‘Brought back to life by the hazy whispers of weary engines, I sat up in a vacant cargo hold with my back against the wall. I couldn’t even fathom what charred madness lay back across the troubled stars, nor did I try to. My thoughts blurred out the name of my ruined home world and for a short time, I forgot who I was. If I could forget that, then maybe the universe could too. I soon realised that hope tends to attract grief, and my memories reformed. I could never forget. Never. I was a Time Lord, and if any of my people remained then it meant that I was a deserter. A renegade. And then I thought about it more, and it dawned on me that if anyone survived then it would be that they were deserters too. We weren’t watchers anymore; we weren’t guardians or intergalactic viziers. We were just.