Last Orders

by vegetables [Reviews - 0]

Printer Chapter or Story
  • Teen
  • None
  • Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, General, Horror, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Mixed, Series

The theatre was a great almost-circle, like one from Shakespeare’s time on another planet. There were bodies everywhere the Doctor looked, and exactly two people in the building were alive.

He was sitting on the stage, Davros, every single seat in the auditorium filled with a corpse. He was grinning oddly like he be actually happy; black lips straining against his cracking skin. He was centuries younger than the Doctor, this ruined man. Once in a while, she would try very hard to remember it.

“Ah,” Davros said through his awful smile. “Doctor. So nice of you to arrive on time. I’m afraid the other guests were–“ he gestured at the mummified corpses “–rather late.”

”That’s the Davros I know!” laughed the Doctor. “Loves a macabre joke. One of those and a genocide; you’ve got the makings of an evening.”

Davros’s expression changed to a mockery of offense.

“For someone who spent so much effort to come here,” he said, “you seem surprisingly dissatisfied to see me.”

“And you won’t like seeing what I am, eh?” She waved her hands up and down her body. “Looking like I do now.”

“You are referring to the matter of your gender? Doctor. Our species are different at the cellular level; next to that such a change is but a trifle. You misunderstand me if you think of me as a bigot.”

“Ha! Well. Where could I have got that idea? Don’t worry about the man making species-destroying monsters; he’s extremely politically correct–

“My Daleks are a means to an end, not an end in themselves. You have forgotten what I said to you, when first we met.”

“You say a lot of things not worth believing, Davros. I’ve only got so much space in my head.”

He was smiling warmly, now, gently. He could be a wise old man indulging his grandchild for the last time.”

“Sometimes I lie, yes,” he said. “And sometimes I am entirely sincere. I think it is the second that scares you more.”

The sun was low in the sky now, and red light was streaming through the high windows of the theatre. It lit the corpses in their wooden stands, making them look like they were already on fire. To the west in the sky and far above the sun, the planet-destroying dome glinted away.

“Peace,” said Davros. “Whatever you believe of me, that has always been my goal. It cannot come to a divided universe. It requires the ascension of one people, one race. You have noble aspirations. Ideologies. Yet you are afraid to look at where they lead.”

“And you created the Daleks. That’s not a good argument for clarity of purpose.”

“For instance, the Earth. Those people you care for above all, when so many worlds are on fire. I have often wondered what you would do if you ever had to choose, between the survival of that planet and the code you hold so dear?”

“The right thing,” said the Doctor.

“I see. And how many who follow you still would, if they knew what that right thing was?”

“It doesn’t matter a bit, ‘cause what I’m standing against now threatens both. Everything turning to Daleks through all of time and space. Unstoppably. Irreversibly. And I bet it’s because of you.

Davros managed to look almost offended.

Me, Doctor?” he said. “I thought you’d be further along than that! Do you mean to say you have not realised what is really going on?”

”The end of everything,” said the Doctor. “That’s a lot more important than the details.”

“It is true what you say. The Shape of the Dalek. Have you ever asked yourself what that is, I wonder? What shape are my people out on that planet now?”

“It’s a different reality here,” said the Doctor, her hearts dropping into her mouth.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps there was something about this reality all along, that your mind was not ready to confront. Perhaps”–