The Closing of Doors

Part Ten

In the midst of the terrible din--the hum of the computer, the crackling of the melting door, the wrenching screeching of electronic threats coming from outside--one weak word, two hushed, barely audible syllables, thrown with all manageable concern of heartbreak and guilt, made itself heard.

"Camille?"

Cai's electronic Dalek voice sounded as though it was crumbled, hushed, and weak. It was a word made of worry, sorrow, despair, and shame; Cai felt as though he didn't deserve to say such a revered word in this state. Camille felt betrayed by his despicable past; he never deserved her trust. His mind, usually busy making thousands of calculations and experiencing millions of thoughts at once, was, as a sum of itself, concentrated on one thought: the other-worldly, strangely intimate link between himself and the woman who, twenty years ago, he would have killed on sight simply because she was human.

However, although it was soft and distant, the sound of her own name in Cai's distinct tone was enough to alight flames of memories in Camille.

The memories flooded her, and then tore their way through the telepathic bridge and flooded Cai, too: the first day, the day the alien, with an audience of the entire Dalek Council, defied everything Dalek, and spat his impure opinions straight at the Dalek Supreme himself. So lost by his own differences between himself and his brethren, the only hate he felt was his intense hatred for himself and the genetic diversity at the cause, and he was open to the influence of the human woman he met and bonded with on the adventure to stop a Dalek Incursion Squad from attacking Earth centuries too early. He had met another rogue Dalek, Rusty, he had met the opposer of all opposition the Doctor himself, and then he met Camille; in the most distressed moment of his life, he suddenly understood who he was: not a Dalek in ideals, but a mutated mess, an emotional being with an expanded consciousness; he was Cai, the scholar, the historian, the passive-pacifist, the observer, the philosopher, the rogue Dalek, the eternal partner of the human female called Camille Grace.

He had repeated her name in the exact same voice that day, so familiar in the hints of curiosity and worry that were never present in any Dalek's words ever before.

For one instant, the link between Camille and Cai was so strong that there was hardly any differentiation between one's mind or the other; they were one in the same.

Cai had known that he was different for decades, but in that day, with Camille's help, he was able to accept it.

Cai was once as cruel as a Dalek could be, but he was changed. He had spent the past several years by her side, proving this very fact. Camille blinked, her mistrust dusting away as though it had never stricken her, and she stepped closer to her partner. "Are you ready to tell me what you have in mind?" she asked, her tone one of humor, suddenly and surprisingly cheerful.

"If I am honest with myself," Cai spoke, the faint echoes of his partner's humor hinted at in his quiet voice, "No."

The Daleks outside had an adequate hole through the door, and it was melting larger quickly, the blazing blue of their eyes shining menacingly through the metal. But this wasn't as startling as the sudden shaking coming from the Stratagem Computer. It was as though an earthquake was tearing through the console and nothing around; it was vibrating so much, it looked unnatural.

Cai glided forward towards were Ayl, the helpless black Commander, sat completely still. Now, dominant and subordinate, each more deserving of the other's rank, sat eye to eye.

"Ayl," Cai's dome lights flashed dimly, and he spoke as though with the desire to plead, his voice so delicate and hushed that his words were almost inaudible, "It does not have to end this way. You can be free."

Crackling with rage and terrible hatred, the Commander spoke to the Strategist for the final time, its words as high-pitched as a threatening screech, emphasizing, "You. Are. Insane!"

In a discouraged exhale, Cai replied in nothing over a sorrowful electronic gurgle, so quiet that Camille had to strain to understand him. "Much madness is divinest sense, to a discerning eye," he abruptly turned and lurched forwards in the other direction. Gazing upon his old Stratagem Computer, he continued to murmur, "Much sense, the starkest madness...."

"Oh, lovely," Camille, recognizing the poem, remarked with an edge of sarcasm, a bit alarmed by the sight of the Dalek eyestalks peering through the melting hole in the door and the rapid, loud rattling emitting from the Stratagem Computer console, "What a lovely time for an Emily Dickinson recital. Very clever, Cai."

The once-was Dalek turned to her, taking in the expression on her face, a mix between amusement, concern, and admiration. He held eye contact with her, contemplating the windows to her soul, and continued his wistful recitation in a voice that slowly gained strength, "'Tis the majority, in this, as all, prevail," In this moment, as he beheld his partner, her softening, trustful expression, he felt remarkably un-Dalek, and, therefore, he felt free. "Assent," his dome turned, casting his gaze to the blue of the other Dalek's eyestalks in the hole in the door, and then he casted a final glance at his old Commander, "and you are sane. Demur," he paused, turning back to Camille, thrusting out his manipulator arm.

She grasped the metal rod above the manipulator appendage and met his eyestalk, looking into his mechanical eye and deeper, as though to the real eye with the real brain buried in the cold cage. Her worry dissolving, she smiled admiringly and softly concluded, "And you're straightaway dangerous and handled with a chain."