ᴇʟʏꜱɪᴀɴ

xᴠ.

xᴠ. ᴅᴀʟᴇᴋ
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The Tardis materialises in dimly lit area with carpeting and display cases.

"So what is it? What's wrong?", Rose asks the Doctor who seems to have frozen.

"Don't know. Some kind of signal drawing the Tardis off course.", His eyebrows are furrowed.

"Where are we?", Juliet asks leaning on her arms that rest near on Rose's upper back.

"Earth. Utah, North America. About half a mile underground."

"And when are we?", Rose asks.

"Two thousand and twelve."

He looks at a display case.

"God, that's so close. So we should be twenty six."

The Doctor finds the light switch, and things become more clear.

"Blimey. It's a great big museum.", Juliet mutters.

"An alien museum. Someone's got a hobby. They must have spent a fortune on this. Chunks of meteorite, moon dust. That's the milometer from the Roswell spaceship.", The Doctor observes.

"That's a bit of Slitheen! That's a Slitheen's arm. It's been stuffed.", Rose exclaims pointing to a case.

"Oh, look at you.", The Doctor says walking up to another case.

"What is it?", Both girls ask.

The case contains the head of a Cyberman.

"An old friend of mine. Well, enemy. The stuff of nightmares reduced to an exhibit. I'm getting old.", He mutters the last part to himself.

"Is that where the signal's coming from?"

"No, it's stone dead. The signal's alive. Something's reaching out, calling for help.", He shakes his head.

The Doctor touches the display case and an alarm goes off. Armed guards rush in from all sides and cut them off from the Tardis.

"If someone's collecting aliens, that makes you Exhibit A.", Juliet quips.
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"Attention all personnel. Bad Wolf One descending. Bad Wolf One descending."

A helicopter has landed. Four armed guards line the corridor as a man and his aides stride out of a doorway.

"On behalf of all of us, I want to wish you a very happy birthday, sir. And the President called to convey his personal best wishes.", A man called Polkowski says.

"The President is ten points down. I want him replaced.", Van Statten snaps his fingers.

"I don't think that's very wise, sir.", Polkowski warns.

"Thank you so much for your opinion. You're fired. Get rid of him.", Van Satten orders.

"What?"

An armed guard drags Polkowski away.

"Wipe his memory, put him on the road someplace. Memphis, Minneapolis. Somewhere beginning with M."