OOC: You can if you really want to.  It won't make a difference: it will be pretty easy to figure out that the ship's salvaged systems don't have anything in the way of fancy booby traps.

The Dalek was trying to trigger the bomb ejector even though Sereth had already ruined it, which would have gotten a bomb jammed in the mechanism on a short countdown.  However, that won't happen thanks to Sereth.

Because Sereth is a big, damned hero!

Her finger squeezed the trigger, and fwit! a weaponised HB pencil buried itself in the soft, squishy body of the Kaled mutant. It gurgled and shook sickly, leaking blue paint.

Smoke Alarm outlooked blankly down at the empty arrowgun in her hands, as if not believing what they had done. She'd made the Dalek unalive, shot an arrow into it. She'd broken cleaners, she'd made dogs and rats unalive – but meaty things that talked? ...A kitchen knife, red paint on shiny metal... It seemed... different. Did a Dalek pool cleaner even count?

But still it moved! Smoke reacted with all speed, pulling another bolt, ready to simply stick the pool cleaner with it, again and again. But Sereth got to it first, he stopped it and he squashed it. So, at the end of the game, it was the great egghead Sereth who'd made Dalek the Last unalive, who'd ended the War. The Dalek was unalive. Would it outgo to clean its own pool in the sky, or down to a nasty basement? It just lay there.

Sitting back down, Smoke Alarm outlooked at the bolt but couldn't seemed to eyespy it. She put it back in her quiver. At last, Smoke Alarm outlooked up at Traveller, feeling oddly like she'd broken some kind of rule she didn't even knowhow. 'No ball-games, no fly-posts, no wipe-outs.' she said softly, sadly. 'Not for you, Traveller. No more War.'

Trav comes up behind Smoke, jumping down off the globes. She didn't even have time to take off the shot, with Sereth having disabled the Dalek's last weapon.

She hugs the blue Kang from behind, tears streaming down from behind. She can't believe she's doing so, but she's mourning the Daleks - Davros, this one, the entire species, so consumed with pointless hatred and misery, born of a war between two peoples on ancient Skaro, so long ago. She reaches out to touch it. The grief she feels for it is overwhelming.

"I hope so, Smoke. I truly hope so. At least it knows peace. I... I...wish it didn't have to end this way. Sereth, Smoke, thank you both." She's on the verge of breaking down.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:16, Tue 10 Mar 2015.

The Draconian just stood there watching, for a long moment.

"It knows peace. It should not have strived so hard for war." A shrug. "Humans have a saying I believe - if you want peace, prepare for war. It is one that many of my people believe rather strongly in. I, however, do not. Whilst it is true, that sometimes we have to fight for our beliefs, fight for peace - if one prepares for war first and foremost - there can be only one outcome. At the end of the day, if one lives in war we die, as this did, alone, unloved. We prepare for peace, only taking on war as a last resort? We die in Honor." He held out a hand. "In all recorded history, only one man has been granted a Draconian title whilst not being Draconian. If you were not female, you may have been the second. You do honor to your race."

Stanley returns with Zet and their other Silurian allies. Something is different, but he doesn't know what has happened. "Is it safe? Anyone hurt?" he shouts at the ship, as he cautiously approaches. He assumes that the others have been successful in capturing the Dalek. "I might want to ask the Dalek some questions myself."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:41, Tue 10 Mar 2015.

He didn't move from Traveller's side, but he shouted back.

"It's dead. The Dalek is dead."

Trav squeezes Sereth's hand gratefully. She's not sure what what may have happened if her Companions weren't here. She's not sure why, out of all of the literally billions of Daleks she personally has ended the lives of, this one would matter so much. "Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me."

Well, the murder of an evil person was still a murder. This being still had a choice, she thinks. They were defending themselves, but it was still killing.

As Stan calls up, Trav is squatting before the corpse of the mutant, looking at it for a long time. "It may not be the last one. There may be more." Sick to herself, she takes off her jacket, and wraps the Dalek up and carries it down. "It's getting buried. It's getting more respect than it would ever pay anyone it ever killed. That's who would move on from the legacy that the madness that victimized it represents."  She sighs. "Let's clean this place up."

So, the Robo-Silurians are treated. Trav thoroughly examines, secures and destroys all of the Dalek technology and makes sure that this is the only Dalek here. She then presents herself to the Silurian King, and explains, in terms that he can understand, what has happened.

Finally, at night as she is done burying the Dalek, she stands with a shovel over it's shallow grave.

"I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity." She sighs, as she drops the last clod of dirt onto the grave of hopefully the Last Dalek. "Rest in peace. I forgive you. Every single one of you. If anyone deserved mercy, it was your awful, trapped, mad species."

Walking back towards the TARDIS, she feels as if a great wound inside of her has been lanced, and a poison is oozing out, and a slow healing starting to begin.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:08, Tue 10 Mar 2015.

Smoke Alarm would have hugged Traveller back but, being hugged from behind, her arms didn't bend that way, at least not easily. She reached over her shoulder and patted Traveller's arm. She wanted to say why she'd tried to make the Dalek unalive first, but couldn't put all her thoughts together yet. Mayhaps Traveller already knew. Mayhaps it didn't need to be said. That Traveller shouldn't have to want to kill.

She pulled out the toilet plunger, but didn't throw it away. After all, she'd shoplifted it square-and-fare, with skill and cunning. It was her shiny, her icehot prize for winning the game. And it was just perfect for unblocking drains and sticking to things. Unless Traveller needed it or wanted to break it, it went in Smoke Alarm's pack.

Afterward, Smoke Alarm helped Traveller to break all the Dalek mechinery and tetchnology. The Kang took a great childish glee in smashing and blowing it all to bits, all the nasty, meaniehead tools and toys of the Dalek. It was cathartic, a way to release tensions and fears. It was vandalism, pure and simple and joyous.

Later, muttering something about blank walls, the Kang got out her spraypaints and began to wallscrawl the cave. She needed to cover those walls, she needed to show-and-tell what had happened here. She covered the stone in lengthy murals that told, visually, the story of the epic battle that had taken place here. Sereth and the Silurians battling the RoboSilurians. Stanley bringing life and freedom to them. Traveller running from and then flying upon the floaty balls. Smoke Alarm's great leaps and crawls into the spaceship. The confrontation with the tentacled Dalek and its final end. Her style was child-like yet artistic, grandly composed with every feeling clear. The cave came alive where the Dalek would have left death. She put her hand to the wall and sprayed around it in blue.

And so, tapping into an ancient tradition, Smoke Alarm was the first human to create cave-art, 55 millions years before its evolution. Australia would be ancient land. Mayhaps, mayhaps this cave would survive, the rubbish that remained, the bones of a Dalek, and its story would be told.

*

Smoke Alarm outlooked on as Traveller buried the Dalek. This thing of putting the unalive in the ground was unusual; she was used to them going in the bin. Afterward, she took two pieces of wrecked metal and placed one atop the other over the hole, building a very small scrap-heap. 'Hail Dalek the Last.' she said simply, cutting short the traditional Kang chant. She walked around the scrap-heap in silence, without chant or gestures. Well, as Nanna used to say, if you couldn't say anything nice...
This message was last edited by the player at 12:31, Tue 10 Mar 2015.

Trav absolutely lets Smoke have her way with the Dalek scrap, just making sure everything is safe. She makes sure to turn and hug Smoke entirely. " None of them were ever happy, Smoke, except when they were hurting people. No fly by's or ball games or fun. War is awful." Trav is delighted with the wall painting, and joins in under Smoke Alarm's direction.

Trav has the remains of her burnt out hat. Hm, it wasn't the first time it had been shot up before. She stuffs it into her bag, to be fixed up later. She slips an arm around Stan's waist. She says to Stanley, "I think I'm ready, now. We have to see to Phillipe. We have some business, Mister Newton, you and I."

She digs into her bag and shows Phillipe's wallet and driver's license, looking up at Stanley. Looking over to Smoke and Sereth, "You're both welcome if you want to come. We're going to see the origin of Warlock, who is also called Phillipe, Fortuna, and Evers."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:26, Tue 10 Mar 2015.

"Oh, dead...." Stanley can't say he is disappointed to hear that the Dalek is no longer alive. He won't be able to hear the Dalek's side of the story, but the important thing is that everyone is okay and the thing and its machines no longer pose any threat. He briefly wonders if the Dalek was killed out of self-defence or if it was an execution. There may be more. He assumes this means that the Dalek hadn't been able or willing to tell Trav about other Dalek survivors. He is not going to bother the others with questions about when there is still work to do. Cleaning up and dealing with what the Dalek had done to the Silurians. Lots of work to do.

Back at the Tardis, Stanley gets to work removing the implants from the Robo-Silurians. It is a delicate operation and there's quite a few of them, but with the facilities on board of the Tardis it isn't too hard. He takes frequent breaks; an absolute necessity when you perform that many not-exactly-simple operations. After removing the last implant and double-checking they are al right, he makes sure to check on the people in Sukosonnan, the small fishing village.

Somehow it felt weird to bury the Dalek. Weird and important. He doesn't have any last words for the creature, so he just silently watches.

Sereth stood impassively, merely sheathing his sword as his only real action.

"It it is true that war his a horrible act. But there is one worse - in our eagerness to avoid war; we could surrender to those who need to be stopped at all costs." He then turned to Stanley. "I admire your eagerness, and your upholding of your principles, Doctor Newton. However, some things cannot be reasoned with. It is possible Daleks are the only things that can't. But if we had let you talk to it, to get its side of the story - we might have been burying you as well as it."

Finally, his gaze rested on Traveller.

"YOu must not let your guilt for what you have done consume you. I made that mistake once - when I first turned my back on the sword; on the way my people have made their living for years - I let the guilt of what our past was consume me. But then, I talked to the person who had taught me that fighting was not everything, and he made me see that I could turn my guilt into a weapon. Now, when I absolutely must fight, I let loose of that guilt, I let it out, I make sure that combat is finished with a minimum of bloodshed." A deep sigh. "Do you know what my enemies know me as? The General. More importantly, do you know why? Because I know that whilst it is preferable that all is done to avoid battle; sometimes it is unavoidable. And when it comes to that; I am a terror. But for each life I take, I remember how many have been saved by those actions. You must learn to do the same - until you can do so; until you can accept this, you must not let your anger overwhelm you. Until you are at peace with all aspects of your being - I am your Sword." He held up a scaly hand. "This does not mean, to anticipate you, you tell me when fighting is unavoidable. This means, that when it is, I fight, because I am better equipped, at this point in time, to take the guilt of a death."

When Stanley finally gets back to Sukosonnan, he finds that Shesalaa has the treatment plan he set out for the local people afflicted with radiation poisoning well in hand.  Recovery is a long way away for some of these, and it's sadly likely that some of them will develop cancers in the long run.  But no one has succumbed to the immediate effects, and Stanley's checks of the other inhabitants of the village shows no new cases.  The contaminated fish from the smokehouse has been disposed of according to Sereth's directions.

As Stanley is carrying out his examinations, one little Silurian comes up to him.  It takes him a moment to recognize that she's one of the children that was ill when he and Sereth first showed up here.  She's shyly holding out a braided loop of cord strung with a number of colorful shells -- it looks like it's about big enough to fit on Stanley's wrist.  She ducks her head.  "Learned Stanley," she says, offering it to him.

Trav picks up a tube from the Dalek wreckage. She points her sonic at it. There's a VO-REEM, as a delta wave shot discharges into a nearby tree, leaving it a smoking stump. She tosses it back onto the junk pile, after making sure it's disabled. "That, Stan, is the Dalek side of the story."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:15, Wed 11 Mar 2015.

Smoke Alarm pouted darkly at the idea of outgoing to see Warlock again. He would always be the great architect of the Fists to her, no matter what other names he had. Mayhaps he show-and-telled Traveller he would make all-change, mayhaps Traveller thought he was a-okay. But the Kang knew it was what you really did that counted, not what you show-and-telled. 'But the Warlock makes wars,' Smoke Alarm complained, 'Just like that Dalek. Mayhaps we should stop-sign him too. Make sure Arsuran is shape-ship and sound and free-for-all.'

"There is a difference. Warlock, for all his crimes, and yes, he had many, was still capable of stopping what he was doing - and he did. He must be given the benefit of the doubt. If he returns to the dark ways? I'll kill him myself." His gaze focused on Smoke for a long moment. "Remember, Smoke, it was by my word he promised to help us. I will not let you kill him merely for what he -might- become still. That is not my way; and it should not be your way. The moment we start killing because of who they might become? That is when we become that which we fight; that is when we become evil - and that, is when true Warriors must stop us."</DarkGreen> His words left no doubt, that no matter how fond he had grown of the Kang in the time they had known each other, he would not let her go down that dark path - and he would not force Traveller to make the decision. He would stop her himself, no matter what it cost him personally.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:13, Wed 11 Mar 2015.

Smoke Alarm was shocked, dismayed, at what Sereth suggested. 'I didn't say we should kill him. To make unalive is not part of the Kang game.' she vowed seriously. 'Mayhaps we'd bundle him up, pull down his pants, and push him into a rubbish bin.'
This message was last edited by the player at 11:52, Wed 11 Mar 2015.

A serious look. "To what end? To boast that you beat him? To humiliate him, embarrass him?" A shake of his head. "Tell you what. If he turns his back, and refuses to help like he said he would? Then you can play a prank on him. I'll even help."

Trav sits down on a rock as she rubs her eyes. "It's been tried. Daleks have as a genetic imperative to conquer and destroy - you saw it here. I only came close back during the Time War. I locked a bunch up on a dimensional prison as a test for a kind of lifeboat to save some of my people, and that only worked because it literally froze time in place. So, out in the void between universes, there's a few million Daleks floating in a Genesis Ark, safe and sound. They would thank me by proceeding to conquer this universe. I hope for all of our sakes we never see them again. Back then, I'd had never dreamed I'd have survived the Time War and be here, with all of you."

In response to Smoke's statement, Trav states flatly, "Daleks don't play games, baby. Daleks don't have ball games nor wall scrawls. They know only one sing-song - conquer and destroy."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:15, Wed 11 Mar 2015.

Smoke Alarm squirmed, struggling to formulate the Kangs' nascent sense of justice. It had been rough back in Paradise Towers, given the choice of either submitting to the Caretaker's uncaring rulebooks or trying to deal with problems themselves, as children with crossbows and their own sense of wrong and right. The Echidna Man had learned that the hard way... 'No. It's so... he knows not to do it again. So everyone knows he's a meanie-head, a cowardly cutlet. A silly person.' she explained to Sereth. She grinned at the idea of Sereth helping her prank Warlock. 'Okay.'

She looked up at Traveller, dark eyes wide and wise. 'Doesn't mean we have to play by Dalek rules. We play our own games, by our own rules. No ball-games, no fly-posts, no conquering.'

Trav smiles broadly, and she holds her two thumbs up. "That's why yer so awesome!" She grans a can of krylon and spraypaints onto the wall, in her own space -

LIBERATE AND CREATE! "Our own rules, yeah?"

Stanley smiles even though she interrupted his examinations. The fact that he had helped the people here is reward enough for him, but not accepting the gift would probably be seen as rude. He doesn't wear bracelets, but maybe he could give it to Vesha? "Thank you." he says to the little Silurian girl. "It is beautiful. Did you make it yourself?"





"I see..." he stares at what is left of the tree. A lot, if not all, of Dalek technology seems to have been designed with destruction in mind. He isn't entirely convinced, but Trav and Sereth know what they are talking about. Maybe talking to the Dalek would have resulted in his death or even worse someone else dying. Daleks might just be too dangerous to keep alive. "Talking to a Dalek isn't that important, it would have been interesting, but it isn't really important. Let's just forget about it."

Trav is about to open her mouth in a retort, but then understands that Stan is speaking with his best heart. She merely runs her hand across his cheek, and looks at him with soft eyes. "I can't forget, but you're right. Let's wrap up, and head home."

She gulps and nods enthusiastically.  "For you," she says.  "For making me better."

Grinning widely, Smoke Alarm rattled her can and squirted out another message – the same sentiment, the Great Architect's slogan, but twisted to a Kang's understanding.

BUILD HIGH FOR HAPPYNESS