Mirius III was not having a good day. His long, lime-green fingers clenched and unclenched compulsively as he limped out of the dark basement into the sunlit streets of Sunis City. His partner in crime, Karkos, was wheezing heavily and rubbing the small of his back. Not only had their catch escaped them, but the little wench had wounded both of them in the process.
Mirius III rubbed his jaw and scowled. Three of his teeth would have to be replaced, and genuine human enamel wasn't coming cheap these days. Oh, he could get the knock-off brands, the alien bits of teeth – even full denture sets – that floated around the black market and convinced most suckers into buying them, believing they were genuine human enamel.
But he wouldn't have any cheap imitations. No, not for Mirius III. He might not look it, he might have had so many plastic surgeries to change his appearance in his covert agent days, but he was all human on the inside. One of these days he'd convince the Empire Intelligence Service to take him back, despite his irreversible appearance. One of these days, he'd convince them he was worth something.
For now, he just had to bide his time and make a living as best he could. That little blonde girl could've secured him a small fortune from the Duke. Enough credits that he could leave Karkos on this little dust patch and settle on some paradise planet in the Alpha Sector. He could die his skin back to pink, wear padded gloves to hide his elongated fingers, wear a wing. He could have a normal life.
If he could just find that girl again. Vile thing that she was.
Karkos was jumping up and down excitedly and pointing to something. Mirius rolled his eyes and glared at the fat little man with his fashionable pink skin and neon yellow hair. "What?" he snapped.
Karkos grinned, pointing to the surface of the alley street. "Look, Mirius! We're saved! We can find her, the little walking credit bank – look!"
Mirius's followed where Karkos was pointing, and a small grin spread across his face. When the little wench had pulled that pipe free, she must've gotten wet. The moister dripping off her had slid down her body and mixed with the dust on the street to create little muddy footprints, which the sun had so graciously dried and baked into place on the rough brick city street.
Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
"Well," he bared his teeth in anticipation. The girl wasn't a virgin anyway, not with the way she responded to his hands when she'd been dreaming. Who would tell the Duke if he had a little sample before passing on the wares? "Lead the way, Karkos."
…………………………………………………………..
Rose collapsed against the red sandstone wall, sucking in big breaths, her side cramping painfully, reminding her that for all the running away from danger she did, she could still be in better shape. "Tennis," she breathed to herself, "I should take up tennis. That lot's always in good shape. Oh, God," she moaned, sliding further down until she was sitting on her wet rump in the dust.
She was fairly certain she'd managed to put sufficient distance between herself and the Uglies. Right, okay, she could take a brief breather and then she had to find the Doctor.
How the hell was she supposed to find the Doctor?
For a moment, she felt a wave of despair and panic wash over her, but she squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a couple steadying breaths. She was Rose Tyler, Defeater of the Daleks, damn it…
'Course, mass genocide probably wouldn't buy her bragging rights in any sort of intergalactic court, Daleks or otherwise.
At first, she'd been pissed to high hell that the Doctor wouldn't tell her what happened on Satellite Five. Rose knew he was keeping something from her out of some worn-out concept of chivalry and over-protectiveness. Must shelter the poor, delicate, little flower, mustn't we?
It wasn't until she'd begun having nightmares that he told her. One more night waking her mum like she had, and Jackie Tyler would've chained Rose in her room and forbidden any further time travel. So the Doctor had taken her up to the roof, sat her down under the starlight, and told her everything that happened on Gamestation.
Everything she'd done, and everything he'd had to do to save her.
She'd been guilty about that for a while; having caused his death and regeneration. But he smiled, winked in that cheeky new manner, and told her it was worth it. Both for her life and for a final end to the Time War.
It was then, when he'd said just those words, that Rose realized exactly why he hadn't wanted to tell her what she'd done. She'd single-handedly done what an army of Time Lords couldn't accomplish, with power she was never meant to have. Power no one was meant to have, not even the Doctor.
For a fleeting moment in time, Rose Tyler had been God.
That thought still made her knees weak and her stomach heave. All that power; she could have done anything! And in the process, she could have ripped apart the universe, destroying all of creation.
She'd never be able to explain it, but she knew how close to the edge she'd been, somehow. Even if she couldn't consciously remember it, she could feel it deep within her…a little kernel of knowledge that if the Doctor hadn't pulled her back, everything would have been lost.
But that was what they did for each other, wasn't it? Her and the Doctor? They got in trouble and they saved each other.
Right. Her turn.
"Post office," she whispered to herself, the gears in her head finally beginning to turn. She had to find whatever passed for a post office around here. Tweedle Ugly and Tweedle Uglier had said that the postal transports dumped people in the desert that they thought were homeless drunks, and that's how they'd disposed of the Doctor.
What the hell kind of planet was this?
At any rate, if she could just go in, find out which transport car thingie reported finding someone on board, then she might be able to explain the situation and get someone to take her out and find the Doctor.
Rose smiled to herself. Not too shabby a plan.
………………………………………………………..
"Okay, then, I'm going to ask this one more time. And this time, I think it would be in your best interest to respond, don't you?" Neera inched the sleek muzzle of her compact laser rifle Mark V just a bit higher. It was now resting directly between the eyes of a very pale, very sweaty, and very frightened little man.
The Doctor leaned casually against the yellow brick façade of the building behind him. They were currently situated under a wide, red silk awning that stretched between two yellow buildings that were evidently warehouses of some kind.
"Madame, please," the little man squealed. "This is a place of business, not some ruffian hideout –"
"Please," Neera snarled. "I know what sort of business is run here, flesh-peddler." Without taking her eyes from the man, she pointed upwards with her free hand at the awning. "Red. Color of the week."
That piqued his curiosity. "Color of the week?" the Doctor asked.
"Yep," Neera said, still not taking her eyes off the man they were questioning. Well, the man she was questioning; he was just sort of standing there and letting her go on about it her way. She knew the locals better than he did. "You know how this city gets in the hottest season. Those silk hangings are everywhere, they shade the streets, they beautify the city. They also come in many colors."
"I'd noticed that. I'd just never realized the colors meant something other than simple decoration."
She frowned. "I thought you said you'd been here before."
"I have," the Doctor shrugged. "Just only once or twice and a very long time ago. So the red signifies, what? The pleasure districts?"
A slow, feral smile spread across Neera's face. "Pleasure districts are outlawed here, since the income they earn is not legally taxable in the Empire, and the Duke does like his tax income. But folks find a way around that, don't they, Peasely?"
The little man, Peasely, whimpered.
"They move," Neera went on, "week to week; they just pack up and leave and set up somewhere else. The black market here isn't a black market at all. It's rather multi-colored. Color coded vices for every occasion. This week, red happens to be the color for sex."
A memory of something Rose said tugged the corner of his mouth upwards. "Not mauve?"
"You don't want to know what mauve is."
"Oh," the Doctor blinked. "Quite right."
"Now, Peasely," Neera flipped the safety off on her weapon. For a moment, the Doctor debated whether or not to intervene, but a stronger part of him wanted to see how this played out; wanted to get a good judge of Neera Vasuda's character.
"Peasely," she repeated, "you and I need to have a little heart to heart. I know things about you, Peasely, about the things you do at night. The things you think no one else knows about. Things your little pure-blood city council friends would be horrified to find out."
"What," he swallowed, "what do you want?"
"Information. Where are Mirius and Karkos, and what are they up to? Did they make any new…acquisitions lately?" Neera winced as the Doctor inhaled sharply at her word choice.
"I haven't seen them."
"But you hear everything, Peasely, don't play with me."
Peasely swallowed again, seemingly having an inner debate with himself. "They're going for the big cash. Credit stacks I can't hand out, so they didn't even try me. I think they're going straight up on this one."
"The Duke, you mean," the Doctor interjected.
Neera nodded. "We figured that much. I want to know why they think they can make so much money off of her."
Peasely licked his lips and the Doctor found his stomach turning. "Have you seen her? She's perfect. Pure blood to the last drop and blonde to boot."
"The Duke's not in residence yet," Neera said, throwing a warning glance at the Doctor, who was forcing himself to stay still; to not shove this man up against the brick and strangle the seedy, leering life out of him. "Where are they holding her?"
Peasely spread his hands. "How should I know?"
Neera studied him for a long moment. Then, lightening fast, before the Doctor had time to even react, and still keeping the barrel of her weapon against his head, she kicked out viciously with her heel. Her blow landed in the middle of Peasely's knee, which snapped back with a sickening crack of bone and ligament.
The little man collapsed, but Neera dragged him back to his feet and slammed him against the brick wall. "Like I said," she continued. "In your best interest to answer me, really."
The Doctor held his breath, readying himself to intervene if Neera should go to far. For a moment, he wondered if he was a bit crazy for trusting her on instinct, but it wasn't like he'd never seen Jack violent. Not like he'd never been violent himself at times, especially when Rose was concerned.
And that thought scared him just a bit.
"Third Section," Peasely whimpered, crying. "There's a collection of hotels there, lower-end. Out of season now, so Mirius and Karkos hide out in the basements there sometimes."
"Specific address?" Neera pressed.
Peasely shook his head, sobbing now. "No, please, I don't know…honestly, I don't. If I did, I'd tell you…just please don't…oh, please…"
"Relax, you twit," she snapped. Thumbing down a secondary lever on her blaster, she pressed the trigger. Peasely collapsed into a limp heap onto the dust-covered brick street.
"No!" the Doctor yelled.
She gave him a cold look. "He's stunned, not dead. I won't say I'm not a killer, because I am. I have been before, and I'll be so again. But I do not kill with out sufficient reason, nor do I kill if there's any other way around it."
Bending over the unconscious Peasely, Neera pulled out a small round instrument with a few buttons. Pressing them down in a certain sequence, she then held the little sphere over the little man's injured knee. A swarm of tiny golden nanogenes swarmed over the flesh, then were recalled back into the sphere with the press of another button.
The Doctor nodded his approval, but his jaw was still clenched slightly. "I agreed to let you do this your way, since you have a knowledge of the underground here. And I won't deny, you get results. But I'm not sure I trust you, Neera Vasuda. You're a bit unstable."
"It's your friend's life on the line, not mine," Neera shrugged. "I agreed to help you in the first place as a courtesy. You're," she paused, aware they were no longer in the tunnels, "well, you're what you are. I'm helping you for that reason, Doctor. You don't have to trust me, but you do have to stay out of my way if you want me to find Rose for you. You're also the last one to lecture me on mental stability."
His eyes narrowed. Being challenged was something he'd never taken well, in any of his previous lives, and certainly not now. But she'd refrained from speaking 'Time Lord' out here in public where they could be overheard, she was indicating that she held some sort of respect for what he was, she'd quite possibly saved his life before (though he didn't remember much of that time), and all in all…she was agreeing to take time out of her mission and help him recover Rose.
Or was she? Was there perhaps some double purpose she was serving? Or was he merely getting paranoid in his old age?
He let his gaze soften just a tad, his jaw unclenched but not exactly smiling, either. "As long as we know where we stand."
…………………………………………………………….
Rose Tyler was not a fan of queues. She'd always made her mum go to the bank for her, and she usually made Mickey stand in line for film tickets while she wandered around the shops. Waiting was not a virtue that came naturally to her.
Or at all, really.
Apparently, automating bureaucracy made it no easier to endure. If anything, the waiting in line was worse, and you couldn't even make small talk to pass the time. Everyone was just staring around the postal office with a sort of glazed expression, and the postal worker robots were no fun to talk to. She'd tried to strike up a conversation with one after the first hour of waiting, and had gotten nowhere after the first series of beeping noises it made.
Pfft. Never thought she'd long for the Anne-droid. Least it would've come in useful right about now.
At least she wasn't naked anymore. She'd passed by another set of laundry lines, and had pulled down a length of simple red cloth that was shaped somewhat like a sari. She'd wrapped it around herself as though it was one, and had bound it to her waist with another length of fabric that she suspected was probably a scarf of some sort.
All in all, it didn't look too bad. Could almost pass for haute couture back on her Earth.
Rose let out a sigh and sank lower into her chair in the waiting area. Seriously, this was ridiculous. And she was getting sick of this; sick of being on her own. She wanted the Doctor back, and she wanted him now. After all, he was stuck out in the desert, wasn't he? Every minute could cost him precious time.
She really didn't think she was strong enough to go through another regeneration with him.
Standing up, she made her way to what she thought was likely the ladies' room. Or something approaching that, anyway.
Turned out it was a ladies' room, and as she bent over a small sink, splashing water onto her face, a woman came up and began judiciously applying very bright makeup in the long, gold-tinted mirror.
"Oh, love," said the woman. "You really should look at getting a better beautician, the dye job on your lashes is running. Here," she pressed a piece of tissue into Rose's hand and indicated the running mascara.
"Thanks," Rose murmured, swiping beneath her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" The woman asked. "You must have money to have a lovely dye job like that done on your hair. I've never seen such a convincing blonde. You know, everything you buy in shops just comes out either neon yellow, yellow-green, or that deep saffron color. Well, the saffron's rather pretty, I suppose, but not if you're trying to look authentic, you know?"
First time someone had made a comment on her hair and not made it a peroxide crack. Rose nodded.
"I got lost," she told the woman. She wasn't exactly sure why.
The woman smiled kindly. "Oh, I see. Here," she dug a bit deeper in her bag. "I have something that'll help you relax a bit."
"Oh, I'm fine, really," Rose protested. She wasn't about to go trying any alien drugs.
The woman smiled wider. "It's alright, really. Just a bit of herbal tea."
Rose straightened and fixed her makeshift sari. "No, honest, I'm great, thanks. I just needed a little breather, but I'm great now."
"I think," the woman said slowly. "That you should let me help you."
A cold chill ran down Rose's spine. "Um, I'll just be going now. I'm really not that lost, I think I know where I am now. Thank you for your help and all, but…" she made a helpless sort of gesture to the door and shrugged. "You know, men, they get impatient when you wonder off on 'em."
She forced a grin, hoping the woman would buy the lie that someone was waiting for her outside. Well, he was, she just didn't know where, so it wasn't a total lie. Rose turned to go, giving the woman one last fake smile.
"Wait, you dropped this."
Like an idiot, she turned around. And the next thing she was aware of was hitting the floor in a crumpled heap before she blacked out.
……………………………………………………………..
"Idiot," Tavreena snorted, pocketing her tube of aerosolized tranquilizer perfume.
Out of her bag, she pulled a small, thin metal cylinder and pressed a button on it. "Your Excellency, I think I found something…of interest to you. No, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, I've taken care of the other problem. I promise you, sir, the rest of the fringe will take a lesson from the other two about what happens when they're not…discreet."
…………………………………………………………….
"Well," the Doctor said softly. "This is a problem."
Neera cursed in at least six different languages. Seeing the sight laid out before him, the Doctor felt he could add a few expletives of his own. This was not pleasant. Or helpful.
He lifted up the piece of cloth hanging from the neck of his desert clothes and held it across his face. It functioned as a breathing screen during light sandstorms, and would keep away the smell of the two dead bodies as he bent over them with the sonic screwdriver.
"And these are?" he asked, afraid to know the answer.
"The men we were looking for," Neera said wearily. "Mirius III – that's the lime green fellow – and his not-so-lovely assistant Karkos."
"They're pure human," he said in surprise. "Well, you can sort of tell with Karkos, though his skin's gone a bit pink with sun poisoning. But this Mirius fellow…why would any pure blooded human go through all the trouble of altering his appearance like this, with imperial society the way it is?"
Neera sighed. "He was an undercover Imperial Intelligence agent once. Good one, too. But his surgeries were irreversible at the time, and his appearance – not to mention the enemies he made when he revealed his true loyalty – forced him to lie low in the darkest corners of the criminal world. He probably saw Rose as the meal-ticket of a lifetime. Pure walking gold to him, and enough money to buy a new body."
"And a new life," the Doctor finished. "Only, that's obviously not going to happen now. Any idea who killed them?"
Neera bent down beside him. "I recognize that style of execution. Yeah, I know who did this."
"It's the Duke's men, isn't it?" He looked at her.
She pursed her lips and stood. "The Duke's woman, actually. She's called 'Tavreena'. She's the Duke's right hand, the doer of his dirty work. Real piece of work, too…damn, she's nasty."
"Got experience with her?"
"I've seen the results of her work. This is the tamest I've ever seen"
The Doctor looked at the two bodies, or what was left of them, as he stood and pocketed the sonic screwdriver. He suppressed a shudder. If this was tame, he didn't want to think about worse.
"If you can see it this way, the good news is that in Tavreena's care – as dangerous as the murderous psychopath might be, Rose is safe. With these two, they might have tried to…well, they might have tried something. Or been violent." Neera grimaced. "Tavreena won't risk damaging anything she thinks belongs to her Duke."
"So she's safe for the moment, but we still need to reach them before they get to the palace," the Doctor nodded.
"Right."
He gritted his teeth. This was going from bad to worse. They'd tracked down the location Peasely had given them, and from there they'd tracked both Rose and her captors. Apparently, at some point, Rose had gotten away from them and run off into the city, with Mirius and Karkos on her heels.
But any evidence they'd been following had been lost once they'd hit the busy inter-city. It was just too crowded to effectively find just one person.
Rose was a strong girl, and she'd been in incredible danger before and gotten herself out of it, but this was different. There had been only one other time that Rose had been the target of danger, and it wasn't an experience he liked to remember. She'd been so truly frightened for the first time, he'd felt sure she was going to ask to go home as soon as they'd gotten back to the TARDIS.
But she hadn't. She'd stuck with him, his Rose, and now she was out there, alone, again. Probably scared off her wits, but holding it together because she hated to think she was weak.
Oh, Rose, he thought, just hang on a little bit longer. I'm coming to get you, Rose.
………………………………………………………………
TBC