A/N: Since the Daleks have returned once again, I felt it was finally time to write the musings of the Emperor...


Disclaimer: I am a poor, broke, unemployed student who owns nothing. The uber-rich and famous BBC, Terry Nation and Russell T. Davies own Doctor Who and the Daleks. Damn them!

Warnings: Huge spoilers for PotW, a few for Doomsday, some spoilers for the classic series, and a dose of Dalek nastiness.


Prometheus: Part 1


They watch Me with their tiny eye-stalks, Their collective gaze bright with adoration.

They raise Their manipulator stalks in worship, as I have taught Them in the many years in the dark space.

Their vocal units cry out in rapture as the wastrels of the Solar system are transformed, nurtured…become like Them.

Like Me.

I press an appendage to the clear reinforced casing and watch as a new-born member of My Brethren examines itself, examines what My Genius has created.

The weapon stalk and manipulator stalk move in small circles as the eyestalk focuses on each in turn.

I can feel the amazement of the mutant, and Its thankfulness.

This is good.

This is right.

The golden colour of the travel unit shimmers in the lights of the chamber as the newest of My Brethren turns and stares up at Me.

'Worship him! Worship him!'

It revels in My Glory.

It knows Me for the God I am.


A pleasant distraction from the darkness both outside and in.


As My Supreme Guards float before me, protecting My Magnificent Structure, I turn in My Chamber to watch the viewscreen and the floating ball of grey and blue which it displays.

Earth.

A polluted, stinking, festering waste-ground at the heart of a filthy, corrupted Empire, carrying the disease - the virus - that is Humanity.

This measly planet escaped the murder and rape which the Time War ravaged on the universe.

It suffered not.

And yet so many other, more worthy races, perhaps worthy even of the gift of life bestowed on Them…They perished.

The Animus.

The Nestene.

The Gelth.

How did Humanity survive this long?

No. No, the real question is; why did I permit them to survive this long?

I have watched Them for thousands of years as They stumble about on the skin of Their insignificant world, destroying Their planet and each other in Their pathetic struggle to gain power, wealth, flesh and immortality.

But I am God. I do not permit this insult to My Wisdom. Only those chosen by Myself will gain the knowledge of what They seek.

Only those select few who possess the disposition…only They shall join My Brethren.

The rest of the disease…

They serve no purpose; They produce nothing of value, of significance. Their technologies are pathetic, barbaric by the standards of My Race. Their only use is to aid in the creation of My Brethren. They are taken to the processing units, Their bodies filleted, broken, crushed, shredded and sifted in order to locate and nurture the cells worthy of assimilation.

I will not allow this to continue. This grotesque race of sacrificial flesh…soon They will all die by My Hand.


I am Zeus, who watches from His Temple in the sky.
I am Yahweh, who leads His People to salvation.
I am Mohammed, who prophecies the Land for His People.
I am Jehovah, who shares both His Wrath and His Mercy.
I am Buddha, who holds the Universe in the palm of His Hand.
I am Prometheus, who is The Creator, and God of All Things.


I had screamed as the flames of the Time Lord fleets carved through My Armada, watching in agony as My Glorious Race fell from grace through the actions of the Traitor.

The Heathen.

The Ka Faraq-Gatri.

The killer of His own men.

My ship fell, so far from the pathetic remains of Gallifrey and the noble burnt shell of Skaro, to this insignificant point in time and space.

To the darkest regions of the Sol System, where like shadows we have grown in strength and number.

We observed the speck of blue in the far distance, watching and waiting as the Humans grew in confidence to explore off-world and encounter new and more pathetic lifeforms than Themselves.

They were growing too cunning, too smart. They tried to overreach Me, My Power and My Wisdom.

They built the installation known as Satellite Five in their Earth year 199,900. I recall marvelling that They had survived for this long. For They are too much like the warm-blooded equivalent of Their insectoid cousins.

Like cockroaches.

Cockroaches that serve no purpose but to live and spread disease.

Remove Their heads and the bodies will still survive.

They populated Satellite Five and moved outward, ignorant of the true power that lay guiding Their progress.

The cold intellect of the Jagrafress insured that They did not stray too far, that Their borders remained closed, that They remained scared, simple and friendless.

But then…The Traitor returned.

He and his battered TARDIS were found on board in the year 200,000. He discovered the Jagrafress and exterminated the now-useless cone of flesh with the aid of the journalists who worked on the station.

But this was good.

This was better than I had anticipated.

The insanely simple news channels shut down overnight. Earth was helpless. Governments rebelled. Anarchy ruled. Murder, riots, carnage spread like fire over the crust of the strip-mined shell.

And within this terror, My Brethren took full control.

Satellite Five became the GameStation. I watched in approval as the Controller was bred in the maturation unit in my ship, Her brain rewired to remove emotion and any misguided loyalty to the Human race, and installed to monitor the programmes.

The GameStation was also rewired, secondary transmat systems built into the newly installed disintegrators. The Humans were too foolish, too trusting, too simple-minded to realise the deception. Contestants in the Games would not perish.

No.

They were transported to My Fleet, and transformed into the ultimate lifeforms.

And now I sit and watch the blue sphere, waiting for the first sign that My Reign on Earth will soon begin.


A flash of golden light.

A transmat beam.

I stare in anger at this error. Which among My Race has been so foolish as to allow an unchanged Human into My Divine Presence?

She, for it is a small Human female, sits up gradually and blinks as one of My Supreme Guards glides across the floor of the deck.

'No…it can't be…'

She struggles to stand and backs up against the wall panels as My Supreme Guard follows Her.

'But you're dead. I saw you die!'

She is pinned against the wall with little resistance.

Confusion. She has seen one of My Brethren before?

Impossible. Improbable.

The last direct encounter that any of My Race had with the Humans was during the Tenth Dalek Occupation of Earth, thousands of years ago.

So she is either lying…or…

She is a time traveller. Who would be so foolish as to allow a mere Human to travel the sacred paths of time?

Except…

…for Him.

Elation.

He is here!

He has returned!

The Ka Faraq-Gatri!


Silence from the GameStation.

A solar flare interrupting the broadcast activity.

A pleasant change from the human babble.


'…Doctor! Co-ordinates five point six point one seven slash nine point four three four…

What is this?!

Rage fills My Body as she screams out the co-ordinates of My Fleet to the Traitor.

This will not be tolerated.

This will not go unpunished.

'Bring her to Me!'

'…No my masters, no I defy you!!...sigma seven seven seven… '

A scream.

The same flash of golden light.

And the khaki-clad body of the Controller lies before Me.

How could one of My Creations bear such a grievous fault as this treachery?

I watch with satisfaction as My Supreme Guard turns from guarding the small Human female, Dalek Unit 1 taking over, and glides towards the Controller as She stands tall…and proudly Human. (1)

It disgusts Me.

'Oh my masters…You can kill me. For I have brought your destruction.'

I merely envisage the command.

One shot, and She falls with a scream.


They will know soon enough that My Race is here, that the Daleks have survived.

But no matter.

They will all fall to their knees and weep as the Daleks descend from the heavens and take the carcass that is Earth for Its new purpose as My Divine Temple.

A frantic alarm resounds through My Vessel and the other ships in My Fleet.

The shield has fallen.

We can be seen by all.

My Brethren are quick to decide on the best course of action.

Dalek Unit 2 emerges from the primary transmat bay. 'Alert, alert! We are detected!'

Unit 1 turns. 'It is the Doctor! He has located us! Open communications channel!'

Unit 2 glides towards the Human.

'The female will stand! STAND!'

Dalek Unit 3 moves to flank the Human's left side as the assembled units stare up at the viewscreen, watching as the image of Earth flickers and reformed into the bony visage of what appears to be a Human male.

Unit 1 moves forward. 'I will talk to the Doctor.'

The visage sneers. 'Oh will you? That's nice.'

He waves a hand at the viewscreen. 'Hello!'

'The Dalek Stratagem nears completion. The Fleet is almost ready. You will not intervene.'

He raises His eyebrows. 'Oh really? Why's that then?'

'We have your associate. You will obey, or she will be exterminated.'

The Doctor narrows His eyes.

'No.'

A pause.

Confusion.

What…what does he mean by this?

I cannot clarify. My Units cannot clarify.

The vocal enhancers inside Unit 1 betray Its uncertainty.

'Explain yourself.'

'I said, no.'

Unit 1 grows agitated. 'What is the meaning of this negative?'

'It means, no!'

Unit 1 shakes in alarm. 'But she will be destroyed!'

The skeletal Time Lord rises from His seat and stands tall.

'No, 'cos this is what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna rescue her. I'm gonna save Rose Tyler from the middle of the Dalek Fleet. And then I'm gonna save the Earth. And then, just to finish off, I'm gonna wipe every last stinking Dalek out of the sky!'

Unit 1 is now trembling in panic. 'But you have no weapons! No defences! No plan!'

'Yep.'

He suddenly smiles cruelly. 'And doesn't that just scare you to death?'

He holds up the viewscreen remote and looks at a point behind Unit 1.

'Rose?'

I glance at the female. She wears a tremulous smile, Her confidence starting to build.

'Yes, Doctor?'

'I'm coming to get you.'

The viewscreen goes dead.


Unit 1 turns, anger present in Its tone.

'The Doctor is initiating hostile action!'

Unit 2 chimes in with calm authority.

'The Stratagem must advance! Begin the invasion of Earth!'

Unit 3 turns to the command consoles and plugs Its manipulator stalk into the mainframe.

'The Doctor will be exterminated!'

And The Brethren take up the call.

'EX-TER-MI-NATE!! EX-TER-MI-NATE!! EX-TER-MI-NATE!!'

It echoes throughout My Ship and My Fleet, making the dalekanium base of My Throne tremble in anticipation.

I keep to the shadows and watch as the female, Rose, watches in growing horror.

She now sees the true extent of My Glory, My Army.


For it has been written; We, the Dalek race, will face the Ka-Faraq Gatri, The Traitor, The Doctor.

For it has been written; We shall triumph.

For it has been written; and The Doctor shall fall.


TBC

(1) Since I was relying off the Shooting Scripts, the DVD and the events of Doomsday, all of the Daleks are described as they are in the scripts. At least RTD had the sense to finally give the Daleks names!