Stepping back from the engine, I stretch out my different aches and pains. "And that, I think, is all the sand gone."

"Get in!" Barclay yells, giving me a high five.

"All right, everyone. We've got the engine sorted," I announce, earning a round of exhausted cheers from everyone sheltering in the bus. "Now, Angela, I need you back behind the wheel. Boys, help me check the duckboards. We're gonna give it another try."

Once the boards are all arranged, lined up before the wormhole, Angela tries to turn on the engine. It wheezes and putters into silence again. Seeing the others' disappointment, I jump to discourage any doubts. "Was never going to work on the first try but I'm certain it lasted longer that time. Try again, yeah? Everyone start praying — doesn't matter which god — and keep everything crossed. We'll get out."

I retreat to the bus, soothed the second the shade hits me. Letting my eyes closed, I stretch again, rubbing my neck as I loll my head from one side to the other. My whole body aches and my mind is foggy from the heat. We won't last much longer out here before heatstroke starts to take its toll.

"Closer and closer. They're coming."

Frowning, I look to the back of the bus where Carmen and Lou sit. She rocks slightly, her eyes fixed on something beyond the window, wide and terrified. He does his best to comfort her. When he sees me coming, he forces a smile. "How long?"

I try to reciprocate, sitting backwards on the seat in front of them. "Not sure. We've got the engine cleared of sand, so hopefully not long. I'll check in with the Doctor soon and see how he's getting on."

At that, his smile grows wider. He pats my hand and chuckles, "I know that look. How long have you been married?"

"I think it's... Gods, it's a month exactly. Way to spend an anniversary, right? What about you two?"

He secures his arm around her and, even in her fear, she warms to him. "Nearly thirty years," he says. "We were so young when we met, like you."

"Oh, trust me, we're definitely not young."

"But you are. Time flies when you are in young. Before you know it, you have wrinkles, you ache in the morning, a life of adventure and exploring turns to taxes and grocery shopping and laundry. That is what marriage is — knowing you won't be alone in the little things. And I am the luckiest man in the world because I get to do all of that with her."

I think of the Doctor and I living like that. In honesty, it is a recurring dream for me. We have our own version of domesticity aboard the Tardis that I adore, but the thought of those little things calls to me more and more with each passing day. There is one thing that I know without a doubt. He is my person. He's my Carmen, the one I want to get old with, the one who will be beside me when I wake with pain, or find new wrinkles and grey hairs.

Aging used to be something I feared but now I long for it. The one problem is that, when I picture myself getting older, I can't imagine the same of him. I fear it. That when I'm too frail to walk on my own, when I'm grey and tired, he will be exactly the same as he is now. And when I'm dead, he'll just keep going. I'll become another memory, like his last wife, his children, his grandchildren, his friends. Names to pass by in a graveyard. Never forgotten, just another cause of his never-ending grief.

Loving him will be a cruelty one day, but not today.

"They are coming. Closer, closer."

At Carmen's mutterings, my attention falls to her again. I take her hand in mine. The sudden touch brings her attention to me, her panicked eyes boring into mine. "Who's coming, Carmen?" I gently ask. "What do you see?"

But she can't fathom it. She shakes her head. "They ride the storm. They devour."

"Listen, the Doctor and I have been to a lot of places, and we've faced a lot of dangerous things. And we're still here, aren't we?"

"Not long."

I don't understand what she means but a coldness seeps into my veins. I remove my hand, staring at her in fearful confusion. Before I can say anything more, the bus starts up yet again and, with a loud groan and wheeze of the engines, goes still. This time, there is something wrong.

"No, no, no! No, don't do this!"

Jumping up, I hurry to the front. "Angela, what is it?"

She hides her face in her hands, nodding towards a dial on the dashboard. "It's all my fault."

The dial for the petrol is down. There is none left. Holding myself back from hitting something, I gently guide her to one of the seats. The boys hurry inside. Everyone looks to me for guidance so I force another smile. It doesn't last long. "Okay, yes, this is bad. But we're all grown-ups here. We can manage. Keep praying and, uh, I'm gonna make a call."

Reaching into my back pocket for the phone, my hand brushes against the warm metal grip of the gun secured in my waistband. I pull my shirt further down to conceal it.

The Doctor picks up on the second ring. "Inara? Everything okay?"

My nerves ease a little at the sound of his voice. Resting a hand over my heart to calm myself, I reply, "Not exactly. Hit a bit of a wall here."

"It's my fault," Angela whimpers again.

Barclay wraps an arm around her and Nathan crouches before her, taking her hands in his. "No, it's not. Don't say that."

"It's not," I agree. "Would've happened to any of us. And it's my fault, I told you to keep trying. Blame me."

"What's happened?"

Grimacing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. "We got everything sorted so I told her to keep trying. We're all out of petrol." He doesn't reply. I move to the front of the bus, lowering my voice. "I said we'd get them home. But I didn't think and now we could all die because of me. Normally, I'd think of a way to operate this without but I don't know Earth vehicles enough to even attempt that. Doctor, I am officially freaking out."

I wait but, still, he says nothing.

"Doctor, are you there?"

The line goes dead. Cursing under my breath, I pocket the phone. Everyone is watching me, waiting for answers. And I can't lie.

I clear my throat. "All right, I'm gonna be honest with you all, this is bad. And the Doctor seems to be preoccupied. But you lot have muddled through this without him, you've coped before. So let's cope."

"How?" Nathan complains.

Resting a hand on my hip, I raise a finger. "First, Situation: We are stuck on an unknown planet that is pure, hot desert with a wormhole that will rip us to shreds and a storm coming our way." I raise another finger. "Now we're all feeling totally reassured, let's move on to point two — Resources: We have a bus, a toolkit, the Doctor's trench coat, a phone, and a lot of sand. If the storm is just a storm, the bus's Faraday cage structure should offer some protection. Now, before we realise our mistake in the long-term, who has water?"

They all go for their bags. I retrieve the small bottle that the Doctor keeps in his coat pocket and Nathan finds a half-empty one in his backpack, which he nervously offers to me.

I hold the two bottles up for everyone to see. "The average human can survive without air for about three minutes, water for three days, and food for three weeks. We've got air, so water is the next priority. We don't know how long we'll be stuck here, so we'll have to ration it. A small sip every few hours. No more, no less. I need you all functioning. Have some now while we remember."

Ass they drink, I continue as I start to pace, "We've lost out petrol so that part of the plan is gone. I'm not very familiar with the inner workings of these vehicles but I reckon I could achieve some kind of movement if I'm very smart. But I'll need everyone's help. Okay?"

Thunder rumbles. Fearfully turning his attention out of the window to where a darkness is gathering in the distance, forming a thin line across the dunes, Nathan gulps. "Sounds like a storm."

"If it rains, we've got water," Angela hopefully suggests.

But Carmen's gaze has not shifted from the storm, not for ages. "No water. All of it, dust," she says. Then she sits up straight. "But the girl..."

"Don't now, sweetheart."

Motioning for Lou to be quiet, I approach her. "What girl?"

"The girl. She will fly."

—

With nothing left to do, I start to modify the bus on my own, praying for some kind of solution. I hunch over the engine, using all the knickknacks I can find in the Doctor's pockets to help. The sound of thunder grows closer and closer but I do my best to ignore it.

A scream from inside the bus catches my attention. I look up. The storm is closer than ever. From here, I can see how the clouds glitter. It hits me.

It isn't a storm. It's a swarm. The flecks of silver are alive and heading straight for us.

I take the gun out of my trousers and take a stance in front of the bus. "Everyone, stay inside!" I yell over my shoulder.

Two figures arrive on the crest of a dune. I wait, gun still aimed beyond them. "What the hell are you doing with that?" the Doctor shrieks as he and Christina run to me.

"It's a swarm. I've tried to modify the bus, see if I can use an electrical alternative to power it, but I haven't gotten far. What are those things?"

"Bad news. They ate the planet, form an exoskeleton from the metal they ingest. Look, there was another ship, a couple of Tritovores. Got this power crystal from them. The creatures devoured them, we barely escaped. That wormhole, it's theirs. They made it using their kinetic energy and it's getting bigger. If they get through, Earth is next."

Nathan and Barclay hurry to the doorway. "At last! Where've you been?"

"Get them inside, get them sitting down!" he instructs. Once they're inside, he stops and takes a look at the metal framework in his arms, like some sort of spider drone or mantle for something. An amber crystal sits at its centre.

Christina eyes it apprehensively. She is breathless and grinning, exhilarated by the danger of our situation. "So what does that crystal do?"

He tosses it over his shoulder. "Nothing. Don't need the crystal."

"I risked my life for that!"

"No, no. You risked your life for these. The clamps. Inara, the wheels!"

I catch he two tripod clamps he tosses my way and rush to the other side of the bus, attaching them to the wheels. We meet by the door. "But what are the clamps for? Do they turn the wheels?" Christina asks as we head inside.

"Something like that. I just need to fix this. Have you got a hammer in that bag?"

"Funnily enough."

He takes the driver's seat, passing his phone to me. "Press redial," he says while attaching a final clamp to the steering wheel. I hold the phone to him. "Malcolm, it's me."

A great deal of clattering can be heard. "I'm ready!"

"Ready for what?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

Struggling to fix the clamp on, he fishes out his sonic as he replies, "I'll try to get back. Now, listen, there might be something following us. You need to close the wormhole."

The scientist hesitates. "Would that be a compressed burst of feedback on a counter-oscillation, perchance?"

"Oh, Malcolm. You're brilliant!"

"Coming from you, sir, that means the world."

I confiscate the sonic from him and do it myself so that he can handle the phone call. "Doctor," Captain Magambo interrupts, "what sort of something? That wormhole is now measuring ten miles and growing. I need to know the exact nature of the threat."

"Sorry, gotta go."

The clamp finally attaches to the wheel but immediately starts to spark. I recoil my hands in time. "What's it doing?"

"It's not compatible. Bus, spaceship, spaceship, bus. I need to weld the two systems together."

Christina and I exchange a nervous look. "And how do you do that?"

He groans, running a hand through his hair. "I need something... non-corrosive, something malleable, something ductile, something... gold."

She scoffs, "Oh, no, you don't."

"Christina, what is it worth now?"

Almost tripping over his own feet, Barclay runs up to us with a watch. "Hey, use this!"

"I said gold."

He frowns down at it. "It is gold."

"Oh, they saw you coming. Christina!"

She looks to us, to her bag, and back at the others. Wincing, she produces a golden goblet encrusted with rubies, keeping it protectively close. I stare at it in amazement. "Is that the Cup of Athelstan?" My lips curl into a smirk and I nudge her. "Knew there was something up with you. You're a thief."

Rolling her eyes, she holds it even tighter when he tries to take it. "It's over a thousand years old, worth eighteen million pounds. Promise me you'll be careful."

He slowly lifts it out of her grasp. "I promise."

Then, setting it upside down on the dashboard, he pounds the hammer into its delicate surface. We both wince and she sighs, "I hate you."

He simply winks at her, then shouts, "This is your driver. Hold on tight!"

"What's he doing?"

Christina hastily reassures the others. "Do as he says!" Pausing, she looks back to him. "What are you doing?"

He flicks the master switch and stamps down on the pedal. "Come on, that's it. You can do it, you beauty. One last trip."

The bus shudders. The acrid stench of smoke takes over. Grabbing onto the bar beside me, I mirror the Doctor's terrified grin. "You'd better know what you're doing."

"Not a clue. Well, half a clue. Hang on!"

The ground falls away beyond the windows as we start to rise into the air. "It's flying! We're flying!"

Hearing the chorus of amazed shouts from behind us, his grin only widens. "Anti-gravity clamps. Didn't I say? Round we go!" He gives the wheel a sharp turn and we are thrown to the side as the bus spins in the other direction.

Outside the windows, the sky darkens with a billion creatures, like sting-rays encased in metal, heading for us. "Doctor! They're coming!" Carmen screams.

Christina stumbles beside me, grabbing onto us for stability. She has to yell over the rising winds and the buzzing of the swarm. "Do you think this thing will survive the journey back?"

"Only one way to find out. Next stop..."

"Planet Earth!"

We jolt forward and the planet is replaced by darkness. The bus quakes, lightning crackling all around it as we power through. With another flash of green light, we are met with the night sky and the lights of London below. Heaving a sigh of relief, I hug his arm. "Gods, that was fantastic!"

A bullet breaks through the windshield, narrowly missing us. "It's not over yet. It's UNIT. Some of the creatures must've gotten through. Redial!" I hold the phone again, struggling to keep myself upright as the shaking and gunfire continue. "Malcolm, close that wormhole."

"Yes, sir. My pleasure, sir."

The line cuts off. "He hung up on me." More bullets rip through the walls of the bus. Snatching the phone from me, he tries again. "Malcolm?"

"Not now, I'm busy!"

He stares at the phone in disbelief. "He hung up again." One last try. "Malcolm, listen to me!"

We can barely hear him over the noise of alarms on his end. "It's not working!"

"I need that signal. We've got billions of those things about to fly through."

"Well, what do I do?"

Knocking into him as the bus shudders again, I meet his uncertain gaze. "Loop it!" I suggest.

He nods frantically. "Loop it back through the integrator, and keep the signal ramping up."

"But by how much?"

We veer to the side again and Christina and I lunge to steady the steering wheel as the call continues. He wracks his brain for a number. "Five hundred Bernards! Do it now!"

We wait. With a final flash of green, the wormhole closes in on itself. Still, there must be at least a dozen creatures out there. Each one disappears in a blast of smoke thanks to the UNIT team below. I look out the window just in time to see one of them hurtling towards us. "Doctor!"

"Oh, no, you don't." Making a sharp turn, he smacks it away with the bus. In another flash, it is gone.

I slump against him, laughing with relief. "Don't think I'll ever go on a bus again. Seen enough to last me a lifetime."

"You think?" he chuckles. "Ladies and gentlemen, you have reached your final destination. Welcome home!"

We land unsteadily and applause breaks out. Opening up the doors, I smooth my hair down and offer a relieved smile as I escort everyone outside. A UNIT soldier waits for us. "Welcome back, everyone. If you could step away from the bus to be safe. As fast as you can, thank you. It's standard procedure. We need to screen you and then you'll all be taken to debriefing."

Shrugging on his trench coat, the Doctor takes my hand. He shows his psychic paper as we walk right past the soldier. "We don't count."

"No, but Doctor—" Christina is detained before she can follow us.

"Doctor!" someone else shouts. A man hurries up to us, with large circular dresses, wrapped up warmly in a lab coat and ridiculously thick scarf.

"You must be Malcolm."

He immediately throws his arms around his middle. "Oh, I love you! I love you, I love you." Still breathless, he takes a step back. "I love you."

Suppressing a smile, the woman in UNIT uniform behind him clears her throat. "To your station, Dr Taylor."

"Y-Yes, ma'am."

He scurries off, pausing to point a gloved finger at the Doctor. "I love you."

He points back, silently returning the sentiment. Magambo chuckles, shaking her head. She stiffens, saluting us. "Doctor, I salute you, whether you like it or not. And you, Ms Luscinia. Now, I take it we're safe from those things?"

Glancing guiltily at the fallen creatures littering the road, he shrugs. "They'll start up again, generate a new doorway. It's not their fault, it's their natural life cycle. But I'll see if I can nudge the wormholes on to uninhabited planets." He goes to her side, nodding in the direction of Barclay and Nathan, still being scanned over by a team in hazmat suits. "Closer to home, Captain... those two lads. Very good in a crisis. Nathan needs a job, Barclay's good with engines. You could do a lot worse. Privates Nathan and Barclay."

"I'll see what I can do. And I've got something for you."

She directs us to a flatbed truck behind us, from which something is being unloaded via a small crane. The canvas is pulled away to reveal the Tardis. "Better than a bus, any day!"

Bounding after him, I affectionately pat her panelled surface. "Gods, I missed you!"

"Found in the gardens of Buckingham Palace," the Captain says.

"Oh, she doesn't mind."

She glances around awkwardly. "I've got three dead stingrays to clear up. I don't suppose you fancy helping with the paperwork. I hear you have some experience, ma'am?"

"Not a chance," the Doctor scoffs.

I pat her on the back. "Trust me, I'm bad with paperwork. Plus, we've gotta keep up the UNIT-Torchwood rivalry, right? It's good for morale."

To my surprise, she laughs and offers her hand for me to shake. "Until we meet again."

"I hope so."

Just as we are alone again, Christina manages to escape from the hazmat team, racing up to us. "Little blue box, just like you said. Right then, off we go! Come on, Doctor, show me the stars."

But his smile fades. "No."

She blinks as if hoping she may rewind the moment. "What?"

"I said no."

"But I saved your life. And you saved mine."

"So?"

I nudge him, muttering, "Doctor, come on."

"We're surrounded by