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[img]https://doctorwhoworlduk.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/galltcb.jpg[/img]

[sub][i]"You weren't there in the final days of the War. You never saw what was born. But if the time lock's broken, then everything's coming through. Not just the Daleks, but the Skaro Degradations, the Horde of Travesties, the Nightmare Child, the Could-have-been King with his army of Meanwhiles and Never-weres. The War turned into hell. And that's what you've opened, right above the Earth. Hell is descending!"[/i][/sub][/center]
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[b]Location:[/b] Arcadia, Gallifrey's Second City.

Gretho found himself staring into the burning horizon more often as of late, that or the sky above. And who could blame him? If one expanded their senses just the tiniest bit further then they'd be able to smell the acrid scent of laser fire as it ignited the surrounding molecules, hear the keening whine and worbbling thud as said energy was scattered harmlessly by the transduction barrier, and even see the bolts themselves as they blazed forth from the orbiting Dalek command ships. Millions of them, perhaps more, all lined up in a perfect planetary blockade. All drowning his beloved home in an endless barrage of laser fire, the least of which would have-and on many an occasion had-destroyed any lesser world. But Gallifrey was no measely rock despite what their enemies might claim.

It had stood as the seat of their power, nay, the very centerpoint of history itself for over ten million years. It had been through hells far worse than this and survived, just as he and his people had, and Gretho had no doubt it would survive their newest foe as well. He was sure of it. And yet, whenever he caught a glimpse of the burnt orange sky and the ever-shifting outlines of the Sky Trenches that encircled it, he couldn't help but feel just the least bit nervous. Judging from the absolute silence aboard his ship, both mentally and verbally, the exact same could be said of his crew. Even INTRA, the Endeavor's otherwise calm, collected, and chatty artificial intelligence had joined in the anxious silence - only chiming in every now and then to give updates about changes to their route as they were passed down from High Command.

Updates that were, as one might expect, greeted with a series of terse nods and little else.

"Do you think the Daleks will manage to make it through?" Maz, his first mate, said at last.

Gretho sighed-thankful that some of the tension filled silence had finally been lifted-and shook his head.

"To be completely honest with you Maz, I don't know. The barriers held when they threw the Thousand Worlds at us, and they have held every time some upstart has tried to assault us in the past, but..."

He glanced back at the sky unfurling beyond the cockpit window. It hadn't changed.

"We've only just started to recover from the War-"

Maz's eye twitched and Gretho couldn't blame him. He suspected the other members of his crew all had similar reactions, himself included if the adrenaline flooding his veins was any indication. It was a rather... [i]sensitive[/i] subject for everyone on-board aside from INTRA, albeit not through any fault of her own. Bowships had only been time-scooped recently for the sake of this new conflict after all, so AI like her were mercifully spared from having to deal with the psychological ramifications of the War's worst horrors, unlike the rest of them.

Nevertheless, he continued.

"As a result, we are weak, frighteningly so. Were we not, the Daleks would never have advanced as far as they did."

"Still," Maz began, crossing his arms as he turned to stare out the window. "The barriers continue to hold."

"They do. But the fact that our enemy has managed to get this far is, in and of itself, completely unacceptable."

Maz bit his lower lip but said nothing. Gretho pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eyes shut, and exhaled sharply. Sometimes he forgot that he was the oldest one here, INTRA notwithstanding, even if he currently wore the youngest face out of the six of them, and that made it easy for him to be a bit of a cynic at times.

"But yes," said Gretho, returning his attention to the empty stretch of sky before them. "The barriers hold."

Silence reigned for a time, until it was abruptly broken by the ear-splitting scream of a shipboard siren. Several things happened at once after that. INTRA patched through a communication from Arcadia itself, a recall of all units to the city as the barriers and Sky Trenches had failed and Daleks had breached their defenses. This was followed shortly by a hurried telepathic conversation amongst the Endeavor's crew.

[i]'They made it past the Sky Trenches? How?!'[/i]

[i]'Does it matter? We need to get back to Arcadia now!'[/i]

[i]'Get back? Are you insane? If the Daleks could breach both the transduction barrier and Sky Trenches, what makes you think we can stop them? We need to lea-'[/i]

[i]'That's enough,'[/i] Maz thought, silencing the rapidly worsening din. [i]'We will do as our captain commands and nothing less. See to it that you don't stray so close to desertion again Zevo.'[/i]

Turning, he addressed his commanding officer.

"Your orders sir?"

Gretho's eyes narrowed as he took hold of the controls.

"Prepare for combat. Arcadia will not fall."

Swinging the Endeavor around he made a beeline for the city, doing his best to temper his nerves as untold billions of Daleks and accompanying attack ships descended from on high, plowing through the ceaseless hail of staser-fire in order to assault the silver settlement below. In the distance he could see other squadrons of Bowships moving to engage the Daleks just as the twin suns Gnol and Pogar dipped beneath the horizon, their stasers lancing through the encroaching darkness in the form of cherry-colored beams. Pushing the ship's drive to its maximum, Gretho and his crew began their deadly dance with the enemy.