Chapter 7
Glad watched the Doctor, his face etched with concern. Finally she asked, "Where are we going?"
"The Seven Cities of the Great Meridian Conglomeration. Well, I say cities. It's more like the seven planets of the Great Meridian Conglomeration as each city covers the surface of each of the seven planets in the mother system, though there are several distant planets under their rule. One of the cities there has a drug that will help Sam. Problem is that it can be a very dangerous thing if you aren't careful with the dosage."
Glad wasn't exactly sure what a dosage was but she didn't like the idea it could be dangerous. Still, if it could help Sam, she was all for it. "Seven Cities sounds interesting."
The Doctor grinned at her words. "Oh, they are. You'll love them. A Mecca of different species all gathered in them, each city having their own specialty, including pharmacopoeia. If there is any place in the universe that would have something to help Sam, it's the Seven Cities."
"How soon until we get there?"
He looked up at the time rotor for a moment. "Half an hour. Not soon enough, in my opinion. Enough time for you to get cleaned up, though."
She sighed. "Fine. There's not much to do when we're flying through the vortex anyway." Thirty minutes later, she returned to the console room, clean and changed into a new outfit, which she pilfered from the wardrobe. The Doctor looked at it appraisingly before giving a nod of approval. At the same time, the TARDIS shook, indicating that they had arrived at their destination.
"Now, a few rules while we're in the city," the Gallifreyan told her as they stepped out. "One, stay where I can see you. B, stay away from the sweet shops. Three, don't wander off. Actually, that's rule number one. Oh, and don't get into trouble."
"I'm not that bad," she tried to claim.
"You had three days worth of sweets since you came aboard the TARDIS," he replied bluntly. "Not even I have that much and I'm considered a fanatic!"
"Yeah, but this is all new to me."
"Yes, and you have a lot of time to be able to try everything! It's not like you're going back to Camelot tomorrow!" He paused with concern at the thought. "Unless you want me to take you home."
She shook her head solemnly. "No. I want to stay with you."
The Time Lord beamed at her words. "Molto bene! Come on, then. Need to pick up Sam's meds and then, while we let him rest, we can go exploring for a bit."
She smiled. "So what are we waiting for?" She rushed forward ahead of him.
"Stay here in the market!" he emphasized, walking quickly behind her. As he approached one of the apothecaries in the city, he took several quick steps to stop her enthusiastic sightseeing. Pointing out where he would be, he told her, "Let me know before you go to another street."
"I will. Geez, you treat me like I was an infant. I have been in markets before."
Smiling in amusement of her answer, he walked into the apothecary, making sure he had a clear view of the market through the window before he approached the counter.
"May I help you, sir?" the druggist asked.
"Yes. I am in need of a full treatment for Zante's Bronchial Influenza, preferably in powder form."
"What do you want with that?"
"I need a preventative for ZBI."
"That medicine has such nasty side effects. The treatment for Ethirian Bronchitis works much the same but works in a much gentler fashion. Perhaps you like that instead?"
"The medicine for Ethirian Bronchitis isn't as effective," the Doctor countered, not wanting to worry the pharmacist by saying the actual reason he needed the stronger medicine. Sam was to all effects at ground zero and he'd need the strongest available drug to counteract the pathogen's effects. "Besides, I'll be heading to the Sol System soon."
"Okay... I guess you'd need that. I understand, ZBI is a huge issue in the Sol System. Fortunately, it's expected to lose its virulence long before it reaches here, thank Volma. However, that medicine is not available to just anyone."
"Need a prescription? Okay." The Time Lord pulled out his psychic paper and showed it to him. "There you are. A prescription for the medicine I require."
The man looked at the paper and rolled his eyes. "A blank sheet of paper? I don't have time for this, sir."
The Doctor rubbed his face in frustration. It was just his luck that the psychic paper did not work on the man. Added to that, his impression that ZBI just wasn't considered a danger on this planet... despite the fact that it was running rampant on Earth... brought the Time Lord to his wit's end. Of course, it had to be his luck that he would land in Gwant City one week before the drug was introduced to the general population. "Listen... just listen," he told the pharmacist. "I know it isn't available to the public yet. All I want is enough to last four weeks. I'm not asking for your entire supply!"
"I could lose my license!"
"I'm not going to tell anyone!" the Doctor countered. He exhaled loudly. "All right. All right. How much would it cost for you to... insure you keep your license?"
"4500 krekkers."
"4500?!"
"Well, if you don't want the drug..."
The Time Lord sighed. "All right." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a card, handing it over to him. "Take it off that."
"You've got a Platerinian Card? You don't look the type."
"Yeah, well... I get around. Could you shift a bit?"
"What's your hurry?"
"Don't want to miss my flight."
The druggist nodded. "Fine. Give me ten minutes and it'll be ready."
The Doctor just gave a nod, taking a few steps away from the counter to let the pharmacist do his work. Looking around the shop, he noticed several more unusual remedies, causing him to grin slightly with amusement. Turning his head towards the street side window, he sighed. "Teenagers. They just don't listen," he grumbled to himself, noting that he couldn't see Glad through the window. "Tell them to stay in sight? They wander off." He marched out of the apothecary and crossed the street. Stepping into the shop Glad had gone into, he looked around. "No no no. This isn't good." Going back outside, he looked up and down the street, hoping to catch sight of the girl. He was about to choose a direction to go when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw the pharmacist standing before him, a metal container in one hand and the Doctor's card in the other. The Gallifreyan took the items from him, tucking them in his jacket. "You didn't happen to see a young girl through the window while we were talking, did you?"
"Young girl? Um... no. I don't think so."
A sigh escaped the Doctor's lips. "Thanks," he murmured. Turning around again, he picked a direction and started walking, keeping his eyes open.
Ten minutes into his search, he realized that this was going to take far longer than he originally thought. Torn between the need to find Glad and the need to treat Sam, he decided to return to the TARDIS. He hoped that the girl had gotten bored and returned there herself ahead of him but he seriously doubted it. His suspicions were confirmed as he approached the timeship. She didn't have a TARDIS key in her possession yet, which meant she would have had to wait for the Doctor to unlock the ship. Pulling out his key, he looked around again before going in. He bypassed the console room completely, intent on getting to Sam as quickly as possible.
Walking into Rose's room, he approached the bed, pulling the metal container from his pocket. Reaching over, he touched Sam's forehead, inadvertently waking him. He gave him a soft smile. "Hey."
Sam's eyes fluttered open. He wasn't at all sure where he was. Things seemed incredibly foggy and surreal. He could see a man bending over him. "Dad? Tom? Al?" he asked, unsure who was there.
"None of the above," the Doctor answered him, taking out the metal container from his pocket. Reaching into another pocket, he pulled out a plastic cup and placed it on the side table before opening the tin and taking a pinch of power from it. Dropping the powder into the plastic cup, he took the water bottle and started to fill the cup.
"Who are you? Why am I here?" Sam tried to pull himself up but found that he didn't have the strength to move much. The part of his brain that was medically trained registered that he was ill. From the way he felt, he knew it was bad. "What do I have?" he asked, although he wasn't sure anything this man said would make much sense to him under the conditions.
The Doctor exhaled slowly, wondering why it was that Sam couldn't seem to remember the simplest of things, an oddity considering he had an eidetic memory. "Zante's Bronchial Influenza," he told him as he finished mixing the dose. He studied the thickness of the solution before nodding slightly. "Can you sit up?"
Sam tried once more to pull himself up but again found himself too weak. "No," he answered simply. He looked at the ochre-colored concoction in the cup. "What's that and who are you?"
"This is your medicine and I am the Doctor." The Gallifreyan put the cup on the side table to help Sam up. "It will help you fight that fever you have."
"Fever. Yeah. I've got a fever," Sam agreed. He realized that he probably sounded like he was babbling - which, in fact, he was. The man had said he was a doctor. The room didn't look like a hospital, though. It looked more like a bedroom. A girl's bedroom. Maybe he was in someone's home. It didn't matter, though. As sick as he was, he just needed medical attention. He allowed the man to help him sit up, lying heavily back on the pillows.
"Yes, you do," the Doctor agreed. Picking up the cup again, he lifted it to Sam's lips. "Drink," he ordered. "I can't stay. Glad's wandered off. Have to find her before she gets into trouble. What is it with you lot and the need to wander?"
Sam drank the liquid in the cup. It tasted horrid, but knowing pharmaceutical mixtures often did, he just swallowed. He couldn't help make a face at the foul taste. "That's awful," he grimaced. What the Doctor had said grazed his mind. "Glad?"
"Galadriel Thatcher, the girl from King Arthur's Court whom I brought aboard the TARDIS," the Gallifreyan reminded. Retrieving the cup, he put it to the side as he stood.
Sam looked at this Doctor, sure he'd lost his mind at the explanation. "Sorry. I must be having hallucinations. It sounded like you said she was from King Arthur's Court." He didn't even have a clue was a TARDIS would be.
"You are not hallucinating this time, Sam," the Time Lord replied. "Lie back down."
Sam felt like he was heading down Alice's proverbial rabbit hole. As he thought that thought, a nagging idea took hold that he should know something about that particular story but couldn't put his finger on what. He was too tired to think about it much, not that his synapses were cooperating at all. Going with the literary theme of what seemed to him to be a bizarre conversation at the least, he responded, "Well, if you meet Robin Hood, maybe he'll help you find her." Sam closed his eyes and turned over on his side. He allowed sleep to take him. Maybe when he woke up again, things would make more sense.
The Doctor watched Sam close his eyes and, satisfied that the time traveler would be asleep for several hours thanks to the medicine he'd drunk, headed out of the room. "Can't have Robin of Loxley help. He's still in 14th century," he muttered as he left.
The sun had gone down as he had tended to Sam. Retrieving a flashlight on the way back out of the TARDIS, the Doctor took a deep breath. Figuring that the best place to start was where he last saw Glad, he returned to the market. Going up to the kiosk he had seen the girl browsing around, he waited impatiently while the vendor tended a patron before gaining his attention. "Excuse me. I'm wondering if you noticed a girl here less than an hour ago. About a meter and a half tall, blue eyes, long brown hair..."
The man huffed slightly. "Yeah. She was looking at this music box." He pulled a damaged good from under his counter. "I found it at the back of my patch, broken. She probably left after that. Do you know how many krekkers I lose from youngsters doing that?"
"I seriously doubt that she just broke that music box and ran off. That really doesn't sound like her." The Doctor looked down the street for a moment. "You didn't see where she went?"
The merchant shook his head. "No. I was waiting on someone at the time. So, what am I going to do about this, huh? Regardless of your belief, I'm out 400 krekkers. That's just wrong."
"Not my problem," the Time Lord told him starting away from the kiosk.
"Sure. Your kid and you don't even take care of her messes. Great father you are," the merchant responded.
"She's not my daughter." He frowned for a moment. "Let me see that for a moment." Seeing the merchant hesitate, he looked at him with a single raised eyebrow. "What do you think I'm going to do? Steal a broken music box?"
The merchant's eyebrows rose at the statement that he wasn't her father. "You want to see it? You need to pay for it. I don't know what your game is but I'm sure it's not what it seems."
"I'm just looking for my friend!" the Doctor protested. Watching the merchant cross his arms stubbornly, he groused, "Fine." Searching his pockets, he pulled out his Platerinian Card for the second time that day.
The merchant took the card, ran it and then handed the broken item to the man who'd just bought it along with the card. "Hope you find the girl."
"Oh, now that you've got your 400 krekkers, you're concerned about her," the Gallifreyan commented sarcastically. "Thank you very much." He snatched the broken box from the vendor's hands, tucking his credit card back in his jacket pocket. Looking at the box carefully, he hummed before pulling out a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and slipping them over his eyes. "I don't see anything... She was definitely holding it, though." He sniffed it experimentally. "Odd scent." He turned to the merchant again. "You don't keep any cleaning fluids near your goods, do you?"
"No. That wouldn't help sell them, now would it?" answered the merchant with a bit of attitude in his voice.
"Smell that," the Doctor ordered, pushing the box towards him. "Go on. What does that smell like to you?"
The man scrunched up his nose. "Smells like phenix acid to me."
"Phenix acid!" exclaimed the Doctor loudly. His face scrunched a moment later. "What's phenix acid?"
"It's a product that some people use for cleaning stuff, but it's not really very popular. You breathe in too much, it knocks you out."
"Knocks you out... Yes! Like ammonia! No... Wait a minute. Wrong chemical for humans. Ammonia only knocks out Clomians. Should have had some on hand with that Absorbaloff. Wait... getting distracted... humans... more like chloroform." He put the music box under the merchant's nose again, speaking rapidly. "And I bet this wood is extremely absorbent to airborne particles, which is why you keep it isolated from harsh chemicals. That means that this box has been around phenix acid very recently." He dropped the broken music box on the ground. "Which means someone knocked her out with phenix acid while she was holding the music box. Someone took her." He frowned. "But why would anyone take Glad? She's never been here before. She doesn't know anyone here."
The merchant looked on as the wild-eyed man in front of him broke the box further. "Umm. Right." He looked around, apparently embarrassed by the activities. "You might want to move off my patch. After all, you know she's not here."
The Doctor didn't seem to be listening to him, staring blankly for a long moment. "Why do you take a young girl by force?" he murmured. "Why do you take anyone in the Seven Cities?" Suddenly, as if he had decided on the spur of the moment, he turned and quickly left the shop.
The merchant, who had appeared relieved when the Doctor had left the premises, was preparing to clean up the mess at his feet. He sighed heavily with annoyance when the Time Lord walked back to his space. He watched the Doctor pick up the broken music box and leave again with a brief apology. The shopkeeper merely nodded, obviously relieved.
"Think," the Doctor ordered himself as he walked, not really focused on a destination. A small smile crept onto his face and he increased his pace, his eyes shining with determination. It took over an hour and several turns in the streets for him to find his destination. Striding through the front doors of the warehouse as if he owned the building, he marched across the floor, avoiding boxes with ease, before coming to a flight of metallic stairs going downwards. Taking the stairs quickly, he went down two flights and through a hidden door, slamming the door behind him and causing the object of his journey to jump out of a cot and onto the floor, clearly startled by the sudden interruption in his sleep pattern.
"What the hell?" complained the tall, wiry red-haired man with freckles that numbered like the Milky Way.
"Pelz, I need your help."
