The War had begun before I was even born, and I've been around for a long time. The same could be said for every other Kaled, and even the accursed Thals.
No record can accurately state who exactly started the War, but what everyone knew was that centuries of nonstop warfare was devolving our technology. My friend Zolfian once laughed, "The first Kaled warrior was armed with a lightning thrower, and the last one will be armed with just their fists." At the time I laughed with him, but as the years passed his words became less and less of a joke.
As head of the Scientific Elite, I was granted access to technology that had been stored away for preservation. One of the best inventions of my Kaled forebears was an anti-gravitational field emitter, capable of lifting vehicles the size of a building. We lacked the materials necessary to make new ones, but I was able to miniaturize the apparatus, making a single emitter small enough to stand on, as well as several smaller emitters strong enough to keep the first one steady.
The storage also held several of our "lightning throwers"-energy weapons from the dawn of the war. The ancient Kaleds ceased using these in favor of projectile weapons, as they didn't want these weapons to fall into the grubby hands of the Thals.
Zolfian followed a different path from mine, becoming General of the Kaled Military when he was just eighteen. He told me several stories about the soldiers who went out, and how they either died horribly at the hands of Thal guns or suffered mutations of the irradiated atmosphere and were cast out into the wilderness.
Hearing these stories motivated me to begin my War Machine project. I toiled for years, using what little technology I had at my disposal, until the prototype was complete.
"Observe closely, my friend," I told Zolfian as the first prototype trundled forward. "This prototype possessed anti-gravity propulsion, meaning it can't be caught by tripwires or tumble over uneven terrain. Its shell is a custom alloy called dalekanium, which can withstand fire from almost any guns the Thals possess. Best of all, though, it is unmanned, meaning no more Kaled soldiers need to die in this war."
"Impressive, Yarvelling," replied Zolfian, his eyes burning with patriotism. "This prototype is just what we need to finally wipe the Thals from the face of Skaro. Their extermination is finally at hand!"
"Indeed. I already have an assembly line prepared for the War Machines, I only need the approval of the Council."
"You've done plenty for the Kaled people, Yarvelling, but I doubt they'll issue any demand without question."
Zolfian was right, of course, but I didn't like to hear it. The Kaled leadership was soft, unable and unwilling to do what needed to be done. When I proposed we launch every nuclear warhead we had at the Thal's territory, they refused vehemently, declaring that such an act may irradiate our territory or be met with retaliation by the Thals.
Only through strength can the strong prevail.
As Zolfian predicted, the Council were unwilling to approve the War Machine project, claiming that by sending these autonomous machines into battle instead of young soldiers, I would destroy the morale of the Kaled people. My argument that we would run out of able-bodied recruits before we ran out of morale was met by deaf ears, and I was told the War Machine project was indefinitely shelved.
What happened next was not the fault of the Council, not that they would live to know it.
Thunderstorms had always wreaked havoc on our systems, and it got even worse when the rain turned acidic. Many years ago, I had automated the launch mechanism for the warheads we never used in order to make launching them easier. However, this system carried the risk of being activated prematurely, so I had programmed multiple failsafes to ensure this wasn't the case.
The acid rain had damaged the failsafe generators, and a jolt of lightning activated the launch sequence.
Zolfian ran to me, a far off look in his eyes. "Yarvelling, the launch sequence activated, our entire nuclear payload is enroute for Thal territory!" he cried.
"Good," I had declared, unaware of the pressing danger. "Now the war will come to a swift end."
"You're right, because the Thals have just launched all of their missiles in retaliation!"
I felt a pit form in my stomach, realizing that this would be the night that all life on Skaro perished. I barely had time to react before Zolfian grabbed my arm and dragged me to the nearest bunker. We had just sealed the dirt when the first missile landed, knocking us to our feet.
The bunker carried enough food and water to last for several years, but I developed cabin fever long before then. I estimate it was close to thirty months when I chose to leave the bunker, and Zolfian and I were given our first look at the new Skaro.
I felt sick.
"This is all my fault," I had declared. "Had I not automated the launch sequence, had I created a better failsafe, then this wouldn't have happened."
"Yarvelling, you didn't do this," Zolfian tried to console me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It was the dirty Thals who ravaged this great planet. With any luck, our missiles did more damage to their land than theirs did to ours."
Any further debate was cut off by an explosion to our right, as a decrepit console was blown to bits. We both glanced around for answers, when we saw it: the prototype trundled into view, its silver casing gleaming in the sun. What I didn't understand was who could be operating the machine.
"Halt!" demanded Zolfian, the War Machine complying. "Who goes there?"
"I am a survivor," a voice answered from inside the machine. "We were once Kaleds before the war ravaged our bodies. As we were born in the irradiated wilderness, we are immune to the toxins killing you as we speak."
"So you were able to survive out there? Fascinating," I said. "But what do you need my machine for?"
"Our bodies are weak, we can hardly move them, never mind defend ourselves from attackers. But while our bodies have grown frail, our minds are greater than any Kaled. If you can construct more of these machines, we may rebuild this dead planet."
"You've said that we're drying," commented Zolfian. "Surely your intellect can't save us."
"Correct, but we have medicines that will stave off the worst effects of the toxins. We can't save you, but you can live long enough to save us. In return, we shall ensure that the legacy of the Kaled race lives on!"
"No." Zolfian and this creature both turned to me. "The Kaled race has ended, consumed in the fire of war. But a new creature has arisen… the Dalek!"
With determination driving our ailing bodies forward, Zolfian and I excavated the factory, activating the assembly lines so that my creations could bring about the future of our planet. Eventually, enough Daleks were assembled that they could run the line themselves.
The first creature we met-Japel-demanded a special casing for himself, so that he could lead the Daleks. This machine was crafted from Flidor gold, with sap from the Arkellis flower to harden the casing.
In spite of his relative youth, Zolfian was first to succumb to radiation sickness, but Japel-Emperor of the Daleks-demanded that I be placed in suspended animation, and any actions necessary be taken to ensure my survival.
"Your mind still holds vast amounts of knowledge," the Emperor had said. "There may come a time when we need your expertise again."
And so any action necessary was taken to ensure my survival. Meanwhile, the Daleks built a great city atop the ruins of the Kaleds, and chased the Thals off Skaro into the depths of space. Recently, I hear that they've developed space travel of their own, with plans to bring Dalek supremacy to the whole universe.
While Japel may fancy himself ultimate ruler of the Daleks, even he must understand that he would be nothing without me…
Yarvelling Davros.