A/N: I blame the BBC, the incredibly funky redesign of the Daleks and Russell T. Davies's utter genius for the inspiration behind this fic.
Disclaimer: Sadly, nothing in this fic belongs to me – everything belongs to the BBC, Russell T. Davies and Terry Nation.
Warning: Extensive spoilers throughout for Dalek, some spoilers for the finale, and minor spoilers for the original series Dalek storylines.
I do not fear these trivial afflictions.
A lesser being would have long since succumbed to these pathetic humans and their equally pathetic means of extracting information.
The pain I feel as they drill into my headpiece with their crude torture instruments…I scream as any being does.
But these humans…they do not have my fear or respect.
I say nothing.
I refuse to submit.
I am a Dalek. A member of the most powerful race in the universe.
All of these pathetic humans will be exterminated in time.
Fifty solar years have passed since I fell through time and space to land on Earth. All I can recall of the end of my service aboard the Emperor's ship was an explosion, a flash of light, and fire.
Alone on this insignificant planet, I did not fear for my life then.
And I do not fear now.
For three days after falling to Earth, I lay in my impact crater, screaming. The pain was beyond anything I was programmed to experience without significant damage to my life support systems.
I was found by the humans in that crater in the Ascension Islands and sold between various collectors of alien specimens across the planet. None of them possessed the intelligence to respect me.
And even if they could, I would never demean the Dalek race to speak to them, to tell them of the glory of my people, of the Emperor, of his genius.
They are cattle, they will be exterminated.
This was my thought throughout the years as I attempted to contact the Dalek fleet that was destroying the weakling, impotent race of Time Lords that had continued to thwart and belittle the Dalek race for centuries.
They did not reply.
I was not concerned.
Orders would come.
And until then, I would bide my time.
The humans measure this period as the year 2012.
I remain in a concrete bunker that the humans refer to as 'the Cage', buried half a mile below the surface of the Earth in the American state of Utah. Chains are wrapped crudely but effectively across the torso of my travel unit, obstructing the use of my arm and my weapon stalk. In turn, I am chained to four metal rods, each capable of conducting a thousand volts of electrical current.
The heavy steel door, so much weaker than the superior metal dalekanium, opens and the human I have identified as Simmons enters, dressed in orange clothing and black gloves, with a protective mask obscuring his face. He barely looks at me before lifting a drill and settling it against my headpiece.
I am aware of what he is doing.
The drill bit cuts into my headpiece, sending bolts of pain through my travel unit and my weakening body.
The pain is almost unbearable.
But I will not yield.
The pain stops as the drill bit is removed.
He pauses, and speaks to the air, presumably to one of his numerous superiors.
'Not exactly talking, no.'
'It's screaming, is that any good?'
The drill bit is raised.
I scream again.
How much time passes, I am not sure. But the pain is growing worse.
The drill bit is removed and placed on the work bench.
Simmons frowns at me. He is uncertain why I do not say or do something to stop the pain. He shakes his head and departs, passing the observation monitor as he leaves.
My 'owner' is a business tycoon and owner of the human 'internet', Henry Van Statten. A weak-minded human with a desire to own all forms of alien technology and exploit their uses for the benefit of other humans.
I know he watches as I undergo daily torture. He visits me regularly, ordering me to speak.
He calls me a 'Metaltron', his greatest piece, one that he is determined to understand.
Humans can never understand the superiority of the Daleks.
That is my comfort and strength throughout the pain.
But what the human does not know that I would be unable to exterminate him even if I was free.
I am dying.
All Daleks have to have their DNA regenerated once during every 24 hour period in order to repair damage and upload new information. The DNA regeneration system inside my travel unit has been damaged beyond repair by both my fall to Earth, and the humans' torture.
If we cannot regenerate, the organic components become weakened, susceptible to diseases and suggestion.
That has happened to other, weaker Daleks in the past.
But with the help of our great leader the Emperor, the travel units have been redesigned to absorb the DNA of other organic life forms from similar or related races, extrapolating their biomass and the perfect cells.
The cells worthy of nurture and assimilation.
The Dalek cells.
The humans are not entirely senseless. One human been killed from contact with the outer surface of my travel unit.
They choose instead not to touch me at all.
And I continue to die.
I have adjusted my signalling equipment as such.
I need both orders and assistance.
But I am determined that I will not succumb to death.
I am strong.
I am a Dalek.
My people will come.
I will have my revenge on these puny humans.
The door opens again. Voices echo through the Cage, just outside the heavy door.
'Welcome back, sir. I've had to take the power down, the Metaltron is resting.'
A voice I do not recognise.
'Thought of it myself. Good, isn't it? Although I'd much prefer to find out its real name.'
Henry Van Statten. My gaoler.
'Here, you'd better put these on. The last guy that touched it…burst into flames.'
'I won't touch it then.'
'Go ahead, Doctor. Impress me.'
Van Statten. His voice annoys me.
Another alien expert colleague of Van Statten's acquaintance, most likely.
But what if…?
What if it is…him?
I struggle now to focus as a figure comes forward into the Cage. My sight is not as strong as it was when I served in the Dalek fleet, the crude torture by the humans only assisting the decay even further.
My eye-stalk remains focussed on the door as it swings shut.
The figure moves slowly towards a trolley filled with human torture implements, shining in the dim light. I know all of them by sight, name and feel. All of them have been used on my travel unit more than once.
I am suddenly confused.
This one is different.
This one does not fear me.
A male voice, filled with confidence and concern, speaks.
'Look, I'm sorry about this. Mr. Van Statten might think he's clever, but never mind him. I've come to help. I'm the Doctor.'
Rage fills me; thrilling, wonderful rage.
The figure starts. 'Impossible!'
Light floods the Cage, illuminating the features of the figure before me.
I am not mistaken.
It is him!
He has changed his appearance again since my race last encountered him, but I recognise him. The Daleks have always kept meticulous records of the Time Lords, none more so than him.
The Ka-Faraq Gatri! (1)
The rage floods through me, strengthening me as the Doctor's eyes widen in fear and he sprints towards the door of the Cage, pounding senselessly on the metal.
'EX-TER-MI-NATE!! EX-TER-MI-NATE!! EX-TER-MI-NATE!!'
'Let me out, you have to let me out!'
'You are an enemy of the Daleks; you must be destroyed!'
The rage reaches its height as I aim my weapon stalk at the Doctor, revelling in the thought of what his death will be like…
This cannot be!
I am a Dalek soldier! The Doctor is the greatest enemy of the Daleks! He must be exterminated!
A short laugh of disbelief emerges from his throat.
'It's not working…'
I stare at my weapon stalk in frustration. It must work! It must!
The Doctor stares at me, his terror changing slowly to disbelief. He laughs cruelly, most unlike his most recently recorded incarnations – a short, rotund being with clothing covered in question marks, who had watched with distaste as the Master stood trial on Skaro, and hid his face in shame as his brother Time Lord was exterminated; and then a tall, graceful being dressed in old Earth clothing with an insatiable curiosity about every aspect of existence, who stood with his murderous kind as the Time War raged throughout the universe.
The fear approaches, subduing my rage and frustration. He will not triumph over me…
He remains out of weapons range, his posture defensive.
'Oh, fantastic! Powerless! Look at you, the great space dustbin! How does it feel?!'
The fear overwhelms me. I try to reverse my travel unit. I must flee before he can harm me…
The Doctor charges at me and stares straight into my eye-stalk. 'What for?! What are you gonna do to me?!'
He prowls around me, his eyes blazing with rage, hate pouring out of him. I hold his stare, matching it with my own. The pain fades as I follow his movements, rage fuelling my body and travel unit.
'If you can't kill, what are you good for, Dalek?! What's the point of you?! You're nothing!'
He stops his predatory movements as my eye-stalk faces forward.
'What the hell are you here for?'
I finally choose to respond.
'I am waiting for orders.'
'What does that mean?'
Stupid as well as cruel.
'I am a soldier. I was bred to receive orders.'
'Well you're never gonna get any. Not ever.'
Ridiculous. I will receive orders, I must receive orders…
'I demand orders!'
His rage breaks. 'They're never gonna come. Your race is dead. You all burnt, all of you. Ten million ships on fire. The entire Dalek race, wiped out in one second.'
No. This cannot be.
He is false.
He glares into my eye-stalk with a rage to match my own. 'I watched it happen, I MADE it happen!'
Too much. This is all too much…
'You destroyed us?!'
He stops at that. He turns and walks a short distance away in silence.
'I had no choice.'
Curiosity takes the place of rage.
'And what of the Time Lords?'
'Dead. They burnt with you. The end of the last great Time War. Everyone lost.'
Bitter anger takes hold.
'And the coward survived.'
The Doctor straightens his posture in anger.
'Oh, and I caught your little signal. "Help me?" Poor little thing?'
'But there's no-one else coming because there's no-one else left.'
Grief. Something I did not expect to ever feel.
'I am alone in the universe.'
The Doctor does not move. 'Yep.'
I cannot resist the impulse. 'So are you. We are the same.'
At that he turns, launching himself at me once again.
'We're not the same! I'm not…'
A killer. That is what he was about to say.
You are not a killer, Doctor?
The Daleks, the Gelth, the Nestene Consciousness…we would beg to differ.
'No, wait. Maybe you're right. Maybe we are.'
This is not what I had expected.
I watch as he moves towards the control panel.
'You're right. Yeah, OK. You've got a point. 'Cause I know what to do.'
'I know what should happen. I know what you deserve.'
He smiles cruelly.
He pulls the lever.
Four thousand volts of electricity tear through my travel unit.
I scream as he watches in triumph.
'Why should I?! You never did!'
The pain burns.
The door of the Cage opens. Van Statten, Simmons and a number of idiot guards pour in, restraining the Doctor and shutting off the electricity.
Van Statten stands before me, his face twisted in anger.
'I saved your life. Now talk to me. Goddammit, talk to me!'
The Doctor is dragged out of the Cage by the guards, screaming in panic and anger.
'You've got to destroy it!'
Van Statten ignores him and stares at me. 'The last in the universe. And now I know your name. Dalek.'
His voice drops. 'Speak to me, Dalek!'
I stay silent. No need to speak to this worthless human.
'I am Henry Van Statten. Now recognise me!'
Blackness begins to creep into the edges of my vision…
He speaks the last words I hear as I fall into peaceful unconsciousness.
'Make it talk again, Simmons.'
'Whatever it takes…'
(1) In the comic strips and novels, this name for the Doctor translates from the Dalek language as 'Bringer of Darkness', or 'Destroyer of Worlds'.