Everything was burning.
The enemy had increased their assault on the planet’s surface. Men, Women and children ran for cover under the unrelenting bombardment. The continued onslaught intensifying, the people knew they were on the verge of oblivion and hope was clearly lost. The end was surely coming. The moment they had never been prepared for.
The citadel spires exploded, crumbled and fell from the ferocious fire power of their greatest foe. Many lay dead, scattered in the wreckage. The soldiers on the ground helped the wounded. Some fired back at the deadly enemy targets. Some stood their ground until they met their fate whilst others, broken by what they saw, ran for their lives but to no avail.
Surely this was it. The planet braced.
Around the brittle and dying planet salvation was at hand. Many tiny blue boxes spun faster and faster as they hurtled through the atmosphere. Weaving in and out of enemy motherships, gaining momentum. In their wake, trails of light grew brighter with incessant energy. The reverberation of the energy harmonised like a joyful hum. The once burning orange sky was slowly turning a brilliant blinding white.
Suddenly the world fell silent. The offensive had stopped. Their understanding shrouded, the survivors stood amongst the ruin, smoke and fiery embers, raising their hands to shadow the light as they looked on in awe. Time froze for a moment as the planet breathed another breath once more.
That was the moment.
They knew not how it came to pass nor how one of their own had managed the impossible and saved them once more; the one they once exiled, thought assassin; the one whom they once put on trial, and once called President. He was the one with a choice; the oncoming storm; the one with a plan spanning millennia.
The bringer of light and the bringer of hope.
The Sainted Physician,
his name is but hidden:
To rescue from space
His own ancient race
Held by promise that he once swore
Never cowardly or cruel.
In this his final renewal..
He must go and face Trenzalore.
J. ARTHUR RODGERS