Author's Note: This is an updated version of my old fanfiction; I didn't like the way the old one was going, and since I hadn't updated in a few years it was best to start fresh. That being said, I'd love to hear what you think of this one, whether it's good or bad. There's always room for improvement!

This story is an AU, and starts out just before the Kaled/Thal war begins. I'm still having the Doctor make an appearance in the future, but this will be mainly centered on Skaro's, or more specifically Davros', history. It shouldn't be too terribly different from the original storyline, but there will be a few key differences.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to the BBC and friends, I make no claim on any Doctor Who related material.

"The planet was a sterile monument to mechanization. One city dominated the skyline; its cold spires reaching into the dark sky. Inside the city, stainless steel corridors, empty of life, stretched for miles. Other than the city, the planet was a blasted wasteland, the results of thousands of years of war between its two dominant species. One a lush, earth like world, now, other than the city, it harboured terrors that would blast the mind of any normal sentient being. The race that had won the war now ran its vast galactic empire from the planet, called Skaro. Greedy for conquest, the rulers, mutated beyond recognition, exiled to travel machines, were called Daleks. They were one of the deadliest races known to exist. Brilliant beyond comprehension, they were also avaricious and evil. They existed for one thing: conquest."

Doctor Who: The Alliance by Rob Morganbesser (credit goes to original author; they're welcome to tell me to remove this)

Everything has a beginning, even the Daleks. As it can be expected of a race such as theirs, it is not a wonderous beginning that inspires awe in listeners. For they came into existence as a result of desperation; the desperation of a race struggling to survive on the atomic wasteland their planet had become.

The Daleks were an idea before they were a race. A young man by the name of Davros first considered the idea of a higher form of life, adaptable to any and all conditions. The idea grew until he became obsessed with making it a reality - and thus the Daleks were born. Out of war and death.

This tale goes back to a time when Skaro was a thriving planet, similar to Earth, and ideas of war and unrest were only just starting to take root.


Calcula watched the care of her newborn anxiously. He was only on the other side of the glass, but could have been worlds away. The machines caring for him were perfect in their movements and reactions, but Calcula kept a close eye. He was to be her first child, and she didn't want anything to go wrong.

"My Lady?" A nurse stood patiently behind her, looking to be a part of the walls and floor in her crisp white uniform.

She nodded in response, still keeping on eye on the machines and her baby.

"You will be sent word when your child is ready. The birthing process was difficult, and it is yet unknown what condition your child will be in upon awakening." The nurse's tone was calm, pierce, and bordered on robotic. Completely detached from any emotion the announcement might have provoked.

"Will he survive?" Calcula's own tone was sharp, and demanded answer. She was a lady of the court, not some common woman to be kept in the dark.

"The child has an 80% chance of survival, and a 10% chance of being able to walk." The nurse paused briefly, and then gestured towards an adjacent room. "You may wait in there until the doctor comes to give you a report."

Calcula knew it was better to have nurses emotionally distant from their jobs rather than involved in them, as it meant more efficiency. She had been one of the members of the court who voted to put such a thing in place, but it was an entirely different thing to have your own child spoken of in percentages.

She took on seat on one of the chairs, staring unseeingly out at the lavish garden. For all the cold efficiency hospitals had, they had beautiful gardens and landscaping. Skaro itself was a lush planet, and saw a fair amount of visitors, eager to see the plant that only existed deep within its jungles, or walk along the river that glowed under the light of the moon.

Yet even Skaro's flora couldn't distract Calcula from the situation she found herself in. Even if her baby did survive, it would be difficult for him. He had been conceived out of adultery, and was going to be a cripple, unable to walk. If anyone found out about her illegitimate relationship it would mean trouble for both her, his father, and the child himself. She was going to need to be careful going forward.

A polite knock and the door swung inward to admit an elderly Kaled. His eyes were young in contrast to the rest of him, and smile lines creased the corners of his eyes. Here was a doctor who had not had the life sucked out of him by the system.

"Would you please come with me, my Lady?" He sounded neither sorrowful or happy, yet Calcula allowed herself to feel a small spark of hope.

The doctor, who introduced himself as Doctor Nekel, brought her across the hall and into the room with the machines. They had ceased movement and appeared to be off; finished with their task.

Doctor Nekel carefully gave her the tiny bundle that was her son, a warm expression on his face. "You'll be happy to know the machines were able to keep your son alive. He has a long road

ahead of him, but with proper care he can be as healthy as any other child."

Calcula brushed back the blanket and met her son's eyes. There were a brilliant blue and seemed to already possess a certain degree of intelligence. She smiled down at him and felt a rush of pride. You will accomplish great things, I am sure of it.

Doctor Nekel brought her out of the moment with a gentle touch on the arm. "There are a few things you must know, my Lady." He paused, his pause much different than the nurse's. "Your son will never be able to walk. He will be confined to some sort of mobile chair his entire life. I can call a nearby engineer to construct such a device, if you would like."

She frowned briefly before deciding it wouldn't matter. Intelligence wasn't measured by one's ability to walk. "That would be appreciated, thank you."

The doctor departed, leaving her alone with her son. Calcula looked down at her son, her own eyes dull and devoid of hope, even while his were full of life.

"Welcome to Skaro, Davros," she whispered. Davros meant 'little lord' in the old language of the Dals, a fitting name for someone born of a lord and a lady. She could only hope he would live up to his name.