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Dr Who: Diary of a Perfect Occupation.

February 24th, 2158.

Daleks have no taboo against cannibalism, but the 4 percent reduction in their labour force from their starving slaves consuming overly radioactive Robomen was unacceptable. Three plutonium batteries leaking into their blood and gristle, was beginning to produce noticeable numbers of food poisoning and death. High ranking Daleks went into the slave pans looking for advertising executives or any one was a theatre degree, or maybe if they were luck a movie star, to make a Dalek PSA about not eating expired Robomen.
 
February 28th, 2158.

K9, airborn, identifies a Time Lady on a Leash being taken to a shower block for her monthly delousing by Robomen.

“Romana! I am coming! I will save you!”

Naked, whiped to the bone, scabby and bleeding, wearing a face K9 is not familiar with, her clearly undead jailers are incinerated.

“Yes, I am Romana, that’s exactly who I am.”

“Romana, I have saved you!”

“Good dog?”
 
March 3rd, 2158.

The Dalek central dormitory where the great Dalek thinkers govern.

“We are masters of the Earth!”

“Masters of the Earth!”

“Masters of the Earth!”

“Masters of the Earth!”

“Masters of the Earth!”

“Masters of the Earth!”

“Masters of the Earth!”

“Masters of the Earth!”

“Masters of the Earth!”

“Did you think it would be this hard?”

“Negative!”

“It shouldn’t be this hard!”

“If it doesn’t get any easier in 6 months, exterminate them all!”

“Exterminate!”

“Exterminate!”

“Exterminate!”

“Exterminate!”

“Exterminate!”

“Exterminate!”
 
March 5th, 2158

The Daleks have launched 10s of thousands of nuclear weapons at appropriate and inappropriate Earth Targets, in the year since they began willowing the human race. 95 percent of non-cockroach life on Mother Earth is sterile, or will be soon considering the unforgivingly high measurements of radioactivity transforming healthy DNA into sludge omnidirectionally. Although, if one was to look at a radiometer, something damn weird is happening. Globally the radiation levels are falling. Falling quickly towards what used to pass for nominal. The Daleks know this stratagem and it is worrying… “Dominators”. Seek. Locate. Destroy! Seek. Locate destroy! Seek Locate destroy! Seek Locate destroy! Seek Locate destroy! Seek Locate destroy! Seek Locate destroy! Seek Locate destroy! Seek Locate destroy! Seek Locate destroy! Seek Locate destroy!
 
March 7th, 2158.

Beneath Atlantis Axos found a 1000 foot tall buried sleeping Vampire. A massive batman of unthinkable hunger. Just being near this ancient god, Axos licks its lips, and then thinks better than to assimilate enough desire to eat another cosmos, because then it might become totally insane, and (figuratively) walks away.
 
March 9th, 2158.

The losing side of a conflict is always far more eager to take part in his martial Frieze.

“I’ll only need you for a thousand subjective years, and then I’ll put you right back, but you won’t remember a thing.”

“So, then we’ll be returned to the 31st century? Are the Daleks gone in the future?”

“Oh no, I’ll put you right back to where you I took you from, none the wiser, a thousand years older but in no way that you would ever notice.”

“Then what’s the point? We want to escape the Dalek occupation.”

“There is no honour in desertion. Someone has to be here to fight the Daleks, if you want to be free one day soon.”
 
March 14th, 2158.

Davros was tasked with weaselling out the copycats pretending to be his Daleks. He chose a very low tech procedure to sift through to the genuine article, his master race from Auton Riff Raff and Rutan Trash. Clamp the bugger down, flip the cap, then jackhammer the Dalek inside until it is churned into porridge. This will kill a Dalek, which doesn’t really matter in the larger scheme of things, Daleks don’t care. Rutans will run, or fight back, given the opportunity, and Autons will not die. In the larger sense both invasive species will flee Earth rather than wait to be the subject of this psychopath’s ongoing inquisition. Ideally Davros should not have to euthanize more than a million Daleks until purity resumes, however… The latest Faux Dalek is neither Rutan nor Auton. It’s one of those faceless one Chamelons, who pose a new existential threat entirely to the Dalek race.
 
March 17th, 2158.

The Valeyard believed it is finally time to pick up Susan. Bugger. The time dials are off. Too early. Way too early. Dematerialize and try again.
 
March 22nd, 2158.

Colossal 400 foot Tall Lemuel Gulliver trashes Dalek controlled Tokyo. The ongoing war with the Dominators means that the Daleks stopped nuking indiscriminately. Which is giving them blueballs. They think about bringing in another really big Dalek but these robots of indeterminate design and origin have to be figured out and cut down at the source.

His voice can be heard two cities away. Big lungs. ”I fervently seek the creator of these lethal pepperpots to be the new Master of the Land. Bring him and these assaults will end. I await your suffrage.”
 
April 4th , 2158

Behind enemy lines, an Ogron from the future couldn’t find any one, human, roboman, Dalek, Icewarrior or Quark that would tell him how to get back to Ogran. The human resistance caught him. Interrogated the 8 foot tall mercenary for 4 days, and then let him go because he is an idiot that does not know how to tie his own shoe laces.
 
April 5th, 2158.

The Dominators feeling confident, begin drilling to the Earths Core from Four Equidistant points. In less than 20 hours, they’ll crack Earth like an egg, harvest the radiation, and move on, forgetting all about these simple Dalek things trying to defend their homeworld from the natural inclinations of a superior lifeform.
 
April 6th, 2158.

6 million tons of bouncing Axonite is tumbling after the Black Dalek riding a rocket sled on a suicide run to collide with the dominator saucer coordinating the drill. As the Dominators are converted into axonite, it suspends their drilling %97 all the way down to core depth, saving the Earth, and Dalek Kind in solidarity like brothers. The Black Daleks ultimate sacrifice will be forgotten almost instantly, because Daleks are complete assholes. The Dominator Saucer carried inside its diminished batteries the souls of a million exploding planets, which was enough juice to gorge Axon, who marked the double you, and in victory left Earth with a full tummy. Bye Felicia.
 
April 9th, 2158.

“I am not an author, I am not an author of fiction, the power you are offering is tempting, but it’s obviously a trap, and have no interesting in being your slave.”

“You’ve written billions of lines of code. You bought life to a doomed species. In the land of Fiction, you can give birth to a new Dalek race who love you and will never betray you. You can live a complete life as father to a predator, murdering the limitless repository of human imagination. By the time you’re finished there will be no Musketeers and no Chinese Brothers.”
 
April 11th, 2158.

Even the Doctor was invited to the Black Dalek’s funeral. Ben and Polly spoke at the wake. “The sooner you’re all dead, the better. No one likes you.” One last Quark descended from heaven to murder everyone as a fail-safe. 10 thousand Daleks died. Ben sat on the side line cheering and jeering, like it was a Saturday game of footy at the local counties. K9 takes the TARDIS, because “Romana” needs medical attention STAT.
 
April 12th, 2158.

They drill a hole into the back of Davros’ head, then plug the master feed into his genius brain, adjoining his genius creativity to the foundations of the land of fiction. Absolute Power. Davros is designing new Daleks at the speed of thought who are being insti-constructed by the power of imagination. Lytton puts a gun into Davros’ mouth, and pulls the trigger until it goes click. The back of the ancient Kaled’s head is missing. A flesh wound. Rub some dirt in it and walk it off already. “Santa Claus picked me! I am the Master of the Land! Plug me in!”
 
April 14th, 2158.

The hospitality of the Daleks is wearing thin, as they never assumed that this truce would last longer than a few hours. The Doctor, Ben and Polly time heist the Monks TARDIS, and then skirt out into the universe to figure out who stole their TARDIS before they are murdered by Daleks. The Monk is caught and led off to a half burned down ROBO MAN processing factory.
 
April 21st, 2158.

The Dominator mine shafts proved to be too narrow to service the Dalek Master Plan. The Daleks have to start drilling again, since the Quarks had set fire to every free standing Dalek complex on the planet including every attempt the Daleks had made so far to reach down to the centre of the planet, including Atlantis. Think about that. They set an underwater city on fire. Obviously they used sodium chloride bombs. Setback after setback. It’s going to be 2167 by the time the Daleks can finally impregnate Mother Earth with a gyroscope and take her out for a spin, but we all know how that story ends.
 
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