Necessity
by Kathryn Andersen
Chapter 2: Learning Not To Be Good
"Therefore it is necessary to learn how not to be good, and to use this knowledge and not use it, according to the necessity of the cause." - Machiavelli
December 16th, 2011
Adam took another gulp at his glass of eggnog. He never thought he'd appreciate anything from the England he'd left behind, or his dead-end family, but at least his mother knew how to make a decent eggnog. Still, he supposed he should consider himself lucky that van Statten was giving them a Christmas party at all.
One problem with working at a top secret base, Adam thought, was that even at a Christmas party, the assemblage was dominated by geeks and security, neither of which had very many women in their number.
Now, there was one, frowning by the punchbowl. Pity about the hair: plain-Jane brown and looked like it had been cut with a hacksaw. The glasses didn't help either. Not that he was against glasses as such, but did she have to steal them from Clark Kent?
"Who's that?" he asked Mark Wingard next to him.
"Betty Schultz. Don't bother."
"Why not? She's not exactly ugly..."
"Yeah, but she's got a Bronx accent that'll bend metal. She's about as much fun as a security audit. No, she's less fun than a security audit: she gets off on security audits. I mean, there's loving your work and there's being your work, and if she has a single thought in her head that doesn't relate to security, then it has yet to be found."
"That doesn't sound too bad - I mean, geek girls are good, right?"
"Look, I got stuck in a lift with her once: it was the longest ten minutes of my life. Trust me."
"She's got to have some hobbies, surely?"
"Yeah, if you can call it a hobby: she's the captain of the company paint-ball team."
"If you're trying to scare me off, you're not succeeding."
Mark shrugged. "It's your funeral."
But when Adam got to the drinks table, she was gone.
###
Betty Schultz stood in the lift. Nothing but her elevated heart-rate would have indicated that anything was amiss. The slight frown on her face was her usual expression.
She stepped out at the "top" floor, the one at ground level. Her expression lightened a fraction as she saw the exit guard.
"Hi Melvin," she said.
He looked up from the consoles upon which multiple images displayed. "Leavin' the party early?"
She shrugged. "You can keep that stuff. Hadta go, didn't mean I hadta stay." She leaned over the console. "How's the DC2200 going? Good colour?"
He smiled wryly. "34 million colours, but the motion detectors go off every time the aircon starts up."
"Crap," she said. "Better switch 'em off, then. We still got touch-sensors in the museum wing, don't we?"
"Yeah, installed last month. They're working fine."
"They'll do," she said. "For now." She straightened up. "Off home for me." She swiped her card at the door, and went out into the chill desert night.
Half an hour later, a dusty Ford pulled up at an apartment block at the borders of the metropolis known as Salt Lake City. It wasn't the better part of town, semi-industrial, and on Betty's salary she certainly could have afforded something nicer. But for her needs, there was nothing better.
She got out of the car, locked it, and went into the building. Up one flight of stairs, into a dingy apartment, dusty and musty. There were no pictures on the walls, and no knickknacks on the shelves. The furniture was a bare minimum. It might have been her apartment, but it could never have been called a home.
Ten minutes after she entered the building, Betty Schultz was climbing down the fire escape. She did it easily, unhurriedly, as if it was something she did every day. Which, in fact, she did.
She emerged from the alley behind the building, walked two blocks, and entered a lot with a sign in front of it which said "Allen's 24-hour storage". She unlocked one of the shed-like buildings, turned on the light, stepped inside, closed and locked the door behind her, stepped up to the large blue cabinet inside, and unlocked its door. She reached behind her to turn out the light of the storage room. The light went out, but it was not wholly dark. A beam of warm yellow light streamed out of the "cabinet". She stepped inside it, and the door shut behind her. The room was plunged into darkness.
Inside the cabinet, the cabinet which was far larger inside than it was outside, Betty sighed and took off her glasses. "Dammit, that was too close!" she said. The words were pure London. "Of course Adam was going to be at the Christmas party! Stupid, stupid, stupid Rose," she berated herself. She sighed. "Well, he's off on a buying trip soon, and I won't have to worry."
The TARDIS console room had a more lived-in look than it had when the Doctor had been there. A few sets of shelves were attached to the walls, a beanbag flopped on the floor, and a wheeled office chair stood by the console, a portable tool chest sitting beside it. A few strings of tinsel had been looped over the branches of the pillars, giving the room an incongruously festive air.
Rose sat down in the chair and switched on the screen hanging above it. "Might as well see if my taps are still working..." A conventional 21-st century keyboard had been wired into the console at that point, and Rose typed in a few commands. After a few seconds, the screen showed the same view that Melvin was looking at, many miles away; the security feeds for van Statten's secret base.
Rose smiled. "Like they say, most security breaches are an inside job."
###
She could hear the whispers as she walked down the aisle: "Oh no, it's Betty Schultz." She frowned. God, I hate this job. Not just the role she had to play, but the whole place; the way the air was always chill and stale like a tomb, the pervasive attitude that the universe of wonder was just a collection of toys for van Statten to break. She held her clipboard like a shield, and smoothed her face into expressionlessness. On with the show. She wondered how many times Jack had been undercover, and told herself she had it easy: at least she was still in her own time. Except that I don't want to be, she thought. Stiff upper lip, girl.
The techs sneaked glances at her while trying to carry on their work. She paused. "You know those cables are a health and safety issue, don't you?" she said to one hapless technician.
"It's only temporary," he said.
"That's what duct tape is for," she said. She looked at the cylinder he was scanning and froze. There was writing on it. Writing she could read, though it was in no Terrestrial language. Because of the TARDIS. The sense of the words that formed in her mind was: First Aid Kit.
"Is there anything inside that?" she asked, trying to make her voice casual.
"No, it's a dud," he said. "Completely empty."
A shiver ran down her spine. That was the same mistake Jack had made with his Chula Ambulance. It seemed empty inside because it wasn't filled with machinery, it was full of nanogenes, microscopic robots so powerful they could rewrite human DNA without even blinking. Jack's Chula warship had blown up in 1941. But there was no reason why debris from that explosion couldn't have been drifting in space all this while, and one piece from that explosion... could have been a first aid kit.
That little cannister could destroy humanity.
"It been opened? Maybe there's a crack or leak or something?" she said.
"No it's intact," he said. "You think there's some kind of gas inside?"
"If there is, your safety measures are inadequate," she said. "It will have to be transferred to Section 3."
"But -"
She pulled out a form from her satchel and slid it onto her clipboard. "Fill this in, and sign at the bottom."
"But -"
"I don't make the rules," she said.
She stood over him while he filled in the form and signed it. She gave him the carbon copy and picked up the cylinder. "Thank you," she said. "And go get some duct tape," she said as she left.
The next day, Item DX1847 was recorded in the base computers as having been destroyed. In reality, the cylinder was resting on a shelf in the room closest to the TARDIS console room. The Doctor could deal with it, when she got him back.
###
Rose rolled her eyes as she read the report on her screen. Project Gallium was a complete success. And, as usual, van Statten was suppressing the results. That didn't bother her one bit, so long as she could steal the prototype. After all, she was the one who had anonymously leaked the data to van Statten in the first place, just so that he would get a research team to crack it and make their own version. She knew she couldn't do it herself, that stuff was completely beyond her, even though the Doctor had whipped it up in an afternoon, according to the diary she'd found.
She needed to figure out a better delivery system, though. Maybe a paintball gun...
###
T minus 6 days
Rose soldered the last connection. That should do. She placed the little lumpy object carefully on a tall stool, and then walked out of the workroom into the console room. She tapped in a few commands, smiled at what she saw on the screen, and then typed in another command. She crossed her fingers before pressing the Enter key. The stool appeared in a flash of light, tilted slightly and then righted itself.
"Yes!"
Rose ran over to the stool and picked up the object which she'd cobbled together from Margaret/Blon Slitheen's teleport device, a bunch of sensors, and a high-frequency transmitter. Nothing damaged: good.
It was going to work.
###
T minus 5 days
An inter-office memo envelope came down to the Cage. Sensors, for Metaltron was scrawled on the outside. Inside was a little lumpy object, and detailed instructions as to how the object should be placed on, or preferably, inside, the Metaltron.
Simmonds didn't question it. The tech boys were always coming up with something new. And the sensors did seem to work.
###
T minus 4 days
"Dan's Movers?... Yes, I'd like to confirm a booking... Allen's 24-Hour storage - you have the address..."
###
T minus 3 days
Nobody questioned the requisitions. Not even at the audit six months later. It's hard to audit something which is buried in concrete. Especially a dead project like Project Gallium.
###
T minus 2 days
"That's a lot of food, Miss - going camping?"
"Something like that."
###
T minus 16 hours
"Melvin, you on gate-duty tomorrow?"
"No, it's my day off."
"Good. Good."
"You okay, Betty?"
"Yeah. Just got a lot on my mind."
###
T minus 75 minutes
"Geoff, it's Betty. I'm afraid I won't be in today. Something I ate, I think... Yeah, I'll stay away from Chinese in future..."
###
T minus 1 minute
The TARDIS console room was somewhat more cluttered than usual. A large pallet on wheels was on a level part of the floor, each wheel aligned with a chalk mark on the floor. Other pieces of equipment were placed in readiness.
Rose was poised tensely in front of the screen, its view split into two sections. One section was a window waiting for commands, the other showed a view into level B53, as clear as a million-dollar security system could make it; full colour and sound.
And then she heard the noise she'd been waiting for, that groan of space-time being ripped apart and reformed, the sound of a materialising TARDIS. And there, on the screen, the familiar blue box faded into view.
Her heart sped up when she saw the Doctor emerge. Goosebumps came over her when she saw herself, her other self. She looked so young. Not a care in the world.
She followed their progress every step of the way, wishing desperately that she could be there, that she could teleport herself there in an instant, grab the Doctor and take him away with her. But that would be even worse than what had happened with her father. Just as well that it was impossible. Because she wasn't sure it was a temptation she could resist.
The Cage was dim as the Doctor entered it. "Look, I'm sorry about this," he said. "Mr. van Statten might think he's clever, but never mind him. I've come to help. I'm the Doctor."
"You always come to help," Rose whispered. "You don't know a thing about what you're rescuing and you still want to help..." Her eyes welled with tears.
Rose jumped when the Dalek screamed "Exterminate!" You want to rescue this thing? What the hell are you thinking, Rose? And then: I hope my security measures are enough.
"You are an enemy of the Daleks! You must be destroyed!" Then the Dalek's gun failed.
"It's not working!" The Doctor's laugh had a somewhat hysterical edge. "Fantastic! Oh fantastic! Powerless. Look at you, the great space-dustbin - how does it feel?"
The Dalek edged back. "Keep back!"
They're afraid of him. They were afraid of him on the ship. Have they always been afraid of him?
"What for? What are you gonna do to me? If you can't kill, then what are you good for, Dalek? What's the point of you? You're nothing! What the hell are you here for?"
"I am waiting for orders."
"What does that mean?"
"I am a soldier. I was bred to receive orders."
What a senseless waste, Rose thought.
"Well you're never gonna get any. Not ever."
"I demand orders!"
"They're never gonna come! Your race is dead! You all burned, all of you - ten million ships on fire, the entire Dalek race, wiped out, in one second."
"You lie!"
"I watched it happen. I made it happen."
"What?" Rose exclaimed. He wiped out the Daleks?
"You destroyed us?"
"I had no choice."
And it's happening all over again. On Satellite Five. He's trying to destroy the Daleks all over again.
"And what of the Time Lords?"
There was a long silence.
"Dead," the Doctor said. "They burned with you. The end of the last great Time War. Everyone lost."
"Oh. My. God," Rose whispered. No wonder he doesn't want to talk about it. He killed his own people. Her face paled. If he could do that to Gallifrey, what about Earth? She shook her head, rejecting the thought.
"And the coward survived," the Dalek said.
"Oh," the Doctor returned in a sing-song voice. "And I caught your little signal: 'Help me'. Poor little thing." He frowned. "But there's no-one else coming 'cause there's no-one else left."
"I am alone in the universe."
"Yep."
"So are you. We are the same."
"We're not the same! I'm not -" the Doctor broke off. "No, wait. Maybe we are. You're right, yeah, okay. You've got a point. 'Cause I know what to do. I know what should happen. I know what you deserve." A sickly smile plastered itself on the Doctor's face. "Exterminate." He flicked a switch, and arcs of electricity stabbed into the Dalek.
"What the hell are you doing?" Rose yelled, unmindful that nobody could hear her.
In the chaos and confusion that followed, one thing was quite clear to Rose: where the Daleks were concerned, the Doctor wasn't quite sane. The Daleks were dangerous, deadly, destructive, sure. But they were only the stuff of nightmares if you let them be so.
The other thing that was quite clear to her was that van Statten really was worse than the Dalek.
###
"You don't have to do this any more," the other Rose said. "There must be something else, not just killin'. What else is there? What do you want?"
"I want... freedom," the Dalek said.
"No more killin'" Rose whispered in the silence of the TARDIS.
###
Tears streamed unheeded down Rose's face as she stared into the screen.
"I've got to do this," the Doctor said. The gun he held was big and black, more like a cannon than a gun, especially when one was staring down the wrong end of it. "I've got to end it. The Daleks destroyed my home, my people. I've got nothing left."
"Look at it," the other Rose said, indicating the Dalek, with its armour open, its tentacles waving tremulously.
The Doctor was baffled. "What's it doing?"
"It's the sunlight, that's all it wants."
"But it can't -"
"It couldn't kill van Statten, it couldn't kill me. It's changin'," the other Rose said. She stared at the gun. "What about you, Doctor? What the hell are you changin' into?"
Stricken, he lowered the gun. "I couldn't-" he began, "I wasn't -" he broke off. He stared at the Dalek, then at Rose. "Oh Rose, they're all dead."
"Why do we survive?" the Dalek said.
"I don't know," the Doctor said.
"I am the last of the Daleks."
"You're not even that," the Doctor said, with pity in his voice. "Rose did more than regenerate you. You've absorbed her DNA. You're mutating."
"Into what?" the Dalek asked.
"Something new," the Doctor said. "I'm sorry."
The other Rose was surprised. "Isn't that better?"
"Not for a Dalek," the Doctor said.
"I can feel so many ideas," the Dalek said. "So much darkness. Rose, give me orders! Order me to die."
"I can't do that," the other Rose said.
"This is not life," the Dalek said. "This is... sickness. I shall not be like you." Its voice became strident. "Order my destruction! Obey! Obey! Obey!"
"Do it," the other Rose said.
"Are you frightened, Rose Tyler?" the Dalek asked.
"Yeah," the other Rose gulped.
"So am I," the Dalek said quietly. And then, just as quietly, "Exterminate."
The Dalek closed its armour and levitated into the air. The golden bumps on its sides detached and hovered in a ball around it. A globe of energy formed.
Rose pressed the enter key.
A bright light filled the area, a crackle and a thump as something materialised.
"I did it!" Rose cried. Then the smell of hot metal, burnt plastic and singed flesh filled her nostrils, and she stared at the lump on the pallet with horror. The bottom was missing, the arms and the eye-stalk were completely gone, and the dome and panels were half-slagged. Had she timed it too late? She grabbed a crowbar and attacked one of the panels, prising it apart. She pulled at it with her hands, ignoring the heat and sharp edges. "Don't you die on me!" she yelled. "Don't you dare die on me!"
She managed to get one panel off. She choked in the smell of burnt flesh. The Dalek's one eye was shut. Nothing about it moved. "No! Not now! Not after everything!"
She stared at it, frozen for a long moment.
Then she ran, ran to the room next to the console room, where she'd kept it, just in case. Came back, hesitated, then opened the canister of nanogenes.
Golden motes of light poured out of it, danced over her burnt and bleeding hands. She remembered how Jack had tied her hands with a scarf the first time, to keep them still. She wondered now if he'd really needed to do that, or if it had just been part of the flirtation; but she held still anyway.
Then the motes flowed down to the body of the Dalek in its wrecked travel machine. Some of them darted back and forth between the Dalek and Rose, as if they were passing messages, doing a comparison. Rose froze in horror. Would they turn her into a Dalek, or would they attempt to turn the Dalek into a human? The Dalek already had human DNA; her DNA. What would the nanogenes make of that?
Glows enveloped the burnt ends of the Dalek's tentacles, another group clustered around the Dalek's eye so thickly that all Rose could see was a golden ball of light. Then they spread thinner. Something was growing there. An eye, and more than an eye; the curve of an ear, a nostril, lips; they were building a face, a human face. Except that it was blue.
The light pulsed, faded, pulsed again. It seemed as if the nanogenes were having difficulty; perhaps something inside the TARDIS was limiting their effectiveness, or maybe there just weren't enough of them. After all, the nanogenes which had wreaked such havoc in the middle of the Blitz had come from an entire ambulance ship full of them; this was just a small first-aid kit.
Just so long as there were enough of them to ensure that the Dalek lived.
