The distant tolling of the Cloister Bell ran parallel with the slow thrumming of the Doctor’s hearts. ‘Still changing your appearance?’ she asked. ‘I was rather fond of the other one.’
‘Still hypocritical?’ it spat. ‘I was never fond of you.’
The Doctor gave a wry smile, ‘The feeling’s mutual. What have you done to Yaz and Dan?’
‘Nothing. Not yet.’ The Terrible Zodin paced around the console, but the Doctor did the same, each step careful as the menace continued, ‘No harm shall come to them if you surrender your time capsule.’
‘As if. Something like you having the secrets to all of time and space? You’d probably tie yourself in knots trying to find the handbrake.’
‘Do not lecture me!’
‘I’m not lecturing, I’m bantering. There’s a difference.’ The Doctor chose her witticisms carefully, uncomfortably aware that each one may be her last. But, with each syllable, her fingers ghosted closer towards the emergency unit. She knew what had to be done. ‘Just like the difference between you and me. And, if you want a lecture, I’ll be more than happy to tell you all about it.’
The Zodin tutted, willing to humour its victim’s last request. ‘Enlighten me.’
‘Gladly.’ Her hand hovered over the control. ‘We can both change appearance, we can both talk and talk and talk. But the difference between you and me is simple…’
‘Not as simple as killing you, Time Lord—’
‘Simpler than that.’ The Doctor grinned at the solid kiss of metal against her palm. ‘I know how to press all the right buttons!’
Her hand slammed against the console and, in an instant, the dark walls of the TARDIS burned with a blinding flash. The crystals around the Doctor shattered as cracks cut through their cores, a discordant string of painful notes echoing and dying around her as the interior dimensions collapsed and burned.
The Doctor floated towards total oblivion, alone and with no escape. But oblivion was not all unknown to her—she had activated the emergency unit before and wondered if she would again return to that realm of stories and make believe…