"How many?!" Lillian choked with angry incredulity.
Facing the Latoshk Council, which was reduced to the bare minimum since Helena's betrayal, Nancy Turpin stiffened. "Three were still alive, and two more could be brought back. The others didn't make it," she answered in what was supposed to be a firm tone. "It's all right, as soon as they're stabilised, they can be sent back."
But Lillian wasn't even remotely close to calming down. If looks could kill, her friend would have been incinerated on the spot. "Five Daleks alive today that would have died from the Devourers' attack! When I gave the green light to the ambulances and told you to go out of your way to save as many people as possible, I didn't mean Daleks!"
"It's not like you didn't set a precedent," Stephen muttered with a glare. He was still unsure about her strategy. True, the truce was holding, but for how long? Perhaps two utter defeats would have been enough to deter the Daleks permanently.
Nancy held her ground. "We did look after our people first," she justified. "But I am a doctor, Lillian. When I realised those Daleks had been abandoned to their fate by the others, I had to do something! Especially considering they had been saving us."
"They were saving their chronilite!"
"I'm not a fool, Lillian, I am aware they'd rather see us dead," the doctor admitted. "That doesn't change the fact we wouldn't be here anymore without their help. And not just by opening the portal in time; they didn't shy away from the fight to protect themselves at our expense."
Lillian groaned, but the truth was Nancy had already taken the choice from her the moment she'd picked up the wounded Daleks. All they could do now was indeed heal them and hope it would turn for the best. Muting her irritation, she dismissed the doctor and quickly concluded the Council meeting. In the now empty room, she repeatedly punched the desk until she couldn't feel her knuckles anymore.
In the infirmary, one of the less severely wounded Daleks was awake.
"RELEASE ME AT ONCE!" he demanded in a typical Dalek hectoring tone. Their voice was grating, unnerving and domineering at the best of times; when feeling threatened, there was no limit to how unpleasant they could sound. Nancy instantly regretted plugging her peculiar patients to their speech synthesisers. "YOU WILL LET ME RETURN TO THE SQUAD! THE HUMAN BEING WILL OBEY! OBEY!"
She sighed. This was going to be trying. Already feeling jaded, she patiently set to explain medical treatment to a creature bred to kill.
Lillian's troubles weren't over: As soon as she returned to her private quarters, she saw the Dalek commander requested an audience.
"YOU HAVE RETRIEVED SEVERAL DALEKS WHO HAD BEEN DESTROYED BY THE DEVOURERS. EXPLAIN YOURSELF!" he ordered the moment he appeared on screen. He was twitching his eye-stalk at her as if to penetrate her thoughts. Two of his subordinates flanked him, and Lillian wondered whether they were meant to intimidate her.
"We've saved them. Well, those that weren't beyond help at least. We've taken them in with our own wounded, but they will be returned to you once they're healed. They're our patients. Not prisoners."
"I DO NOT UNDERSTAND," he complained. As if echoing his confusion, the Dalek on his left looked at him in perplexity, seeking an explanation to this alien nonsense.
"No, I didn't think you would," Lillian replied scornfully. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have abandoned them to die in the first place. We humans don't leave people behind." As much as Nancy's initiative infuriated her, there was no going back. Showing her disapproval would only undermine her authority in the enemy's eye; she had to assume it in front of him. With any luck, she could even turn it to their advantage.
"BUT WHY SPEND TIME AND RESOURCES TO SAVE THEM? THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN REPLACED WHEN WE RETURN TO OUR FLEET. THE SPECIFIC INDIVIDUAL MAKES NO DIFFERENCE!"
"See, that's just not true. Individuals learn from their experiences, each in their own unique way, and no amount of brainwashing and databanks can replace that. Even Daleks are not completely identical to each other –at the very least, this particular lot is already used to our nearby presence and won't get trigger-happy in your back. But your failure to understand and account for individuality is the reason you'll never be able to defeat humanity lastingly," she couldn't resist taunting him. For all their self-proclaimed superiority and their unfortunately quite real scientific and military might, Daleks were very limited indeed.
The mission commander stared at her, deep in thought, and abruptly cut the communication.
"Keep an open eye for everything you can learn about the way they build their ships. Engines, weaponry, shields, flight computer, life support, everything down to the way floor tiles are held together. I want a report on every single potential weakness, as insignificant as it seems now," Lillian had enjoined the reluctant team who'd been gathered to help the Daleks with their task. Only her emphasised reminder that the quicker the Daleks would get a new ship, the quicker they'd leave had quelled the murmurs of protest.
Of course, there were those who demanded a protective guard, and worse yet, those who remembered the Dalek-disabling weapons the aliens had provided after Helena's failed attack. Lillian had to use all her authority to stop the Council from consenting. Bringing weapons, especially these weapons, would only spiral out of control. She nearly thought she'd end up being overruled until Stephen reluctantly submitted to her arguments, followed by the others, one by one. She had the unpleasant feeling they'd agreed out of fear of her and not because they'd seen there really was no other choice.
At last, Lillian contacted the Dalek commander to inform him the construction team was on its way with equipment they expected to be useful. For a change, the conversation was brief and didn't involve a raised voice or more or less veiled threats; the alien even anticipated her warning that the equipment could, but wouldn't be used as weapons. Again, he hung up on her when he considered all relevant information had been exchanged –though really, Lillian was mostly glad to be done with it.
Then, exhausted, she leaned the back of her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Her knuckles were really hurting.
