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It is a pity, the Dalek Strategist thinks, that they will have to kill the Doctor eventually.
The thought crosses the Strategist’s mind as he watches the Doctor look around. They are in dangerous territories, far beyond the safe part of the galaxy, but the Doctor doesn’t show fear. His posture is casual, almost flippant, as he observes the metal corridors around them. Only a small tremor in how he held his sonic screwdriver belied his worry. The Strategist had learned to watch for the Doctor’s little tells, in each of the Doctor’s incarnates. A Dalek should not feel fear, and the Strategist rarely did. One whose job was to plan every inch of the battlefield, to be aware of how each plan could succeed or fail, should worry of little. Yet even the Strategist had a small...concern. The Hond was troubling, and what the Hond represented was even more worrisome. The universe was pulsating with deeper horrors nowadays, creatures that could scatter across the seven star quandrants, and destabilize the entirety of the Dalek’s plans of (the inevitable) Dalek takeover of society.
(“OBVIOUSLY DALEKS SHALL BE SUCCESS-FUL. WE DO NOT NEED THE DOK-TOR,” the Strategist’s superiors had said. They were wrong, as usual.)
And, in contemplation (out of sight, for contemplation was unbecoming to any Dalek), the Prime Strategist had decided to come up with a plan to protect against the Hond forces—those mysterious creatures of muck, drudged up from some inferior slab of the galaxy, and spreadly slowly to Skaro. The more the Strategist studied the Hond, the more the planner realized they were not usual. The more it became clear, a Doctor was required.
And now the Doctor was here. The Strategist had spent many Skaran nights considering which incarnate of the Doctor to use. The wrinkled one with the cane (how quaint that the Doctor’s soft flesh actually wrinkled!) was immediately discrded as too young. The dashing one with the red cape was not only too young, but too principled—he would fight, but not take advantage of all possibilities out of fairness. Frankly, “fairness” in a fight was an affront to Dalek sensibilities. The bowtied ones annoyed the Strategist, in a different ways, but the temptation to assassinate the Doctor would already be strong, and hearing too many jokes might make it a certainty. Objectively, the one with the umbrella was the best choice, but that one was too unreliable. Not that the Strategist was afraid to match strategy-vs-strategy with that one, but perhaps it was not wise to make that the first choice. The fate of Skaro hung in the balance, after all.
In the end, this incarnate, all young faced and hairs in a disarray, with a large grin and larger coat, was the one the Strategist chose. Not that he liked this Doctor—he would never like the Dalek’s enemy—but he respected this one’s...confidence. More than any other Doctor (and the Strategist had known of many), this one had a knowledge that he was to be a hero, that it was his right to save others. The courage in which he jumped into the unknown, the bristling rage underneath his cheer...it had this Doctor who the Strategists thought of when he heard the stories of the Doctor laying waste to the Dalek armies, this Doctor who was the first to come to mind when the stories of Ka Faqri Gafra exploding Skaro was taught to the Strategist as mythical stories before a new battle. And it gave the Strategist no small amount of pleasure to finally be able to meet this incarnate of the Doctor.
The Doctor must have noticed the Strategist’s eye-stalk observing him, because he suddenly crossed his arms. “I do hope you’re not having seconds thoughts about our temporary...well, I wouldn’t call it a “team-up”. An alliance of convenience?”
An annoyed, warm sensation coursed through the Strategist at having been caught staring at the Doctor. Quickly swiveling the eye-stalk away, the Dalek emitted a “ARE YOU HAV-ING SECOND THOUGHTS?”
“The whole time,” said the Doctor, grumbling through gritted teeth. “But you’ve agreed to be civil, and I guess I have to be to.”
Ah, there it was in the tightening of his eyes, just a flash of utter hate for all things Dalek, just barely held in check by his innate sense of heroism. It was that mixture of anger and desire to help that made this incarnate of the Doctor perfect for this mission. Most Daleks would think that the Doctor’s enmity against the Daleks made him the worst one to help them. It was this lack of insight that had led the Daleks to have so many setbacks on the road on (inevitable) victory. For this tenth incarnate of the Doctor, it was that very enmity that assured that he would help them. This one was desperate to be the dashing hero, desperate to prove he was beyond his petty vices, so that if his worst enemy begged for help, he would have to try to help them, just to prove he was the better man. That desire to prove he was better, to gain the glory, was in its own strange way, something that a Dalek could respect. For what Dalek did not desire glory?
Before the Prime Strategist could respond, they were interrupted by the Hond. As the Doctor sprung into action, the Dalek by his side idly wondered if the Doctor knew the Daleks were preparing to betray him once the threat to Skaro was gone.
When the Doctor responded to their betrayal by revealing his own contingency-attack on the Daleks, the Prime Strategist was fuming inside.
Not that the Doctor had counter-attacked them. The Prime Strategist had been awaiting to see what contingency plan the Doctor would set up, and had been pleasantly watching out the proverbial side of his eye-stalk when he had wired the Skaran systems to blow whenever the Doctor was ready. What really stung the Strategist’s tentacles, was that the Doctor actually thought that it had been a surprise! Did he really think that the Strategist was like all the other Dalek dullards? Surely the Doctor had noted the faculties of perception! What a disappointment...perhaps this incarnate was not worthy of admiration after all.
Obviously, the Strategist did not let the Doctor go out of admiration. That would be unthinkable, as well as worthy of execution by the Dalek Empereor. No Dalek fears death, but, down to his fleshy muscles, the Strategist refused to give the fool Emperor the pleasure of delivering that execution. Pacifism would be a preferable end (could the Emperor even spell ‘pacifism’? Could the Emperor even spell?)
The Strategist located his actual reason for letting this tenth Doctor incarnate escape, as the planner was turning the corner. It was a blonde female humanoid, with yellow head-tentacles like many humanoids had, and a rainbow shirt. The Strategist let out an energy bolt, as the pure Dalek killing-reflex took over due to shock. Fortunately, it was a hologram that was shot at—it would have destabilized all the plans the Strategist had, were they to kill who the Dalek files termed the “thirteenth incarnate” of the Doctor.
This 13 th Doctor looked at the mark on the wall from the accidental discharge, and scronched her face. The Strategist gave her a quick lookover. There were few records on this Doctor, and what was there constantly seemed to be inconsistent or get misplaced. The Emperor had assumed it was due to incompetence on the record-keepers part, and kept having them exterminated; the Strategist instead suspected it was due to paradox—this Doctor’s time-line was shifting, causing reverbrations in her past and her future. Perhaps even she was the true reason for the current paradoxes, and the Hond. Was there anything unusual about her?
Looking back at him, still scronching, she said “Very rude, to be honest.”
“I AP-OLO-GIZE. IT IS A DAL-EK REFLEX,” said the Strategist.
The Doctor’s face turned to confusion. A small smile tugged on her face, as she stepped closer to him. Her blue eyes sparkled as she seemed to take a deeper glance at the metal body before her. “A Dalek who apologizes? That’s rare.”
That warm sensation returned. “I AM NOT RARE. I AM A SIMPLE DALEK.”
The Doctor laughed. She started walking around the Strategist, and it became necessary to swivel around to keep an eye on her. “And you’re a modest one, too. Even more interesting. I’m actually trying to work on my modesty. You met that younger me. So full of himself.”
“THAT INCARNATE IS MOD-EST TOO--” then the Strategist stopped. Considering the options, the Dalek said “WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?”
“Why? What are you going to do?” challenged the Doctor, hands-on-hips. “Kick me out?”
“I COULD TRACE YOUR HOLO-GRAPHIC IMAGE. THEM MY EMPEROR CAN EXTERMINATE YOU OUT OF THE GALAXY.”
“Yeah,” said the Doctor. She skipped over, to right where the eye-stalk level was, and said “But you haven’t. You haven’t even called for help now. So, why is that? In fact, I’d guess—with about three lives worth of hind-sight—that you let the other version of me escape. So, what, do you have a crush on me? Or are you a really bad strategist?”
“I AM NOT A BAD STRATEGIST!” screamed the Dalek. “I AM THE BEST STRATEGIST AMOUNG THE DAL-EKS. IN MY FEW MONTHS IN THIS POSITION--”
“Oh! So you’re new! That explains it!” said the Doctor, her expression changing to pity.
“NO! I WAS AWARE OF THE POSSIBILITY THAT SHOOTING YOUR EARLIER SELF MIGHT CAUSE A PARADOX, IF FUTURE DOCTORS INTERFERED. I CALCULATED A CHANCE OF FUTURE INTERFERENCE, AND WAS ACCURATE,” screamed the Prime Strategist.
“You didn’t tell anyone else about your predictions? And you were accurate?” said the Doctor. She stumbled back, looking horrified. “You’re predicting my behavior? ”
“YES. EVEN NOW, THIS IS PART OF MY--” started the Strategist. Then they stopped. “YOU ARE PRETENDING TO BE SCARED TO GAIN INFORMATION FROM ME.”
The Doctor’s face changed from horror to gleeful mischieviousness. Leaning her hologram body on a wall, she continued “It works a lot of the time. I keep getting underestimated a lot in this new body, and I don’t know why. It might be the coat. Maybe it should be red.”
“I TOO, AM UNDERESTIMATED,” said the Strategist. If this Doctor was kept talking, perhaps the source of the paradox in her records would become clearer. “THE DALEKS IN SKARO TODAY DO NOT AP-PRECIATE STRATEGY. ALL THEY KNOW IS DIRECT EXTERMINATION.”
The Doctor sighed suddenly. “Home often hurts. And sometimes your home may not even be your real home...”
Hmm? The Strategist sensed a deep distress behind her words. Perhaps there lied an advantage there. “DO YOU WISH TO TALK OF YOUR HOME, GALLIFREY?”
“I’m not even sure that is...” started the Doctor. Frowning sadly, she said “You know, you act like a normal Dalek. But I do think you’re a rather clever one, behind that metal frame. Reminds me of a friend of mine called Rusty. And that’s why this conversation ends here. I know when I’m being fished for information. You are sly, my new Dalek friend, but so am I.”
Anger ran through the system, as did the killing instinct. Holding back the anger, the Strategist said “YOU MAY BE SLY, BUT WHEN THE DALEKS INEVITABLY DEFEAT YOU, YOU WILL NO LONGER LAUGH. AND THEN WE WILL TRACK DOWN YOUR COM-PANIONS. PERHAPS WE WILL START ON YAS-MIN KHAN--”
The Doctor leaped up, and suddenly towered over him. There was a burning look in her eyes, and her face showed a sick grin that shocked his fleshy core. Actually, their fleshy core was literally feeling shocked. (How? Ah, the Doctor must have hacked the system to create a surplus of static charge. A Dalek dying by static. What an irony.) There was no words spoken by her, just the feeling of pain. As the Strategist burned, and stared into the Doctor’s look of glee, the planner realized that this was why the Daleks told horror stories about her. At least, her gaze would be a worthy last sight.
And then the burning stopped. The Doctor’s expression changed, from manic glee to a serious glare. The Dalek Strategist heard the sounds of other Daleks approaching. No! That would stop the talk with the Doctor, with no intel gathered.
“I figured shocking your casing would get us noticed. I needed a distraction, to ensure my earlier self had extra time to escape,” said the Doctor. Yawning, she added “Between near-arrests by Judoon and dealing with you, I’ve had a long day. I hope I didn’t burn you up too much.”
“...I’LL LIVE,” said the Strategist. “I HAVE DEALT WITH WORSE ON SKARAN PLAY-GROUNDS. THIS WAS A GOOD CHAT.”
“Oohh!” said the Doctor, suddenly childishly attentive. “Do Dalek tots have playgrounds? Are there little Dalek-sized swing sets? Do Dalek toddlers play ‘exterminate-the-Doctor’? Wait, can Daleks even get on swings?”
“IT WAS A JOKE,” said the Prime Strategist. “SKARO HAS NO PLAYGROUNDS.”
“Oh. Bummer,” huffed the Doctor. She brushed her hair out of her face, and said “A Dalek with a sense of humor. I will keep an eye on you...Too bad you threatened my fam. Could’ve been a good Dalek.”
Then the Doctor hologram disappeared, just as the Emperor appeared.
“WHO WAS TAL-KING?” cried out the Emperor.
“NO IDEA,” said the Strategist.
Daleks do not dream. But the Prime Strategist does. The planner dreams of the Doctor by their side—using the worst opponent of the Daleks to reach new heights for Skaro. Obviously such an alliance would never last. But the Strategist knows the time until the inevitable messy break-up would be marvelous.
The Doctors after the Time War would never ally with the Dales. But there are many Doctors beforehand. Even more than the Dalek records show. There are traces, rumours, amoung the archives of the Judoon (the 13 th incarnate’s mention was a great clue) , the ravings in Shada, the scrolls of the Collection… of another Division of Doctors. Perhaps one more amenable to the Dalek’s...strategy.
It is a pity, the Dalek Prime Strategist thinks, that they will have to kill the Doctor eventually. But who better to do it, than the Doctor herself?