Now: screaming courtesans and aristocrats and hangers-on run through the corridors of the palace at Versailles, hounded by tick-tock warriors. Reinette shouts -- not a name, but the opposite of a name, a title, a physical representation of a spiritual object -- into the fire:. "Doctor!" Louis, who loved her so dearly, who kept her as a favorite long after her body was broken, begs her to come away: "No one is coming to help us." (The fact that Reinette can't ever believe this, the fact that her belief in the Doctor makes her strong and weak, qualifies her for Companionship in the Big Book, in my opinion.) An automaton appears in the doorway, and she turns to it, remembering the terror in her childhood. Two more join it: "You are complete. You will come." Clockworks press the guests against a ballroom wall.
The Doctor works frantically at the time window; Rose and Mickey join him: "You found it, then?" He shivers: "They knew I was coming. They blocked it off." Time And Relative Dimension In Space isn't just a river in Egypt -- nor is it a title that belongs only to one vessel. We are the same. The spaceship that is also a girl accesses a multitude of points in time -- if not all of them, like our girl, still more than your average Honda Civic -- by assembling them into a discrete space. If the TARDIS is an aleph, then the spaceship that is also a girl is half that. Half of infinity. The spaceship that is also a girl is also a prison, and a chariot, and a heart, and a memory. The spaceship that is also a girl describes Time And Relative Dimension In Space almost better than the TARDIS herself, sweet old angel girl that she is.
A clockwork leads Reinette roughly down the hall, two more following with Louis in their arms, explaining robotically that "the teleport has limited range. We must have proximity to the time portal." Makes sense to us, but Reinette's in the business of naming and unnaming: "Your words mean nothing. You are nothing." That's how you know she's going to be okay: it's not just sass and it's not just courtly shit-talking. She's made the call.