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Fic: A Good Day (or: The War in the Medusa Cascade). Chapter 3
For new friends/random strangers: I have a vast AU 'verse about the Master's son (an OC, obviously, born during The Year That Never Was). This is the latest installment - a total re-write of The Stolen Earth/Journey's End. (No really, I'm so far from canon that pretty much the only things that are staying the same are Davros & the Daleks. And it's the only canon story I've ever adapted. It's an interesting process.) If you're curious and want to have a look, there's no need to read the previous stories - this (like all the other stories) is designed to stand alone if need be. Beginning here: Prologue. And Master post for the whole 'verse here.
(Mostly then I can't believe I'm actually posting this chapter. It ends on a cliffhanger I've had planned since 2008!)
Summary: "Why is it only ever the bad guys who have a proper plan?" The Master's son finally meets the Daleks. And he thought it a good day. (TSE/JE rewrite with Eleven and Clara and a host of extras.)
Setting: Future AU TSE/JE.
Spoilers: The Name of the Doctor (S7.13)
Rating: PG-13.
Characters: The Seeker (OC, the Master's son), Eleventh Doctor, Clara, the Master, Jack, River, Roda (OC), Davros, others.
Beta: The always lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathyh.
Thank yous: Tothe_redjay for the loan of Roda.
Feedback: Pretty please? I'm very curious to see what you think.
Chapter 3
The Doctor fell to his knees, hands flat against the floor where the trap door had closed again and his TARDIS vanished:
“What have you done? Where's it going?”
The large red Dalek behind them answered.
“The Crucible has a heart of Z-neutrino energy. The TARDIS will be deposited into the core.”
Jumping back onto his feet, he turned, aghast.
“You can't. You've taken the defences down. It'll be torn apart... Please. Please. I'm begging you...”
The red Dalek stayed immovable and merely continued speaking, its voice almost cruel.
“You are connected to the TARDIS. Now feel it die.”
He wanted to say that there was someone still inside, but revealing who would not do any good. He could sense the TARDIS consciousness screaming, heard the briefest of mental cries from his oldest friend (“What the ever loving f-”), but the Daleks were counting down, rel by rel, as he could only stand there, helpless, unable to comprehend what was happening.
And then there was only silence. Terrible, terrible silence.
The red Dalek spoke again.
“The TARDIS has been destroyed. Now tell me, Doctor. What do you feel? Anger? Sorrow? Despair?”
Hands curled into fists, eyes blurring, he didn’t reply.
“But if emotions are so important, surely we have enhanced you?” the red Dalek continued.
His chest was too tight by far, and he felt Clara’s hand unfurling his own and taking hold of it as if in a dream.
“I’ve been ‘enhanced’ quite enough these past few years,” he eventually said, unable to keep the rancour out of his voice.
“I’m so sorry, Doctor,” the Seeker murmured softly, and the Doctor closed his eyes, trying to regain focus. The boy had lost his father...
“Seeker...” he began, but the young Time Lord shook his head, face expressionless.
“Not now.”
Grateful that he needn’t try to find words he knew he wouldn’t be able to say, he tried to merely stay in the present.
(One part of his mind was still ticking over, telling him that this couldn’t happen, he’d stood in the TARDIS when it was his tomb, but he knew better than anyone how time could be rewritten and refashioned into a new shape...)
The red Dalek spoke once more: “Escort them to the Vault. They are the playthings of Davros now.”
The name made him almost stop in his tracks, the sheer shock of the name causing his mind to reboot.
“Did you say... Davros?”
A Dalek poked him in the back and he forced his legs to work, even as he heard the Seeker’s sharp intake of breath.
“Doctor - you were right.”
They emerged into a strangely cavernous, red-lit place, reminding the Doctor of the Dalek Asylum in feeling... But at the heart of this Dalek web there would not be a Soufflé Girl, aiding and abetting. Only an ancient madman who should have been dead long, long ago.
Yet despite the Doctor’s misgivings, Davros did indeed appear, gliding out of the shadows, the Dalek casing around his lower body moving soundlessly. The closed hollows of his eyes and his ashen, deeply lined face were unchanged, as if they’d met yesterday. The Doctor almost felt vertiginous. Of all the impossible things to happen today...
“You have the face of a child, and yet its arrogance is unchanged. Welcome to my new Empire, Doctor. It is only fitting that you should bear witness to the resurrection and the triumph of Davros, lord and creator of the Dalek race.”
The voice was the same also. That clipped, almost staccato inflection that was mirrored in the Daleks...
Belatedly remembering to check on Clara, he turned to his right, and saw that she was speechlessly horrified. Whereas the Seeker - on the far side of Clara - was studying Davros with a look that was pure fascination. But then he’d grown up with the stories... He didn’t see the desiccated body, but the whole legacy. And was probably focussing on the difficulties in front of them in order not to think of his own loss - a coping mechanism he’d developed at far too young an age.
The Doctor briefly closed his eyes. He should probably take a leaf out of the youngster’s book... Not allow himself to dwell on the recent loss, nor the long history he shared with Davros. No, looking back would not help at all... Focus on the present, find out what was happening now, that was the key.
While he was still trying to take stock of the situation (counting exits and operating stations and the very low number of Dalek guards), Davros lifted his only hand.
“Activate the holding cells.”
Bright spotlights suddenly beamed down, power fields instantly encompassing them. The Seeker experimentally reached out and touched the field, causing bright white light to shimmer around him. He seemed oddly unconcerned, but the Doctor wasn’t really paying attention. Most of his still half-formed plans had been ruled out in a single swoop.
“Excellent,” Davros rasped. “Even when powerless, a Time Lord is best contained.”
Finally the Doctor found his voice. He had to keep Davros talking - he would want to revel in his victory, and would hopefully give something away. Adjusting his bow tie, he did his best to look his ancient enemy in the eye.
“I don't understand - you were destroyed. In the very first year of the Time War, at the Gates of Elysium. I saw your command ship fly into the jaws of the Nightmare Child. I tried to save you.”
The Seeker spluttered.
“You tried to- what is wrong with you?”
Davros ignored the interruption.
“It took one stronger than you to save me. Dalek Caan himself.”
Another spotlight now shone, focussing on an exposed Dalek, residing in a shell of armour, and it chilled the Doctor to realise it was the same Dalek he had met so many centuries before - Rose, and later Martha, by his side. He had offered compassion. Caan had chosen to run.
And then it spoke, its voice lilting like a mad man’s, with a strange ebb and flow, as if liquid.
“I flew into the wild and fire. I danced and died a thousand times.”
Davros expounded, clearly relishing the story:
“Emergency Temporal Shift took him back into the Time War itself.”
The Doctor felt as if the ground beneath his feet was shifting.
“But that's impossible. The entire War is time locked.”
(His words sounded feeble, even to his own ears. Something got in... And something got out. The proof was right in front of him.)
Yet Davros smiled, and the Doctor, out of the corner of his eye, saw Clara wrap her arms around herself.
“And yet he succeeded. Oh, it cost him his mind, but imagine. A single, simple Dalek succeeded where Emperors and Time Lords have failed. A testament, don't you think, to my remarkable creations?"
The Doctor nodded slowly, adding up what he’d seen so far. There were none of the Daleks created from the Progenitor, nothing to suggest that they knew there had been other survivors. No, this lot was hidden away, out of sync with the rest of the universe - with their own purpose. And Davros was at the heart of it all.
“And you created a new race of Daleks.”
“I gave myself to them, quite literally. Each one grown from a cell of my own body.”
With difficulty, his single functioning hand struggling to unfasten the catches of his tunic, Davros slowly revealed a section of his torso... Instead of skin, they saw bare ribs covered with only a few nerve endings, his internal organs exposed and visible.
(I thought you'd run out of ways to make me sick. Hello again.)
Clara looked like she had onboard the Russian sub after Skaldak had ‘dissected’ the sailors - pale and withdrawn, clearly wishing herself a million miles away. The Seeker on the other hand was clearly still captivated, not at all put off by the unpleasantness of the view. But then he’d always been a scientist above all else.
“New Daleks. True Daleks. I have my children, Doctor. What do you have, now? Apart from these two youngsters beside you - so lost, so helpless. What have you given them? Or is it maybe the other way round - you do not give, you only take.”
He should say something. Except he wasn’t sure what. This was usually the point where he would be taking control of the conversation, thinking of a way out - but he seemed paralysed, the recent loss making him unable to focus despite his best efforts, every possible plan falling apart at the lack of a TARDIS. And Davros was in a terribly chatty mood, which was backfiring rather badly.
“The girl beside you, the Impossible Girl - Dalek Caan has seen her. Dying for you, over and over and over again, her echoes all across time and space. And the boy - the orphan boy, the last child of Gallifrey, born without a home and a people.”
A grimace, that might be a smile - it was hard to tell.
“It is fitting that you look so young, Doctor, you surround yourself with children. Youngsters doomed, because of you. They all die, don’t they Doctor? Again and again they die for you. And you cannot save them. You could say that they die at your hand... Like your own people did, down to the last infant.”
If there was a way to respond, the Doctor couldn’t find it. He knew that in a moment Clara would jump to his defence, proudly declaring that he was worth dying for... Not realising how her words would only hurt him further.
But it was the Seeker who spoke, voice coldly disdainful.
“Are we supposed be shocked? He’s a hero.”
The words held so much scorn that Clara was clearly taken aback, finally speaking:
“What do you mean?”
The Seeker tilted his head.
“You don’t know what the definition of a hero is? It's someone who gets people killed.”
Taking in the look on Clara’s face, his demeanour softened.
“My father was an evil, psychotic megalomaniac who liked to kill people for fun. He and the Doctor played the moral blame-game my whole life, usually with me in the middle. I stopped listening a long, long time ago. You’d be hard pressed to find any finer points of the ethics of genocide that they haven’t debated to death.”
Clara seemed confused, but the words had been exactly what the Doctor needed. He’d been unprepared for the arrows in Davros’ quiver, but he’d not spent centuries trying to contain a madman without finding ways to manage him. Threading his fingers together, he studied Davros carefully.
“The boy has a point. So why are we here? Is there a plan beyond just trying to list my sins? Seems a little petty.”
“You must be here. It was foretold. Even the Supreme Dalek would not dare to contradict the prophecies of Dalek Caan. He saw time. Its infinite complexity and majesty, raging through his mind. And he saw you. All of you.”
“This I have foreseen, in the wild and the wind,” Dalek Caan rambled, tentacles waving. “The Doctor will be here as witness, at the end of everything. The Doctor and his precious companions.”
Davros tapped his fingers, the metal strips on his digits clacking on the controls in front of him.
“Yes, the ending approaches. The testing begins.”
“Testing of what? My patience?” the Doctor asked, beginning to feel very greatly annoyed at all the waffle.
“The Reality bomb.”
At this, they heard the voice of the red Dalek once again. The ‘Supreme’ Dalek Davros had called it... And if Davros was stuck down here, it meant that he wasn’t really in charge, didn’t it? They were essentially a diversion, keeping Davros occupied while the Daleks themselves got on with whatever scheme they had planned. Some ‘children’ they were. Took what they needed, left their creator behind. He tucked the insight away in case it might come in handy later - undermining confidence at a crucial point could be useful.
“Testing calibration of Reality bomb. Firing in ten rels. Nine, eight, seven...”
A large screen appeared, showing the Medusa Cascade outside the Crucible. Another screen showed a group of humans, frightened and unsure, locked in a fortified room.
“Activate planetary alignment field,” the Supreme Dalek’s voice rang out, and, as it spoke, the planets began to glow. The Doctor slowly - as if in a dream - forced his mind to process what he was witnessing, putting together all the different parts of information he possessed.
“That's... Z-neutrino energy, flattened by the alignment of the planets into a single string. Davros - have you completely lost your mind?”
He watched, helplessly, palms pressed to the side of the holding cell, as the captured humans on the screen opened their mouths to scream, yet before they could make a sound the very fabric of their bodies was torn apart into nothing.
(He remembered Rory turning to dust, Amy’s tearful resolve. ‘This is the dream.’ If only he could wake up from this nightmare...)
“Doctor... Please... What happened?”
It was Clara, wide-eyed and alarmed. The Seeker had folded his arms, silent and unmoving, eyes fixed on the screens, and the Doctor was still shell-shocked, so it was Davros who answered her question.
“Electrical energy, Impossible Girl. Every atom in existence is bound by an electrical field. The Reality bomb cancels it out. Structure falls apart. That test was focused on the prisoners alone. Full transmission will dissolve every form of matter.”
The Doctor felt his features harden, watching his old, old enemy with new levels of hate:
“The twenty seven planets. They become one vast transmitter, blasting that wavelength.”
Davros nodded.
“Across the entire universe. Never stopping, never faltering, never fading. People and planets and stars will become dust, and the dust will become atoms, and the atoms will become nothing. And the wavelength will continue, breaking through the Rift at the heart of the Medusa Cascade into every dimension, every parallel, every single corner of creation. This is my ultimate victory, Doctor! The destruction of reality itself!”
The Seeker shifted, and the Doctor turned to see what he thought. But the youngster was merely shaking his head, not speaking or offering any kind of insight into what was going on in his head. There was something downright casual about his attitude that felt... wrong. Where had the anger gone, the pain of witnessing the death of innocent victims? If nothing else the Doctor expected frustration over the situation, or an acknowledgement that the Seeker was ready to help. Something. For one single moment he allowed himself to wish for River - River whom he had always been able to rely on, who’d grasped his plans instantly and had been able to improvise when he faltered...
Before the Doctor could say anything, the Supreme Dalek’s voice boomed out once more:
“Prepare for universal detonation. The fleet will gather at the Crucible. All Daleks will return to shelter from the cataclysm. We will become the only life forms in existence.”
Think, think, think! Everything was happening much too fast, and he felt old and slow.
At that moment a screen unfurled again, and Jack’s face appeared.
“Captain Jack Harkness, calling all Dalek boys and girls. Are you receiving me?”
The Doctor nearly folded over in relief. Jack. How had he forgotten Jack?
Davros didn’t seem the least bothered however, merely smiling that unpleasant smile he excelled at.
“It begins, as Dalek Caan foretold: The Warriors assemble. Captain - please state your intent.”
Jack continued, unaffected by the sneer in Davros’s voice.
“Don't send in your goons, or I'll set this thing off. I've got a Warp Star wired into the mainframe - I break this shell, the entire Crucible goes up.”
The Seeker - finally showing emotion - was covering his mouth in mute horror, as the Doctor gasped.
“You can't! Where did you get a Warp Star?”
Jack smiled, the softness at odds with the seriousness of the situation.
“Sarah Jane gave it to me once. For a day like today.”
The Seeker lowered his hands, eyes furious. He seemed to be properly engaging with the unfolding events for the first time since they’d been captured, for which the Doctor was silently grateful.
“I’m pretty sure she didn’t tell you to use it in the single most stupid way you possibly could. Jack I swear, if we come out of this alive, I’ll kill you!”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Jack replied, lifting an eyebrow, but before the Doctor could process this, another screen appeared, and the Doctor felt sure his hearts stopped for several seconds. Maybe time itself stopped, he didn’t know.
“Hello Sweetie,” she said, and the world might already have ceased existing.
“How... where...” he finally managed, not sure whether to curse or bless this unexpected time blip.
She smirked confidently, curls practically dancing, and for one endless moment he felt like telling Davros to just go ahead, blow up the universe. As long as he could keep her...
“I’m on the lost Moon of Poosh,” she replied, unaware of - or ignoring - his inner turmoil.
“But it’s lost,” the Seeker said, head tilted, eyes now curious and alert.
(Maybe he’d been in shock. Which wasn’t surprising, everything considered.)
“Which is why I thought it would be an interesting project! As I’m sure you’re aware, Poosh has some fascinating ancient civilisations, the greatest one situated on this moon. So I calculated the precise date of the disappearance, got hold of a grant and a digging licence and set off on an expedition. It’s been rather brilliant to be honest... Seeker, you have an academic mind: I’ve saved all my findings and research onto the home box. If I don’t make it out alive, please make sure it gets to Luna University?”
“Of course River,” he answered gravely, and she beamed back.
“Thank you, dear. Now, Daleks... I’m presuming you need these twenty seven planets for something nefarious. Not too bothered, except a) you’ve taken my husband hostage, and b) he gets very, very upset if anyone tries to harm the universe. No really, I tried once, and he got ever so cross. So, in short, I’ve rigged up the engines of my ship into a neat little explosive device, which I’ve patched into integral fault lines of this moon and - after a little bit of jiggery-pokery - all I need to do is touch this lever here and your twenty seven planets become twenty six.”
Timelines were fracturing and falling apart all around him, and he felt the scant hold he’d had on reality since the destruction of the TARDIS was slipping out of his hands. If she died now...
“River, no! You can’t-”
“Hush, my Love. I’m saving the world. Be proud.”
(He’d said his goodbyes, had laid everything to rest. She slept in his mind now, like everyone else he had lost... He couldn’t do this.)
Clara was smiling, however.
“Doctor... They have leverage.”
It didn’t help. Davros didn’t appear in the least concerned - who knew what the insane Dalek had told him? A prophetic Dalek... To just what degree was Davros ahead of the curve?
Then a third screen flickered to life, and Davros nodded to himself.
“In threes they come, like Dalek Caan foretold - the Doctor’s Warriors. The Man Who Cannot Die, The Woman Who Married the Doctor and... The Exile.”
And indeed, it was Roda’s face that appeared, and in her eyes the Doctor saw that which they usually both kept hidden and never spoke of. The marks the Time War had left on them, the terror and pain tucked away where no one could see... Yet now visible, blazing out from the screen.
"Hello Daleks.”
Unlike Jack or River she didn’t smile, instead merely studying Davros with such intense hatred that the Master would surely have felt jealous.
“Apologies for dropping in unannounced. But I saw your ships and remembered I had this... Well, it’s nothing really. Just a toy I never got to return, after the War. Funny how having no planet and - as such - no barracks to go back to works out, isn't it? Especially if the War just won't bloody die...!”
She pulled back a little and the Doctor saw the ‘toy’ she was talking about, inhaling sharply at the sight. She continued, unaffected.
“I am well aware that activating it will kill me, but it’ll destroy you too, so it’s a price I am more than willing to pay. After all, my survival was nothing more than a fluke, it seems fitting I should end the war for good...”
“Roda - wait!”
Everything was wrong. There was no panic, no worry, Davros knew what was going to happen, it wouldn’t work-
And indeed, at that moment, the Supreme Dalek’s voice rang out again. It was clearly monitoring them, allowing Davros his moment of revenge, toying with them, but stepping in if anything got out of hand...
“Enough. Engage defence zero five.”
Another Dalek voice: “Transmat engaged.”
A fraction of a second later, his three warriors were standing beside him, slightly disoriented from the swift change in location.
“Don't move, all of you. Stay still,” he said, instinctively reaching out for River, but the force field got in the way.
“Guard them! On your knees, all of you. Surrender!”
It was Davros again, and - one after the other - they fell to their knees. Within moments they were encased in holding cells, and something that had to be blind panic was beginning to descend in the Doctor’s mind. By now he should be at least halfway through enacting a plan - at the very least he should have a plan, not still be stuck on ‘I can’t get out’.
Roda’s stance was that same combination of suppressed fury and unbowed resilience, even in the face of defeat, which he remembered so well from the Valiant; River was studying the room, clearly counting exits and operating stations and the very low number of Dalek guards - and Jack had turned to say hello, but faltered when he laid eyes on Clara.
“But... She just died. I was there. How...”
The Doctor opened his mouth to say ‘I’ll explain later’ - except there might not be a later.
Instead he shook his head and said “It’s complicated”, and then Davros spoke again.
“The final prophecy is in place,” he said, with relish. “The Doctor is here as witness, with the children he cannot save, and his warrior friends who fail. Watch him suffer! Supreme Dalek, the time has come. Now, detonate the Reality bomb!”
“Activate planetary alignment field,” the Supreme Dalek’s voice rang out. “Universal Reality detonation in two hundred rels.”
Too soon, it was too soon. He wasn’t ready, there’d not been enough time...
“Davros, listen to me! Stop, please...”
But Davros was beyond listening, or reason.
“Nothing can stop the detonation. Nothing and no one!”
The gloating turned into a full manic laugh, and with terrible finality the truth sank in. This was the end. He’d finally run out of luck - he’d lost, and the universe was lost. But then he’d been living off borrowed time for so very long...
He turned to River, impossibly grateful that she was here. Even though he could read the hope in her eyes, the belief that he could still save the day - knew she was ready for his cue, when all he could do was shake his head.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and she accepted the reality of the situation without so much as blinking. (He daren’t look at Clara, see her faith crumble. She couldn’t save him this time.)
“We had a good run, Sweetie,” River whispered gently; but, as he allowed himself one final gaze into his wife’s eyes, he was interrupted by the Seeker suddenly speaking:
“And... I believe that’s my cue. ‘Nothing and no one?’ I would like to challenge that. Your little pet seer has been lying to you, Davros - lying its little head off. It’s all about names, you see. I’m no poor little lost orphan, helpless and doomed without the good Doctor here. Please. I’d be insulted, if it hadn’t come in so useful. But time is running short, so I should probably introduce myself properly...”
Lifting his chin he smiled, a smile that caught the Doctor off guard: it was pure Saxon - superior, arrogant, self-assured; cold.
“I am the Seeker, son of the Master. And these-” he held up his hands, palms open, “-are my friends.”
And, out of the thin air above his head, four Toclafane appeared.
To be continued...
(Mostly then I can't believe I'm actually posting this chapter. It ends on a cliffhanger I've had planned since 2008!)
Summary: "Why is it only ever the bad guys who have a proper plan?" The Master's son finally meets the Daleks. And he thought it a good day. (TSE/JE rewrite with Eleven and Clara and a host of extras.)
Setting: Future AU TSE/JE.
Spoilers: The Name of the Doctor (S7.13)
Rating: PG-13.
Characters: The Seeker (OC, the Master's son), Eleventh Doctor, Clara, the Master, Jack, River, Roda (OC), Davros, others.
Beta: The always lovely
kathyh.Thank yous: To
the_redjay for the loan of Roda.Feedback: Pretty please? I'm very curious to see what you think.
Chapter 3
The Doctor fell to his knees, hands flat against the floor where the trap door had closed again and his TARDIS vanished:
“What have you done? Where's it going?”
The large red Dalek behind them answered.
“The Crucible has a heart of Z-neutrino energy. The TARDIS will be deposited into the core.”
Jumping back onto his feet, he turned, aghast.
“You can't. You've taken the defences down. It'll be torn apart... Please. Please. I'm begging you...”
The red Dalek stayed immovable and merely continued speaking, its voice almost cruel.
“You are connected to the TARDIS. Now feel it die.”
He wanted to say that there was someone still inside, but revealing who would not do any good. He could sense the TARDIS consciousness screaming, heard the briefest of mental cries from his oldest friend (“What the ever loving f-”), but the Daleks were counting down, rel by rel, as he could only stand there, helpless, unable to comprehend what was happening.
And then there was only silence. Terrible, terrible silence.
The red Dalek spoke again.
“The TARDIS has been destroyed. Now tell me, Doctor. What do you feel? Anger? Sorrow? Despair?”
Hands curled into fists, eyes blurring, he didn’t reply.
“But if emotions are so important, surely we have enhanced you?” the red Dalek continued.
His chest was too tight by far, and he felt Clara’s hand unfurling his own and taking hold of it as if in a dream.
“I just wanted to say hello. Hello, Doctor. It's so very, very nice to meet you.”
Two boys, running across pastures of red grass, stretching far across the slopes of Mount Perdition, calling up at the sky. They were going to be friends forever...
How could it end like this?
‘On the day the nightmares return...’ - how bitterly true. It didn’t even help that those words, a gift from the future, indicated that somehow they’d get out of this. A future - if he had one - without his TARDIS, without his oldest friend (enemy). He couldn’t even contemplate it.
So many partings.
Amelia's Last Farewell, The Singing Towers... His quiet, lonely retreat above London, his peace shattered by another Clara, and another death. So much death - it haunted him, stalked his every step, never letting up, never letting go.
“I’ve been ‘enhanced’ quite enough these past few years,” he eventually said, unable to keep the rancour out of his voice.
“I’m so sorry, Doctor,” the Seeker murmured softly, and the Doctor closed his eyes, trying to regain focus. The boy had lost his father...
“Seeker...” he began, but the young Time Lord shook his head, face expressionless.
“Not now.”
Grateful that he needn’t try to find words he knew he wouldn’t be able to say, he tried to merely stay in the present.
(One part of his mind was still ticking over, telling him that this couldn’t happen, he’d stood in the TARDIS when it was his tomb, but he knew better than anyone how time could be rewritten and refashioned into a new shape...)
The red Dalek spoke once more: “Escort them to the Vault. They are the playthings of Davros now.”
The name made him almost stop in his tracks, the sheer shock of the name causing his mind to reboot.
“Did you say... Davros?”
A Dalek poked him in the back and he forced his legs to work, even as he heard the Seeker’s sharp intake of breath.
“Doctor - you were right.”
They emerged into a strangely cavernous, red-lit place, reminding the Doctor of the Dalek Asylum in feeling... But at the heart of this Dalek web there would not be a Soufflé Girl, aiding and abetting. Only an ancient madman who should have been dead long, long ago.
Yet despite the Doctor’s misgivings, Davros did indeed appear, gliding out of the shadows, the Dalek casing around his lower body moving soundlessly. The closed hollows of his eyes and his ashen, deeply lined face were unchanged, as if they’d met yesterday. The Doctor almost felt vertiginous. Of all the impossible things to happen today...
“You have the face of a child, and yet its arrogance is unchanged. Welcome to my new Empire, Doctor. It is only fitting that you should bear witness to the resurrection and the triumph of Davros, lord and creator of the Dalek race.”
The voice was the same also. That clipped, almost staccato inflection that was mirrored in the Daleks...
Belatedly remembering to check on Clara, he turned to his right, and saw that she was speechlessly horrified. Whereas the Seeker - on the far side of Clara - was studying Davros with a look that was pure fascination. But then he’d grown up with the stories... He didn’t see the desiccated body, but the whole legacy. And was probably focussing on the difficulties in front of them in order not to think of his own loss - a coping mechanism he’d developed at far too young an age.
The Doctor briefly closed his eyes. He should probably take a leaf out of the youngster’s book... Not allow himself to dwell on the recent loss, nor the long history he shared with Davros. No, looking back would not help at all... Focus on the present, find out what was happening now, that was the key.
While he was still trying to take stock of the situation (counting exits and operating stations and the very low number of Dalek guards), Davros lifted his only hand.
“Activate the holding cells.”
Bright spotlights suddenly beamed down, power fields instantly encompassing them. The Seeker experimentally reached out and touched the field, causing bright white light to shimmer around him. He seemed oddly unconcerned, but the Doctor wasn’t really paying attention. Most of his still half-formed plans had been ruled out in a single swoop.
“Excellent,” Davros rasped. “Even when powerless, a Time Lord is best contained.”
Finally the Doctor found his voice. He had to keep Davros talking - he would want to revel in his victory, and would hopefully give something away. Adjusting his bow tie, he did his best to look his ancient enemy in the eye.
“I don't understand - you were destroyed. In the very first year of the Time War, at the Gates of Elysium. I saw your command ship fly into the jaws of the Nightmare Child. I tried to save you.”
The Seeker spluttered.
“You tried to- what is wrong with you?”
Davros ignored the interruption.
“It took one stronger than you to save me. Dalek Caan himself.”
Another spotlight now shone, focussing on an exposed Dalek, residing in a shell of armour, and it chilled the Doctor to realise it was the same Dalek he had met so many centuries before - Rose, and later Martha, by his side. He had offered compassion. Caan had chosen to run.
And then it spoke, its voice lilting like a mad man’s, with a strange ebb and flow, as if liquid.
“I flew into the wild and fire. I danced and died a thousand times.”
Davros expounded, clearly relishing the story:
“Emergency Temporal Shift took him back into the Time War itself.”
The Doctor felt as if the ground beneath his feet was shifting.
“But that's impossible. The entire War is time locked.”
(His words sounded feeble, even to his own ears. Something got in... And something got out. The proof was right in front of him.)
Yet Davros smiled, and the Doctor, out of the corner of his eye, saw Clara wrap her arms around herself.
“And yet he succeeded. Oh, it cost him his mind, but imagine. A single, simple Dalek succeeded where Emperors and Time Lords have failed. A testament, don't you think, to my remarkable creations?"
The Doctor nodded slowly, adding up what he’d seen so far. There were none of the Daleks created from the Progenitor, nothing to suggest that they knew there had been other survivors. No, this lot was hidden away, out of sync with the rest of the universe - with their own purpose. And Davros was at the heart of it all.
“And you created a new race of Daleks.”
“I gave myself to them, quite literally. Each one grown from a cell of my own body.”
With difficulty, his single functioning hand struggling to unfasten the catches of his tunic, Davros slowly revealed a section of his torso... Instead of skin, they saw bare ribs covered with only a few nerve endings, his internal organs exposed and visible.
(I thought you'd run out of ways to make me sick. Hello again.)
Clara looked like she had onboard the Russian sub after Skaldak had ‘dissected’ the sailors - pale and withdrawn, clearly wishing herself a million miles away. The Seeker on the other hand was clearly still captivated, not at all put off by the unpleasantness of the view. But then he’d always been a scientist above all else.
“New Daleks. True Daleks. I have my children, Doctor. What do you have, now? Apart from these two youngsters beside you - so lost, so helpless. What have you given them? Or is it maybe the other way round - you do not give, you only take.”
He should say something. Except he wasn’t sure what. This was usually the point where he would be taking control of the conversation, thinking of a way out - but he seemed paralysed, the recent loss making him unable to focus despite his best efforts, every possible plan falling apart at the lack of a TARDIS. And Davros was in a terribly chatty mood, which was backfiring rather badly.
“The girl beside you, the Impossible Girl - Dalek Caan has seen her. Dying for you, over and over and over again, her echoes all across time and space. And the boy - the orphan boy, the last child of Gallifrey, born without a home and a people.”
A grimace, that might be a smile - it was hard to tell.
“It is fitting that you look so young, Doctor, you surround yourself with children. Youngsters doomed, because of you. They all die, don’t they Doctor? Again and again they die for you. And you cannot save them. You could say that they die at your hand... Like your own people did, down to the last infant.”
If there was a way to respond, the Doctor couldn’t find it. He knew that in a moment Clara would jump to his defence, proudly declaring that he was worth dying for... Not realising how her words would only hurt him further.
But it was the Seeker who spoke, voice coldly disdainful.
“Are we supposed be shocked? He’s a hero.”
The words held so much scorn that Clara was clearly taken aback, finally speaking:
“What do you mean?”
The Seeker tilted his head.
“You don’t know what the definition of a hero is? It's someone who gets people killed.”
Taking in the look on Clara’s face, his demeanour softened.
“My father was an evil, psychotic megalomaniac who liked to kill people for fun. He and the Doctor played the moral blame-game my whole life, usually with me in the middle. I stopped listening a long, long time ago. You’d be hard pressed to find any finer points of the ethics of genocide that they haven’t debated to death.”
Clara seemed confused, but the words had been exactly what the Doctor needed. He’d been unprepared for the arrows in Davros’ quiver, but he’d not spent centuries trying to contain a madman without finding ways to manage him. Threading his fingers together, he studied Davros carefully.
“The boy has a point. So why are we here? Is there a plan beyond just trying to list my sins? Seems a little petty.”
“You must be here. It was foretold. Even the Supreme Dalek would not dare to contradict the prophecies of Dalek Caan. He saw time. Its infinite complexity and majesty, raging through his mind. And he saw you. All of you.”
“This I have foreseen, in the wild and the wind,” Dalek Caan rambled, tentacles waving. “The Doctor will be here as witness, at the end of everything. The Doctor and his precious companions.”
Davros tapped his fingers, the metal strips on his digits clacking on the controls in front of him.
“Yes, the ending approaches. The testing begins.”
“Testing of what? My patience?” the Doctor asked, beginning to feel very greatly annoyed at all the waffle.
“The Reality bomb.”
At this, they heard the voice of the red Dalek once again. The ‘Supreme’ Dalek Davros had called it... And if Davros was stuck down here, it meant that he wasn’t really in charge, didn’t it? They were essentially a diversion, keeping Davros occupied while the Daleks themselves got on with whatever scheme they had planned. Some ‘children’ they were. Took what they needed, left their creator behind. He tucked the insight away in case it might come in handy later - undermining confidence at a crucial point could be useful.
“Testing calibration of Reality bomb. Firing in ten rels. Nine, eight, seven...”
A large screen appeared, showing the Medusa Cascade outside the Crucible. Another screen showed a group of humans, frightened and unsure, locked in a fortified room.
“Activate planetary alignment field,” the Supreme Dalek’s voice rang out, and, as it spoke, the planets began to glow. The Doctor slowly - as if in a dream - forced his mind to process what he was witnessing, putting together all the different parts of information he possessed.
“That's... Z-neutrino energy, flattened by the alignment of the planets into a single string. Davros - have you completely lost your mind?”
He watched, helplessly, palms pressed to the side of the holding cell, as the captured humans on the screen opened their mouths to scream, yet before they could make a sound the very fabric of their bodies was torn apart into nothing.
(He remembered Rory turning to dust, Amy’s tearful resolve. ‘This is the dream.’ If only he could wake up from this nightmare...)
“Doctor... Please... What happened?”
It was Clara, wide-eyed and alarmed. The Seeker had folded his arms, silent and unmoving, eyes fixed on the screens, and the Doctor was still shell-shocked, so it was Davros who answered her question.
“Electrical energy, Impossible Girl. Every atom in existence is bound by an electrical field. The Reality bomb cancels it out. Structure falls apart. That test was focused on the prisoners alone. Full transmission will dissolve every form of matter.”
The Doctor felt his features harden, watching his old, old enemy with new levels of hate:
“The twenty seven planets. They become one vast transmitter, blasting that wavelength.”
Davros nodded.
“Across the entire universe. Never stopping, never faltering, never fading. People and planets and stars will become dust, and the dust will become atoms, and the atoms will become nothing. And the wavelength will continue, breaking through the Rift at the heart of the Medusa Cascade into every dimension, every parallel, every single corner of creation. This is my ultimate victory, Doctor! The destruction of reality itself!”
The Seeker shifted, and the Doctor turned to see what he thought. But the youngster was merely shaking his head, not speaking or offering any kind of insight into what was going on in his head. There was something downright casual about his attitude that felt... wrong. Where had the anger gone, the pain of witnessing the death of innocent victims? If nothing else the Doctor expected frustration over the situation, or an acknowledgement that the Seeker was ready to help. Something. For one single moment he allowed himself to wish for River - River whom he had always been able to rely on, who’d grasped his plans instantly and had been able to improvise when he faltered...
Before the Doctor could say anything, the Supreme Dalek’s voice boomed out once more:
“Prepare for universal detonation. The fleet will gather at the Crucible. All Daleks will return to shelter from the cataclysm. We will become the only life forms in existence.”
Think, think, think! Everything was happening much too fast, and he felt old and slow.
At that moment a screen unfurled again, and Jack’s face appeared.
“Captain Jack Harkness, calling all Dalek boys and girls. Are you receiving me?”
The Doctor nearly folded over in relief. Jack. How had he forgotten Jack?
Davros didn’t seem the least bothered however, merely smiling that unpleasant smile he excelled at.
“It begins, as Dalek Caan foretold: The Warriors assemble. Captain - please state your intent.”
Jack continued, unaffected by the sneer in Davros’s voice.
“Don't send in your goons, or I'll set this thing off. I've got a Warp Star wired into the mainframe - I break this shell, the entire Crucible goes up.”
The Seeker - finally showing emotion - was covering his mouth in mute horror, as the Doctor gasped.
“You can't! Where did you get a Warp Star?”
Jack smiled, the softness at odds with the seriousness of the situation.
“Sarah Jane gave it to me once. For a day like today.”
The Seeker lowered his hands, eyes furious. He seemed to be properly engaging with the unfolding events for the first time since they’d been captured, for which the Doctor was silently grateful.
“I’m pretty sure she didn’t tell you to use it in the single most stupid way you possibly could. Jack I swear, if we come out of this alive, I’ll kill you!”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Jack replied, lifting an eyebrow, but before the Doctor could process this, another screen appeared, and the Doctor felt sure his hearts stopped for several seconds. Maybe time itself stopped, he didn’t know.
“Hello Sweetie,” she said, and the world might already have ceased existing.
“How... where...” he finally managed, not sure whether to curse or bless this unexpected time blip.
She smirked confidently, curls practically dancing, and for one endless moment he felt like telling Davros to just go ahead, blow up the universe. As long as he could keep her...
“I’m on the lost Moon of Poosh,” she replied, unaware of - or ignoring - his inner turmoil.
“But it’s lost,” the Seeker said, head tilted, eyes now curious and alert.
(Maybe he’d been in shock. Which wasn’t surprising, everything considered.)
“Which is why I thought it would be an interesting project! As I’m sure you’re aware, Poosh has some fascinating ancient civilisations, the greatest one situated on this moon. So I calculated the precise date of the disappearance, got hold of a grant and a digging licence and set off on an expedition. It’s been rather brilliant to be honest... Seeker, you have an academic mind: I’ve saved all my findings and research onto the home box. If I don’t make it out alive, please make sure it gets to Luna University?”
“Of course River,” he answered gravely, and she beamed back.
“Thank you, dear. Now, Daleks... I’m presuming you need these twenty seven planets for something nefarious. Not too bothered, except a) you’ve taken my husband hostage, and b) he gets very, very upset if anyone tries to harm the universe. No really, I tried once, and he got ever so cross. So, in short, I’ve rigged up the engines of my ship into a neat little explosive device, which I’ve patched into integral fault lines of this moon and - after a little bit of jiggery-pokery - all I need to do is touch this lever here and your twenty seven planets become twenty six.”
Timelines were fracturing and falling apart all around him, and he felt the scant hold he’d had on reality since the destruction of the TARDIS was slipping out of his hands. If she died now...
“River, no! You can’t-”
“Hush, my Love. I’m saving the world. Be proud.”
(He’d said his goodbyes, had laid everything to rest. She slept in his mind now, like everyone else he had lost... He couldn’t do this.)
Clara was smiling, however.
“Doctor... They have leverage.”
It didn’t help. Davros didn’t appear in the least concerned - who knew what the insane Dalek had told him? A prophetic Dalek... To just what degree was Davros ahead of the curve?
Then a third screen flickered to life, and Davros nodded to himself.
“In threes they come, like Dalek Caan foretold - the Doctor’s Warriors. The Man Who Cannot Die, The Woman Who Married the Doctor and... The Exile.”
And indeed, it was Roda’s face that appeared, and in her eyes the Doctor saw that which they usually both kept hidden and never spoke of. The marks the Time War had left on them, the terror and pain tucked away where no one could see... Yet now visible, blazing out from the screen.
"Hello Daleks.”
Unlike Jack or River she didn’t smile, instead merely studying Davros with such intense hatred that the Master would surely have felt jealous.
“Apologies for dropping in unannounced. But I saw your ships and remembered I had this... Well, it’s nothing really. Just a toy I never got to return, after the War. Funny how having no planet and - as such - no barracks to go back to works out, isn't it? Especially if the War just won't bloody die...!”
She pulled back a little and the Doctor saw the ‘toy’ she was talking about, inhaling sharply at the sight. She continued, unaffected.
“I am well aware that activating it will kill me, but it’ll destroy you too, so it’s a price I am more than willing to pay. After all, my survival was nothing more than a fluke, it seems fitting I should end the war for good...”
“Roda - wait!”
Everything was wrong. There was no panic, no worry, Davros knew what was going to happen, it wouldn’t work-
And indeed, at that moment, the Supreme Dalek’s voice rang out again. It was clearly monitoring them, allowing Davros his moment of revenge, toying with them, but stepping in if anything got out of hand...
“Enough. Engage defence zero five.”
Another Dalek voice: “Transmat engaged.”
A fraction of a second later, his three warriors were standing beside him, slightly disoriented from the swift change in location.
“Don't move, all of you. Stay still,” he said, instinctively reaching out for River, but the force field got in the way.
“Guard them! On your knees, all of you. Surrender!”
It was Davros again, and - one after the other - they fell to their knees. Within moments they were encased in holding cells, and something that had to be blind panic was beginning to descend in the Doctor’s mind. By now he should be at least halfway through enacting a plan - at the very least he should have a plan, not still be stuck on ‘I can’t get out’.
Roda’s stance was that same combination of suppressed fury and unbowed resilience, even in the face of defeat, which he remembered so well from the Valiant; River was studying the room, clearly counting exits and operating stations and the very low number of Dalek guards - and Jack had turned to say hello, but faltered when he laid eyes on Clara.
“But... She just died. I was there. How...”
The Doctor opened his mouth to say ‘I’ll explain later’ - except there might not be a later.
Instead he shook his head and said “It’s complicated”, and then Davros spoke again.
“The final prophecy is in place,” he said, with relish. “The Doctor is here as witness, with the children he cannot save, and his warrior friends who fail. Watch him suffer! Supreme Dalek, the time has come. Now, detonate the Reality bomb!”
“Activate planetary alignment field,” the Supreme Dalek’s voice rang out. “Universal Reality detonation in two hundred rels.”
Too soon, it was too soon. He wasn’t ready, there’d not been enough time...
“Davros, listen to me! Stop, please...”
But Davros was beyond listening, or reason.
“Nothing can stop the detonation. Nothing and no one!”
The gloating turned into a full manic laugh, and with terrible finality the truth sank in. This was the end. He’d finally run out of luck - he’d lost, and the universe was lost. But then he’d been living off borrowed time for so very long...
He turned to River, impossibly grateful that she was here. Even though he could read the hope in her eyes, the belief that he could still save the day - knew she was ready for his cue, when all he could do was shake his head.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and she accepted the reality of the situation without so much as blinking. (He daren’t look at Clara, see her faith crumble. She couldn’t save him this time.)
“We had a good run, Sweetie,” River whispered gently; but, as he allowed himself one final gaze into his wife’s eyes, he was interrupted by the Seeker suddenly speaking:
“And... I believe that’s my cue. ‘Nothing and no one?’ I would like to challenge that. Your little pet seer has been lying to you, Davros - lying its little head off. It’s all about names, you see. I’m no poor little lost orphan, helpless and doomed without the good Doctor here. Please. I’d be insulted, if it hadn’t come in so useful. But time is running short, so I should probably introduce myself properly...”
Lifting his chin he smiled, a smile that caught the Doctor off guard: it was pure Saxon - superior, arrogant, self-assured; cold.
“I am the Seeker, son of the Master. And these-” he held up his hands, palms open, “-are my friends.”
And, out of the thin air above his head, four Toclafane appeared.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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