Onboard the Silver Carrier, the Doctor and Jamie are eating square blocks of food from a dispenser.
“Doctor, what do you think Victoria’s doing now?”
“Now? Well, she’s dead Jamie.”
“Yes, of course. We left her in the late-twentieth century. Looking at this technology, we must be at least a couple of hundred years on from then. So unless she somehow managed to live to be more than 200 years old, she’ll have aged and died a long time ago. Right now she’s probably just a brittle skeleton lying in a coffin, the flesh long since having bloated and peeled away and rotted and been consumed by bacteria and maggots and weavils and worms and stuff. Unless they burned her up in a big fire. In which case she’s probably scattered around somewhere in tiny fragments or sitting in a vase.”