Cassandra finally emerges onto Ward 26, smoothing down her hair and grinning to herself. The Doctor's got his cutie-pie glasses on; he and Cassandra wave to each other and he shows her a patient with "Marconi's Disease," which is actually the all-red thing from earlier and not some syndrome where you fuck Tesla over. "Should take years to recover? Two days. I've never seen anything like it -- they've invented a cell-washing cascade! It's amazing. Their medical science is way advanced. And this one! Pallidome Pancrosis." This guy is completely white. Not like Carlton Banks; more like Powder. "Kills you in ten minutes, and he's fine!" The Doctor goes in search of a "terminal" "...Because if they've got the best medicine in the world, then why's it such a secret?" Cassandra stops and looks around: "I can't Adam and Eve it!" The Doctor's all, "What's with the voice?" And Cassandra tries to cover, talking about how it's New Earth, so new Rose; he notices that she's managed to undo most of her buttons. "Well, I can talk. New New Doctor!" he grins, and Cassandra, as any sane person would, grabs the Doctor and kisses hell out of him. He is shocked and breathless, when she pulls away, and she's a little bit mindblown herself; she leads him away to the terminal and he follows, squeaking, "Yep, still got it."

The Doctor and Cassandra are looking at the hospital's floor plan; the Doctor's still bitching about the lack of a shop. Cassandra: "No, it's missing something else. When I was downstairs, those Nurse-Cat-Nuns were talking about Intensive Care. Where is it?" The Doctor looks around and agrees: "You're right, well done." He takes his sonic screwdriver out as she advises him to "search the subframe" and, if it's locked, "try the installation protocol..." And he doesn't notice that she's got the information for herself, but then he sonics the whole wall open; without sparing a look back, Cassandra heads in, and the Doctor notes that something's off. "Intensive Care," he hums. "Certainly looks intensive." Novice Hame follows them, unseen.

The Doctor and Cassandra find themselves in the huge ICU cavern, looking at all the rows of green glowing doors. The Doctor finally sonics one open; a man covered in boils stares back at them out of smoke. "That's disgusting," hisses Cassandra. "What's wrong with him?" The Doctor says sincerely, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Pity is the Bad Wolf of the season. Cassandra holds her nose, while the Doctor closes that door and opens another. "What disease is that?" Cassandra asks, disgusted. "All of them. Every single disease in the galaxy," the Doctor says. "They've been infected with everything." Cassandra asks if they're safe, and the Doctor says that the air is sterile: "Just don't touch them." He leans out over the railing, looking at the doors, all the doors. "How many patients are there?" Cassandra asks, and he corrects her: "They're not patients." But they're sick? The Doctor is pissed. "They were born sick. They're meant to be sick. They exist to be sick. Lab rats. No wonder the Sisters have got a cure for everything. They've built the ultimate research laboratory. A human farm." Something about how plague carriers are always the last to die, which is why they don't die, which whatever.