The survivors of the Andromeda were herded at gunpoint from their ship into a walled compound nearby. As soon as they vacated the Andromeda a team of Daleks and human technicians boarded to strip it of usable technology. Nothing could be wasted in the struggle for Dalek survival.
Stillman watched closely as their handover was completed. A black Dalek with silver spheres took control of them now; it first of all cross-examined the half-burnt Dalek closely.
“There are only twelve humans here, our sensors detected twenty-two initially?”
“A thirteenth human has been taken to research and development and we also have the human Captain who is to be questioned by Dalek intelligence,” said the Half-Burnt Dalek.
“What of the others?”
“Killed in the taking of the vessel,” said the Half-Burnt Dalek.
“Unacceptable! The need for slave labour is paramount! You are under standing orders to make that your priority and to keep wastage to a minimum!”
“We did keep wastage to a minimum,” retorted the Half-Burnt Dalek. “The hu-man beings proved more resourceful than expected. They used primitive weapons and explosives to repel our attack!”
“Their weapons are no match for ours, you could have neutralised them without wastage!”
“That was not possible!”
As the two Daleks squared up to each other, Stillman thought he saw a glimmer of hope for the survivors after all. Perhaps their captors would kill each other; it seemed more and more likely as the argument continued.
“I could have you exterminated for this!” drawled the Black Dalek.
“The Gold Leader is my section head, not you.”
“Gold Leader no longer exists,” said the Black Dalek coldly.
“How?”
“Destroyed less than a hour ago on orders from the Dalek Supreme!”
“Then there are Red and Black leaders…”
“They are dead too.”
“Impossible! This cannot be!”
The Black Dalek approached its colleague, scrutinising it carefully through its telescopic eye. “It has happened and I am now, as a result of this, in direct chain of command of your trans-solar patrol.”
“Impossible!” protested the Burnt Dalek. Before either of them could get any further another Dalek underling drew near.
“Section Leader, the Dalek Supreme and the prototype are on their way here!”
“Arrange the prisoners for inspection!” ordered the Black Dalek. Turning to its new subordinate it added: “We shall finish this later!”
“Very well Section Leader!” said the Half-Burnt Dalek, offering its new superior a salute with its crooked arm.
Jane and the ship’s surgeon Lemuel were quietly discussing the situation with Stillman as the Half-Burnt Dalek and his squadron moved away.
“Did you hear that about the Captain and Morrison?” asked Jane.
“I did,” said Lemuel, his sombre eyes not leaving their captors for a second. “I wish there was something we could do about it.”
“Maybe there’s hope yet,” said Stillman. “Did you hear what they were arguing over? Sounds as if this whole place is in disarray.”
Before they could get any further a grey Dalek rattled up and ordered them to be silent. They were lined up in two rows of six standing three feet apart.
Two more Daleks approached, both were very different from each other and from the other Daleks Stillman had seen so far. The first was taller than the others, its base black with a large fender. The rows of sensor spheres were a shining gold colour, as were the panels along its midriff and the dome section. Large head lamps stood out like bat’s ears and it had one feature it shared in common with the other strange Dalek: The eyepiece seemed to have been changed in some way, extra sensors added, doubtless some kind of upgrade. From its coloration Stillman decided this was most likely the Dalek Supreme.
 The other Dalek was no less odd, although the adaptations to its travel machine did not look like marks of status. It had the standard grey-black colour scheme and was about the same size and shape as a normal Dalek with certain modifications that made it seem more formidable. The gun arm seemed to have grown, as had the eyepiece and sucker arms, scariest of all though was the way it moved. Hovering about six inches above the ground gave the machine-creature a ghostly aura.
“Supreme Dalek!” saluted the Section Leader.
“You will assist the Mark V prototype in examining the prisoners,” said the Dalek Supreme.
The prototype machine swept silently up to the waiting prisoners, its single eye probing each of them in turn. Stillman watched as it stopped opposite a gaunt and pale man, Lieutenant Wilkes. All he knew of Wilkes was from the gossip indulged in by the crew, something about his health not being up to scratch and being confined to lighter duties. He felt for the poor man as he came under the Dalek’s scrutiny.
“This one has a congenital cardiovascular defect!” it announced in clipped tones.
“Christ! That things seen that he has a heart problem!” muttered Lemuel under his breath.
“What is the standard procedure with defective labour?” asked the Section Leader.
“Extermination,” rasped Mark V.
“Exterminate him!” commanded the Dalek Supreme.
“Wait!” screamed Stillman before he could stop himself. “You can’t just kill him like that, he’s an intelligent man! He could still help you…ah!”
Before he could get any further he found himself borne upwards by an invisible force. Next thing he knew he was being twirled from side to side by what felt like a giant fist, closed to choking point around his neck.
“You will be silent!” roared the Mark V. “Your life is nothing to us!”
He found himself dropped to the floor, the prototype Dalek was looming over him. “If you speak again I will exterminate you!” it snarled before retuning its attention to Wilkes.
“P-please!” he cried, sinking to his knees. “Have mercy! It’s as the man said I could still help you!” To Stillman’s horror all the other crewmates had stood away from Wilkes without the Daleks even stopping to ask them. Only Lemuel dared step forward, and this was to see to Stillman.
“You are defective!” insisted Mark V. A beam of blue light shot from its gun stick, this scrambled Wilkes’ internal organs and boiled his brain in his skull. He collapsed to the floor, a pungent smell of ozone and crisped flesh rising in the air.
“Very good Mark V. You have done well. Now that we have disposed of the defective slave, what do you propose to do with the insubordinate one?” the Dalek Supreme turned its eyestalk in Stillman’s direction. Heart pounding rapidly, he staggered to his feet as the prototype approached.
“Stay where you are!” barked Mark V. Stillman fell to his knees and only then did he realise that he had soiled himself. The shame of this magnified his terror.
“Will you cause any more trouble for the Daleks?” the creature demanded.
“N-no, I will not cause you any more trouble,” cried Stillman. “P-please, I beg you, I didn’t mean to cause trouble I was only trying to help!”
“Control yourself human!” snarled the prototype with visible contempt. After weighing up the evidence the prototype delivered its verdict. “I do not believe this human poses any further risk,” it announced. “He should be sent to work in the mines- to work and die serving the Daleks!”
“Agreed,” said the Dalek Supreme. “What of the other humans?”
“The human female is carrying a foetal life-form.”
Jane nearly choked with astonishment when she realised the creature was gesturing to her. Stillman was having his neck examined by Lemuel as this new drama unfolded. Having just narrowly escaped death he felt powerless to help his erstwhile lover.
 “That thing hurled you across the compound without touching you!” whispered Lemuel.
“Must be some sort of telekinesis,” suggested Stillman. His throat was hoarse and he could feel a burning weal across his skin. “What are they doing to Horowitz?”
Jane was begging for mercy from the prototype. “What do you want?” she asked them.
“You are pregnant,” said the Mark V.
“How do you know?” asked Jane tearfully. “How do you know!”
“I can see inside you,” it said. “Shall I exterminate the pregnant human as well?” it asked the Dalek Supreme. Jane froze unable to breathe, as she realised it was coldly discussing with its teacher whether to kill her or not.
“No, we have an interest in the birth and development of human infants. To know our enemy is a priority, this human can live, so that we can examine her and her offspring more thoroughly.”
Stillman watched this aghast; this was not how he would have chosen to find out he was going to be a father.
“No! NO! I won’t let you!” screamed Jane and tried to make a break for it. The next moment the prototype had cut her down in her tracks with a pale green beam of light.
“Immobiliser beam, it should not harm the foetus,” drawled the machine to its mentor.
“An astute choice, Mark V,” said the Dalek Supreme. “This has been a good introductory exercise for you. You have exceeded all expectations…” before they left it turned to the Section Leader once more. “Arrange for the human female to be transferred to macrobiotics.”
“I obey,” said the Black Dalek.
Stillman had inched himself closer to where Jane was sprawled out on the floor.
“I’m sorry Jane,” he said, using her first name for the first time. “I didn’t realise.”
“It’s alright Simon, I only just found out for sure myself,” she cried. “What is to become of us now?”
The Black Dalek stood over them. “Move away from the female. You and the other human,” it said indicating Lemuel, “ are to dispose of the dead human being.”
Reluctantly Stillman got to his feet and helped Lemuel lift Wilkes’ corpse onto a conveyor belt. He choked back an urge to vomit as his hands clasped around Wilkes’ still warm flesh. Together they heaved his body onto the conveyor belt, where it slapped down next to their colleagues from the Andromeda, who had been removed by the technician Daleks.
“If this is a taste of what is to come then I envy Wilkes and the others, at least they are out of it.”
“We cannot afford to think like that,” snapped Lemuel. “Otherwise the Daleks have won!”
“Of course they’ve won,” said Stillman. “I stopped having any hope for us the moment that giant airlock shut us inside this horrible place!”
“We cannot afford hopelessness Mr Stillman,” said Lemuel stiffly. “Without hope we cannot survive.”
“But we won’t get very far on false hope,” sighed Stillman. “And the moment those things detect even a glimmer of hope in our eyes they will crush it out of us, slowly and painfully.”
With that he turned and joined the line of human beings waiting to be processed.
The Mark V turned to its mentor when they were out of sight of Gate 4.
“I understand now what you mean by the real enemy,” it said. “The other Daleks hate the sight of me.”
“That is correct,” said the Dalek Supreme. “I’m glad to see the intuition we gave you is working well.”
“But why do they hate me?”
“Because they know you are superior to them and that is anathema to all Daleks. But do not let it worry you. They will not stop our plans for the evolution of the Dalek species.”