The moment I saw my car being demolished, and the storefront exploding, I went into battle mode, bolting over an empty booth and out the red metal frame that once held a plate glass display window.

I left the amount of $2.75 at the abandoned register, of course, to pay for the breadsticks, plus tax.

The street was crawling with shiny metal robots, towering chrome machines with enormous heads covered all over with mechanical eyes. Metal tentacles lashed out from their cylindrical bodies, destroying everything in their path.

The Dominators.

Quarks.

The worn enemy of the Daleks.

I stretched out my palm, pointing it at the wreckage that used to be my brand new Chevy Impala. The claims adjuster would want to see this, and the creature that demolished my vehicle.

My `phone' was ringing again. With a thought, I took the call on one of my head tentacles.

"Hey," Rob was saying. "It's me again. I was just thinking that maybe I could order for you, so that once you got over here, the food would be ready."

I smiled. "That would be nice!"

And I wrenched open the battered lump of metal that used to be my trunk.

"What was that?" he said.

"Oh, my car just got demolished by a Dominator. They're attacking people and destroying everything on the block. I don't know if I can make it." I dug a cylinder shaped device out of the wreckage, a Dalek Disruptor Cannon. To outsiders, it looked like a fancy type of light fixture, but it had powerful destructive capabilities.

A normal Dalek has to plug this type of weapon into their armored chariot in order to use it, but mine operates from the electrical energy in my body. All I have to do is plug a few cords into sockets in my arm. Of course, I was going to be ravenous by the time I reached the restaurant.

"Should I just get the food wrapped up to go?"

I thought about it for a moment as I opened fire on one of my enemies. Its crystalline head exploded like a hand grenade inside a chandelier, the pieces dripping with the slimy guts of the tiny green creature that piloted it.

"I guess you could..."

He sighed.

I blasted another one. "I'm really sorry. It's not like I planned it this way..."

"I understand," he said. "You're a Dalek. Things happen."

Still, he sounded disappointed.

A panel on a Quark whipped open, and a rain of hot shrapnel sprayed out. I dove behind an overturned bread truck.

"I just need to exterminate a few things," I said. "You know. Protect a few humans."

"You want me to come over and help?"

I blushed. Would that be weird? Starting off a date in a war zone?

No. I couldn't.

He was just a man. He'd probably get killed.

"That's sweet of you," I said. "It really is. But it's too dangerous."

"More dangerous than our little escape from Skaro?"

And he really wants to put himself in danger again, I thought.

Rob used to be an astronaut, working with a geological survey.

His team had landed on my home planet in search of valuable ores, not knowing it was inhabited.

As they stood on the lifeless rocky surface of Skaro, a small division of Daleks in their gray armored chariots surrounded them, opening fire. Under the barrage, his team of ten was reduced to four men and one woman.

My people drove the survivors into a cave, a catacomb-like maze of caverns filled with centuries worth of discarded genetic experiments, most notably the silicone based alligators and the giant flesh eating mollusks.

One by one, the creatures picked off the members of Rob's team until only he remained, staggering aimlessly through tunnels, blinded by animal venom.

The man stumbled right into our base.

He could have been killed. Outside the entrance of the base, the man was on his knees with six disruptor barrels pointed at his head, but fate is strange, and the wrong things kept coming out of his mouth.

"Please," he had told them. "Put me out of my misery."

There's nothing a Dalek hates more than being told what to do by someone other than a commander.

So their metal eyestalks swung and looked at each other.

"You killed everybody. I have no family left. My girlfriend left me for another man. My ship's inoperative and I can't see. I'm never going to get off this planet, so why don't you just kill me and get it over with?"

They didn't like that either. In fact, they each retreated a foot.

"Please," Rob pleaded. "Have mercy. If there's any kindness in you at all, please, end my life!"

Daleks are trained from birth not to be merciful.

The leader of the group, Dalek 8882159, flatly said no, we don't do requests.

Dalek 8881599 declared him prisoner.

And they bumped their chariots into the blind stumbling captive to corral him into the base.

In the meantime, I had just returned from a successful invasion of the jungle planet Pandora, exterminating most of the lifeforms and establishing a base.

Since my presence there was redundant, our position well fortified, I was sent back to base, much to my disappointment. It was a beautiful world.

The date Robert arrived, I was standing in one of our conference rooms, a chairless concrete block lined with weapons cases and electronic wall maps.

I and the other male and female human hybrids stood in perfect formation, clad in identical black and silver jumpsuits, waiting as our unit commander assigned us new duties.

Dalek Commander rolled back and forth in front of us in his white chariot, that speckled machine bearing a strong resemblance to a pepper shaker I've saluted twice since early childhood, giving us our tasks, ranging from the glorious to the mundane.

I watched as my fellow clones were dismissed one by one, dozens of them sent away to battles in far flung reaches of space.

The military assignments ended, and the maintenance duties were announced. Chariot assembly and repair. Wiring and electrical work. Weapon manufacturing. Nursery duty. You know, for more clones and new Daleks.

With growing uneasiness, I watched as more and more of my associates were dismissed to their various tasks. A human Dalek who has no assignments is traditionally one slated for execution, due to defect or failure at their duties. I hoped it would never come to that.

At last the Dalek Commander rolled up to me, focusing the lens of his eyestalk on my person.

"Unit 92419901," he said, the lights on the top of his vehicle's dome flashing as he spoke.

I wilted under the cold stare of his metallic eye lens. What had I done now? How had I failed the Great Dalek Race? I trembled as I forced myself to keep looking into the lens.

"You are a very versatile clone."

"Thank you, Dalek Commander," I blurted, flushed with nervous dread and desperate hope.

"For that reason, I am giving you a special assignment."

My heart was beating faster now. What tremendous honor did the Dalek Commander have for me?

I didn't even wait to hear what it was. "Thank you, Dalek Commander!" I cried. "I will not fail you!"

The lens narrowed. "You haven't even heard what it is yet."

I paled. "No, Dalek Commander. But whatever it is, I will perform the task to the best of my abilities."

The Commander seemed displeased by this display of emotion, but let it pass.

"We have a unique prisoner in holding cell 1357," he said. "This creature has aroused our suspicions by volunteering to be exterminated instead of fighting or trying to escape."

"Dalek Commander," I said. "Request information on why the units that captured the creature did not honor its wishes. It sounds like an inferior being that deserves extermination, and would do the Dalek Race a favor by volunteering. Please clarify."

"It is suspicious!" Dalek Commander snapped. "One does not volunteer for such a great honor! How do we know it isn't a trap! I want to know his motives!" He waved his disruptor cannon threateningly. "I want information! Interrogate the prisoner! Do what you can! Find out what he wants and report back to me!"

I saluted him. "Yes, Dalek Commander!" and I marched out of the room.

The prison complex was a series of concrete cubes buried deep below the planet surface. The air was always filled with the smells of antiseptic and the sounds of screaming. The former was to protect other Daleks from contaminants, but I suspected it to be the reason why we never had much success with prisoners. Too clean.

The prisoner's cube was identical to a hundred others. Hard uncomfortable sleeping bench, toilet free from dangerous loose pieces. The diagonally cut bubble patterned metal paneling around the entrance served no purpose. Modernistic architectural flourishes were one of the few artistic indulgences Daleks allowed themselves.

The man was lying on the bench, appearing to be staring up at the ceiling. He was a handsome young brunette, his build slim but muscular, his chin rounded, but not grossly so. His gray jumpsuit was dirty, and he hadn't bathed since he got there, but it wasn't exactly his fault.

"Hello," I smiled. "I am Unit 92419901."

"Is that the name you call yourself, or is that what they tell you to answer to?"

His question caught me off guard.

"What?"

He rolled over to face me, and I saw that his eyes were pure white. "I've never known anyone who likes answering to a number."

"I..." I stammered, then I reasserted myself. "92419901 is both what I call myself and what they identify me as." With a little too much hesitation, I added, "I like my number."

He chuckled. "What is this, `Good Cop, Bad Cop'?"

"I don't understand," I said.

"They sent in a male last time. He roughed me up."

So they sent in Unit 92000050, I thought, somewhat troubled. What possible good could I do if he had failed?

"The guy tortured me. Grilled me for information, but refused to kill me. Now they send in you, with your cute little voice. What's your angle?"

"Cute?" I repeated, and I found myself blushing.

I've been called many things in my life. Dependable. Strong. Detail oriented. Model Dalek. Never cute. What did that even mean?

"I was sent here to gather information," I said.

"You won't get that much," he shrugged. "I'm just a surveyor. We were checking this place for valuable ores, but I didn't find any Now that I know who lives here, we definitely won't be doing any mining."

So that explained that, I thought. But I figured Unit 92000050 already knew this.

"Why did you ask Dalek 8882159 to kill you?"

He sighed and rolled over. "Because maybe I don't want to live."

"Why?" I persisted.

"Because maybe I lost my whole crew, I have no one left, and I'm blind."

That was fairly self explanatory, I thought. And consistent with the reports.

"So that's the whole reason why you surrendered to us?"

The man shrugged. "Perhaps. Or maybe the real gems were down here the whole time, and it took me being blinded and captured to uncover them."

My face and tentacles were turning a completely different color. "You're...talking about...me?"

"I diamond in the rough," he smiled.

I laughed. "You think I'm a gem."

"It never hurts to flatter people," he grinned. "In fact, sometimes they surprise you by proving you right."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you could see what I look like," I said.

"Why? Aren't Daleks supposed to be superior in every way?"

And then, as an afterthought, he added, "You really do have a sexy voice."

Part of me wanted to run screaming from the cell, but a Dalek is taught from a young age to never show fear to an enemy.

Still, my voice trembled as I cried, "You shouldn't say such things!"

"Why?" he said. "I'm not afraid of dying. Or saying what I think."

My head tentacles burned with embarrassment. "I think I've heard enough."

But I wasn't sure I had.

I quickly turned and marched out of the cell, shivering as the man chuckled softly behind me.

It was only when I returned to the conference room and stood before the Dalek Commander that I realized my mistake. I had gathered no useful intel. Nothing at all.

"Well?" the commander demanded. "What have you learned? What data have you collected about the human?"

"I..." I stammered. "That is, the human, he is...very..."

Handsome?

Romantic?

Friendly?

I desperately scrambled for the appropriate words, but all that came to me were adjectives that made me sound weak.

"...strange," I finished lamely. "I...I think, when the creature blinded him with poison, it may have also affected his judgment."

There, I thought. That explains everything. Dalek Commander will be sure to understand.

And then I thought about it some more. What if this is my one opportunity to speak with this strange man? Get to know him? I had to say something or I may not ever see him again.

"He's a surveyor. They were trying to mine the planet for gems..." I blushed. "I mean, ores. But he's..."

I realized the foolishness I was about to say before I said it. The man hadn't found any gems at all!

"Unsuccessful, and our forces have convinced him not to want to mine here."

To my absolute shock, the Dalek Commander said, "Excellent work, Unit 92419901!"

My heart pounded nervously. "Thank you, Dalek Commander."

I cleared my throat. "Dalek Commander, I think we may get more information out of him if we can cure him of poisoning. The toxin appears to be affecting his thought processes."

The commander's lens narrowed, but he said, "Take a sample of the toxin to the lab. I will order Dalek 8885915 to synthesize an antidote."

I tried to hide my elation. "Thank you, Dalek Commander." It almost came out as an exclamation.

But as I marched down the hexagonal corridor leading to the prison compound, I froze, thinking about what would happen if he had his vision restored.

Right now he didn't know about my single eye, my exposed brain, or my tentacles. I was just a normal woman. It made me feel beautiful.

Would he feel the same when he could see again?

No, I told myself. No one but other Daleks place value on our aesthetic appearance, and love doesn't enter the equation.

A tear rolled down my cheek, but I wiped it away before anyone could see this sign of weakness.

I thought I was okay for a moment, but then I started thinking about how close I had come to experiencing true human love, and what it would mean to lose it, and I found myself slumping against the wall, staring absently at the floor.