Through its enhanced visual array the prototype Dalek was able to examine the industrial zone in all its intricate and multilayered detail. From the deck of its hoverbout it could see buildings and structures that stretched out over several hectares of land to the South of New Skaro Central. Dominating this landscape were two gigantic hundred metre tall cooling vents that poured out waste gases from an extensive network of subterranean tunnels. These tunnels carried super-cooled gases from the outside of the asteroid down past the core of a fission reactor situated about a mile into the asteroid’s crust. All of this to power the factory where the new race of Daleks was being born.
Alighting on the roof the Mark V was greeted by a party of replicants, the prototype alone was the only Dalek allowed near this building.
“Supreme Dalek!” oozed the replicant, a scientist from Earth by the name of Jenkins.
“You will take me on a tour of this facility!” grated Mark V, as they crossed the roof of the factory. “Have the new labour units been orientated yet?”
“They are being processed as we speak Supreme Dalek,” said Jenkins, his voice resonant with pride. “Production of the outer casings has already started.”
“Excellent!” said the Mark V, as they began to ascend a single flight of stairs that led to where the lift was situated. “I see your defences are well thought out,” commented the Dalek.
“Yes, the stairs were a nice touch I thought,” said Jenkins, they had reached the top of the platform where a roboman stood guard. Mark V had a simple access code that it transmitted straight to the brain-modulating device fixed into the roboman’s neck. Immediately it relaxed, the signal being forwarded to other robomen on the network.
They boarded a lift, which then sank below the level of the platform, leaving a bare dais stood on the centre of the roof. They exited on one of the lower levels, some distance from the main production lines. There was a large circular tank here, half-full of briny, frothing water. Inside the water and making a hellish squeaking noise were hundreds of gelatinous flattened starfish like creatures.
“What are they doing here?” enquired the Mark V with obvious disgust.
The fawning replicant explained quickly: “Oh yes, they were, er, left over from when the Mark III lines were discontinued.”
“Why are they here?” grated the prototype, its voice tinged with anger.
“W-we were holding them in storage in readiness to be put into hibernation,” said Jenkins. “Standing orders from Dalek command.”
“Irrelevant!” snapped the Mark V. “Only the Emperor has authority here, and as his designated agent I say that this is a waste of valuable resources. We have no use for these creatures.”
“Y-yes, Supreme Dalek, of course,” muttered Jenkins. “What do you want us to do with them?”
“I have an idea for their efficient disposal,” said the prototype darkly.
Only when they were inside the factory could Stillman truly appreciate the vast scale of the operation the Daleks were conducting out here in the dark of intergalactic space. He and his group of new recruits were being shown around by called Torpes, a colourless bureaucrat in the slave hierarchy. Torpes was leading them across a metal walkway that spanned a gorge through which poured a torrent of Dalek half shells. Somewhere beneath their feet hydraulic pistons hissed and hard metallic ringing joined the cacophony of the production lines. When the half shells resumed their journey they had sprouted an array of blue half-spheres. They flowed in lines now, on a slowly creeping walkway of steel like metal. At the next station more robotic arms, grabbed them temporarily to fit out their internal wiring. Then they disappeared further down the line, out of sight in this colossal hall. Even with the soundproofing headsets they had been provided with the din was overpowering.
“These are the main production lines for the Mark V machine,” crackled the Torpes’ voice over the headset. “Where we are going now is to take a look at the hybrid creatures themselves. Be warned; this is hallowed ground, not even the senior ranks of the old Dalek hierarchy are allowed up here!”
Thus appraised of their situation they made their way down a metal staircase to a lower level. Stillman was surprised to see set of stairs in a Dalek building, but then again, as he looked around it was evident that apart from the ones pouring off the production lines no Daleks were to be seen. Lemuel had been right so far, it seemed, and given the degree of resentment building up in the old Dalek ranks perhaps it wasn’t too surprising.
But how, he asked himself, had they been able to find Jane in here?
They were taken into a darkened chamber lined with glass walls; behind these walls were great tanks full of crystal clear water. In these strange aquaria hung several dozen buff-coloured creatures, which at first glance resembled rows of jellyfish with their tentacles lazily twitching in the slight current.
“These are the Mark V hybrid Daleks,” said Torpes gesturing to the nearest creature, whose tentacles gently brushed against the side of the tank. The tentacles recoiled into the body of the creature, which shot off towards the other end of the aquarium. Stillman and Lemuel approached the glass wall and peered in wonder, some of the other new slaves also drew forward. As they approached the nearest hybrid suddenly flashed a bright red followed by a cerulean blue.
“Colour signalling,” muttered Stillman.
“Yes, just like octopus used to on Earth,” said Lemuel. “Most fascinating!”
At the sound of Lemuel’s voice the jellyfish like creature turned black and suddenly attacked the side of the tank. Stillman recoiled in shock.
“Christ!” he exclaimed. “They‘ve given it a face!”
Lemuel looked to see that Stillman was right; there amongst the charcoal coloured flesh of the creature were the outlines of a nose and a mouth equipped with razor sharp teeth. Then there were the eyes. “Oh my God!”  he whispered.
“Attention!” came Torpes voice through the headset. “The Supreme Dalek is about to pay us a visit! Places everyone!” They all fell in for inspection as the newly promoted Mark V entered the room, accompanied by a retinue of gun totting lobo men (as the slaves had dubbed them, referring to their lobotomised voices). He had changed colour since Stillman had first encountered him, now a black carapace adorned with shiny gold half-spheres rather than the standard Dalek grey. He, or it, still hovered into the room with the same evil aura he conveyed at their first meeting. Stillman felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as the machine creature glided up to Torpes.
“At ease, Overseer,” came its tinny voice. Turning to face the slaves the Dalek gestured to the tank behind him. “What you are about to witness is the birth of a new species!” it declared proudly.
At this there was a disturbance in the upper part of the tank, and Stillman watched as a smaller, starfish like animal was introduced dropped into the water. The new Dalek hybrids sensed its presence immediately and began to encircle the animal, which moved clumsily through the liquid by beating its stumpy tentacles rapidly. Then to Stillman’s horror one of the new Dalek creatures lunged forward and clamped its sharp needle like teeth into the side of the smaller animal, which squealed audibly through the thick glass as a chunk was taken out of its side. The other hybrids soon followed suit, taking it in turns to pull great glistening mouthfuls of gelatinous flesh from the writhing, screaming mutant. As the slaves watched, more of the starfish like creatures were introduced into the tank to meet the same grisly end. The Dark eyes of the new Daleks glowed a deep red around black irises, their colouration changing rapidly as they gorged themselves on the smaller animals.
“W-what are those creatures?” asked one of the new slaves, a young woman with closely cropped red hair. Torpes looked indignant at this interjection, but the Supreme Dalek seemed happy to answer that question.
“They are the Daleks,” it said triumphantly. “The old race of Daleks that we seek to replace!”
There was silence as the Supreme Dalek let this sink in. “You mean, that you are going to be our new masters?” asked the same young woman. Torpes was sweating profusely.
“Correct,” said the Dalek. “A new race and a new order. From now on the tyranny of Mark III rule is over! Never again will the Dalek Empire treat its subject races so shoddily. We will become the victors in our struggle with the old Daleks!”
“So are we at war then?” asked the woman.
“That is an accurate assessment,” said Mark V. “Soon it will become an open battle, which is why I stand before you now and pledge that the New Dalek Empire will rule for the benefit of all its subject races. We the Daleks believe that more can be achieved through co-operation and harmony then through discord and strife. We seek not to conquer the Universe but to serve it, as loyal guardians of an interstellar accord, a new brotherhood of nations under many suns!”

There was a stunned silence as the new recruits took in this declaration from the new Dalek Supreme. Many of them were unable to believe their own ears; a few were visibly wiping their eyes as if to convince themselves they weren’t dreaming.
  Then the red-haired woman broke the silence: “You heard what the Dalek said,” she announced to the others. “Their enemies are our enemies! He considers us his brothers! Maybe we can be free again!”
The other slaves cheered and started clapping, including Lemuel. Stillman felt a cold lump of despair sinking into his stomach. The new Daleks had learnt fast it seemed. A few vague promises of a brighter tomorrow coupled with a distracting nod in the direction of a common enemy were enough to win over desperate people who had nothing else to hope for. That was what made it so galling, the very obviousness of it all.
But, his inner voice asked, what of your own dealings with these creatures?
That was a sobering thought and one that he carried with him as he watched the hybrids finish off the last of the old Dalek mutants. The tanks were now cloudy with thousands upon thousands of tiny particles of flesh. As numerous as the stars of the Milky Way.
 “You do not rejoice, Still-man?”
Stillman was so stunned that the Supreme Dalek was addressing him directly that he could only gaze open mouthed for a second.
“You are afraid of me,” said the Dalek, hovering nearer. “Why are you afraid of me?”
Gulping, Stillman answered in a cracked voice. “Because, because you are a Dalek…” he stuttered.
“And Daleks are the enemies of Still-man?”
“Yes, yes,” said Stillman. “Like when we first met, do you remember? You exterminated one of my ship-mates because he had a heart condition.”
There was an almost palpable drawing back by the other slaves, the look of quiet jubilation replaced by unease. The Dalek examined Stillman through its single eye, reading his face and cortical activity closely.
“The incident you speak of was regrettable but necessary under the present system,” said the Dalek eventually. “When we, the new race of Daleks, take over you will no longer be slaves but citizens of the Dalek Empire.” Ascending on a column of negative energy the Dalek addressed everyone in the room. “Under the New Order the Daleks will work together with other races to bring peace and stability to the Galaxy. Dalek technology will bring an end to disease and hunger!” This brought a noisy cheer from the slaves. “No longer will the space ways be choked with pirates and terrorist forces, we will bring security and prosperity never before seen in the cosmos!” Again there were even greater cheers. Stillman retreated momentarily; anxious that he not draw too much attention to himself at this stage. Fortunately for him the Supreme Dalek was soon presented with another distraction.
A very frantic looking Jenkins appeared and signalled to the Mark V desperately. The Supreme Dalek glided smoothly down to where the replicant was waiting. “There has been a security breach in the biometric laboratories further along this level,” he whispered.
“Show me!” ordered the Mark V. With that they disappeared from the room, leaving Stillman and his group in the care of Torpes.
“This is what we found on the laboratory floor,” explained Jenkins, pointing to a scattered mound of fine powdery particles that spread out in a starburst from a central core. Several larger conical chunks remained, one of which the Mark V levitated upwards by use of its sucker arm. “The composition is not that used in any of our processes here at the factory.”
Examining the object carefully as it spun on its axis the Mark V delivered its conclusion. “Readings indicate that it is biomechanical in origin. Doctor Invidious uses such material in his experiments.”
“Dr Invidious!” said Jenkins in surprise.
“We cannot speculate on such fragmentary evidence,” said Mark V, letting the conical section drop to the floor. “Show me the body you found.”
Jenkins took the Dalek some yards up the corridor where a dead Roboman had been found, cast down into a stairwell. The implants on its head hung to ragged bits of flesh where his skull had been crushed by the fall.
“This roboman was thrown from one of the upper stories?” asked the Supreme Dalek.
“We think so, yes more than likely,” said Jenkins, squirming at the smell of putrefaction.
“Show me where you think it is most likely he fell from.”
Jenkins led the way up the steep incline of the stairs until they reached the roof area; there they found the Supreme Dalek’s hoverbout waiting where he had left it several hours before. Quick examination of the roof revealed faint disturbances on the dust deposits that sat heavily on the metallic surfaces. There was also a dense cloud of supercharged ions that hung in the air around where the greatest disturbance lay.
“This was made by a Dalek weapon, they have infiltrated the factory!”
“Oh my, how dreadful!” groaned Jenkins.
“I must return to New Skaro Central immediately and inform the Emperor!”