Initiate the Purge (FT, Open)

[The Daleks]

T'khal Guan
Guan System
Gamma Quadrant
Milky Way (Mutter's Spiral)

The war was over.

Fifty years after the T'khali Empire had gone to war with a mysterious enemy that emerged from the deep darkness of intergalactic space, the Empire had been completely obliterated. For centuries the T'khali had seen themselves as guardians of the galaxy. They had proudly stood at the edge of the Milky Way, defending the Gamma Quadrant from any intergalactic terrors that attempted to harvest the thriving civilizations of the Milky Way. Yet after hundreds of wars and centuries of victory, the T'khali had met their match. The invaders were intent on subjecting the T'khali to complete and total extermination, and then procceding to purge and occupy the rest of the galaxy. The huge capital ships of the T'khali were no match for the bronze saucer-shaped craft of the attackers, whom the T'khali had given the name 'Qiu-dai-math'- 'Obliterator of hope'. They, though, had another name for themselves.

The Daleks.

The name, it had transpired, came from a word for 'god' in the language of the Daleks' ancestors, the Kaleds. The vast warfleets of the Dalek Empire certainly showed god-like power as they destroyed entire planets, exterminated millions in the war's darkest days. At first the fleets had been small, made up of battered or hastily-constructed craft, the remnants of some other vast war. The pitiful remnants of the Dalek race, fleeing whatever had destroyed most of their brethren, had established a new homeworld on the outskirts of the galaxy, and then initiated their expansion. Resources were needed to rebuild the warfleets. The T'khali had encountered them, learned of their murderous intentions and began a war to drive them back into the cold void between galaxies, fulfilling their long-held role as guardians of the galaxy. But the enemy was powerful, more powerful than any enemy yet fought by the T'khali. And they were utterly dedicated to their mission of extermination. Five decades of war ended with the last remnants of the T'khali navy being destroyed above the T'khali homeworld of T'khal Guan. The great T'khali cities were levelled, and the saucers had descended.

Survivors were being swept up, captured or exterminated. Those who were captured, were taken to the camps. Forced labour would be their fate, until they could work no longer. Too inefficient to simply shoot any stragglers. Not to mention those not able to work in the first place- young offspring, pregnant females, elderly, frail or sick individuals- they would need to be eradicated as efficiently as possible. And so they were rounded up, gathered by the ape-like beasts that the Daleks used as enforcers, and taken to the camp's "decontamination centres." There would be no pain for them- unfortunate; the Daleks did so enjoy inflicting pain upon the lesser species. After being made to strip- clothing could be used for other prisoners, anything metal on their persons could be melted down for practical use- they would simply be disintegrated by a wave of z-neutrino energy. And so it began. The extermination of the T'khali race. The rise of the Daleks. The victory of the Daleks. A terrible reflection of the fate that awaited the entire galaxy.

But word leaked out. Not every one of the T'khali were slaughtered. There were refugee fleets, of course, but they were attacked and destroyed by the Daleks long before they were able to reach the safety of neighbouring star empires. It was individuals and small families, fleeing the devestation in small two-man shuttles or private ships that had the best chances of escaping. Of course, six in ten would be intercepted and destroyed. The Daleks were chillingly efficient. But the former T'khali Empire was large and even the Qiu-dai-math couldn't patrol the entire thing, especially with the hundred or so ships they possessed. As yet, they were still relatively few in number. Commander Ba-Ta Kua of the Ninth Defence Division of the T'khali Imperial Navy thanked the Great Spirit for this kindness as he sped away from the desolation of the Guan system in his small two-man shuttle. His son, 10 years old and still a toddler by the standards of the relatively long-lived T'khali people, slept with his head in his father's lap. Soon, the commander would escape from T'khali space and from the monsters that had destroyed his people. But something was wrong.

The T'khali powered their hyperspace drives with dark matter, and the shuttle- damaged as it had sped away from the main battle at T'khal Guan- was leaking dark matter. The commander still hoped that he could escape, but in his heart he knew that the shuttle couldn't go much further before running out of fuel. He wouldn't make it. Worse, any Dalek scout saucer tracking him needed only follow the dark matter leak in order to discover him- and eliminate him. They wouldn't simply blow the shuttle apart. Oh, no. The Daleks were famously sadistic. It was said that at full power, a Dalek death ray could disintegrate a humanoid in a single shot. But that would be quick and painless, and so the Daleks turned down the power level on their weapon until a single shot would kill the victim slowly, with agonizing pain. Could he expose his son to that?

Crying softly into the boy's hair, Commander Ba-Ta suffocated his son to death. He would die peacefully, in his sleep. The same could not be said of the father. Slowing the shuttle to a hault, Ba-Ta, stroking his dead child's hair, sent a subspace message out to the galaxy. He hoped that the message would reach some nearby trading post, and be passed on. That the news of what happened to the T'khali Empire, isolated as it was on the very outskirts of the galaxy, would reach the core and beyond. That everyone in the galaxy would remember his people with honour, and know the evil that was coming.

"Day 21 of the Month of Tar-Ca, Year 98 of the Reign of Shi'da, Quan Era, by T'khali Imperial reckoning. This is Commander Ba-Ta Kua, third in command of the Imperial Battlecruiser M'rukh-tha-kon. This is a message to anyone who will listen. The T'khali Empire has fallen. The Imperial Capitol was levelled, T'khal Guan occupied by the aggressors. We call them the Qiu-dai-math. The Obliterator of Hope. They know themselves as the Daleks. They are few in number, but utterly ruthless. They are fanatical in their crusade to exterminate all other viable lifeforms, to become the sole beings in existence. When they attack a planet, they seek to destroy the plant and animal life as well as the sentients, so utterly do they hate other life. My people are broken, forced into slavery or, if they cannot work, are simply massacred. The horrors I have witnessed... Oh, Mother of All, protect me..."

They had found him. The sensors picked up a single, small scout vessel approaching from behind. Unable to control himself, the commander sobbed, flicking a switch with a shaking hand to receive their hail, knowing what the message would be.

"Exterminate."

One word. One, terrifying, horrific, evil word. One word that embodied the Daleks. One word that made the commander shudder with fear.

"Please, if anyone receives this message," he continued, "spread it. Get as far away from the former T'khali Empire as possible. Warn everyone. Spread the word. Let it be known-"

"Ex-ter-min-ate! Ex-ter-min-ate! EX-TER-MIN-ATE!"

"- let it be known the end is come. The darkness... The darkness is here. The destroyer is come, and his name-"

"Exterminate! Exterminate!"

"-Dalek. His name is Dalek."

"Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate! EXTERMINATE! Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!"

Using up what little fuel he had left, hugging the lifeless body of his child, Commander Ba-Ta Kua turned his shuttle around and began to pick up speed.

"Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!"

The shuttle was on a collision course, warned the ship's computer. Turn back. Turn back now. It was ignored. The saucer didn't even move. The same words continued to grate through his communications panel. The same sadism, hated, disgust in the voice. Anger at the existence of any impure life form. Glee at the thought of destroying one more humanoid, removing one more abomination, one more obsolete life form no longer deserving of life. Pure, unadultered hated, anger and fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the different. The shuttle and the saucer were about to collide. But then...

A single missile was launched. It hit the shuttle.

There was an explosion. The saucer was hit by the blast, but merely shook slightly. Then it turned, leaving the debris and entering a hyperspace tunnel back to T'khal Guan. A world that would be known one day as the Desolation of the Daleks.

[Steel Confessors]

System: B83-D789
Planetary Orbit: L3905
Gamma Quadrant
Legio II Argentum Aurora Rearguard Element
Timestamp: 3355:23:21:04:32:13:43


Argentum Aurora, the second legio of the Confessors, was pulling out from their own campaign of genocide. The world below was once a tropical planet one of lush beauty and a brilliant existence in the form that only nature could provide. However, now the world was torn apart by warfare, the sentient species that previously occupied it obliterated and their statues and gods thrown into dust. Humanity had prevailed again as it always will and shall.

The Confessors had been moving through the system they had designated as B83-D789 when hostile alien vessels from the Cuulth species engaged the vanguard force. Promptly the First Element pulled into reality from the Underverse and destroyed the hostile craft. The path the confessors had chosen was originally not one of war, but as the xenos made themselves known it simply devolved into such an affair. The massive bulked ships of the Legio pushed onward inexorably to the homeworld, the Cuulth only a single system species, the equivalent of a troglodyte in galactic affairs. As such, the complete and total annihilation of the species was unnoticed by the majority of the galaxy.

Now, the cities that once glistened in the sun were smoldering wrecks occupied only by the dead and the elements of the rearguard force, the cybernetic armies of the few ships left behind mopping up the rest of the planet of any and all survivors. The few moons that were inhabited were simply bombed from orbit, broadside salvos and superluminal spinal cannons making short work of the pathetic remnants.

However, the vessels received the last plaintive cry of the Tkhali. As such, the massive sterns of the Steel Confessors turned towards the new threat, the rearguard now designated into a vanguard force and all planetside forces being recalled from pacification.

Aboard the Cruiser Lumen de Victoria
Lead Vessel in Argentum Aurora Vanguard


Mal stirred within the iron casket that kept him confined to the bridge of his ship. He didn't mind it, never noticing the claustrophobic closeness of the walls of his tomb. He was linked to the ship afterall, much greater than that single pinprick at the bow of the ship. He was two kilometers of steel, hurtling in space, dealing out its wrath among its three other compatriots. He could feel the thrum of the reactor with his heart, the pulse of the engine with his own. His arms shifted into the flanking bulkheads, his head the bow and its sensor suite. He was the ship and the ship him.

There was a moderation crew composed of Hydra models outside of his casket, providing additional weapon checks and running diagnostic runs over the casket grounding the Command-Hydra in reality. He had come to almost rely on them as much as his own bodies conversing with them during the long treks through the underverse. He especially got to know that long blonde Hydra manning the weapon relay.

Even now, he was within the Neural Net discussing various matters with one of his crew members as the three other Command-Hydras of the three lighter frigates. Mal knew not of the iron casket he was within, and only knew of a fine Italian restaurant set within the mid-20th Century. The data was compiled from various reports and anecdotes, providing a false reality they easily sat within. Mal knew it was fake, but it was hard sometimes to tell the difference. The Net itself directly linked itself to the neural network of the human brain using it as a link system like the internet would attach to a computer. He could link into it whenever his brain simply being a modem.

Mal was dressed in a light grey suit common of the era, reclining in the outdoor environment. He and his comrades were sitting around a small glass table, with a fogged surface distorting the pig iron construction of the table's legs into bizzare shapes. Mal idly puffed from a wooden pipe, letting the smoke curl around his face. The Net fired off sensory synapses in his brain telling him of the flavor of the smoke and of the smell of the tobacco.

<Either way, the Command-Hydra of the First Element has ordered a trace and retrieval of the message. I like the idea of xenos killing each other off in genocidal campaign, leaving less for us to kill and paving the way for humanity's ascension but the threaten our existence. There is no harm in providing an assessment of the military abilities of these...Daleks.>

The Command-Hydra of one of the frigates, Ferri Veritas, said aloud in a binaric burst. It was highly compact data packet that made transfer of knowledge and speech quick and simple, conversations taking only seconds to take place when a wealth of information was exchanged. To the unaugmented it sounded simply like a distorted bass note. The Hydra herself was a petite brunette woman that looked in her mid-thirties with short hair the curled around her ears. In reality she was like Mal. A withered cadaver within an iron shell full of tubes and wires that directly interfaced her into the vessel, hundreds of years old. Here though they took on the personas they wished.

<Its a fool's errand. Let them pave their bloody way across the galaxy burning away all the xenos. We'll simply stand tall when they bear down upon Titan and slam their filthy carcasses back to whatever pit the unholy creatures crawled out of.>

A second Hydra responded, a gruff male in his late fifties. They had been discussing the merits of pushing forward with the Lead's order. There was no real point to it, they would carry the orders out to their fullest extent, but for now it was simply because it was a way to kill time and voice concerns.

<Yes, and then they'll be too numerous. They will most likely build their fleets in greater number and produce like rabbits like any damn xeno does.>

The woman responded, her voice arching into derision towards the end of her sentence. Mal smirked around his pipe, chuckling softly.

<What intrigues me is that they seem to hate all life as the message reports. This...draws the conclusion that these beings might very well be machines. What biological creature would completely ruin the ecosystem of a planet to an uninhabitable wasteland save for those that do not need it?>

The other hydras all glanced at Mal dumbfounded. Soon though a few of the expressions shifted to rage at the spoken heresy such as that of the gruff male while turning to careful consideration for the female, or simply a mixture of both or simple blank confusion. It was a bomb he had dropped in the conversation. Mankind was a god while machines were the tools of ascension and his will. To consider that a foreign construct such as these xenos might be mechanical in nature or deeply close to such was a very dangerous thought especially among elements of the more fanatical portions of the Confessors.

Mal continued to grin around the pipe in his mouth, relishing the expressions. It amused him highly that the simple comment caused the most ascended and machine-kind of the Confessors to grow so close to base hate.

<Well, then that settles it. We must purge the blasphemous constructs.> He chuckled again, his tone lighthearted despite the grim connotation it carried. And with that the vessels of the Confessors sped away towards the origin of the message.