 Doctor! I've had only three! What? Where am I? Unit HQ. You're supposed to be creating something to cancel out the auton signal. Am I? Yes, and you may want to hurry. They're banging on our door as we speak. Re-bolter-fire! Please tell me you have some semblance of a plan. I have a beginning. The middle's a tad fuzzy. And the end's no to be seen. Oh, the usual then. Yes, perhaps. Oh, it's so exhilarating to be back. Back? Back from where? I'll explain after we don't die, if that's quite all right. Ah! Out of the way, Lethbridge. Let's let the expert do his job. I was. Hush now, Lethbridge. I need to concentrate. I have a split second once that door opens to find the right frequency. Can you not find it now? There's only a wooden door between you and it. The sonic screwdriver in its current state is a tricky term with wood. But don't worry, I'm sure my future selves will handle it. Great balls of fire! That's no, Orton. Brigadier. Well, apart from dead, what is it then? Well, as unit scientific advisor, let me check. It's an ood. Oh, well. Excuse me for being space racist. I didn't know what an ood was. Well, now you do. Make a note of it in the archive. Hello, John. Sorry for the lack of an Orton. I thought using the ood would be funnier. Your creator, Jack. Kiss. Kiss. What the devil does that mean? Er, you wouldn't understand. It's the time-load thing. Say no more, Doctor. I want nothing to do with your time-load tomfoolery. Hey, Lethbridge. Remind me. Is my TARDIS parked? Well, it's always parked, but we have valuable unit spaces per the usual. Bugger. Well, it was nice talking to you, Lethbridge. Tata. Good bloody riddance. Now, time to burn that glorified shit whilst I have the chance. The sun has lasted. Time to get back to eternal imprisonment, I guess.