6: Resurrection

The decision to return Davros to cryogenic suspension and incarcerate him aboard a remote station on the rim of the Solar System had many opponents who argued that this was an invitation to the Daleks to attack. They would be proven right, but the attack would not come for almost a century.

The Daleks would have undoubtedly have moved sooner to liberate their creator were it not for the Movellans, who soon after Davros's imprisonment, came up with the solution to the stalemate. Disaster struck the Daleks on a scale unmatched in any other period of their recorded history.

The Children of Davros, a Short History of the Dalek Race, Vol XIX
by Njeri Ngugi (4065)

‘...Very still...’

The words filtered through like droplets falling on the surface of a perfectly still body of water. The system start-up sequence had initiated.

‘...Is he...’

Davros stirred from a brooding, introspective dream and began feeding priority commands to his computer net. It was imperative that vision be established at once.


His optic circuits came on line, and the suffocating darkness that had been his constant companion for so long was replaced by a blurry, indefinable image from the electronic eye in the centre of his forehead. Davros attempted to move his hand.

Another voice spoke from the haze. ‘I think not.’ It was human, with tones indicating a hint of satisfaction. Davros ran a vocal recognition pattern. His systems were slow to comply through disuse. A whole second later the report was negative.

It wasn't the Doctor. Davros had almost expected his hated adversary to be present at his resurrection. His speech circuits came on line before his vision had completely cleared. ‘Who are you?’ he rasped in a voice that hadn't been used in nearly a century.

Vision finally came on-line: a tall dark-haired man in battle armour was looking down on him.

‘Commander Lytton,’ he replied.

Davros's sensors informed him that the breast plate, helmet and blaster weapon were all of Dalek manufacture. So he had been rescued; and not before time.

‘Commander?’ Davros echoed distastefully. ‘My Daleks do not need troops.’

‘You would still be a prisoner, or dead - as the case may be - if it weren't for my men,’ Lytton informed the Dalek creator.

‘You speak as though my Daleks are no longer capable of war,’ Davros observed suspiciously.

Lytton appeared to choose his next words carefully. ‘A lot has happened during your imprisonment.’ He moved away to join a second trooper.

‘The war with the Movellans is over?’ Davros inquired.

‘Yes,’ Lytton confirmed, ‘although casualties were very high.’

‘It is to be expected,’ Davros agreed.

Lytton shook his head. ‘I'm talking about Dalek casualties.’

For one long tense moment Davros remained silent. ‘Dalek casualties?’ he said at last.

‘They lost, Davros,’ Lytton stated bluntly. ‘They were totally defeated.’

Lytton's words appeared to send Davros into shock. The part of him that was barely more man than machine thrashed about in its life support chair in what appeared to be uncontrollable spasms.

There was little doubt in Lytton's mind that if Davros died his own life would also be forfeit. He moved closer, and was relieved to see the Dalek creator recover his composure.

‘Are you all right?’ he inquired.

‘There are malfunctions in my life support system,’ replied Davros stiffly. ‘I require an engineer.’

‘We must board the Dalek ship.’

‘I must remain close to the cryogenic chamber,’ Davros objected. ‘It may be necessary for me to be refrozen.’

Lytton sighed inwardly. ‘There is a time factor,’ he explained patiently. ‘The space station transmitted a distress call.’

‘It will take days for a task force to arrive,’ said Davros dismissively.

Lytton shook his head, struggling to conceal his irritation at the Dalek creator's obstinate attitude. ‘Not if the signal has been intercepted by a patrol ship,’ he reasoned.

With some apparent considerable difficulty, Davros swung his chair round so that he was closer to Lytton. His one hand shook with uncontrollable rage and he shouted, ‘Then you must shoot it down! I cannot be moved!’

The Supreme Dalek observed this scene on the globe-shaped scanner. ‘Order an engineer to attend Davros,’ it directed.

‘We should leave at once,’ the Systems Coordinator responded.

‘Without Davros we have no future,’ the Supreme stated bluntly. ‘He must be made to believe that we serve him.’

Davros sat silent and motionless in his chair while an engineer, a tall gangly man with slicked-back black hair called Kiston, conducted repairs inside an inspection hatch at the side of Davros's chair.

Lytton was beginning to feel a little unnerved by Davros's silence when the Dalek creator suddenly spoke.

‘Tell me about the Dalek defeat,’ Davros requested calmly.

‘You already know most of it,’ began Lytton obligingly. ‘The Daleks and the Movellans were locked in an impasse. Each time their respective fleets attempted some stratagem it was instantly anticipated and countered by their opponent's battle computers.’

‘Two totally logical war machines unable to out-think the other,’ mused Davros. ‘Fascinating. If only I'd been there!’

‘But then the Movellans found the answer,’ Lytton continued, hesitating when Davros gave a sudden and involuntary jerk.

‘Sorry sir,’ apologised Kiston, and hastily replaced a dislodged cable in its socket within the life support unit.

‘Quickly,’ urged Davros. ‘Tell me.’

‘The Movellans developed a virus which exclusively attacked the Daleks,’ Lytton went on. ‘The fleet was destroyed. Those who survived went to separate parts of the Universe to avoid the risk of further infection and to work on a cure.’

‘Have they succeeded?’

‘Not yet,’ Lytton admitted.

‘So, they have returned to their creator,’ Davros murmured. ‘Like an errant child, they have come home once more.’ A note of fanaticism had crept into the Dalek creator's voice and he was beginning to rant. ‘But this time they will not abuse me. This time I shall take my rightful place as their supreme being. And under my control the Daleks shall once more become triumphant!’

Lytton turned away, ignoring this tirade. He began to wonder why the Daleks were bothering with their apparently insane creator. When Davros was silent once more, he turned back to find Kiston wheeling Davros out of the cryogenic chamber area of the room.

‘Will you be able to find an antidote,’ Lytton asked, following them across the room.

‘Of course,’ Davros stated arrogantly.

‘A lot of research has already been done,’ Lytton cautioned him.

‘I am Davros. The Daleks are my creation.’ Davros appeared to considered various solutions to the problem for a moment, and then continued. ‘If necessary I shall genetically re-engineer them.’ The crippled Kaled scientist attempted rather unsuccessfully to peer down at Kiston, once more working on his chair. ‘Have you finished?’ he inquired.

‘Almost, sir.’

Davros nodded, and looked up again. ‘I shall need a laboratory.’

‘There is one already prepared for you,’ Lytton informed him.

‘I will work here on the station,’ Davros stated.

‘I've explained,’ retorted Lytton, again losing patience. ‘There isn't time.’

‘I cannot risk an accident. If the virus were to escape on board the Dalek ship...’

Lytton cut across Davros's argument. ‘Every precaution has been taken,’ he insisted.

‘I work here!’ shouted Davros petulantly, ‘or not at all.’

Lytton sighed. ‘I'll see what can be arranged,’ he conceded, and left the room.

‘Hurry,’ Davros urged Kiston, once they were alone. ‘There is much work to be done.’

‘I've finished sir,’ Kiston replied.

‘Close the panel,’ Davros instructed.

Kiston locked the panel on the side of Davros's chair back into place. He began packing his tool kit.

Davros discreetly flicked a switch on his chair console and a small hatch opened in the control panel, revealing a sinister-looking black device consisting of a large handgrip and a tapering thin needle-like probe. Davros grasped the device, and moved it until the needle tip was suspended just above the skin of Kiston's exposed neck.

Outside in the corridor, Lytton was talking into his helmet com-link.

The Supreme Dalek's voice sounded in his ears. ‘I order you to obey Davros,’ said the voice.

‘And what happens when the task force arrives from Earth?’ Lytton wanted to know.

‘We shall be gone,’ the Supreme Dalek explained. ‘I have a plan that will force Davros to leave of his own free will. Until then you must supply him with everything he demands. Allow him access to the space station's laboratory.’

Any reply Lytton might have given to this instruction went unsaid as he was suddenly interrupted by a scream from the cell room.

Davros replaced the device in its socket in his console and the hatch cover closed automatically.

‘Obey my will,’ said Davros softly.

Kiston stood rigidly to attention, facing Davros. His eyes were blank and empty. ‘As... you... command...’ he replied tonelessly.

The door slid open and Lytton entered, pulling off his helmet. ‘What happened?’ he demanded.

‘A small accident,’ replied Davros dismissively.

Lytton turned to Kiston and was disconcerted by the engineer's zombie-like expression. ‘Are you all right?’

Kiston appeared to wake suddenly, as if from a trance. He relaxed slightly and gave Lytton a slight, reassuring smile. ‘I caught my hand, it's nothing sir,’ he explained.

Lytton was far from convinced, but said nothing as Kiston packed away his tool kit and Davros began testing his newly-repaired motive systems, gliding back and forth across the floor of the prison cell.

His chair came to a halt in front of the cryogenic chamber. ‘Ninety years I was frozen in that,’ Davros snarled suddenly. ‘Ninety years of mind-numbing boredom.’

Lytton was shocked. ‘You were conscious?’ he asked incredulously.

‘For every second,’ Davros confirmed. ‘The creatures of Earth have no stomach for judicial murder. They prefer to leave you to slowly rot and die... They call it being humane,’ he added bitterly, favouring the last word with particular distaste.

‘Then you must be equally humane in your revenge,’ suggested Kiston with uncharacteristic coldness.

‘It is a planet I shall destroy at my leisure,’ Davros confirmed. The part of his brain that was a mass of micro-chips fed a carefully constructed plan to him on a single mental command.

The plan had been carefully and meticulously worked out over the past ninety years from information provided by the computer sphere the Daleks had given him to study back on Skaro shortly before he was abducted and frozen into cryogenic suspension by that being known as the Doctor. He was the number one priority in Davros's plans.

Davros turned to face Lytton. ‘But first I must deal with a meddling Time Lord,’ he stated.

Lytton nodded, seeming to understand perfectly the meaning behind Davros's words. ‘That has been anticipated,’ he confirmed.

Davros reacted with visible surprise. ‘You have the Doctor?’ he inquired. The Dalek computer sphere had provided him with all that had happened in the millennia that he had been entombed on Skaro. He now knew that the Doctor was a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey who often interfered in Dalek plans, and he also knew that the Doctor was notoriously difficult to either kill or detain.

‘His capture is imminent,’ Lytton assured him.

‘Excellent,’ Davros responded. ‘Once I have drained his mind of all knowledge he shall then die slowly and painfully. He has interfered for the last time!’

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