"Nothing can change my mind," Hunter says, a note of finality in his tone. "I've got to get down there."
"Hunter? Hello!" the Doctor's voice says cheerily, and all three of the humans jump.
The man in question turns to the computer screen in anticipation. "Where's Annie?" he asks, terrified.
The Doctor's image rolls his eyes with a slight smirk, and he reaches out to his right. "She's fine. Look, here she is." He pulls Annalise into view, and she beams, a bright, foreign confidence radiating from her that nearly knocks Hunter off his feet. The sight of her brings a flutter to his heart. "Oh, thank God," he breathes.
Her smile softens into one that reminds him of their best-friendship so many years ago: soft, kind, and unsure. "Keeping you on your toes," she quips. Something beautiful and familiar twinkles behind her brilliant blues.
"Okay, no time for chat," the Doctor adds, and she holds up a hand. She opens and closes her fingers several times as the Doctor speaks, playfully miming a motormouth. By the repressed half-grin on the Doctor's face, Hunter can tell he sees it happening. "Listen," he tells Hunter, "you lot need to get down here. Go to the drill storeroom. There's a large patch of earth in the middle of it. The Silurians are going to send up transport discs to bring you back down using geothermal energy and gravity bubble technology. It's how they travel, and frankly, it's pretty cool." He pauses, raising his eyebrows at Annalise, who nods in agreement. "Bring Alaya," he continues. "If we hand her over, we may be able to land this after all. It's all going to work. Promise. Gotta dash. Hurry up!"
The transmission ends, and Hunter is left staring at the blank screen in fright. Tony shakes his head. "The moment we go down there, everything will fall apart," he says despairingly. Ambrose tenses.
"We have to return her," says Hunter. "They deserve that much at least."
YOU ARE READING
The Time of Change
FanfictionThere are some people who seem destined for greatness. There are others who seem stuck on the path of failure. For most of her life, Annalise Song felt as if she was the unhappy median between the two: bound to be nothing more than mediocre and soli...
