“The comm is buzzing, River,” says Borusa, trying to balance her yellow head against her too tall body as she weaves toward the general direction of the blaring comm, somewhere to her other left and sitting atop a box or two of provisions.
Borusa reaches out, steadying herself with the edge of the dimensionally-packed crate. The silvery button pulses a blinding blue.
“Hi guys. Any news? For those of you who don’t know me, the name’s Harkness- Captain Harkness. Yeah, I know. Not much going on up here, except that Pond’s fallen and hurt himself, and Rassilon’s been arrested by the local authorities- something about nine-thousand counts of murder and social fraud... anything on your end? I really hope your team gets back with good news soon, because we’ve… got a situation here. Pond’s about to… oh shit he’s…”
The comm cuts out with a spark.
“Oh, you’re joking…” River says flatly, her eyes growing wide again, then narrowing as she turns her worry inward. She takes a breath, schooling her face into order. She won’t grab her chest. She won’t. “My husband can’t survive a step out the door for milk. Still…” she turns to Borusa, who is already gathering their gear, white hands digging in bags. “I hope he’s all right. The Master and the Doctor’s Flesh are far ahead of us now. They need us right now, more than his real body does, despite our desires to the contrary. Have you got everything?”