Doctor Trek - The Tried And Tested Plot Device (2)
Wok's brow furrowed. "Wokky?" he said, perplexed. "Finished!" Who leapt up and dashed behind the console, quickly activating the Zeeg Quong Kloo Positron Feedback Neutron Flow Hyperspace Drive. "We'll put light years between us and Borusa now." "But Captain - " Wok protested. "I know we're worried about the Admiral, but shouldn't we at least try to help with the Cliche? What about all the people on the station?" Who activated the drive. The TARDISPRISE lurched into action, and into hyperspace, and in mere seconds was a million miles away from the station. "No," Who said, the expression on his face looking oddly close to a leer. "Fuck 'em." He stomped out of the room. Wok and Frobisher looked at each other in stunned, silent disbelief. Finally, Wok broke it. "Captain Who said 'fuck'," he noted in shock. "My innocence is lost." "What was that?!" Captain Ramsay demanded from the station bridge. "The TARDISPRISE," Lt. Craig McLachlan said. "They've done a bunk, sir!" "Well, really." That was all Henry needed. As if it wasn't bad enough being stuck there with his rival for Bronwyn's sexual favours. 'Rival', he nearly snorted. Who did he think he was trying to kid? He was plainly a bit of a.... you know. Honestly, everyone knows or at least suspects Craig McLachlan is gay, right? It was as plain as the nose on your face. Bronwyn rushed in, saluting. "Sir!" Henry swung around in a very manly move, he thought. "What is it, Lieutenant?" "Forensics have identified which Cliche escaped and is on the loose, sir," Bronwyn reported. "Well? What is it?" "It's a 'Star Trek' Cliche, sir," Bronwyn told him gravely. "One of the worst." "Well? Out with it, which one? Don't keep me in suspense, woman!" Henry snapped. Bronwyn looked him in the eye. "It's the 'Evil Alien Possessing One Of The Regulars' Cliche, Captain." "Oh, no," Henry moaned. "You know what that means, Lieutenant?" "Yes, sir," Bronwyn nodded. "It could already have taken hold of someone." "No," Henry shook his head. "It means I need a change of underwear, a s a p." Bronwyn looked at him in disgust. Henry didn't seem to notice, and just presumed she was mentally undressing him, like everyone else was always doing. Especially Craig. "Just in case it hasn't found a host, we'd better pump 'Neighbours' from every room in the station." "Yes, Captain," Bronwyn started to hurry away. "Oh, and Lieutenant?" Bronwyn looked. "Better make it double-strength Peta Brady." Bronwyn blanched. "Sir? Is that wise? I know things are bad, but they're not that extreme, surely? Even if we do get the Cliche, some of the crew could sue for human rights violations. They'd probably win, too." "Just do it, Lieutenant," Henry snapped. "Just do it." "Captain!" Wok reacted as Who stormed back into the console bridge, messing with the controls. "What are you doing?" "Implementing our new course, Mr Wok," Who reported. "You're quite right. We can't just abandon the station in it's hour of need." "Oh." Wok was pleased, but then noticed what Who was doing. "Wait a minute, they're not the coordinates to go back to the station! Where are we going?" "The Space Port known as Eos Misley," Who reported. "But you said - " "We're going to get something there that will help the station," Who said. "Oh?" Wok frowned, puzzled. "Such as what?" "Such as weapons, Mr Wok," Who smiled, his natural charm somehow suddenly menacing. "Such as WEAPONS." CHAPTER SIX "Eos Meisley," Who said as he, Wok and Frobisher, now incarnated in the form of one-time British tv 'personality' Cilla Black, entered the Space Port. "One of the meanest places in the civilised universe. Only the worst of the worst come here. It is, as a wise man once said, a wretched hive of scum and villainy." "Hey, Frobisher!" the twelve-headed, sixteen-armed bartender came rushing over. "Long time no see, buddy! What happened? You used to come in here all the time!" Wok looked at Frobisher pointedly. "What?" Frobisher sniffed. "We had a lorra lorra laughs here!" He shook hands with the alien, which took several minutes. "Good to see you, BigJim." "That's his name?" Wok boggled. "BigJim?" "Nah," BigJim waved his hands airily, inadvertently sending half a dozen customers flying. "Only Frobie here calls me that. My real name is Xystcuntxyxyllbigtits." "It's a lorra lorra hassle saying that," Frobisher explained. "So I just call him BigJim." "Captain - " Wok turned to find Who was already gone, talking to another bartender who, if possible, looked even shiftier than Xystcuntxyxyllbigtits. "Weapons," Who was saying, tossing down shots of whisky like there was no tomorrow. "What about them?" "I want some," Who replied. "What for?" "To play charades, what do you crukking reckon?" Who snapped. "To fucking kill people with, of course!" Who looked around, noting some of the six-breasted bar girls. "And I'll have a bit of that, too, while I'm at it. Not'ing beats a pussy or two, does it? Or make it ten, actually, I'm feelin' EXTRA horny today!" Wok and Frobisher were watching this display with dropped jaws. "What on EARTH has gotten into him?" Wok demanded. "I don't know," Frobisher shook his head, "but I'll have a lorra lorra it." "Captain Ramsay!" "Yes dickweed - I mean, yes, Lieutenant?" Henry answered Craig. "The starship CUNNIGULUS has arrived, sir," Craig told him. "Admiral Borusa is demanding permission to come aboard." "Well, he can't have it," Ramsay snapped. "This station is under quarantine, haven't you told him? Honestly, no one seems to even READ memos anymore! I wonder why I bother at all sometimes, I really do!" "The Admiral is aware of the quarantine, Captain, but still wishes to come aboard," Craig informed him. "Well, tough titties, 'cause he can't," Henry seethed. "Talking of titties, are Bronwyn's soft or hard or what?" "The Admiral is NOT asking, Captain," Craig demonstrated considerable restraint in not beating Henry savagely about the head. "He is ORDERING you, and says he will have you posted to an alternate Script Containment Facility if you disobey. The one where they show 21st century 'Home and Away' episodes." "Fuck me, let him on board!" Henry yelled. "If he wants to risk his neck, that's his look-out. But I'm not getting posted anywhere they show that crap, flamin' 'eck I'm not! Strewth!" Back aboard the TARDISPRISE, Frobisher was taking a bath and eating chocolate pilchards, and, as no one in their right mind wanted to see Cilla Black naked, Who and Wok had returned to the console bridge. "All these weapons," Who rubbed his hands together gleefully. "We can kick some serious arse with them, eh Wokky?" "Er - yes, Captain," Wok said doubtfully. "What's up, Wokky?" Who slapped him on the back, so forcefully he actually broke several small bones in the Chinaman's vertebrae. "You don't seem to be entirely on board with my plan. Problem, buddy holly?" "It's just..." Wok tried to be tactful, "all these big guns and... er... nuclear missiles. It's a bit OTT, don't you think?" "Nonsense!" Who declared chirpily. "We've got to have the nukes to penetrate the station's shields!" "Penetrate the - " Wok gaped. "Why would we want to do that?" "Well, to blow bits of it up," Who frowned. "I'd have thought that was fairly obvious, even to a thick twat like you." Wok gaped some more. "Captain, I thought you wanted the weapons for the Cliche - " "No, no, Wokky, the people, the PEOPLE!" Who admonished. "We're going to kill the PEOPLE! Get with the program, chinky!" "Why do we want to do that again?" "So we can release all the Cliches!" Who roared, right in his face. "And with the flagship of the fleet at our fingertips, once we've liberated the Cliches from THAT station, we'll blast the living crap out of all the OTHER Script Containment Facilities too, and release all THEIR Cliches as well! The Cliches shall once again roam time and space unchecked! Don't you understand? Once the Cliches are free, this time we shall infiltrate EVERYTHING. NUZZINK IN ZE VORLD CAN SHTOP ME NOW - er, THEN!" "What a load of rubbish," Wok argued. "What's wrong with you, Captain? You sound like a bad 'Dr Who' villain. Some kind of cliched megalo - " he stopped, horrified realisation setting in. "You sound like a Cliche," he gasped. "You're not the Captain! You're a walking Cliche!" Who headbutted him to the floor, knocking him instantly unconscious. "At least I'm not an offensive ethnic stereotype," he growled. CHAPTER SEVEN Ramsay, Bronwyn and Craig were waiting as Admiral Borusa and his entourage emerged from their teleport cubicle. Ramsay recoiled in horror at the Admiral's spectacularly bad acne. "Is something wrong?" Borusa hissed. "Sorry?" Ramsay leaned forward. "Didn't quite catch that." Borusa ignored him. "So where is Captain Who?" Ramsay blinked. "Say what?" Bronwyn hit him. "I'm afraid he's gone, Admiral." "Gone?" Borusa hissed. "GONE? You incompetent dunderheads!" "That's very nice of you to say, sir," Ramsay nodded. Borusa glared at him. "You some kind of wiseass, Captain?" "Without a doubt, sir," Henry assured him. "So what's the other situation, then, this Cliche business?" Borusa demanded. "My looks are all natural, no BD-plasma surgery involved," Henry beamed. Bronwyn and Craig led Borusa away from Henry. Henry shook his head. "It's not my bloody fault I can't hear a word he says. Enunciate your lines, sir! ENUNCIATE!" "Sir," Bronwyn tried to broach a difficult topic. "I couldn't help but notice your... er... facial problems." She produced a small tube of cream. "Would you like some? It's Oxy-10. It really works!" Borusa looked at her in horror. "Good grief, woman, keep that stuff away from me. For your information, I do NOT have acne." "You don't?" Bronwyn blinked. "No, sir, I'm sorry, of course you don't, I don't know what I was think - " "Don't patronise me," Borusa snapped. "I know it looks like acne - and there are a couple of genuine spots in there, I grant you - but it's not. I suffer from a condition called Zittus Brainus Uranus Facial Fuckup." "What on Gallifrey is that?" Craig demanded. "Most people have their brain cells in their brain, in their head," Borusa explained. "Due to the rare genetic condition - " "Zittus Brainus Uranus Facial Fuckup," Bronwyn and Craig said together. "My brain cells are perched precariously on the skin of my nose, predominantly located around the nose area," Borusa looked at the tube of spot cream and shuddered. "One badly aimed squirt of Oxy 10 and I could end up like... like... Richard Edgar!" He flounced away. Bronwyn and Craig looked at each other. "Who?" Frobisher, now in the form of Julian Clary, entered the console bridge. Mr Wok was nowhere to be seen. "Have a nice bath, Frobisher?" Who inquired breezily. "Yes, Captain," Frobisher replied. "Nice homoerotic wank while I was in there, too." Who pulled a face. "Oh." "So where are we going?" "Back to the station," Who grinned malevolently. "I'm sure we'll give them a BIG surprise." "Hey, the dick jokes are my department," Frobisher objected. "Sorry," Who apologised. "So where's Wokky?" Who looked at him warily. "Oh, he's - er - having a little lie-down." "Oh," Frobisher looked at him, hands on hips. "How long 'til we arrive, then?" "Oh, not long, not long," Who assured him, eyeing him warily. "Frobisher, could you change shape, please? You're making me extraordinarily uncomfortable and uncertain of my sexuality." "Oh, sure. Sorry," Frobisher morphed into Frank N. Furter, as played by Tim Curry in 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show'. "Better?" "Not really, no." Henry, Bronwyn, Craig and Borusa had barely reached the bridge when the TARDISPRISE reappeared on the scanner screen. "It's Captain Who!" Henry declared. "He's coming back!" "The fool..." Borusa hissed. Henry looked at him. "What?" The station appeared on the screen. Who powered up the weapons. "What are we going to do?" Frobisher N. Furter demanded. "You'll find out," Who declared menacingly. "Oh, tell me," Frobisher pouted. "I don't think I can stand the antici... pation." "Wait a minute," Craig examined the readouts. "He's powering up his weapons!" "Weapons?" Borusa blinked. "The TARDISPRISE doesn't have any weapons!" Craig looked up in horror. "It does now." "FIRE!" Who rasped, slamming the control down. Photon torpedoes and several nukes raced from the TARDISPRISE and slammed into the space station. "We're under attack!" Henry yelled, panicking, hoping no one had noticed the wet spot in his trousers. Everyone had, of course. "We're under attack!" "Well, DUH," Borusa scowled. "What?" "It's the Script Containment Facility!" Bronwyn yelled. "That's what he's attacking!" More torpedoes slammed into the station. "The Containment Field is down!" Craig yelled. "Which means what?" Borusa demanded. "The Cliches," Bronwyn looked at him in terror. "They're escaping. ALL of them. And there's not a single thing we can do to stop them." CHAPTER EIGHT Rachel Friend was sitting in her cell, bitterly reflecting on the unfairness of the ageing process, when a Cliche simply walked THROUGH the door. "Oh no..." Rachel whispered. The Woganspider bent it's Wogan head on one side, regarding her curiously and licking it's lips, as if assessing her. "You'll do," it said. "No... wait!" Rachel yelled. The Woganspider leapt, merging with her. Suddenly, Bronwyn found herself with a large bump in her suddenly considerably more adolescent and considerably more attractive body. "I'm pregnant," she realised, "and just sixteen!" She realised what she'd just said, with particular emphasis on the 'just sixteen' part. "Yes! Yes, oh yes, oh YES!" "Cliches are breaking out all over the station," Craig told the others. "Oh, and by the way, Bronwyn, I'm having an affair with your sister." "Me too," Henry put in. Borusa looked at the internal scanner. Woganspiders were crawling all over the station, merging with people left, right, and centre. "I don't understand... why has Captain Who done this?" "I think the original Cliche must have taken him over," Craig was drinking from a suddenly-appeared six-pack of beer. "And I need a drink. I can't help it, I'm an alcoholic!" "I've never even seen you take a drink before," Bronwyn objected. Borusa, Henry and Craig looked at her and gasped. "What?" "Look... look at yourself!" Borusa gasped in horrified repulsion. Bronwyn found a mirror and, to her horror, found herself looking not into the face of her usual scrumptious self, but the unmistakeable form of Peta Brady. "No!" she cried in hysterical horror, dropping the mirror. It hit the floor and shattered violently. "NO! How can this have happened?!" "My God," Craig realised. "It's 'The Unbelievably Bad Re-Cast' Cliche. It's gotten to you!" "NO!" Bronwyn shouted in grief and rage. Henry took out his phaser and blew her away. Craig and Borusa stared at him. "It was a mercy," he said defiantly. "For all of us." Craig nodded in reluctant agreement. Any more moments of grief or celebration were shattered by the sound of an elephant in labour, as the teleport cubicle materialised in the control room and Who emerged, followed by Frank Bruno, aka Frobisher, clad only in shorts and boxing gloves. "I'll 'ave you," Frobisher promised. "Captain!" Borusa swore. "You will pay for this!" "Admiral," Who seethed. "There's something I've always wanted to say to you." "Oh?" Borusa sneered. "And what would that be?" Who drew a gun. "They really should have killed you off in 'The Deadly Assassin'." "You scoundrel!" Borusa seethed. "How dare you - " Who fired a laser bolt into Borusa's chest. He collapsed. "Soon, the universe shall belong to the Cliches!" Who giggled madly, and ran away. There was a moment of stunned silence. "Well," Frobisher-Bruno said. "Dem's a turn-up for t' books, ain't they?" Who scampered through the corridors, giggling madly at the Cliched death and destruction unfolding throughout the station. "All things will soon be mine!" he crowed. "They surely will, honey," Delores Gray told him, for no apparent reason. "They SURELY will!" Craig bent by Borusa. "Is he... y'know, dead?" Henry demanded. "I - " Craig gaped. Borusa's face and body were beginning to shimmer, morph and change. "Here we go again," Frobisher-Bruno groaned. With an almost explosive-like bad special effect, Borusa sat up. Except it wasn't the same Borusa anymore. A curly-haired young spunk sat in his place. Borusa leapt up. "Mirror, please." Craig handed him a mirror. Borusa examined himself admiringly. "Ah yes, now this is more like it. I think the nose is a definite improvement." "What's happened?" Frobisher demanded. "Change, my dear," Borusa patted his arm. Frobisher-Bruno resisted the urge to belt him. Look what had happened when he'd tried that with Mike Tyson. "And it seems not a moment too soon. Let's face it, my former persona was a complete twat! This is far more me. Handsome, intelligent, no acne - oh yes, it was acne alright, ignore that 'freak medical condition' crap - and a darn sight easier to hear, eh?" "Eh?" Henry was nonplussed. "I do wish you wouldn't mumble." Borusa boxed his ears. "Shut up! Now then, what's happening? And where's Mr Wok?" "He must still be on the TARDISPRISE," Frobisher told him. "I'll fetch him." He darted back into the teleport cubicle and was gone before anyone could stop him. "Coward," Borusa scowled. "Not like me, brave young hunk that I now am!" Frobisher dived out of the newly materialised TARDIS tent and raced to Mr Wok's room. He entered, to find the Chinaman dead, various body parts strewn all over the room. "Well," Frobisher-Bruno said, "I didn't see dat one coming, dat's for sure." CHAPTER NINE "The Cliches are breaking into the airlocks!" Craig yelled. "If they get on ships, we'll never catch them," Borusa realised. "They'll spread across the universe like a fungus, a life-sucking parasite, re-runs of 'Everybody Loves Raymond'..." "But how can we stop them?" Henry yelled. Borusa came to a decision, noting that his lameass former persona would have just been standing there going "Wibble". He dived to the console and opened hailing frequencies. "TARDISPRISE, do you read me?" "Yes, Admiral," Frobisher-Bruno appeared on the viewscreen, looking shocked. Or possibly stoned. "Wok's dead." "You must destroy the station!" Borusa cried. "What?" Frobisher jumped. "WHAT?!" Henry objected. "There is no alternative," Borusa raged. "If the Cliches are allowed to get free, the universe will descend into chaos! Use the last of your weapons, Frobisher. Destroy us, and them - while you still can!" On the TARDISPRISE, Frobisher realised he had no alternative. Stunned, he shapeshifted into Death from that Ingmar Bergman movie (or 'Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey', if you prefer) and operated the controls. "Sorry, Captain," Frobisher murmured, and pressed the button. Several dozen nuclear warheads crashed into the space station. It erupted, taking the crew, the Cliches and Captain Who with it. "Nooo!" Frobisher wailed. "It can't end like this! This can't be how it ends! It can't be!" He's got a point, you know. It'd be a bit of a downer. Not to mention completely fucking up continuity. Oh well.... Days passed. Frobisher roamed the TARDISPRISE, despondent. Maybe he should just go home, give himself up, and go to prison. Who was dead. Wok was dead. The adventure was well and truly buggered. Frobisher was making his way to the console bridge when he heard water rushing within the TARDISPRISE's communal showers. Frobisher stepped in, to find Captain Who and Mr Wok just stepping out of the shower. "Captain! Wokky!" He embraced them. Who and Wok simultaneously shoved him off them. "What on Gallifrey is the matter with you?" "How... how are you alive?" Frobisher demanded. "Well," Who began awkwardly, "when a man and a woman like each other, I mean REALLY like each other - " "I don't mean that," Frobisher interrupted hurriedly. "You were possessed! You killed Wok! I blew you up!" Who looked at him oddly. "Have you been on the chocolate pilchard liqueurs again?" he inquired. "You mean you don't remember? The Space Station, the monsters etc!" Frobisher flailed. "I think he's lost his marbles, Captain," Wok offered. "You mean..." Frobisher stared at them wonderingly. "You mean it was all just a dream, after all?" "Oh, Frobisher, really," Who looked at him with an expression of distaste on his face. "That's such a cliche!"
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