EARTH. LONDON. THE POWER ESTATE. 7:30 a.m.

The alarm buzzed and Emma rose out of bed feeling very grumpy. Even grumpier than yesterday, though to be fair today was a work day. Emma worked at Madame’s Waxworks, and she hated the boredom of her job and she longed for adventure.

About two hours and a lot of make-up later Emma Moffat was finally at work. It wasn’t long before the irritating sound of the ignorant tourist scraped on her eardrums.

‘’Scuse me miss. ‘Scuse me,’ piped the voice behind Emma. It belonged to a tall thin woman holding a camera in one hand and Brad Pitt in the other. ‘Would you mind taking a shot, Luv?’ ‘Of course not,’ Emma replied with the most insincere smile she could muster. ‘You’d make a lovely couple!’

‘Who – me and Brad?’ she chuckled as her cheeked blushed.

‘No – you and a lump of brainless plastic,’ she thought, rather than said.

Emma walked away and took a few deep breaths. She was feeling particularly irritable today and she felt if she had one more request from any irritating tourists she would become violent. ‘Where’s Robbie Williams gone?’ a female voice asked.

‘Oh he’s just over th…’ Emma turned to see that the Robbie Williams waxwork was no longer there. ‘He was there last night I’m sure.’
‘Maybe he just walked out of here!’ the woman replied, laughing wholeheartedly at her own joke. ‘He should be so lucky,’ groaned Emma.

‘No, that’s Kylie!’ said a chipper young man. ‘Haven’t seen her have you? I’d love to have my picture with my hands on Kylie’s...’ - Emma screamed.


THE CABINET ROOM, 10 DOWNING STREET

‘Mwah! Mwah! Ha-ha- haaaaaa!’ Cried the Master. ‘Ha-ha-haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Mw-‘ - *cough* ‘Do you think we can just start? Sir?’ interrupted the Defence Minister. The Master adjusted his cape, raised an eyebrow and regained his composure.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen of the Cabinet - the Archangel Satellite is working perfectly!’ The Master announced, his voice triumphant. ‘Oh brill!’ the Secretary for Road Bumps and Speed Cameras retorted. ‘That means we can get the Manchester United match.’ ‘The satellite is for my Masterful Plan of Master Planning. Imbecile! Not for football broadcasts.’ ‘Do you think Alex Ferguson gets ‘bored’ meetings like this?’ laughed the Minister for Jaguar Cars and Punching Hecklers.

Everyone except the Master burst out in laughter at the joke. One of them even farted. ‘Next time, I’ll just have to remember to gas them at the outset.’ moaned the Master.


MADAME TUSSAUDS, AFTER CLOSING

‘Wilson? Wilson?’ shouted Emma. She’d forgotten to hand in the bingo money to Mr Wilson, and if Tilly found out she’d handed it in late again she’d have a right go at her. She’d have her guts for garters, though maybe she wasn’t that vicious. She suddenly heard a scraping noise behind her and a door opened. It was the Prime Minister, Mr Saxon. Emma jumped onto one of the platforms and stood very still. Just like a waxwork, in fact.

‘This will be my army!’ the Master said to a small container he held in front of him. He opened the lid and inside was a red gelatinous fluid twisting around. The Master had shrunk down a Nestene Consciousness and had it held to his mercy. With it he could control almost any plastic on the planet. He pointed towards Emma and started to talk to the shrunken Nestene.

‘Here – make this waxwork move!’ he said, pointing to Emma. Nothing happened. ‘That one there!’ he clarified. ‘The frumpy one.’ Emma frowned.

‘Bloody marvellous! I go to the extremes of hijacking the voting British public and take office, then I get control of a Nestene to decimate the country with dummies (even though that is so 70’s), and all it can do is make a frumpy waxwork frown!’

‘Oi!’ Emma shouted back. ‘Just ‘cos you are the Prime Minister of Britain doesn’t mean you can call me frumpy, Mr-Oh-What-A-Camp-Robe-I-Have-Saxon!’ ‘I’m not camp!’

Suddenly the waxworks lurched forward. They fixed their gaze on Emma and started to close in. She was frozen with fear and all she could hear was the sound of the Master’s laughter as the waxworks reached out towards her.

‘Run!’ a voice said as someone grabbed Emma’s hand. She barely had time to register who he was before she was pulled to safety. The man was dressed in a vaguely Edwardian manner, and he had long black hair and a rubbery type of face. They managed to hide in a corridor.

‘We’ll be safe for now,’ the man said to Emma. ‘I’m the Doctor by the way. What’s your name?’ ‘Miss Bloody Furious!’ replied Emma. The Doctor frowned. ‘Funny name – you don’t come from the planet Literal Prime do you?’

Suddenly, the waxwork of Christina Aguilera broke through the door and grabbed the Doctor by his neck. Emma grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall and knocked her head off, causing Christina to collapse to the floor. ‘Always wanted to do that!’ she said. The Doctor used his sonic screwdriver to disable the remainder of the waxwork Auton. Emma and the Doctor escaped.


EMMA’S FLAT

‘So what was all that about?’ asked Emma. ‘Harold Saxon is really an alien called the Master,’ the Doctor explained, ‘and he plans to take over the world by controlling waxworks. It’s a devious plan – one day you wake up and David Beckham is at the door. Seconds later, you are dead.’ explained the Doctor. ‘Wouldn’t be a bad way to go,’ considered Emma. ‘Unless Posh was with him.’
Emma stirred the coffee she made.

‘So, Doctor, are you human?’ ‘I’ll explain later,’ the Doctor said. He stood up and brushed his coat with his hands, dropping Rich Tea crumbs on the floor. He said he had to go. ‘Where are you off to?’ ’10 Downing Street. I have to stop the Master.’ ‘I’m coming with you,’ said Emma, not giving the Doctor any time to protest.

THE CABINET ROOM, 10 DOWNING STREET

‘Every single time I make a Master Plan, the Doctor arrives and tries to stop me. Blast him!’ moaned the Master. ‘Who is this mysterious Doctor?’ asked the Secretary for Red Tape and Pointless Targets. ‘My greatest enemy!’ whispered the Master hoping for, but falling short of, theatrical effect. ‘We went to school together. He was a right pain then too.’ ‘What does he look like?’ asked the Secretary for Stealth Taxes. ‘About so high – long dark hair. Big rubbery nose. Dressed like a –‘ The Doctor was standing in front of him, held by a waxwork. He had been caught. ‘Just like that!’ ‘I’m transferring control to the Valiant!’ the Master announced to the cabinet. ‘And I am disbanding the Government. Mwah! Mwah! Ha-ha-haaaaa!’

The Master turned around and left for the transmat that would take him and the Doctor to the Valiant. When the Master and his new captive left the room flooded with gas. Not a booby trap set up by the Master, but a whole bunch of farts that could not be suppressed any longer.

‘Time for the crash landing,’ the Minister for Rules and Paperwork announced. He unzipped a zip on his forehead and his skin was pushed to the floor. Others followed suit. From behind a closed door Emma could see the Slitheen were revealed at last.

THE VALIANT, HIGH ABOVE BRITAIN

‘Small spacecraft en route to crash land in the Thames, Sir, knocking into Big Ben along the way,’ warned one of the Valiant pilots. The Master straightened his cape and studied the tactical screen. ‘Have you tried talking to the interloper?’ ‘He keeps on saying something like ‘Oink! Oink!’ but our translation programme is having trouble interpreting it. Must be a really complicated alien language.’ The Master rolled his eyes. ‘Destroy it!’ he ordered, and within seconds it was just space dust. The Master turned to see his old enemy – literally his Old Enemy. The Master had used his own laser screwdriver to age the Doctor some 900 years. He was small, wizened and looking just a bit like a... a house elf.


‘You are now at my mercy, Doctor. All you can do is sit there and watch me! Mwah-ha-haaaaa!’ ‘I’d much rather be here sitting on my bottom than standing there talking out of it,’ retorted the Doctor. ‘How did you manage to age me anyway? I thought you needed some of my DNA to do that.’ It’s a bad habit you have Doctor – picking your nose. Though with one that big I suppose you can’t miss it,’ the Master said triumphantly. ‘Still – you’ve been cut down to size a bit now.’ ‘At least I’m short in stature rather than intellect!’ countered the Doctor. The Master was furious. ‘Plus at least I don’t look camp.’ ‘I don’t look camp!’ The Master tried to assert. ‘Oh yes you do!’ clarified the Doctor. ‘You are more camp than a whole field of campers all dancing around the campfire and singing ‘Camping Days are Here Again!’ The Master’s face was like thunder.

10 DOWNING STREET

Inside the cabinet offices, Emma had been discovered by the Slitheen and was about to be executed.

'Wait!’ pleaded Emma. ‘My husband will kill you for it!’ ‘Your husband?’ asked Clon Blosh Fon Slitheen. ‘Mr Saxon. And don’t dare use me as a bargaining tool either! That would really annoy him!’

‘We could use her as a bargaining tool,’ suggested Zon Mosh Con Slitheen. ‘Brilliant! Although our plan to cause a military coup by crashing a decoy ship has been foiled we can still rule this miserable planet. We must storm the bridge of the Valiant and destroy Mr Saxon! We will take his wife with us!’ Emma smiled. 'They may be tall, green, powerful and emit more methane than the combined power stations of a small European country, but at least they are thick', she thought. They must be male.


THE VALIANT

The Slitheen materialised on the bridge of the Valiant. Emma had been transported up too. She saw that the Doctor has been aged by the Master. Waxworks adorned the area – Autons acting as the Master’s bodyguards.

‘Stop Saxon, or we will kill your wife!’ threatened Clon Blosh Fon. ‘Kill her then! She isn’t my wife!’ Emma had seen the Nestene Consciousness container near her and sneaked it behind her back.

‘Clever bluff, my dear darling,’ said Emma. ‘But they might fall for that obvious deceit.’ The Slitheen backed off and panicked to think of a contingency plan...

‘Chaaaaarge!’ Zon Mosh Con shouted and lunged towards the Master. The Master used his laser screwdriver on the Slitheen making the alien younger until he became an egg. He did the same with Clon Blosh Fon too. Emma poured the Nestene Consciousness into a coffee cup during the confusion knowing the Master would soon find the container in her possession. The Master rounded on her.

‘So you are the Doctor’s latest companion! I hope this one lasts longer than Adric!’ ‘I hope this one’s less annoying than Adric,’ commented the Doctor.

‘Doctor! What have they done to you?’ Emma asked as she ran over to him. She dropped the container on the floor. The Master picked it up. ‘Ha! Your plan to sneak the Nestene away has failed! I can now order the Auton rampage to begin. Nothing can stop me now!’ ‘Thirsty work, megalomania,’ Emma suggested. ‘Yes,’ replied the Master, ‘but oh so rewarding!’ He took a swig of his coffee... ‘WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?’

The Auton waxworks collapsed to the floor as the Master digested the Nestene, killing it.

‘Emma – the laser screwdriver! Pass it to me,’ the Doctor asked. Emma passed him the device and the Doctor reversed his ageing. ‘Foiled again!’ cried the Master. He ran over to a grandfather clock in the corner. It was his TARDIS. It faded from existence leaving Emma and the Doctor behind.‘Thank you Emma,’ the Doctor said. ‘We should switch the Valiant off and return to Earth. The Master’s plan has failed, the Earth is safe, and Madame’s Tussauds will be forced to close. Good news all round!’

THE STREETS OF LONDON


‘So that’s your space machine?’ Emma asked the Doctor. They stood next to a battered old Police Box. ‘Yes!’ The Doctor replied, stroking the TARDIS affectionately. ‘It may look like a small battered relic of England’s past on the outside, but on the inside it a huge battered relic of Gallifrey’s past. Did I mention it also travels in time?’

Emma smiled and joined the Doctor on his adventures!

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© Copyright Malcolm Orr & Doctor Who Online, 2009.