Doctor Who fanfic I wrote just because.
The Mission Supreme Ix glided along the corridor to the Command Cortex. This area was new, built to the Time Strategist’s exacting specifications. The designs had at first flummoxed the Supreme, who was unfamiliar with the science and principles involved. The Strategist had to provide a second, and then a third, set of supplementary, foundational material before Dalek engineers could begin construction. Once completed, the engineers were set to work on fission stacks and the colossal matter condensers.
Project Infinity had stretched the resources of Task Force Terra to the breaking point. Worse, the Supreme had to disperse staff to nine new mining sites. Only the introduction of human clone workers had made the scope of the operation possible.
Barely.
But the Supreme had little choice: Skaro High Command had acquiesced to the Time Strategist’s plan. The scope of Operation Infinity was daunting, unlike anything SKARCOM had conceived to date. It could ensure Dalek domination of the entire galaxy. Guarantee victory on all fronts! Puzzlingly, SKARCOM refused to authorize additional personnel. The Dalek fleet was already overstretched; destruction of rival space faring powers took precedence over Earth, which had been seen as a long term, light resource lift.
The Mission Supreme had raised concerns, in detail. In response, the Strategist provided specifications for advanced incubation chambers to convert irradiated humans into Daleks. Dirty fission stacks would provide the first step of this process, as a secondary benefit. The Strategist even promised a 50% improvement in cognitive function and tripled psycho-kinetic power.
Ix shuddered involuntarily inside its biopod. Daleks grown from these pathetic, walking slugs! An insignificant species that had not even mastered the basics of interstellar travel. It was perverse! Yet again Ix had no choice, given mission scope.
Ix needed more personnel!
Mission Supreme was without influence: it had these new ‘Daleks’ designated as Subclass: Maggots. Impure spawn would not partake in the glorious Dalek Symphonies of Hate, the Death Cries of the Unclean, or the Poetry of Purity!
If only the Strategist had not proved so indisputably useful… the Supreme delighted in fantasy, conceiving sublime tortures it could inflict upon the Strategist, the presumptuous interloper from the future. It had taken over the Supreme’s mission without regard for hierarchy or hygiene.
Victory would no longer belong solely to the Supreme, and this it deeply resented. Outside of itself, everything was an enemy to be despised.
It was only a matter of degree.
The entrance door to the cortex swept up into the wall with a resounding clank, and Mission Supreme advanced inside.
The Time Strategist Kur’s black and gold casing gleamed in a pool of light at the centre of the vast chamber, surrounded by massive screens. It had an extra neck grating, with thick external metal clamps crossed over by two elegant gold rings. Its eyestalk lens glowed a brilliant blue.
Maps of the earth, data streams, and construction crew video feeds flickered across the monitors. Around the rim of the room was a ramp leading down into a long, circular trench, in which dozens of drone Daleks were jacked into pulsing data terminals.
The Supreme halted a dozen feet away from the Strategist, and began to give it’s report. “LAST SHIPMENT OF TARANIUM FROM PLANET VII HAS BEEN PROCESSED AND DISTRIBUTED TO SUBSITES FOR TEMPORAL SHIFT GENERATORS. EYE OF HARMONY HAS BEEN SUCCESSFULLY EXTRACTED AND INTEGRATED WITH CONTROL SYSTEMS. THE DOCTOR HAS ESCAPED, ASSISTED BY REBEL CELL FIFTEEN. FIVE TRIADS HAVE BEEN DEPLOYED TO RETRIEVE—”
“STOP!” the Strategist snapped. “I gave no order for Omega Source to be converted. Who did?” Its voice was more nuanced than that of the typical Dalek, ranging from a sharp, grating drone to quieter, softer tones, eerily reminiscent of Davros, the legendary Creator of the Daleks. It sent a chill through the Mission Supreme and, no doubt, all its subordinates. They instinctively deferred, on some primal psychological level that infuriated Supreme.
“I GAVE THE ORDER,” Mission Supreme affirmed defiantly. Finally a confrontation it could win! Perhaps the Strategist would make a misstep that could be capitalized on…
There was an ominous pause. Then: “Why?”
Ix explained that Su-san’s unconscious was infecting Daleks during their revitalization cycles. It omitted the role of the second in command.
“Ah,” mused Kur softly. The tension in the air began to ease. “I have noted the brittleness of your Gamma-Beta Generation’s mental state… Prepare a gold casing and accelerate. Process must be complete before The Doc-Tor reaches us.”
“HE IS COMING HERE?”
“Naturally,” said Kur with smug self-satisfaction. “He must find out what we are planning, and rescue his granddaughter. Converting her will break him. Cancel all revitalization cycles and triple work shifts. The last matter condenser must be wired in place within the next quarter-orbit.”
“THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE—”
“MAKE IT POSSIBLE! Pull in patrol drones, if necessary. The Doctor will be witness to our triumph! I want his soul annihilated as well as his body. Now go. Carry out my orders.”
“I OBEY!” replied the Supreme. As it exited, it burbled and fluttered tentacles excitedly. The prospect of causing the Doc-Tor anguish filled it with an invigorating joy!
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