Six decades later, on Pacifica

*Josh! Where are you? They're waiting for us!*

*Here I am, love! Just getting changed.* "But they're not waiting for us, they're waiting for the moon, which will make its appearance as scheduled whether we're there or not."

Romana snorted at her bondmate in good-natured exasperation, then took his arm and strolled with him up the street towards the old common. The soft Pacifica twilight was luminous from the hundreds of old-fashioned candles slowly converging on the green, their flickering yellow glow competing with – and losing to – the cool white beams of two of the planet's three moons high overhead. The third, with the farthest and longest orbit, was still hovering just below the horizon to the north, waiting for the stage to be perfect before making its grand monthly entrance. All three moons were full overhead only four nights each year, marking the seasonal changes – and providing the new, festival-prone inhabitants of the planet with a built-in excuse for yet another series of celebrations.

"I spoke with Donna today," Romana remarked. "Guess what she's doing? All those wild rumors and falsehoods about the founding of Pacifica finally got to her, and she's writing a booklet to tell her side and put them to rest. She said to tell you to be sure and read the dedication, that you'd get a kick out of it."

Joshua laughed, rubbing his cheek with his free hand, but he didn't bother explaining himself, as they were coming now into the common. They joined the line to view the new tapestry on display under the protective roof of the pavilion, the third in the series being created by a dedicated group of village craftspeople to tell the story of the Last Time War, passing on to future generations the cautionary tale as envisioned by the mass jury six decades before. Made of materials from every imaginable source, including varigoat wool from Gallifrey, hemp from Earth, a sea plant from SenSaru'a, and a fibrous vine native to Pacifica, the tapestries were a microcosm of the planet's population and a short history of its settlement, as well.

As was the population of the town of Silverleaf Bay: a mixture of all three parent species, and the blended children thereof, all thanks to cordonase. The catalyst had indeed proven implantable, and had even, with some genetic jiggery-pokery, proved the solution to the SenSaru bottleneck, as well. Silverleaf Bay, while not the capital city of the colony planet, was in very many ways its heart. The former Gallifreyan colonial village had been renamed in honor of its many towering corin trees, the only ones on the planet, a decade previously.

The third moon finally made its appearance, and the citizens of the town added their voices to the ceremonial songs following its rays across the hemisphere. The songs cycled through the welcomes to the moon and the seasons, the new lives recently added, and the farewells to those no longer with them in the flesh – though never forgotten. Joshua and Romana, during the pause for remembrance of names and faces, shared a deep, communal pang of loss for Corin and Lady Rose, who had died together some time before, shortly after their sixty-third wedding anniversary; she after a long, brutal battle with cancer, and he as a suicide on finding she'd passed in the middle of the night. They were found together the following morning, curled in bed as they'd slept each night for so many wonderful, fantastic decades.

The main celebration over, many of the citizens began drifting homeward, while others remained, respectfully drawing back from the extended clan gathering around one particular person on one side of the common. Lady Tis'hania stood silently, basking in the moonglow, until at last she was approached by a young couple carrying a newborn infant. She smiled beatifically at the parents as she took the child, her great-great-great granddaughter, and held her so that she could look into her baby-pale lilac eyes. Tis'hania's voice then spread through the common, both aloud and through the still-strong telepathic network.

"Child of Pacifica – Child of my People:

"I give you your first name, Callista Det'Sari. May you bear it in honor, until the day you find your own.

"I give you your Self, which you will never lose, no matter where the winds of time and trouble blow you.

"I give you laughter, and I give you tears, for both are required for a life well and truly lived.

"I give you fire and ice, earth and air, that you may know balance when you find it.

"I give you the love of beauty, of justice, and of mercy, that you may strive always to show them to those around you.

"I give you the wisdom of your elders, and the wonder of youth, that you may joyfully seek knowledge all your days.

"I give you the dreams of the past, and the hopes of the future, that you may use the one to fulfill the other.

"I give you love and respect, that you may offer them always to whomever you may meet.

"I give you life, the most precious gift of all.

"I give you your home planet, Pacifica, and her three moons, to remind you always of your rich multiple heritage: Gallifrey, Earth, and SenSaru'a. May their histories sustain you, providing the backdrop to a rich life, well and truly lived.

"And finally, Child of Pacifica, Child of my People, I give you the skies, the only thing greater than yourself." And she lifted the baby up, facing the heavens, holding her there for a long moment. The moons shone their gentle light upon her, and the heavens danced.