Day 23

The single yellow sun was just peaking over the gloriously pink-hued mountains on the horizon to illuminate the glass and metal spires of the great and ancient city of Vaati-Shee, and the Doctor exclaimed happily as he threw open the door of the Tardis onto the sight.

"Brilliant!" he cried as he leaned out the door, his hand still at rest on the handle. "Absolutely brilliant! Literally and figuratively, this sunrise is brilliant." He cast a smile at his companion and stepped out jauntily onto the dry, graveled desert that spread out in all directions for miles beyond the great ancient city. "5000 B.C.E. Or as you might say—"

"I do not see the importance of a sunrise," came the interjection, and the Doctor sighed with protracted melodrama.

"Oh come on, this city was built just for the sake of the sunrise. 'The prism of the universe,' that's what Vaati-Shee means. Well, actually, literally translated it's more like 'world lens' but given inflection and certain implications in the language—"

"There is nothing exceptional about a sunrise." His companion rolled out, and its single electric-blue optic scanned the horizon with mechanical precision and distaste. "The distortion of the sun's rays also creates several blind spots in the city; the use of glass and shiny metals cause many coronas that reduce visibility." It paused. "However, in the case of an invasion, such a design could be useful."

"Well, that's...one way to look at it, yes," the Doctor said. "I admire your attempt at positivity. Me, I see a glorious vista of light and color."

"Daleks do not see colors."

"Ah; right. Right. That explains a lot, doesn't it." The Doctor paused, mostly to keep himself from going to that place, and added, "Well, might as well be going. It's going to be a bit of a walk—or roll—to the city, but we should get there before lunch time."

"Lunch," the Dalek said almost contemplatively. "Lunch—the midday meal; 'meal' implying bodily consumption of required proteins, minerals and other necessities, or 'food.' As you have not yet partaken in 'breakfast' I do not see how you can have 'lunch.' I obey," it added quickly, almost as a self-conscious afterthought.

"Are you still going to do that?" the Doctor said. "You embarrass me talking like that."

He couldn't get the thing to shuck all of its ingrained conditioning, and ordering it to not obey caused it enough mental anguish to drown litters of kittens. Daleks were always hovering on the brink of hysteria, but this one had experienced the biggest meltdown he'd ever seen. The Dalek had been a pitiable sight, screeching and begging and flailing about as it banged against the walls. A Dalek without orders, even a sort of weird renegade Dalek, was no Dalek at all.

One step at a time, the Doctor reminded himself. He looked at the Dalek, smiled a little too broadly to hide the traces of disgust that he felt (would it even have noticed?), and began to march towards the city.

The Dalek followed. Because it believed it had to.

Still, despite its overall obedience, the Doctor worried. This was the Dalek's first official day as his companion, whether it knew it or not. And this would be the first time it had ever peacefully entered an alien civilization.

The Doctor turned toward the Dalek, which traveled beside and slightly behind him with a faint whir and crunch of gravel, and he forced another encouraging smile in its direction.

Today was going to be a very long day.

(To be continued?)