One after the other, the five mutants Nancy had saved went back to their kind, all too eager to get away from the revolting human presences and their own frightening helplessness. They were glad to again feel protected in their casing, safely isolated from the universe.

The other Daleks scanned them at great length, but no matter how minute their examination, they couldn't find the smallest booby trap or spying device, or anything even remotely suspicious.

"OUR RETURN WILL ACCELERATE THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP AND ENABLE US TO CONTINUE MINING CHRONILITE IN PARALLEL. THE DELAYING DUE TO THE DEVOURERS WILL BE REDUCED," one rejoiced.

"THE HUMAN BEINGS' INFERIOR EMOTIONS HAS UNWITTINGLY SERVED THE DALEK CAUSE!" another gloated.

"IT IS CORRECT THAT THEM HAVING RETRIEVED AND RESTORED YOU BENEFITS US," their leader agreed. "HOWEVER, THIS LIKELY WAS THEIR INTENTION."

All eye-stalks focused on him in perplexity. Aliens weren't known to help Daleks without having to be coerced one way or another.

"THE ORIGINAL ARRANGEMENT WILL BE RESUMED WHEN WE POSSESS A SHIP AGAIN," he explained to his attentive audience. "BY ASSISTING OUR PURPOSE, THEY FURTHER THEIR OWN. THIS IS NOT A DISPLAY OF WEAKNESS, THIS IS PROOF OF THEIR CUNNING. BUT THIS ACTION ALSO PROVES FREELY ASSOCIATING WITH THE LATOSHKIANS CAN PROVIDE CONTINUING BENEFITS BEYOND THOSE WE PLAN FOR," he asserted again.

To the average Dalek, such thoughts were preposterous, naturally. But they had preserved their only current source of chronilite thanks to the human beings. Their forces were five members stronger than they would have expected, thanks, again, to the human beings. And while the joint work at the shipyard had ignited the usual mutual hatred at first, most of the initial clash had now settled.

Within the room silence, the novel idea inched its way through the xenophobic certitudes. Of course, aliens were ever incomprehensible. But perhaps, just perhaps, their difference might hold some value indeed.

Once again in possession of a spacecraft, the Daleks brought back their shipment with diligence. When all contact had been lost after the report of the Devourers' imminent attack, the Supreme had assumed the mining party had been destroyed along with the planet. He was surprised –and most pleased– to be proved wrong. He listened with attention to the commander's report, and when the latter mentioned the ship had been rebuilt through human labour, he was none the wiser. Dalek hierarchy was absolute. None of the underlings even thought of disclosing the truth without being specifically requested to.

Things went back to their unnatural order. Both groups were content to stay well away from each other, and little contact there was. Far from resting on their laurels, the Latoshkians analysed everything they'd learnt while constructing the saucer, from the scientific to the military angle. Their understanding of Dalek technology progressed steadily, until one day, about ten months later, the research team made a breakthrough.

"We've always suspected their most complex devices are operated with a combination of conventional electrical power and psychokinetic energy. That's why they are so prone to saying aloud what they are doing: To focus their thoughts," a young physicist explained to the Council, her eyes glistening with excitement. "Of course, they were careful never to tell us too many details on the workings of the machinery we were building for them. But by cross-referencing the control circuits for the ship's hoist and their casings' actual design, we think we've been able to isolate the specific components responsible for carrying out their mental instructions. We've already started studying them in detail."

"All right," Lillian nodded. "That sounds good, but does it have any practical application?"

"Surely you remember they gave us those disabling weapons, Governor? Until now, we didn't have a clue what they did, or even if they actually did anything significant at all. It's not like we could test them in real conditions."

A shadow crossed Lillian's face. How could she have forgotten Helena's thwarted attack? "Go on," she encouraged, blinking the bitter memory away.

"Well, all evidence indicates that's how they work, by temporarily overloading the command relay. Now we understand the mechanics better, we can disassemble one of them without damaging it and investigate its internals in detail," the scientist beamed proudly.

For the first time in what seemed an eternity, the Latoshk Council cheered.

Nancy's hearings, however, never went as well.

For the umpteenth time, Lillian rubbed her temples in irritation. "Nancy, Nancy, you know any potential advantage can mean the difference between our continued survival and our extermination. You took an oath to heal and save, and now I'm asking you to find ways to harm and kill. I get it, I really do. But you have my word we won't attack them until they attack us. Just remember it is a question of when, not if."

"It's not just that," the doctor justified herself. "Even if we found out how to deliver a potential pathogen –and that's a huge if, let me tell you, when they encase themselves in airtight dalekanium battle tanks–, their biology is incredibly complex. Not to mention all we have to work with is a finite supply of mostly dead cells."

"What about your cloning attempts?" Stephen asked.

Nancy's lips tightened. When the Council had first ordered her team to use the few live samples they'd taken from the wounded Daleks to grow test subjects for their experiments, she'd considered flat out refusing. In the end, she'd reluctantly admitted that while Daleks were intelligent and technically sentient creatures, the way they disregarded their own pain afterwards probably meant they didn't form emotional memories. Yes, they could suffer, but it was only ever a fleeting state.

"We tried. We did our best, I swear." She shook her head and took a deep breath. "Ironically, making stem cells had been the easy part. While the embryos developed normally at first, as far as we can tell, they all died before the end of their fifth month. Presumably, the casings' life support is designed for adults and the embryos require some specific additional chemicals. The truth is, we just don't have a clue how Daleks normally reproduce. They could be born in eggs for all we know."

And so, seasons followed seasons without any notable incident, the Daleks extracting chronilite, the human colony preparing for warfare but also slowly healing its wounds. Lillian was amazed people were considering having children again, as if the threat on the longer term, despite the scientific prowess of the research teams, was any lower than the very first day.

And still, she would continue waking at night, her heart pounding, after dreaming of betrayal and explosions and deaths and Dalek heinous victorious screeches.