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The Holiday of Doom! & Other Stories

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The Holiday of Doom! & Other Stories

Post by Dalek on Tue 2 Jan 2018 - 20:04

This is a short story based on a dream I had the other night, where DWM found this episode which was filmed but never broadcast, as the original writer was so ashamed of it-it turns out this was because Steven Moffat had gone back in time and inserted a page of his own in it to make it 'better' (you'll be able to tell when you get to it LOL!). Anyway, I've novelised it exactly as in the dream, so there are probably some bits that don't make sense, but just go with the flow and enjoy!

Every time the Doctor and his friends took a holiday, they wondered why they didn’t do it more often. And as soon as they got there, they remembered.

The Doctor hovered over the hexagonal central console of the TARDIS, still relatively young with his dashing hair and cricket attire. As he stared at the hypnotic rise and fall of the time rotor, he looked around the room at his companions-Adric was nose deep in a book, Nyssa was tinkering with some scientific equipment and Tegan sat painting her nails on a chair.

“I’ve never been to Blackpool before,” Adric stated, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Of course not,” Nyssa observed coldly. “You come from a universe where Blackpool has never existed as a concept, never mind an actuality.”

“You’ll love it,” the Doctor grinned, his voice full of breathless enthusiasm. “Donkeys, sand, towers-it’s got it all, especially in the ‘80s!”

“Well I went once and I didn’t care for it.” Tegan moaned. “I was washing sand out of my bra for a week!”

“Oh, nonsense,” the Doctor dismissed her. “Besides, we need a break, seeing as our last one didn’t go too well.” He said, remembering the awful events at Cranleigh Hall. “I hope you’re all ready-we’re nearly there.”

Half a universe away, in the English seaside town of Blackpool, a dusty old storage shed was illuminated briefly by the bright glow emanating from the iconic shape of the TARDIS. The shed was huge-obviously built to house a car or something of a larger size than the Doctor’s ship, which was dwarfed in the vast arena.

A somewhat casual Doctor stepped out (he’d taken his jumper off, and unbuttoned his shirt slightly), and braced the cold air with his arms. His companions followed, Nyssa and Adric still dressed in their uniforms, with only Tegan (being the only one who knew what Blackpool was like) changed into a breezy summer frock.

“Come on then,” the Doctor clapped his hands together, jogging to the door and opening the corroded sheet of metal. “We can’t take too long off, the universe might miss us.”

“But Doctor,” Adric whined, as he and his companions followed the Doctor’s lead. “We can’t leave the TARDIS here, can we?”

“We’ll be fine,” the Doctor replied. “The shed’s in my name. Use it every time I come here. Trouble is, I don’t actually remember renting it...”

With a swift turn of his head, the Doctor span to gaze at the beautiful Blackpool skyline. Adric and Nyssa were stunned by the glistening sand which lay before them, and the bustling hive of life packed with clowns and mums and dads and ice cream men and everybody, and even Tegan cracked a smile when she heard the seagulls’ music in the sky.

“It’s beautiful...” Nyssa mumbled.

“Yes, I suppose it is.” The Doctor pondered. They watched the world go by for a few moments before the Doctor put his hands in his pockets and wondered towards the seafront.

“What first, Doctor?” Tegan asked, surprising herself with the joy in her voice.

“I rented us a caravan for a few days-it’s parked down the bottom. We’ll drive to Pleasure Beach and do the beach today too if there’s time.”

So the Doctor and his friends walked for about an hour, marvelling at the world of Blackpool and making small talk. It was the most fun they’d had in ages. Fun that was about to be ruined.

As they reached the caravan, the Doctor opened the side door for his companions, who hopped into the back whilst the Doctor leapt into the driving seat. He began to start the vehicle, but a look of stern confusion stopped his joy when a veil of smoke erupted from the mechanics.

“What’s wrong, Doctor?” Adric enquired.

“Something’s not right.” The Doctor replied vaguely.

He hopped out, with his companions following his actions from a window. For a moment, he went out of sight as he inspected the bonnet, but rematerialised moments later with his hand attached to the collar of the Master, his face smeared with grease and a treacherous hammer in his hand.

“The Master!” Tegan screamed from inside the caravan. Blood boiled within her at the sight of the hated man, forcing her to break free of the caravan with her companions following. “What are you doing here?”

“I shan’t dilly-dally this time,” the Master ripped himself free of the Doctor’s grip. “I understand, Doctor, that you recently came into possession of a document, signed by the Meddling Monk.”

“I’d forgotten I’d had it.” The Doctor admitted, feeling in his pocket for the souvenir of the adventure he’d taken recently. “I didn’t know you collected autographs.”

“That document can be used to start a great war in the far future, Doctor. It is wasted on you. Please, give it to me.” The Master gave the Doctor a sly look.

“Well, I suppose it couldn’t do any harm...” the Doctor smiled. He took the faded sheet from his pocket and teased the Master with it.

But as his greedy fingers closed around the edge, the Doctor whipped a match from his hand and set the paper alight, the ashes blowing into the Master’s gloved hand.

“You’ll pay for that, Doctor.” He snarled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll send you a cheque.” The Doctor joked, turning his back and ushering his companions back into the caravan.”

“But it’s broken.” Adric reminded him as the Doctor gave the short boy a leg up.

“Yes, but roadworthy, all the same.” The Doctor slammed the door on the companion, not letting anything derail his easy victory.

The Doctor hopped back into the driver’s seat and gave the furious Master a cheery wave as he performed a three point turn, and began the vehicle’s bumpy road back to the shed. But little did he know there would be a surprise waiting for them on their return...

The four were still joking when they reached the structure-laughter which died as the door was opened to a vision of hell...the TARDIS was now just one of a line of eight identical police boxes, each one entirely the same. A radio crackled into life, startling Tegan and making Nyssa jump.

“Ah, Doctor!” came the dulcet tones of the Master. “I always get my revenge.”

“What have you done?” the furious Doctor spat.

“Seven of these police boxes are trapped in Infinite Regressions. Enter one, and you’ll never leave!”

“Like that time we tried to go to Logopolis!” Adric reminded the Doctor.

“Only one is the real TARDIS. But choose carefully,” the Master taunted. “Because if you make a wrong choice, you’ll only have yourself to blame-forever!”

An evil laugh closed off the transmission, as the Doctor, Nyssa and Tegan stood, dumbfounded, staring at the blue boxes lay out before them. But Adric had a better idea.

As soon as the Master had stopped talking, he’d whipped out a tape measure from his pocket and walked to the first box, taking the tape to the width of the door.

“What are you doing?” Nyssa enquired.

“The Master said that these boxes are identical,” Adric confirmed. “But they’re not. If an object is trapped in an Infinite Regression, then the exterior dimensions are roughly 1% larger to accommodate the multiplication within. Now, I know the TARDIS’ regular dimensions from the last time the Master tried this, so I know that this is not the real TARDIS. All I have to do is measure the other boxes until I get to the one which measures the same as the real TARDIS.”

Adric turned and continued his work, as his friends gave him a brief, but well deserved, round of applause. He did the same on six more boxes, until he came to the last of them. He wrapped the tape around the wooden frame, and...success! This was the TARDIS!

He opened the doors and the Doctor brushed past him to go inside, but his enlightened face fell when he saw what greeted him inside. It was a hollow shell. Like the woman inside had been scooped out. This was just an ordinary police box.

“He’s tricked us!” Adric cursed. “The Master’s tricked us, again!”

“But where’s the real TARDIS?” Tegan thought. “How do we get back home?”

The Doctor was about to answer as a gust blew heavy smoke into the black, vacant space, and a few seconds later, they saw what had caused it-a motorbike entered the room, driven by a slim, petite young woman, brown hair cascading out from under her crash helmet. She unfastened the buckle and removed the hat, and the Doctor immediately recognised who she was.

“Clara Oswald.” He mumbled. “Here to save me again, are we?”

“You’re not meant to know that yet, cheeky!” Clara winked.

“You’ve saved me so many times, how could I not notice?”

“What are you doing here?” Nyssa interrupted. She felt a little intimidated by the newcomer-she had never been the choice for a companion, and it hurt a little for the Doctor to accept this new woman quite so easily.

“I know where the Master’s keeping the TARDIS, the real TARDIS.” Clara answered. “It’s in a holding facility in Southport. Come on, I’ll give you a lift.”

Clara unhooked four identical motorbike helmets from the side of her vehicle, held in place by tight bands. The bike was quite large, and could easily fit all five of them on it. The Doctor put his helmet on and sat on the leather seat, holding tightly onto Clara’s waist, followed by Adric, Nyssa, then Tegan. Clara reversed the bike, then sped along the seafront at breakneck speed.

It wasn’t long before they were on the motorway, and it didn’t feel like half an hour had gone by before they arrived in Southport, at a vast storage unit on the outskirts of town. The Time Lord and his friends disembarked, with Adric being the first to brave the door and reveal the perfect shape of the TARDIS standing inside the arena.

“The TARDIS!” Adric encapsulated, running to the door with his friends and ushering them inside. “Coming, Doctor?”

“In a minute,” the Doctor delayed. He wanted to make sure the Master hadn’t followed them here, but he was nowhere to be seen. He was probably around, but the Doctor didn’t want to bother at this point-he wanted to get out of this mess and go back to a proper adventure.

He turned to leave, but spun back immediately as he said goodbye to Clara. All the usual pleasantries came and went-there was a handshake, a friendly wave as she drove off, you know how it goes, and the Doctor strode confidently back to the waiting ship, silently happy that all had turned out well and hoping that he would see that woman again sometime.

He had a feeling he would.

The End.

Last edited by Dalek on Wed 3 Jan 2018 - 19:45; edited 1 time in total
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Re: The Holiday of Doom! & Other Stories

Post by LastOfTheSonics on Wed 3 Jan 2018 - 10:42

Considering this was thought of in a dream, this is actually pretty cool! I can also imagine Moffat storming into the writer's room and shouting at them to remember Clara  Very Happy
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Re: The Holiday of Doom! & Other Stories

Post by Dalek on Wed 3 Jan 2018 - 19:44

Thank you for your kind words! I had another strange dream last night, in which the Daleks invaded Earth and altered the timeline of our television to insert adverts for their latest venture. I thought I'd post the novelisation here, it's mainly a fictionalised history book retelling of the context surrounding the tale, but there is a novelised scene of part of the story. Enjoy!

The Future History of Earth-Volume One

A long time ago, on Earth, in the year 2064, the Daleks came to power. It was totally unexpected, and humanity did what little they could to resist the uprising, but it wasn’t enough. Within a couple of days, the Daleks had complete control over the planet, and anybody who dared to resist were exterminated, with few kept prisoner.

The Daleks enslaved the young, strong boys of the planet in order to mine the core of the planet for gold, which they planned to sell at auction to raise funds for new weaponry, which they would then use to decimate the universe. The Daleks might not have had need for money, but on those rare occasions they did business with others, their clients did.

Being little known in the world of business, the Daleks decided to advertise. They raised further funds by selling the coveted television programmes of the British to alien buyers, but they altered the timelines by going back and inserting subliminal and subtle messages relating to the power of mining in each show, therefore alerting the alien watcher to their new business venture.

Eventually, the Daleks were overthrown by one powerful young man and his group of friends, but not before the original tapes of many of the classics of British TV had been destroyed. For example, the following novelised sequence is all that remains of the Doctor Who episode Heaven Sent-once considered a classic, now butchered by the Daleks who had little regard for the series’ continuity.

Heaven Sent-by Steven Moffat & the Dalek Supreme

The Doctor stepped out of the hologram chamber, his head still aching from the power of the teleport, and a hole in his soul which used to be filled by Clara. As he surveyed the brick chamber he found himself in, he kneeled to the floor and trickled a stream of sand through his bony fingers.

Anger rose inside him, although he didn’t know why, and felt himself on the urge of saying something, when his thoughts were interrupted by-

“Stop! We’ve got to get the Doctor!”

He knew the voice, and although it was impossible for her to be here, he could just picture the flirty, bouncy haired woman on the other side of the door. He heaved open the heavy metal frame to reveal River Song, resplendent as always in a tight leather jacket, and a fat, bald man, clad in a duffle coat and woolly hat. The Doctor had never seen this man before, but he had the feeling he knew him from somewhere.

“Nardole, stop!” River scolded her assistant. “We nearly went past him!”

A second glance revealed the corridor to be made of similar brick as the teleport chamber, but with one more anachronism-River and Nardole were gliding along in a rusted old mine cart, skidding along an equally archaic track which curved around the castle.

“River?” the Doctor questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your ass, obviously.” River winked.

“I mean...” the Doctor was dumbfounded. “Why is there a mine cart?”

“For saving your ass. Ever so useful, these mine carts, aren’t they?”

“I don’t know you yet, do I?” the Doctor asked Nardole, completely dismissing River (much to her irritation).

“You’re not meant to, no.” Nardole rolled his eyes, a subtle dig at the Dalek directors for sure.

“Are you getting in, or not?” River asked. “We’ve got things on our backs.”

“Yes, sure.” The Doctor leapt into the mine cart, and Nardole released the brakes. They coasted along for a few minutes before the Doctor asked the obvious. “What things?”

“Four ghost like apparitions called the Veil,” River answered. “They’re here to extract a confession from you, but we’re here to save you.”

“Well, thanks.” The Doctor muttered, his mind already racing on what confession, and why. His thoughts were suddenly and rudely interrupted by a scream from River.

“Look out!”

A ghostly spectre hovered from behind them now, a hooded mass of nothingness cased in a heap of sheets with two threatening talons poking out from beneath. Whispers came from its invisible mouth as it pursued the time travellers down the track.

River let out a gasp as she lifted a heavy shovel from the cart and swung it hopelessly at the attackers. Nardole worked the pump, hoping to gain speed, whilst the Doctor stood back and assessed the situation.

But the Doctor didn’t have chance to think for long before he and the others were flung back, River’s grip on the spade relaxing as the cart hurtled backwards down a steep drop down into the depths of the castle.

Screams illuminated the chamber as the lighting dropped to an eerie blood red, and the Veil was joined by three identical friends, converging on the cart in a triangle shape. River still continued to swing the tool, but it was hard whilst falling deeper into darkness.

After what felt like an eternity, the incline stopped and the cart squeaked along a straight track. The ghostly shapes dissipated (River liked to think it was her shovel that did that, but it was more than likely the fact they’d scared the trio enough), and the three of them sat and relaxed, catching their breath as the cart took them to their next challenge.

“What was that?” Nardole pondered. “What did they want?”

“A confession.” The Doctor answered sombrely. “And I have a feeling they just got it from me...”

The Doctor didn’t know how they’d got it, but he felt like a secret had left his mind, and he felt Dalek influence play in his thoughts. It wasn’t much of a surprise-they are the superior, beings, after all.


As one of the few pieces of television remaining from 2015, this segment has been analysed exhaustingly by media students, comparing what little footage survives of this augmented scene with the existing clips, scripts and production notes from the original story. It is considered one of the great shames of the modern world that this masterpiece is not available for future generations to see, and we will now never know if it was a work truly deserving of that accolade.
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Re: The Holiday of Doom! & Other Stories

Post by LastOfTheSonics on Wed 3 Jan 2018 - 20:06

This is also pretty awesome! You have some vivid dreams for sure!
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Re: The Holiday of Doom! & Other Stories

Post by Dalek on Thu 4 Jan 2018 - 8:07

Thanks again! Last night's dream involved me getting a very unusual Christmas present-a pair of Sophia Myles' knickers from The Girl in the Fireplace, but I'm not sure that has enough plot to be novelised.  Laughing
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Re: The Holiday of Doom! & Other Stories

Post by LastOfTheSonics on Thu 4 Jan 2018 - 8:58

I've no idea how you come by such a wild imagination  Smile
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