s worth at least one hundred thirty credits, but she won’t be worth a single one if you don’t allow her some air!”

Sara stood in the forest, by a sparkling river, watching the leaves blow carelessly from the branches of bushes on the opposite bank. They were whispering secrets to her; secrets forbidden to outsiders. The leaves landed in the water and began to drift downstream. Suddenly, as if an explosion had gone off, a wailing din exploded around her, the noise louder than it had ever been; deafening. She could no longer make sense of the thoughts projected into her mind. This time, however…there were words. She could feel words pressing on her mind; words of a different texture and sensation, not the nudging suggestions she’d been experiencing. Sara came to herself, suffocating against the slimy wall. From deep within, she called up all the fury of the forest, and clenching her fists once more into the wall, pushed her face free, and gave the loudest, longest scream she could manage. The aliens recoiled at the sound, and the Doctor looked awestruck, stilling in the soldiers grip.

He saw the silver lines running in rivulets across Sara’s skin bulge, raise up and shine. They were iridescent, standing out on her the way they had on the leaf when it still hung from the tree. Finally, in a desperate attempt to silence her, the guard that had smothered her cracked the butt of his weapon across her head.

“Sara!” The Doctor struggled again; watching helplessly as the guard easily pulled her now-limp hands free from the wall, and slung her unconscious body over his shoulder.

“You will not delay us further,” the Hendica holding him ordered. The Doctor bit back his anger, and allowed himself to be led toward the export bay. He stole a quick look at Sara’s motionless body draped over the shoulder of the Hendica soldier. He could see that she was breathing, but winced at the blood that ran down the side of her face. The guilt rolled over him again, cold waves of shame and self-loathing. What could he do? He’d seen the fibers of space and time coming together; this had to happen. She had to come here, with him, to this planet, this day, this time. Yet the outcome was still uncertain. He pushed his Time Lord brain to its limits trying to discover the answer time had hidden away, but to no avail.

**

When Sara came to fifteen minutes later, she was lying on the floor. Her arms ached with exertion and her head was pounding. When she reached to cradle it, she felt the tackiness of the partially-dried blood on her face and in her hair. Thankfully, the lights were low. She felt a hand in hers and turned to see the Doctor gazing down at her.

“What happened?”

“You got a knock on the head,” he said; his voice low and unintentionally soothing. She squeezed his hand reflexively, and the memory came back to her. She realized she’d been overwhelmed; that whatever this resonance was, it was changing her. She was scared. Sara pushed away her fear and spoke.

“Gave ‘em a run for their money, didn’t I?” She said, forcing a smile.

“Yes you did.” He grinned, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

“Why are all the lights down?”

“The ship seems to be experiencing technical problems,” he said, “Multiple system malfunction. Judging by the communiqués I intercepted,” he said, waving his sonic screwdriver proudly between his fingers, “it started with this ship and is now affecting the entire Hendica fleet.” He grinned mischievously, “I wonder how that could’ve happened.” It was then that Sara’s eyes fell upon the vent in the wall behind him; it’s cover stood askew and wiring hung haphazardly in the maw of the shaft. She chuckled.

“What did you do?”

Sara shifted her position on the floor and tried to sit up. When she brought herself half upright, she collapsed at the pounding in her head. She clutched it and gave a groan. “Don’t move,” he instructed. He took off his tie and began blotting at the streaks of blood at her temple. He silently cursed himself for not attending to it sooner.

“I saw the forest,” she said, forgetting her question, “I heard the Gaffel screaming.” She wanted to tell him what happened, but how? How could she explain it? There weren’t words. How do you translate pure thought?

“Well, they’re bound to be alright for now,” he said softly, and now Sara could see the sorrow there, so potent in his brown eyes, “The ships’ weapons systems are down.” Tears came to her eyes. She reached up and touched his cheek. His freckled skin was soft under her touch, and she could feel the hairs of his sideburn against her fingers.

“I know why the systems aren’t working,” she smiled. It would’ve been coy and mischievous had she not been so worn. The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?” It was not an utterance of disbelief; he could tell by the shine in her eyes that she knew.

“The ship-all these ships-aren’t just alive,” she let out a sigh at the throbbing of her head. “They’re smart; they think. They feel,” she said, putting her hand on his cheek again. She shut her eyes, dazed. “They’re all connected,” she whispered, “Like the Gaffel.”

She took both of her hands and covered her face, rubbing her eyes and squishing her features beneath them. She let out a deep sigh, and when she withdrew her hands, she looked much more like her usual self. Sara sat up fully this time, still wincing at the pain in her head, now confined to where she’d actually taken the blow.

“Certainly,” he said flatly. He’d realized that after her outburst in the holding cell. “But how exactly do you know that?”

“I don’t know.” She lied. The sounds she’d heard while clinging to the wall in the holding cell hadn’t been just the sounds of the Gaffel forests.

The Doctor stood and offered her his hands, which she gladly took, and helped her to her feet. She was a bit unsteady and fell forward into him for a brief moment. In that moment, her hands still in his, his scent filled her nostrils. He smelled like a crisp summer on the shore of Lake Michigan; specifically the smell of the water dragged in by the wind. Her eyes felly shut as she savored it, and as soon as her eyes were closed, she felt the sensation of electric sand shooting into her as it had earlier. Shame. Sadness. Loneliness. She reeled backward, stumbled, and fell to her hands and knees. The feelings were unbearable. She wretched violently, leaving what was left of her dinner in a soupy pile on the floor.

It had all happened so quickly that The Doctor didn’t have time to read the borrowed emotions in her face.  He immediately reached to help her stand again, taking her under the arm. She tensed, afraid she’d be swept away again. Nothing happened at his touch this time. Maybe it needed to be skin-to-skin contact? She thought about the days events. That had to be it. Again, the Doctor seemed completely unaware that she’d drawn something out of him. The emotions were overwhelming and still kicked around inside her like an angry bull. She began to sob under the crushing weight of it.

Now the Doctor knew something was amiss. “What’s going on?”

“So much sadness,” she choked, “The Gaffel,” she lied. “Let’s get out of here.” The Doctor sensed her fallacy, but said nothing. The cogs in his brain were clicking into place; he was fitting all of his disparate observations together.

“I’ve tried several times to unlock the doors, but without much luck,” he said. “Perhaps you should try reasoning with it,” he motioned to the door, “give it a little touch.”

Sara was confused, but she held out her hand and moved toward the wall next to the door. She suddenly felt very afraid, and she reached blindly behind her for the Doctor. He slipped his hand into hers, and the feeling of his palm on hers gave her the last breath of courage she needed. She pressed her free hand into the slick wall. “How do I…”

“Just concentrate,” he urged her. She closed her eyes and focused. She was focusing hard on the wall as it pulsated beneath her fingers.

“The Hendica fighting to take back control,” she said, “The whole fleet is going to self-destruct.” She pulled her hand back for a moment in shock before replacing it. The ships were aware, and now they were willing to die rather than be instruments of genocide. Tears streamed down her face, and in her mind she asked for the door to be unlocked, and when she opened her eyes again, the door was sliding open.

She’s a telepathic receiver, the Doctor thought. Of course the Gaffel would have an Ace up their sleeve.

“We need to get to the TARDIS. If we make it in time,” he said, hustling out the door with Sara in tow, moving down the corridor quickly, “I may be able to save the fleet.”

There were sounds coming from behind them. The sounds of angry armed guards drifting down the corridor after them. “The saboteurs have escaped!” she heard one shout.

She and the Doctor ran through twists and turns in the halls of the ship; he seemed to know exactly where to find the TARDIS, and she wondered if its psychic link was responsible. The footfalls of the Hendica military men-creatures-were closing on them. The two reached a locked door behind which the TARDIS was located. She pressed her palm again to the flesh of the ship, and tried hard to focus. She was flustered, her mind racing. She begged the ship silently, Open open open please open.

Just as the door slid on its track to grant them entry, they came under fire. Some of the troops had laser weapons, others bullets, but what caught Sara in the side just as she slipped across the threshold was some sort of projectile broad knife. She squawked as it tore into her, and she collapsed. The door slid shut behind them. She couldn’t see straight, the pain was excruciating; she could feel the blood, and when she looked down and saw the blade protruding from her torso, she looked up at the Doctor, bewildered.

“Doctor?” She fainted.

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