AUTHOR'S NOTE
This one-shot story is an alternate version of the 2023 Children-In-Need 'Doctor Who' sketch written by Russell T Davies. Whilst I rather enjoyed the televised scene, which depicted Davros before he was disfigured and confined to his life-support chair, I did think it was rather at odds with the continuity established in books and audios, as well as the general premise that Davros created the Daleks in his own image. So I decided to do this alternate version of the scene, tying in more closely with the backstory established in the Big Finish audio series, 'I, Davros', whilst also giving the story a slightly darker and more serious tone.
All characters and concepts are owned by the BBC. This story is written for entertainment purposes, with no copyright infringement intended.
Jonas Castavillian was not a happy man. In point of fact, he was a very scared man.
This was perfectly understandable, since he was, after all, facing imminent death, along with his last few surviving colleagues. Death at the hands, or rather sucker arms, of the very creatures they had helped to create:
The Daleks. The mutated descendants of the now near-extinct Kaled race, which had been almost completely wiped out some hours ago by the Thals, courtesy of a rocket that had blown the entire Kaled dome to oblivion. Now Castavillian and the few loyal members of the Kaled scientific elite in their protective bunker were all that remained of the original race. But soon they would be dead, and the Kaled race would be completely extinct.
Where did it all go wrong? That was the one question that kept repeating in Castavillian's mind as he huddled with his four surviving associates in a corner, surrounded by several Daleks, their gunsticks covering them, while across the room, their newly appointed leader was confronting Davros, the scientific genius who had first created these armoured creatures.
"You must obey me!" insisted Davros, with increasing and uncharacteristic desperation in his voice. "I created you! I am the master! Not You! I! I! I!"
The Dalek Leader was unmoved. "OUR PROGRAMMING DOES NOT PERMIT TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT ANY CREATURE IS SUPERIOR TO THE DALEKS."
"You cannot exist without me! You cannot progress!" argued Davros.
"WE ARE PROGRAMMED TO SURVIVE," stated the Dalek Leader arrogantly. "WE HAVE THE ABILITY TO DEVELOP IN ANY WAY NECESSARY TO ENSURE THAT SURVIVAL."
Sweat poured down Castavillian's brow, his whole frame shaking with terror. If even the great Davros could not get the Daleks under control, what chance did that leave the rest of them?
As he tried to comprehend this terrible situation, Castavillian's mind wandered back events that had occurred a few months ago, when he had made his own contribution to the creation of the Daleks...
When he had first received the news that he had been assigned to join the Kaled Scientific Elite, Castavillian had been both excited and apprehensive. Like all Kaleds, he had heard of the great Davros. He was the most powerful figure in their society, after the unfortunate demise of the Supremo and the entire Council of Twelve, due to a fault in the heat exchanger that caused the Hall of Congress to be flooded with unfiltered teroxin.
Davros was a man to be both admired and feared. A man upon whom the fate of the Kaled race depended upon. A man that Castavillian was finally going to get the chance to work for.
Giddy at the prospect of meeting the greatest and most driven individual in Kaled society, Castavillian had arrived at the bunker with both eager anticipation and apprehension. Upon arrival, he was greeted by Davros' right-hand man, Security Commander Nyder. It was Nyder who had briefed Castavillian on the vital work that the scientific elite were working on: The creation of a mobile life-support unit to house the creatures that the Kaleds were gradually mutating into, which many believed was the inevitable destiny of their race. Davros had already accelerated the mutation of various Kaleds into what was being described as 'the Ultimate Creature'. It was a life-form completely unlike the Kaleds, and would require a travel machine to house and protect it.
Having been raised to believe in and support the purity of the Kaled race, Castavillian had been somewhat unsettled and appalled at the prospect of his peaople eventually becoming hideous freaks like the disgusting Mutos. But he was also a practical man, and if this was the inevitable fate of the Kaleds, then they might as well adapt to this unfortunate turn of circumstance. After all, survival for the race was top-priority. Perhaps in their new forms, the Kaleds would be able to rebuild the ravaged world of Skaro, after the accursed Thals had been exterminated once and for all.
For the first few weeks, Castavillian was assigned to assisting more senior members of the elite, like Gharman and Ronson, who seemed oddly uneasy about the great work they were doing. Whilst Castavillian could partly understand their anxiety, he was also disgusted at how they seemed to not have the stomach or single-minded dedication that Davros himself had. As far as Castavillian was concerned, this was all vital work for the survival of their race, or rather, the race they were going to become.
While his own work on helping with the construction of circuits for the travel machine progressed, Castavillian did not have a chance to personally speak to Davros, though he had seen him of course, gliding around the labs and corridors of the bunker in his mobile life-support chariot. Many of the other elite members tended to squirm at the sight of their disfigured leader, with his one remaining arm and the single electronic eye set in his forehead. Castavillian was equally unsettled, yet he also saw this as further proof of Davros' immense inner-strength, that he could continue to endure and command even after the terrible injuries that the Thal bombardment had inflicted on him years ago. What Castavillian failed to realise was that it was not so much Davros' appearance that so unsettled his fellow Kaleds, but his ruthlessness and inhuman drive to complete the project, no matter what the price.
Eventually, Castavillian was summoned to one of the construction labs, where to his surprise, he found Davros himself waiting for him. The Kaled genius was sitting in his mobile chariot near the doorway, the circular chamber largely left in darkness.
"Greetings. Mr Castavillian, I take it?" said Davros smoothly, the blue light from his camera eye giving some small illumination to the dark metal chamber.
"Yes, Davros. An honour to work for you, sir," bowed Castavillian.
"I have been kept informed of your progress since you joined the elite, and I am most impressed with your work," said Davros approvingly. "You have an excellent, dedicated attitude."
"Thank you, sir," said Castavillian, keeping his words simple and completely respectful, for fear of accidentally saying anything that might anger his superior.
"For that reason," continued Davros, "you shall be the first to be honoured to see the future of our beloved Kaled race."
Davros flicked a switch on the control panel of his chariot, and the lights suddenly came on, revealing a turntable set in the centre of the chamber. Resting on the turntable was a metal machine of gleaming silver with a rounded base. Its body was constructed of heavily studded metal panels; it had two appendages sticking out of its mid-section, consisting of a short stubby gunstick and a large sophisticated claw-arm; and the top was a dome from which projected a lens on a metal stalk.
"Behold. My Mark Three Travel Machine, modelled upon my own chair" said Davros proudly, as he gestured with his single arm at the robot-like device created in his own image. "The war has caused the Kaled race to mutate, but within this casing, we can evolve. We can start anew. We can become stronger than ever."
Suddenly, the machine's eye-stalk shifted upwards and the lights on its dome flashed as it spoke! Clearly, one of the new Kaled mutants had already been placed in the machine, and its metallic grating voice emphasised the fierce intelligence of the creature controlling it.
"WE WILL BECOME THE SUPREME RACE IN THE UNIVERSE!"
"It is magnificent, Davros," breathed Castavillian in awe.
"Indeed," said Davros. "Observe! A bonded polycarbide shell. A Ruby Ray Blaster, capable of exterminating a million Thals. And a multi-dextrous claw, capable of lifting 5,000 hundredweight, with electrified poison darts and a multi-omni-port to hijack any form of electronic communication. My ultimate masterpiece of design!"
"Incredible! Does it have a name yet?"
"Indeed it does. At present, I have only told Nyder. I will eventually announce it to the rest of the staff when final initial tests have been completed. But you shall have the privilege of knowing in advance that our race's new name will be... Dalek. I trust that you will keep that to yourself for the present."
"Of course, Davros," promised Castavillian. "But this word... 'Dalek'. What does it mean?"
"It is an anagram of 'Kaled', and is inspired by... an ancient, forgotten text that once belonged to my family. Roughly translated, one passage in it says '...and on that day, men will become as gods.' And in its original language, that last word is pronounced 'Dal-Ek'."
"You mean... We are destined to become gods?"
"That is one possibility..." said Davros. "However, we have much to do before that can be achieved. The reason I called you here, Mr Castavillian, is for suggestions you might offer to improve the design of the travel machine."
Castavillian was surprised. "Improve? But this machine you have designed is already a masterpiece! A work of genius!"
"A work of genius, yes. But it is not yet perfect. The claw attachment for example. It is an efficient tool, but I feel we could do with an alternate arm appendage that is less bulky and cumbersome, and capable of handling more delicate objects. I have summoned you to help come up with new suggestions."
Castavillian did not know what to say. "I, err, I shall do my best, sir. Though I find it hard to imagine any way to improve such a technological masterpiece. Perhaps..."
He was cut off when the room shook, just slightly, and the voice of Nyder came over the intercom.
"Davros, another Thal bombardment is taking place near to our location, sir."
"I shall join you presently," Davros responded into his chariot's in-built microphone, before turning to the nervous-looking Castavillian. "Do not concern yourself, Mr Castavillian. This bunker is well-fortified. It is extremely unlikely that the bombardment will cause any damage. Nevertheless, I shall have to leave for a moment to authorise a counterstrike. You will wait here. And touch nothing. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir," gulped Castavillian, who had not failed to notice the subtle threatening tone in Davros' words.
As Davros glided out of the room and the door closed shut behind him, Castavillian relaxed and let out a sigh of relief. He was beginning to think that his fear of Davros was greater than his admiration.
No. He should not allow himself to feel fear. Fear was weakness, and a true Kaled cannot allow weakness to stand in the way of progress.
As he tried to pull himself together, he turned his attention to the machine that Davros had christened 'Dalek', specifically towards the claw attachment that Davros was considering replacing. It was an excellent tool, capable of functioning as a weapon as well as a hand. What could possibly be more efficient than that?
Castavillian's attention was diverted from his work by a strange wheezing, groaning noise, like that of an ancient engine. Was the Dalek malfunctioning? No, he was sure the noise was not coming from the machine. So where was it coming from?
The next second, a large blue object inextricably and abruptly materialised by the right-hand wall and flew across the room like a Thal bullet. With a yelp of alarm, Castavillian ducked his head for a moment, as he heard the strange object crash right into the opposite wall of the chamber. As he slowly looked up, he saw that the strange cuboid box had jammed itself right into the wall at a tilted 30 degree angle. It had square panels on each of its sides, and a sign at the top reading 'Police Public Call Box'.
Castavillian did not know what this alien object was, but he could clearly see to his dismay that it had struck the front of the Dalek, as the claw-arm had been ripped right off the casing and was now latched onto the side of the box, its wiring sparking slightly. How was he going to explain this to Davros?
As Castavillian tried to grasp what was happening, a door opened up at the front of the box, and a man emerged from within. He had a tall, slim frame, finely boned hands and face, large dark-brown eyes, and thick brown hair with sideburns. His clothing was utterly bizarre, consisting of some sort of scruffy suit with a dark-blue trench-coat, and there was a slightly manic gleam in his eyes.
"Hello!" said the man pleasantly, waving his arms dramatically as the speechless Castavillian took several nervous steps back. "Just passing by, cos I got a bit lost. It's funny, sixty minutes ago, I was this really brilliant woman, and now I've got this old face back again. I mean why? Why? I ask of you, my brand new friend, why? It's all a bit of a puzzle, and ohhh..."
As the strange man looked about his surroundings, he suddenly noticed the claw-arm still attached to his box.
"I'm sorry, I'm so, so, sorry," he said apologetically, as he yanked the claw off the box and examined it in his hands. "I think I've broken this multi-claw-adaptable-what is it..?"
Eyes boggling, Castavillian tried to work out who exactly this mad intruder was. A Thal spy? No, a spy would not be dressed in such unseemly and conspicuous clothing. Perhaps a Muto? But since when did Mutos go around travelling in strange capsules like this blue box? Nothing about this situation made any sense to Castavillian.
As the bewildered Castavillian tried to comprehend all this, the skinny man suddenly noticed the Dalek and his expression darkened. "Oh. That's a Dalek."
Now Castavillian was really confused. "Wha... How...?"
As the stranger marched right up to the Dalek and looked it up-and-down in a disdainful manner, the Dalek seemed to glower back at him with its eye-stalk, its de-powered gunstick twitching agitatedly and uselessly. Castavillian could almost feel the creature's frustration at being unable to kill this crazy invader.
"I'm lucky I wasn't exterminated," said the man, as he looked at the Dalek as though they were old enemies.
At last, Castavillian found his voice. "Hold it! How can you know the name given to the Mark Three Travel Machine? Davros has not made the official announcement yet!"
The stranger looked at Castavillian with some surprise, a look of dawning realisation forming on his face. "Wait a minute. D'you mean this is the... Genesis of the Daleks? Oh, no, no, no, no, no!"
With sudden alarm, the man gave Castavillian an imploring look. "Listen, I was never ever here. Never. The timelines and the canon are rupturing, I'm just going to go, and you're not going to say a word, okay?"
"You can't just leave!" protested Castavillian. "You're an intruder! And you broke the multi-claw-adaptable-thingummyjig!"
"Oh, yes," said the intruder, glancing at the trail of wires emerging from the hole where the claw had originally been placed on the Dalek. "Right, hold on!"
Before Castavillian could stop him, the stranger darted back into his box. He remerged a few moments later, his hand grasping a long metal rod with a sucker attachment at the end. He tossed the object over to Castavillian, who caught it and looked it over in bafflement.
"Remember, never here," said the stranger, putting his finger to his lips. Then, he disappeared into the box again and slammed the door shut behind him. The next thing Castavillian knew, that awful groaning noise returned and the object, along with its mad occupant, faded away into thin air, leaving Castavillian alone with the Dalek.
Wondering if he was losing his mind, Castavillian examined the rod and its sucker attachment, then glanced at the damaged claw lying on the floor. He was certain that there was no way on Skaro that Davros would believe what had happened here. Execution was looking very likely for Castavillian. Unless...
A few minutes later, the chamber door reopened, and Davros glided back in, his camera eye taking in the large dent in the wall left by the blue box.
"What has been happening here, Mr Castavillian?" he demanded.
"Um, well, sir, you see, err..." the innocent-looking Castavillian began to stammer.
But as Castavillian tried desperately to think of a plausible explanation that would not result in him being deemed either a liar or a lunatic, Davros' eye caught sight of the sucker-arm that Castavillian had hastily attached to the Dalek in place of the claw-attachment.
There came a tense silence, as the Dalek glanced down at its new appendage with it's eyestalk, then shifted its gaze at Davros.
Davros looked at the terrified Mr Castavillian.
He looked back at the sucker-arm.
He looked back at the very terrified Mr Castavillian.
He looked back at the sucker-arm.
Then at last, Davros said:
"I like it."
Never had Castavillian been so relived in his life. Not only had the damage caused in the chamber been attributed to the Thal bombardment (thus saving Castavillian a long and totally unbelievable explanation), but the sucker-arm had turned out to be exactly the alternate design of appendage that Davros had been looking for his Dalek travel machine. Thus, instead of facing a firing squad, Castavillian ended up getting praised for his innovation, and was treated with much more respect by his colleagues.
It seemed that things had finally begun working out for Jonas Castavillian. But then, just as the Dalek project was nearing completion, everything went to hell.
Shortly before Davros demonstrated the first completed Dalek prototype to the rest of the elite, two strangers had appeared, including a man with curly hair and a long scarf, whose behaviour reminded a worried Castavillian of that madman in the blue box. The curly-haired man, who called himself 'Doctor', seemed to have been starting to cause great unrest amongst the Kaled scientists, making them question the ethics of Davros' work. Then, shortly afterwards, the Kaled city was completely destroyed by the Thals, leaving those safe in the bunker as the last survivors of the Kaled race. And as work pressed on to complete the Dalek project, Gharman, head of the Kaled Military Elite Scientific Corps, incited rebellion against Davros, accusing the brilliant scientist of corrupting the Daleks, and turning them into beings without morals and ethics.
Davros seemed willing to agree to Gharman's terms, but first requested that a meeting of both the military and scientific elite to take place, with a vote to decide on the issue. When the meeting took place in the main lab, where Davros and Gharman gave their respective cases, the last of the Kaleds began to vote. Castavillian was amongst those five men who sided with Davros, while the rest sided with Gharman. Just as it seemed that victory was in Gharman's grasp, Davros sprung his trap, and several Daleks emerged from hiding, ruthlessly gunning down Gharman and his supporters. Castavillian had been greatly relieved that he had been wise enough to side with Davros, rather than let himself get killed for treachery.
But then, another terrible twist of fate occurred, as the Daleks unexpectedly turned against Davros, started up the Dalek Production Line, and exterminated Nyder! So now here was Castavillian, trapped in the lab with his fellows, surrounded by Daleks, who now refused to acknowledge those who created them as their masters.
The harsh grating voice of the Dalek Leader snapped Castavillian's mind back to the present, and his blood chilled upon hearing its words.
"ALL INFERIOR CREATURES ARE TO BE CONSIDERED THE ENEMY OF THE DALEKS AND DESTROYED."
"No, wait!" cried Davros, pleading for the lives of the last few men loyal to him. "Those men are scientists, they can help you. Let them live. Have pity!"
"PITY?" echoed the Dalek, seemingly unable to comprehend such a concept. "I HAVE NO UNDERSTANDING OF THE WORD. IT IS NOT REGISTERED IN MY VOCABULARY BANK. EXTERMINATE!"
Only now in his final few seconds of life did Castavillian realise the terrible monster he and the others had helped Davros to create.
Only now did he realise that he should have heeded the warnings of Gharman, that mysterious Doctor, and all those who had objected to Davros' actions.
Only now did he realise the foolishness of following Davros, for he had brought them all to their doom.
Only now did he realise that his people were not destined to become gods.
But it was far too late to change for Castavillian to change his mind now.
As the Daleks remorselessly opened fire, Castavillian gave out a final agonised scream of pain and despair, as he felt the deadly rays tear into him and cause his cells to be ravaged and explode from the inside-out. He was dead before his slightly smouldering body had even hit the floor, along with the other remaining members of his race.
In the end, Jonas Castavillian died feeling like a complete idiot.
END