Date: 2006-10-19 05:10 pm (UTC)
just_the_doctor: (Ten Smirking)
The Doctor asks the status of everyone in the ward, and (instead of being helpful) the Duke's assistant explains how she's trying to get a signal over to New New York to send a "private executive squad" to break in. No amount of pointing out how breaking quarantine would mean putting ten million people at risk makes a difference to this sniveling woman trying to save her own skin.

Which, of course, means, "I have to stop you lot as well. Suits me."

He barks orders for everyone to bring him the intravenous solutions for all the diseases. Everything that anyone is using, everything that's in cold storage on the ward. There are fewer than he'd expected, but then again, many disparate diseases share root causes. With enough (and the bile rises in his throat to think the word) research, those links could be discovered, the remedies distilled.

All of this rushes through his mind as the IV bags are strapped to him like bandoliers. He uses the sonic screwdriver to open the lift doors, reminding Cassandra that just because they aren't moving doesn't mean they aren't still working. He pops a winch free, sticks the sonic screwdriver in his mouth and takes a running leap into the shaft, grabbing hold of the cable and reattaching the winch.

"Going down!" he calls over his shoulder. "Come on!"

"Not in a million years," Cassandra replies, aghast.

The Doctor insists. "I need another pair of hands. What do you think?" Then, with a little smirk, he adds, "If you're so desperate to stay alive... why don't you live a little?"
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