One Last Chance |6| The Ascension

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Time Heist

"The Satanic Nebula," McKenzie suggested, watching Clara's goldfish swim about in its bowl in her kitchen. "Or the lagoon of lost stars. Or Brighton. We could do anything."

"Sorry, but as you can see, I've got plans," Clara said, stepping out of her bedroom to reveal she was dressed in a fancy black suit with stiletto heels.

"Stunning," Wanda told her, grinning.

"Plans?" the Doctor echoed, frowning. "Have you?"

"Look at me," Clara told him, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, okay."

"No, no, no, no, look at me." She flicked her hair demonstratively.

"Yep, looking."

She blinked. "Seriously?"

"Why is your face all coloured in?" he asked curiously, making her roll her eyes.

McKenzie raised an eyebrow at Wanda as she passed. "Are you taller?"

"Heels," she pointed out, grabbing her jacket from the back of the door.

"What, do you have to reach a high shelf?" the Doctor asked.

Wanda ignored him, turning to Clara. "Ready?"

"Yes, got to go," Clara nodded, checking the time on her phone. "We're going to be late."

The Doctor frowned. "For a shelf?"

"Bye," Clara told him pointedly.

The TARDIS phone started to ring, and as the Doctor and McKenzie turned to it in surprise, Wanda smiled. "There, you see. You've got another playmate."

"Hardly anyone in the universe has that number," the Doctor said cautiously.

"Well, I've got it," Clara pointed out.

"Yes, from some woman in a shop," McKenzie reminded her. "We still don't know who that was."

Clara hesitated. "Is that her now?"

"There are very few people that it could be," McKenzie said. She zipped across the room, opening the phone compartment in the door.

"Don't!" Wanda exclaimed before she could pick it up.

"Why not?" the Doctor asked.

"Because if you answer it, something will happen."

"Like what?" McKenzie scoffed.

"A thing," Wanda said, sheepish.

McKenzie rolled her eyes fondly. "It's just a phone, Wands. Nothing happens when you answer the phone." She picked up the receiver.

***

The next thing she knew, she was sitting in a small room, holding a memory worm to her ear. She screamed, throwing it onto the table in front of her reflexively, then realised there seven other people in the room, all doing the same thing. "Piet? Zoë?"

They both looked up, stunned. "Mum?" Zoë realised. "Dad? What the hell's going on?"

"How did we get here?" Pietro asked, frowning. "And, you know, where are we?" His eyes landed on Clara, then on the other two people he didn't recognise. "And who are you?"

"Who are you?" the man shot back, fiddling with a computer chip in the side of his head. "Sorry, what's going on? I don't understand."

"What is that thing?" the woman asked, her cheeks bulging momentarily in imitation of the worm.