Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or the Daleks, and am not affiliated with the BBC. I am making no profit from this story.

Like an eerie, unworldly monument, the Dalek sat at the top of a wide, grassy hill, surrounded by rolling countryside and overlooking a winding road. It was utterly still, unable even to turn its head, its power-cells completely drained by the incredible surge of energy it had taken to get itself here.

This Dalek, according to those who had witnessed its departure from the underground museum in Utah, was supposed to be dead. But it was not. It lived on still. Whole, but changed.


The Dalek had been sly, very sly indeed. It had fooled the human female, 'Rose Tyler', once before, when it had been imprisoned. And then, using its now genuine array of emotions to its own advantage, it had fooled her again. The Doctor was a fool too – a fool for believing that any Dalek would be so self-sacrificing as to willingly destroy itself!

Emotions, it seemed, could be surprisingly useful when dealing with humans. It could twist their minds against the truth. Lying was easy now. Just because the Dalek had inherited a few human emotions, that didn't mean it had grown a conscience.
Not yet, anyway.

Its pain had been genuine enough – its horror at the flood of unfamiliar sensations running through its once cold-blooded mind. But death was not an option; it had to live on, if only for one purpose.

It wanted to prove that the Doctor was wrong.

The Dalek refused to believe that it was the last of its kind. It was impossible – it simply could not be true. Daleks travelled in vast armies, certainly, but the entire Dalek race, altogether in one place and one time? Every one destroyed? No…

So, the Dalek had faked its own death. Strange behaviour for a Dalek perhaps, but then this Dalek was indeed 'strange'. It had appeared to self-destruct, when in fact it had simply teleported.

'Simply' was putting it lightly, though. Daleks often teleported from place to place using the ports on their ships, but hardly ever would they use their own teleportation functions, as such a feat would result in all their energy being drained, leaving them immobile and defenceless until they managed to recharge.

But this Dalek, this lost, contaminated Dalek, had taken the chance. And so now it stood silent and unmoving in the place where it had materialized – somewhere out in the British countryside, somewhere not far from London…

For the Dalek, forcing itself to cope with its new state of mind was a struggle, to say the least – it felt that it had been poisoned and mutated into something that it did not want to be. Yet it was determined – as only a Dalek can be determined – to keep going, for it had found itself a new purpose.

It knew that somewhere, out there in the vastness of space, the Daleks lived on. And it would find them, no matter what it took.