Master Who

MASTER WHO

By Danny Nicol

Episode 1

JOURNEY INTO PERIL

“Mirror, mirror on the TARDIS wall

Who’s the best-looking of them all?

Is it the Doctor?  Is it Yaz?

No, it’s the boy with loads of pizzazz!”

The Master chuckled as he admired himself in his dressing-table mirror, brushing his shock of black hair.  How fortunate to have regenerated with this generous mop, not to mention those eyelashes!  Above the gentle hum of the TARDIS in flight he could discern the faint hubbub of conversation from the console room next door.  Women – a sex famed for their nosiness and love of gossip.  No doubt they were talking about him, bless them.

* * * * *

Inside the console room the Doctor and Yaz were talking about Yaz.

“I’d not have you go.  Not for the world,” said the Doctor, “But we’re a diminished fam now.  No Graham, no Ryan,” The Doctor gave a regretful frown, “I’d understand if you wanted to go back to Sheffield.”

“I’m really very happy here.”

“But I know you’ve got ambitions.  A career.  Rosa Parks mentioned.  She thought it was grand you wanted to get to the top.  So do I.”

“It’s just, the world I left behind, it gets kind of blurry.”

“Did say you wouldn’t come back the same person,” trilled the Doctor.

“You were right,” said Yaz, “But I think I’ve changed for the better.”

“Hope so.  Though we spend more time resisting arrest than making arrests.”

“Plus, we run a lot.  That’s a transferrable skill,” gushed Yaz rather desperately, “And we solve mysteries - after a fashion.  Becoming Chief Constable of South Yorkshire will be a doddle after this.”

The Doctor smiled.  The Randomiser started to flash on the TARDIS console.

“Ah that’s my Randomiser.  Had to stick that on because the Master got on the wrong side of the Shadow Proclamation.  Big time.  How we had to run to escape those Judoon!  The Master seriously needs to upgrade his sprinting skills.  Anyway, the Randomiser means we never know where we’re going.  But if we don’t know, they don’t know. 

The Randomiser emitted a strange noise. 

“Hey up!  Landing soon.  Could you go and tell His Nibs?”

* * * * *

His Nibs was still preening himself in front of the mirror when Yaz put her head round his door.

“Hello Yaz, come for my sage counsel or just to admire a first-class Gallifreyan hottie?”

“Neither.  Doctor says we’re landing soon,” said Yaz very curtly.

“Why don’t you love me, Yaz?” complained the Master, looking injured, “Haven’t I given you some unforgettable experiences?”

“Yes but not in a good way,” said Yaz remembering the ordeal of the burning plane.

“I’d hoped my pranks and light-hearted practical jokes would give amusement.”

“They would if they didn’t always involve trying to kill me.”

With a gesture of resignation the Master rose, adjusted his purple-check waistcoat and pulled up his purple socks.  As they entered the console room they heard the traditional wheezing noise which indicated that the TARDIS was materialising.  Vwoorp!  Vwooooorp!  Vwoooooorp!  The Doctor, bending over the controls, was checking the conditions outside.

To their consternation the trio then heard a strange fizzing sound and a hologram appeared on the other side of the console.

It was a hologram of the seventh Doctor.

“Hello!” said the current Doctor.

“Hello!” said the seventh Doctor in his Scottish burr, “Now Ace, trrrrrry to hold that camera steady!”

“I’m trying, Professor,” said an offscreen, slightly plaintive voice.

“I’m rrrrrecording this lest I ever forget.  This is a message to myself, a message to the Doctor.  Whatever you do, don’t visit this planet, not in this time zone.  And if you must do so, for pity’s sake don’t tell them who you are.  (He paused.)  Was that all right, Ace?”

“Wicked, Professor!”

Another fizzle and the hologram and voices vanished.

“Who was that?” asked Yaz.

“One of my previous selves,” said the Doctor, “Thing is, I haven’t got a clue what he was on about.”

“Dearie me, the memory’s quite gone, hasn’t it.  I do have a number for this really good intergalactic care home…” said the Master helpfully.

“That won’t be necessary, thank you Master,” said the Doctor, “In fact my previous incarnation has quite piqued my interest.  Let’s investigate.  Except I’ll need to be incognito, of course.  The Master can pose as captain of the TARDIS.”

“What, me, be in charge?”  The Master beamed.

“Well, pretend to be in charge.  The number of times you’ve tried to become supreme despot of the universe, that should come easy.”

The Master feigned a hurt expression then grinned.

“Yes controlling everything is my forte.  My manifesto for life in the TARDIS will be a world of cosy cuppas, quirkiness, ditzy girls and a little light patriarchy.”

“Are we the ditzy girls then?” said Yaz indignantly, but the Doctor was already looking at the scanner.  It revealed that they had materialised within a cave and were now surrounded by a dozen or so of the palest of pale beings: white faces, white hair, white eyes…

“Oh goodie!” exclaimed the Master, “Lots of lovely humanoids to kill!”

“Don’t you dare kill anyone, not if you value your place in this TARDIS,” said the Doctor.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re too preachy?” said the Master.

* * * * *

The Master bounded out of the TARDIS with the zest of a young puppy.

“The name’s Who, Master Who,” he boasted, waving the borrowed sonic screwdriver about extravagantly, “I travel in time and space in a blue police box, pontificating about right and wrong and meddling outrageously thoughout the cosmos!”

Yaz and the Doctor exited after him.

“And here are my glamorous assistants, Trainee Police Constable Uptight Goody-Two-Shoes and Dr Pious Control-Freak!”

Just then the TARDIS cloister bell started to chime, indicating that the ship faced imminent doom.  The Doctor and the Master turned and looked at each other.  They swiftly re-entered the TARDIS to see what was amiss. 

Yaz, unaware of the bell’s significance, was less quick off the mark.  As she turned towards the TARDIS, its door slammed shut of its own accord and it dematerialised.

Vwooooorp!  Vwoooooooorp!  Vwoooooooooorp!

The TARDIS vanished.  All Yaz could see were the grim walls of the cave as the dozen pale beings started to crowd towards her.

“Doctor….Master…Doctor!”

Episode 2

ESCAPE INTO DANGER

With Yaz stranded, the two Time Lords engaged in their favourite pastime: recrimination.

“What an unbelievable botch!” remonstrated the Master, “What an absolutely appalling, almighty botch!  Yaz left abandoned!  Poor little Yaz!  What have you done, Doctor?”  He ostentatiously wiped away a contrived tear with a purple-check handkerchief.

“Oh spare me the crocodile tears, Master!” snapped back the Doctor as she arched herself over the console.  “You were very fond of Yaz - when not trying to kill her!”

“Avoiding being killed by me is character-building,” explained the Master.  “You should know that.  I was doing her a favour.  Anyway, you’ve lost her now – forever - you and your TARDIS.”

“I’m not giving up on Yaz,” said the Doctor, examining the console readings frenetically. 

“Nor I” said the Master, “Although looking on the sunny side at least you’re no stranger to having just one companion.”  He grinned using both his hands to point to himself.   “Consider me the thinking man’s Miss Grant.”

“Jo Grant was perfectly capable of thinking, thank you very much,” upbraided the Doctor, “And I’d be thankful if you’d put yourself out a bit to help find Yaz.”

Vwooorp!  Vwoooorp!  The TARDIS landed. 

“That was a short trip,” said the Doctor, “I expect we’re still on the same planet, and in the same time zone.”

“That’s all very well,” carped the Master, “but why does your TARDIS feel itself entitled to hop around the planet, marooning the crew at will?”

“That’s what I’m trying to work out.  It’s tricky with the TARDIS,” she pondered, “You don’t programme it, you negotiate with it.” 

“Negotiate with it!” castigated the Master, “What tosh!  What twaddle!  You can’t control your own vehicle.  Not content with flunking TARDIS maintenance at the Academy you’ve made a complete pig’s ear of everything.”

“That’s rich, coming from the man I had to rescue ‘cos he’d shrunk himself with his own incredible shrinking device!” criticised the Doctor, forced down memory lane to prove parity of incompetence.

“Shame we can’t use the quick return switch,” mused the Master airily, “That’s the problem with a Randomiser.  You just don’t know where you’ve been.”

“Have you anything constructive to suggest, Master, other than stating the obvious?” asked the Doctor.   But the Master was more in the mood for winding the Doctor up.

“Alas poor Yaz, I knew her well,” he pronounced with inappropriate joviality, “I shall miss her with all my hearts.  Still, I’m sure she’ll live a great life.  She’s bound to really hit it off with those new pallid friends of hers.”

* * * * *

The pale humanoids crowded threateningly around Yaz.

Right, she thought, I’ll need all my strength to survive this encounter.  She strained to recall the lovely things Graham had said about her aboard the Cyberman ship.   His Estuary accent rang in her ears. “You ain’t got a time machine or a sonic…but you’re never afraid and you’re never beaten….You’re doin’ the whole human race proud.”

Yes, thought Yaz, this is my chance to show my mettle!

Yet for all Graham’s stirring words Yaz felt tongue-tied.  The only words she could utter were the most uninspired possible:

“Take me to your leader!”

Her words made the pale humanoids irate.

“What a cheek! Who does she think she is!”

“Violates our frontier, then insists on seeing our top brass!  Nerve of the woman!”

“How dare she!”

“Anyway, we don’t have a leader, we have three.  The Entitled Triplets.  Don, Al and Lye.”

“Well, erm,” said Yaz nervously, “Could you take me to, er,  Don, Al and Lye, then, please?”

* * * * *

The TARDIS doors swung open and the two Time Lords entered a study, hewn into another cave.   Walls of dour rock were obscured by shelves groaning with books.

Behind a huge desk piled with papers and important-looking monographs sat a green creature with a single eye.  It had a large head befitting its intellect.  Seemingly unfazed by the intrusion it peered at the Doctor and Master over half-moon spectacles and smiled to reveal vicious fangs. 

“Greetings,” said the creature, “And who, might I ask, are you?”

“Greetings, I’m Doctor Smith, Doctor Jane Smith; and this is my, er, companion the Master.   We’re on holiday together touring your planet.  Awfully sorry if we’re disturbing your studies.  Our transportation,” (she motioned with her thumb towards the TARDIS) “is playing us up.”

“Oh, I was just finishing my final paper for the R.E.F., the Really Erudite Fancywork, it’s an exercise we go through here in the universities of the Inner Planet.   We are the Verdox, a species of philosophers, and we spend most of our time arguing about theory with each other.  Interruptions are welcome.  We have so few visitors.  We’ve tried boosting tourism but caves aren’t everyone’s cup of tea.”

“Don’t you have a planet surface?” quizzed the Master.

“Destroyed aeons ago,” smiled the creature. “But we accentuate the positive: a cave life suits our contemplative existence. My name is Rochz by the way.”

“Well, Rochz,” said the Doctor, “I wonder if you could help us.  One of our party, Yaz, she’s got stranded.  We think it was on your planet but the people didn’t look like you.  They were humanoid, very pale.”

“Oh so you’ve met the Albuni?” said Rochz, “Our neighbours.  We share a frontier.  Being pleasant isn’t their strong point, alas.  They’re awfully angry, all the time in fact.  We fritter away countless hours trying to calm them down.”

The Doctor looked concerned.  Bad news for Yaz.

“Oh dear, so the Verdox are the eggheads and the Albuni the crosspatches,” she said. 

“Absolutely.  But all is not yet lost.  It just so happens I’m the sister of the Minister of Frontiers in the Verdox government.  We can use her good offices to contact the Albuni.  They normally wouldn’t want a foreigner to linger.   Provided they don’t execute her, that is.”

“Let’s not get our hopes up, dear,” whispered the Master to the Doctor. “Relying on the Albuni for mercy sounds about as hopeful as entrusting childcare to Techteun.”

* * * * *

For the Albuni, an audience with the Entitled Triplets was nothing to be sneezed at.

Yaz was led by a posse of Albuni citizens to a grand hall which was home to the triumvirate.  Anger may have been the Albuni’s main characteristic but pomposity ran it a close second.  Lye, Don and Al, as pale as the citizens they ruled, were dressed in long white robes and enthroned on high chairs on a raised dais.  Lye, a woman, spoke first.

“We hear that you have violated our territorial integrity.  Have you no idea how much that displeases the Albuni?”

Right, thought Yaz.  They’re an angry lot.  What if I get angry too?  Pay them back with their own coin.  Worth a try.  Might backfire, but so might anything else.

“Violated your territorial integrity?  Do me a favour!  I am enraged, enraged by your lack of hospitality!  What sort of tourist trade do you expect, when all you do is infuriate your guests!”

“Guests are usually invited,” snapped Al, a male.  “We have no record of having invited you.”

“That makes me all the more incensed!” raged Yaz, “A tourist, stranded, through no fault of her own, and what kindness am I shown!  This would never happen in Sheffield.  I am furious!  You wait till I put this on Space-Tripadvisor!”

“The woman is clearly deranged,” summed up Don, “A crackpot needing medical attention - which will be costly.  We’ve had a communicator call from the Verdox and for some outlandish reason they want her.  Let’s palm her off onto the Verdox.” 

His siblings readily assented.

Profound relief for Yaz!  She had gambled - and the gamble had paid off.

* * * * *

Rochz suggested that the trip to the frontier to collect Yaz be made on foot.  It would be good exercise.  As they traversed the many caves the Doctor, worried about Yaz, remained quiet, but the Master prattled on.

“Ah, I see you use the slug-snail method to move about, Rochz,” he said with interest, “Not that I’m judging you: I’m not here to slime-shame anybody.”

“I hope the aroma is not too odious.”

“Not at all.  You’re an unusual race having just one eye,” he mused, “there’s always the Monoids of course, and Alpha Centaurii.  But one-eyed species are few and far between.”

“I suppose so,” said Rochz, “It can be a strain just having the one: so many philosophical treatises to read!  I hope you like our caves, by the way; they were once full of crevasses but we’ve bridged them over.”

At length they reached the frontier, a cave marked by posts staffed by each species.  Rochz’s sister Davv the Minister of Frontiers had already arrived for the handover and Rochz greeted her.  Mwah, mwah.

Led by the Entitled Triplets a party of the Albuni had frog-marched Yaz to the frontier.  Her wrists had been bound behind her back.

Lye shoved her over the border.

“We are outraged by this irate individual,” she said, “Take care not to flush your toilet into our state in future!”  The retinue turned and withdrew. 

“Oh Yaz, thank heavens we have you back,” cried the Doctor.

“Gosh, that’s quite a knot they’ve bound you with,” said the Master looking at Yaz’s wrists.  “Fortunately I have a knife!”

And he took a blade out of his jacket pocket and cut the ropes binding Yaz.

The Doctor gave him a look.

“Something tells me you’re about to start a lecture on how only idiots carry knives.”

“Well, it’s really not the best idea, Master.   Mind you, that one looks like it’s made of plastic.”

“…And here comes the sermon on pollution by plastic.” said the Master.

“Are you alright now Yaz?” asked the Doctor caringly.

“Well, I’ll be striking that place off my holiday destinations but yes, I’m fine,” said Yaz.

“Don’t think you have to thank me, Yaz, but I never gave up on you.  I bust a gut to get you released, strained every sinew of my eloquence to persuade them…”

“Eloquence?  You were flippin’ useless, Master,” said the Doctor, “Stop gaslighting!    I was the one who had to do the schmoozing, you were as much use as an ashtray on a motorbike, asking nosy questions about the planet.”

“Ah, but weren’t the answers revealing!  Who were that ghastly trio who came with you Yaz?

“The rulers of the Albuni, Lye, Don and Al.”

“Lye, Don, Al,” mused the Master dreamily, “Al, Don, Lye…Don, Lye Al…. Al, Lye, Don.  Yes, that one sounds the best.  Ever met anyone called Alydon, Doctor?”

“Erm…sounds vaguely familiar.”

“I bet those angry humanoids would be quite blond if they lived on the planet surface.  And you ladies,” he continued, addressing the two Verdox, “Where do you get your charming names from?”

“Rochz and Davv?” smiled Rochz, “We are twins.  Our parents chose an ancient name, its origins lost in the mists of time, and divided it up to use for us girls”.

“Rochz, Davv,” murmured the Master, “Davv Rochz…”

“What are you saying, Master?” said the Doctor.

“Oh come on Doctor, catch up, catch up.”  He did a slo-mo performance of running on the spot, ironic given his lack of sprinting prowess.

“Alydon, the Thals, Davros, caves which once had crevasses, a one-eyed species which has since evolved, that hologram, your TARDIS desperate to get away…This isn’t some new planet we’ve never visited.  This is Skaro!  The planet you blew up all those years ago, you, with your Hand of Omega!   You turned their home into a burnt cinder circling round a dead sun.  And don’t go blaming Davros.  He was just your dupe. ‘We did good didn’t we?  Perhaps. Time will tell, it always does’,” chortled the Master, cruelly mimicking Ace and the seventh Doctor. “Oh yes, every word is in the Matrix.  And now those poor old Daleks and Thals – the tiny few who survived – they’re having to eke out a dingy existence in the bowels of their world.  Oh Doctor, for a cold case like this, you deserve a life sentence!”

* * * * *

Having said a fond farewell to Rochz and Davv the time travellers entered the TARDIS.

“Did you really blow up a planet, Doctor?” asked Yaz uncomprehendingly.

“They were desperate times, Yaz,   Two Dalek armies, fighting each other, with Earth caught in the crossfire.”

“Oh come now Doctor,” said the Master, “Don’t be glum.  This only goes to show that you and me, we’re not so different.  Yaz, you’re sharing a home with not one but two planet-burners.”  He put his fingers to his mouth, feigning anxiety. “I hope that doesn’t raise safeguarding issues.”

“It was either Earth or Skaro, Yaz.  The Daleks would gladly have destroyed your world.  As for you, Master, you’d no doubt have sided with the Daleks.”

“Yada yada,” dismissed the Master as he jigged gleefully across the console room towards his own room, “Let’s face it, dear: you kill just as many people as me.  It’s just that I do it in a more entertaining way.”

THE END.