"He's... Like fire, and ice, and rage..."
With a burst of power it howled out of the mothership and soared into space. Around it the space-time continuum blazed with shifting planes of force. Within moments the Hand of Omega had accelerated to near light speed – within minutes it had passed the orbit of Jupiter. There in transjovian space it found a nexus, a place where the fabric of space and time was malleable.
Gathering its strength the Hand of Omega lunged down and punched a hole in reality.
Skaro
It was dawn on the Vekis Nar-Kangli, the Plain of Swords – a wasteland of dust and bones bisected by a range of mountains. Here, twenty millennia ago, the final conflict between the Thals and Kaleds had ended. Here in the ash-brown foothills of the mountains was the Dalek city, Mensvat Esc-Dalek. Light from the rising sun glanced off metal spires two thousand metres above, the plain. Robot cargo-carriers took off and landed from hundreds of platforms, carving cybernetic flight patterns in the air and filling it with their ceaseless buzzing. The city’s roots burrowed into the feet of the mountains.
The sun climbed off the horizon. Red light spilled across the plain. Yellow and black beetles scuttled into their nests. High in the stratosphere, streamers of cloud formed.
For a fragment of non-time, time was irrelevant and distance was a delusion.
On the fringes of the Skarosian system the Hand of Omega became part of the normal universe.
In the mind of the device, only the star was significant. A great globe of hydrogen atoms moving at vast speeds – a dream where gravitational force fought with the star’s impulse to expand into vacuum.
The device gloried in the mass of the star, its intensity and the frenzy of its interior. Like a dolphin, the device swam towards the core – the old cold core of iron and nickel that spun forever.
The device spread wings of force around the core and stopped for a heartbeat. In that heartbeat it doubled the gravitational flux. The Hand of Omega clenched the heart of the star in a fist of pure energy. The star began to collapse inwards, the fusion of hydrogen accelerated, and the pressure increased. The core began to degenerate: atoms were stripped of their electrons and forced together.
The star became smaller, hotter and brighter.
Then the Hand of Omega let go.
The star died.
Under the Plain of Swords the beetles stirred in their nests.
In the sky above the sun changed. One thousand million Daleks stopped. The rock leopards in the mountains howled in terror. The sky turned white hot. One thousand million Daleks cried out in defiance.
Then the seas boiled, the metal cities of the Daleks ran like wax, and the atmosphere was blown away into space. Skaro died. The star convulsed and wrenched itself apart. Its outer crust blasted into an expanding globe of fire. The planets it had given life were vapourized one by one as the star bloated and ate its children.
Through it all passed the Hand of Omega, screaming its mirth. Then it shot back into the place that is no place on its way back to the past.
No, this cannot be correct, thought Davros, but the data was impossible to deny – the supernova and the cessation of signals from Skaro.
‘Do not do this, I beg of you.’
The device gloried in the mass of the star, its intensity and the frenzy of its interior. Like a dolphin, the device swam towards the core – the old cold core of iron and nickel that spun forever.
The device spread wings of force around the core and stopped for a heartbeat. In that heartbeat it doubled the gravitational flux. The Hand of Omega clenched the heart of the star in a fist of pure energy. The star began to collapse inwards, the fusion of hydrogen accelerated, and the pressure increased. The core began to degenerate: atoms were stripped of their electrons and forced together.
The star became smaller, hotter and brighter.
Then the Hand of Omega let go.
The star died.
Under the Plain of Swords the beetles stirred in their nests.
In the sky above the sun changed. One thousand million Daleks stopped. The rock leopards in the mountains howled in terror. The sky turned white hot. One thousand million Daleks cried out in defiance.
Then the seas boiled, the metal cities of the Daleks ran like wax, and the atmosphere was blown away into space. Skaro died. The star convulsed and wrenched itself apart. Its outer crust blasted into an expanding globe of fire. The planets it had given life were vapourized one by one as the star bloated and ate its children.
Through it all passed the Hand of Omega, screaming its mirth. Then it shot back into the place that is no place on its way back to the past.
No, this cannot be correct, thought Davros, but the data was impossible to deny – the supernova and the cessation of signals from Skaro.
And all the time the Doctor looked down from the main screen.
Omega device returning, impact minus twelve.
‘You tricked me,’ said Davros.
‘No, Davros,’ said the Doctor, ‘you tricked yourself.’
Minus ten.
‘Did you really think I’d let you have the Hand of Omega?’ asked the Doctor.
‘Do not do this, I beg of you.’
Minus nine.
‘Nothing can stop it now.’
‘Have pity on me.’
Minus eight.
‘I have pity for you,’ said the Doctor. ‘Goodbye, Davros, it hasn’t been pleasant.’
Minus seven.
The Doctor cut the connection. The main screen faded to black.
The Hand of Omega tore through the Eret-mensaiki Ska, ripping through armour and decks. All the energy it had collected from the supernova burst from it. The fusion heart that had driven the ship went critical. The ship became a fireball which evaporated into space.
A small escape pod tumbled away, out of the Earth’s orbit. Inside, a single lifeform, deformed and bitter, cursed as the temperature of the pod’s cabin fell towards zero.
Hate would keep him warm.
Ben Aaronovitch
Doctor Who: Remembrance of the Daleks
Target Books - Kindle Edition
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