There were numerous unpleasant and sometimes dangerous job postings on post-war Skaro.
There were the waste technicians who spent their days dredging, repairing and surveying the kilometres of sewage pipes that snaked beneath the Kaled Dome (and who told the most ludicrous and appalling stories about what they found down there: lost soldiers, purged literature, secret chambers, robots coated with magnetic dust, stray statuary). There were the UXB technicians, working to find and neutralise the artillery shells and land mines that had been strewn throughout the Wastelands. Neonatal hospice doctors, regenerated limb therapists, education integrators, trauma counsellors: new jobs, new roles for the Kaled people. And as unpleasant or dangerous as those jobs might be, the Kaled people took to them with joy. Better than fighting a war, or cowering under the Dome waiting for the war to end.
But of all the strange, unpleasant, and dangerous jobs, surely the one most fraught with peril would have to be the role of Supreme Commander Davros' psych tech.
That role was currently shared by two men. Psych Tech Scohma was the older, more experienced one, dignified in his civilian beard; Psych Tech Onl was newly certified at the top of his training group. And the two of them often wished that there were four of them, or ten, or a hundred. Because Davros was, to put it mildly, a handful.
Davros was older than both of them combined: decades older, although his ancient brain was currently in a young body. That was part of the problem: in his old body, supported by medical equipment, he had been able to tamper with certain biochemical levels within himself, keep his emotional pitch at a constant high. When he tried to recreate this sensation using drugs, the result was peaks of mania followed by long periods of despair, even catatonia. And that was far from being his only problem. There was the dysmorphia trauma from the full body transplant. A superiority complex that was (according to him) completely justifiable. And then there were the sexual issues.
Up until recently sex was an overlooked and taboo topic: men had sex with men; women stayed in the Women's Quarters and were never seen. Now the Quarters were unsealed, women and men were permitted to mingle on strictly controlled occasions, and a whole new flock of neuroses had come tripping out into the light of day. And Davros, who was old enough to have grown up around women, who had then spent decades literally unmanned by his injuries: well, just trying to get a baseline on him was close to impossible.
A unique analysis of Davros' sexual issues was finally provided by one of his assistants. Security Liaison Esselle's duties revolved around Security Commander Nyder, so she spent the greater part of her time in Davros' presence, even as Nyder did. She was uniquely placed to have observed Davros, both in his aged and maimed body and in his current restored form. And she wasn't quite as frightening as Nyder. Quite.
However, Onl and Scohma made sure that they both met with her at the same time, in one of the smaller Bunker laboratories that was not currently being used. Neither of the techs wanted to meet with her alone. She looked like a normal Kaled woman, if a bit on the short and stocky side, but her mind was alien to them.
"Gentlemen," said Esselle, perched on a stool in Sub-Laboratory Twelve. "You are curious as to how Davros sublimated his energies in the past. For your answer, you need only look at a Dalek."
She paused, and Onl asked cautiously, "What about a Dalek?"
"Consider. A Dalek is composed of two parts: the outer casing, and the inner creature. Now, the creature usually has just one eye." She blinked her own eyes at them. "I'm sure you know what portion of the male anatomy is often nicknamed the one eyed monster?"
Scohma cleared his throat.
"And then there's the tentacles. Long, fleshy, slimy tentacles. Twining around the creature's control surfaces and such." She rose to her feet and paced back in forth in front of the two psych techs, dark hair flowing over her shoulders and her black uniform.
"The casing." She drew a dome with her hands in the air. "It is, obviously, taller than it is wide. It has a curved top end. Protruding aggressively, even thrusting out of the upper half, are eyestalk, sucker arm, and heat-ray weapon."
She turned to them, dropping her hands. "And the bottom half of a Dalek, gentlemen, is covered with tits."
Scohma burst out laughing, and Esselle grinned back.
"I thought those were sensory spheres?" complained Onl.
She waved her hand. "Oh, call them what you like. So far as I'm concerned, they're tits. Half-domes, covering the entire bottom of the Dalek. Lots of tits, where legs should be. And phallic symbols, where tits should be. And the whole thing is shaped like a penis, and has a one-eyed tentacle monster inside."
Onl's brow was crinkled, but his lips were twitching to suppress a laugh as well.
"Gentlemen, the Daleks are a masterpiece of sexual sublimation, the creation of a man un-manned. A man who has literally had his masculinity blasted away from him in the chaos of war. And note that after Davros' rise to power, laws were written that confined all women to the Quarters. Before that, the exceptional woman might have a chance at an intellectual role, even placement in the Bunker. After Davros' maiming," her voice quavered a bit, "he did not want to be reminded of all that he had lost."
Her head drooped sadly, and she picked up a long test tube from the table beside her, and frowned at the dust on it. She continued speaking as she leisurely cleaned the tube with a scrap of cloth. "For the moment, Davros is enjoying having women around him again. He can now express his sexual energy through more normal channels. But it may well be decades before he has all of his issues worked out. We shall have to see." With quick motions she slid the tube back into its rack, then strode past the men and out of the laboratory. The techs followed, protesting that they needed to know more.
They both went silent when they left the room, because in the corridor there was a Dalek. Waiting. Eavesdropping - the Daleks were intensely curious and had no sense of personal privacy. This one was probably from Dal, here to consult with Davros on some matter. It was squat and grey, and its eyestalk stared at the three of them.
"Tits," said the Dalek.
Esselle cleared her throat. "Breast is the more formal term, Dalek unit. Mammary glands, more developed in the female-"
"You call them tits," said the Dalek, moving forward; Onl and Scohma exchanged glances and then moved sideways, away from Esselle. They had no special desire to wait through a vocabulary lesson with a Dalek. Side by side, they stepped briskly down the corridor, listening to the voices behind them, one female and one mechanical, which were rising in argument. That argument was suddenly punctuated by the sound of ripping cloth, and a shrill scream.
They froze as Esselle came pelting past them, one hand holding the rags of her uniform jacket to her chest. The Dalek sucker arm was capable of a variety of grips, and apparently it had used one on her. "Security!" she yelled.
The Dalek slid to a halt beside the two psych techs; there was a tattered bit of black cloth still dangling from its folded-tight sucker. Now that he looked at it, thought Scohma, that sucker did rather look like-
The Dalek pointed its eyestalk at the two men. Or rather, at the two men's chests. "Tits?" it inquired.
The psych techs took to their heels, heading for the (hopefully) approaching Security forces. Who would talk and persuade and, if necessary, restrain the Dalek. Their faces were red with embarrassment, as the Dalek came whizzing after them, shouting and waving the rag of black cloth.
"Tits! Tits! You will show me your tits!"
* * *
Such was one of the many perils of being Davros' psych techs.
All things considered, maybe joining the UXB squad would be a safer career alternative.
Notes on the Tale:
A very silly story, which was inspired by a computer-altered photo of a Dalek (source unknown - B3TA possibly?) with pink nippled sensory spheres; the infamous shots of Katy Manning posing nude with a Dalek; the recent attempt to make a Dalek smut film ("Abducted by the Daleks"); and a certain Ghastly's Ghastly Comics strip (http://www.ghastlycomic.com/d/20051211.html).
The cleaning of the test tube (a ridiculously phallic moment) was drawn from a similar scene in the film 'It Came From Beneath The Sea.'