Notes: For those who know some Latin: I made 'Dalek, dalekis' a third conjugation neuter i-stem noun. Why i-stem? 'Dalekia' sounded better than 'daleka' to me. No real reason. And totally arbitrary.
For those who do not: There was a Roman senator named Cato who was known (among other things) for his rather paranoid mistrust of Carthage. He eventually stirred the Romans into a third war with Carthage, which destroyed the city entirely. Why he hated them so much, no one knows, and they probably weren't a threat by then. He is well-known for his habit of ending every speech he made in the senate with some form of 'Carthago delenda est': 'Carthage must be destroyed'. (If you're really curious, that phrase is often cited as an example of the 'passive periphrastic' construction, which takes a 'dative of agent'. I watch as you all flock to sign up for Latin classes. Heh.)
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Last thing I remember
The world, through a haze of golden light. Light like a halo, all around her. Some faint protection; a little touch of heaven in hell.
The sky was orange, this time. The smoke was just as black.
"Doctor!"
The screaming just as loud. Worse, this time, her own people, easier to hear, impossible not to feel in a thousand different ways.
"It's over."
Over, everything and everyone, unless.
"Unless you have another stupid plan."
"Actually," he said, softly, "I do."
Another voice, another accent, but she would've recognised it anywhere by now. Explosions outside. Screams. How the Council had screamed, saying he hadn't warned them, saying they were all dead, he had to have a plan to save them, he had to-- and how many times had it been? How many times repeating his 'Dalekia delenda sunt' at the end of every speech, every sentence? How many times had he tried to warn them? But not enough, never enough--
"Do it," she said.
"You don't know how stupid this plan is."
"Will it save us?"
"No."
"Will it save anything?"
"If we're incredibly lucky."
"Easiest decision in the history of the known universe. Something versus nothing. Consider this an order. Do it."
To the central building, in the smoke. Guards screaming as they died outside, two thousand years before their time. Council members in the corridors, following him like abandoned dogs. Until he got to the center, and they realized what he was going to do.
Then they screamed, and protested, and one got between the others and him, as the other three tried to beat him and drag him away.
"What right do you have?!"
Wires and wires, his whole life had been wires, his whole life had been in service of Death. Well, one final delivery to his master; one grand finale to his career. Then he was out of his contract. Then he could die, like everything else.
One was trying to strangle him, but the wires connected. One grabbed onto his arm, but the circuit was done.
One stabbed him through the heart, but it was already too late. A waste of effort, when Death was coming for them all.
And the fire came, and the Daleks screamed, and his people screamed, in confusion, in terror, in anger, in hatred, in fury, in betrayal. Because he had betrayed them; he'd sold them as ransom for the safety of the universe. He hoped it would be some small consolation to them that the fire would take him too.
And the fire came, drowning out all the other cries in his own, and--
"Doctor."
At the edge of his vision, golden light.
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