She felt the TARDIS materialize and set down with a slight thump just as she emerged from her room.
The Doctor stood by the front door, twirling his umbrella. “Let’s see what there is to see, shall we?”
Ace slipped on her black jacket, slung her battered rucksack over her shoulder, and followed the Doctor out into what seemed to be the best-outfitted laboratory she’d ever seen.
“Wicked,” she whispered. The building was an old church, and sunlight through the myriad stained-glass windows shone down on a room full of gleaming white lab tables, computers, and delicate glass experimental setups. A half-dozen university-aged researchers in white lab coats were staring openmouthed at The Doctor, Ace, and the TARDIS.
“Wicked indeed,” said the Doctor, then muttered, darkly: “I sense that something’s very wrong here.”
“What, them?” Ace asked, nodding toward the lab workers. “They look all right to me.”
“No, not them, silly.” He waved the crooked, question-mark-shaped end of his umbrella at the others and called, “Hello there! Sorry to drop in like this! Please, don’t mind us. Carry on, carry on.”
An auburn-haired woman in a white lab coat stood up from behind a computer and smiled. “You must be The Doctor.”
He doffed his hat and took a bow. “Indeed I am, in the flesh, as it were. And you are?”
“I’m Dr. Elizabeth Holub. I’m the principal investigator for this lab. You knew my grandmother, Elizabeth Shaw. She once told me that should anything go seriously wrong, something beyond anything I’d seen before, I should contact you. I apologize if my doing so was presumptuous, but...I’ve simply run out of ideas.”
“What’s happening here?” The Doctor asked, gesturing at the activity in the massive lab.
“The main goal here is to develop a new type of cold fusion, much colder and cheaper than the type they worked out at UCLA a few years ago. Regular people can’t afford petrol or even firewood any more—you undoubtedly know of the bloodshed caused by the petrol riots that have been going on for some time now. The new hydrogen cells have been fiddly and are still quite expensive. People need better options for generating electricity for their households.”
“Indeed,” The Doctor replied. “A most admirable goal. How’s it been going?”
“Six months ago we achieved stable fusion at 100˚C—no hotter than boiling water. When the process goes beyond those parameters it simply fails with an exceedingly low chance of explosion. We sent the process out to select labs for further experiments and confirmation, and so far they’ve all reported that our technique works wonderfully for them.
“The problem,” Elizabeth continued, “is that over the past month it’s gradually stopped working for us, and it hasn’t worked at all the past two weeks. I thought perhaps the computer controlling the mix and reaction was malfunctioning, or there was a variable we hadn’t accounted for. But then some very peculiar things started happening in the city.”
“What sort of peculiar things?” the Doctor asked.
“Old, standard batteries have stopped working properly,” Elizabeth replied. “For instance, the lithium motherboard batteries in our computers either failed or started producing too much current; we had to pull them all to keep our computers from frying. The lab’s power is supplied by our own hydrogen fuel cell, of course, since the city plant is unreliable at best. But after the battery incident we added a new power supply monitor, and it had to filter out some truly strange power fluctuations from our cell. I did some checking, and it seems that every few days—right around dawn—there’s a tremendous power drain all over the city. And it’s getting worse. At least here we have backup power sources, but I find it quite worrisome, thinking of all those people out there with pacemakers and mechanical hearts whose batteries might randomly fail.”
The Doctor nodded. “Quite so, quite so. And I’m sure you’ve considered the biological implications of this electrical instability trend progressing?”
Elizabeth looked pained. “Honestly, that’s a hard thing to even think about.”
“What biological implications?” Ace asked.
“Our bodies run on electricity,” the Doctor replied. “The nerve signals that let us move, let us breathe, let us think, let our hearts keep beating—it’s all electrical.”
“Oh. Right,” said Ace. “That’s a problem then, innit?”
“It’s gone way beyond electricity,” said Elizabeth. “Yesterday...well, my assistant can explain it best, I think.” She turned toward a nearby computer station. “Viktor, please come here and tell these people what happened to you.”
A young dark-haired man of about 23 stood up and nervously approached the trio.
“Please take apologies,” Viktor said. “My English, not so good. Always thought mathematics enough to talk science.”
The young man cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. “I swear to you, I do not drink or stay awake too long yesterday...but walking home near Technical University, I see dragon flying through sky with queen riding it like horse.”
“A dragon—as in fire-breathing? With a queen riding on its back?” Ace asked.
Viktor nodded. “Very beautiful, both of them. Dragon very fierce-looking, but not breathing fire that I could see. Queen wearing regal-looking gown and jeweled crown. Should not be on Zikova Street, for sure.”
“Thank you, Viktor,” Elizabeth said.
After Viktor had gone back to his station, Elizabeth pulled the Doctor and Ace aside. “Viktor isn’t the only one here who’s reported seeing such...odd things. In fact, I daresay that every person you see here has reported a similar sighting—not of the dragon and the queen, but other strange creatures.”
“Such as?” asked the Doctor.
“Dancing devils, Griffins, a bear, eagle, and fish strolling through the streets.”
The Doctor furrowed his brow. “How on earth does a fish stroll?”
“On its fins,” replied Elizabeth. “But there are two characteristics that all the sightings have in common, Doctor. First, it’s only the night-time sightings that coincide with the power outages—there’s almost no trouble with batteries and generators or the power plant during the daytime hours.”
“No exceptions there?”
“Yes—on those days when there is rain or heavy cloud cover, the power outages are rampant. But here’s the other thing, Doctor: all of my assistants have reported that these creatures, these...apparitions, whatever you want to call them, all of them look as if they were, well...”
“Out with it, Elizabeth,” said the Doctor. “Your grandmother was never one to mince words; I assume that you have inherited her gift for straightforwardness, as well.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath, released it, and said: “Everyone says that the beings—although solidly three-dimensional—look as if they were drawn by an artist in pen and ink, or perhaps charcoal.”
The Doctor straightened. “Really? How absolutely fascinating. Tell me, have any of your assistants reported any physical evidence that may support their sightings?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Viktor says that the dragon’s wings smashed in a large section of the Hostel Dejvice’s entrance and first few floors. Thank goodness the hostel is empty, being temporarily closed for business due to the energy shortage.”
“Indeed,” muttered the Doctor, tapping the handle of his umbrella. “Are there any more particulars that we need to know? Leave out no detail, regardless of how tiny, insignificant, or rather silly it may seem.”
Elizabeth grinned. “I knew Grandmother was right about you!” She turned to face the lab and clapped her hands as she announced: “Everyone—your attention, please. I’m calling an emergency meeting in the lower lounge, right now. Viktor, since you’ve already spoken with the Doctor, you may remain here to monitor the machines. Everyone else, please go downstairs now.”
The Doctor leaned over toward Ace and whispered, “I do so admire a woman who knows how to take charge.”
&n
bsp; “Oh, right!” protested Ace. “You’re all full of respect for the take-charge type of woman, unless of course it’s me ordering you about.”
“This isn’t the time to argue pedantics, Ace, come. Time and tide melt the snowman and all that.”
“It’s ‘Time and tide wait for’—oh, never mind!”
They followed Elizabeth and the others downstairs to the lounge.
*
“Any other time, any other place,” said Ace to the Doctor as she stared up at the slightly overcast sky above the church, “and I’d swear we’d just spent the better part of an hour in the loony bin.”
“The entirety of the multiverse is a loony bin, dear Ace,” replied the Doctor. “One only need know how to speak the language.”
Ace laughed. “Well, then, I couldn’t ask to be paired up with a better interpreter, could I?”
“I choose to take that as a compliment. If it was meant otherwise, please don’t tell me. I’m quite sensitive.”
“Here you are,” said Elizabeth, joining them on the steps outside the church. “I’ve marked all the areas where there have been reported sightings over the past several weeks.” She offered the rolled-up map to the Doctor, who waved it away.
“No need for that,” he said. “I’ve been here numerous times and know the city quite well, thank you.”
“Are you sure?” asked Elizabeth.
“Absolutely,” he replied. “The map of Prague is right up here.” He tapped his head. “In the old toboggan.”
“Well, you may know the layout of the city,” said Ace, taking the map from Elizabeth, “but I’m still a first-time tourist. Thank you, Elizabeth. I’m sure this will prove useful, should the Doctor and I be separated.”
“Your confidence in my powers of navigation is deeply touching,” said the Doctor.
Elizabeth grinned at the both of them, and then added: “The eye-witness accounts suggest that most of the activity has been seen heading to or from an area near the Jewish Quarter. Something tells me that the source of the problem may be centered there.”
The Doctor slapped his hands together. “Very well, then—near the Jewish Quarter it shall be. Perhaps we’ll catch a glimpse of good Rabbi Loew’s Golem, eh? Wouldn’t that be exciting?”
Ace shrugged. “Says you.”
The Doctor turned toward Elizabeth. “One last thing—I listened very carefully to your assistants’ accounts, and I don’t recall hearing one of them mention anything about the phenomena coming from or returning to an area ‘near the Jewish Quarter.’” He stared at her unblinking. “What did you see, Elizabeth?”
“How did you know?”
“Elementary, my dear Holub. Every person in your lab reported at least two encounters with the phenomena, while you, evidently, have spent the whole of your life secluded in this gargantuan edifice, never seeing so much as a bird building its nest. As oddities, go, I’d call that one of the more intriguing ones—wouldn’t you agree, Ace?”
“Does seem a bit off, now that you mention it.”
The Doctor tapped the tip of his umbrella against the stone stairs. “Right! So, I ask once again—what did you see, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth looked down at her feet, sighed, then faced the Doctor. “Understand, Doctor, that my position here requires that my staff has the utmost, unshakable confidence in my leadership abilities, and—”
“—and you don’t wish to sound daft, lest you lose that confidence. Yes, yes, I understand your reasons for keeping your personal encounters to yourself, but you needn’t worry about Ace and mw thinking you incontinent.”
“‘Incompetent’,” Ace corrected.
“Right you are. So, Elizabeth?”
“I was in the Little Quarter, visiting the new branch of the National Library, and decided to pay a visit to Prague Castle—it’s just over the Charles Bridge, on the other side of the Jewish Quarter.”
Unable to maintain eye contact with the Doctor—whose glare was becoming intensely impatient—Elizabeth addressed Ace. “I fancy myself something of an architecture buff, and Prague has some of the most beautiful buildings in the world—none more so than Prague Castle.”
“Travelogues bore me to tears, Elizabeth,” said the Doctor.
“And she ain’t talking to you, now, is she?” snapped Ace.
The Doctor pouted. “No reason to be cross about it. I have feelings too, you know.”
“The thing is,” Elizabeth continued, “a section of the castle was destroyed in the petrol riots—a bomb brought down an entire tower. But that tower, just the other night...it was back.”
“You mean it, like, reappeared while you were watching?”
“No,” replied Elizabeth. “I mean it was still there, as if it had never been destroyed. Not a stone out of place. And I heard...I heard music from somewhere inside, a—”
“—a violin?” asked Ace.
“Yes! How did you know?”
The Doctor turned toward his companion. “Indeed, I should like to know the answer to that myself.”
“Not important,” said Ace, sliding the map into a side pocket of her rucksack. “We need to get moving. If the electricity goes out at nightfall, we’ve got about six hours.”
“I assume, Elizabeth,” said the Doctor, “that you will be willing to lend us your car.”
“But you need to know what I saw!” said Elizabeth.
“Yes...?” said the Doctor.
“A giant. A great, fierce-looking thing.”
“A giant?” said Ace. “As in ‘fee-fi-fo-fum’?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Precisely.”
“Oh, this just gets better ‘n better, don’t it, Professor?”
“And on my way back across the bridge,” continued Elizabeth, “I saw a knight conversing with a large earthworm.”
Ace caught the glint in the Doctor’s eyes: a sparkle of almost-realization that told her in no uncertain terms he was already piecing things together. Despite his sometimes exasperating her, it was at moments like this, when she could almost hear his mind going clickety-clickety-click!, that she found him unquestionably compelling—even attractive, in his own peculiar way.
Elizabeth escorted them to her subcompact hydrogen car and gave the keys to Ace. “I’m assuming that the good Doctor’s driving skills have not improved with age,” she said.
The Doctor sighed. “Everyone’s insulting me today.”
Ace pointed toward the car. “Get in, Professor.”
“I live to serve.”
And with that, Elizabeth wished them luck, and Ace and the Doctor climbed inside.
Ace was just starting the car when the Doctor reached over and took firm hold of her arm.
“Out with it, Ace.”
“With what?”
“How did you know about the violin music?”
“Does it matter?”
The Doctor glared at her. “Listen carefully to me, Ace. The tower Elizabeth spoke of is called Dalibor Tower. It was built as part of the fortifications to Prague Castle by King Vladislav Jagiello.
“The tower also served as a prison. It was given its name after its first inmate, Dalibor of Kozojedy, a knight sentenced to death for supporting a peasant rebellion. He was placed in a pit, an underground dungeon. He played the violin to pass the time and prevent himself from going mad from the isolation. People came to listen to him play. I know this because the story was used by Bedrich Smetana in his opera Dalibor—the debut of which I was fortunate enough to attend in this very city. So I must ask you a very important question, Ace—how did you know?”
“I heard it in a dream.”
“The dream you spoke of back in the TARDIS?”
“Yes.”
“And I take it, then, that you also saw the dungeon-pit?”
“Yes. There was a little girl kneeling over it. She was talking to her father—her father was the one down in the pit, the one playing the violin.”
The Doctor shook his head. “Impossible. Dalibor of Kozojed
y never sired any children.”
“Maybe it weren’t Dalibor she was talking to.”
“Then who would she have been–?” The Doctor waved his hand. “Never mind, the identity of the violinist isn’t our immediate problem. That little girl and Dalibor Tower is. I assume, dear Ace, that you would recognize this little girl should we cross paths with her?”
She nodded. “I’d know that face anywhere. She was laughing in my dream, but there was...there was a sadness about her, a sort of loneliness. I knew just how she was feeling.”
The Doctor gave her hand a tender, affectionate squeeze. “You’re not alone anymore, Ace. Never will be, if I’ve anything to say about it. Now, I suggest you start the vehicle and drive in the direction of Charles Bridge.”
Ace reached for the map, and then realized that she had said a few things today that might have hurt the Doctor’s feelings, and the Doctor did need to know that her trust in him was unshaken. “Which way?”
The Doctor smiled at her, and then pointed. “That-a-way, Pardner—as John Wayne used to say.”
*
They had been traveling for less than an hour when they spotted the first dragon, this one queen-less but rather imposing, nonetheless. It was stretched out by the roadside soaking up the sunlight. The creature—though fully three-dimensional—appeared to have been drawn, in the greatest detail, with charcoal: its uniform grayness stood in stark contrast to the lush field of green on which it lay.
“Pull over,” said the Doctor.
“Stop beside a dragon? Are you daft?”
“Always. Now pull over. I have a hunch.”
“And you wonder why I worry.” Ace pulled over, and the Doctor immediately climbed out but did not approach the Dragon. Since the Doctor’s attention was elsewhere, Ace took the opportunity to reach behind her and dig a canister of Nitro-9—one of six she’d secretly brought along—from her rucksack. She placed it down by her right side where the Doctor couldn’t see and curled her finger around the activation pin.
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