Your Little Dalek

      My second awakening on board the TARDIS. I focus my eye, rub it with my pseudohands, first with my left, then with my right. The eye does not see well without device, monocular vision lies. Now I need to stretch out in all directions and contract myself, about twenty times. Physical exercise, you know, to get the blood flowing. Well, the TV is still working. The outershell has recharged, the indicator is clearly visible in the semi-darkness. Everything goes normal. It's time to turn on the light and explore my little room to find a shower, clean myself and my equipment. Of course, my outershell may organize the minimal life support system for me if necessary, including restored water and air, even without recharging. It can work for a month in economy mode, but, after the first ten days of blockage it starts to feel a little dirty. And if the vestibular system couldn’t withstand the fall from orbit, either my nanobots will not cope with the internal mess. Earth's air is not harmful to me, especially if I eat radioisotopes, so I got some fresh air and even used rainwater, but still, the outershell is quite dirty on the inside and become an alien bacteria production factory. I hate dirt and stale air, moulds and bacteria. Some pests survive even at our radiation level and mutates faster than us. I really don't want some Earth hay bacilli (peaceful, but, by the way, surviving in boiling water, absolute zero and outer space) suddenly decide that they may eat not only dead plant organics, but, for example, this small and unprotected Dalek embryo. We on Skaro have a very high aversion to pathogenic microorganisms. So I’ll do my best to clean my living space with bactericide as faster as possible.       Finally, I manage to find the cabin shower. It was hiding behind one of the wall panels. So I spend a couple of skarels tidying up: washing myself, giving my outershell a good shine inside and outside and checking to see if anything valuable has been recorded from TV. No, it's quiet for now. Then I'll have to find something edible in the galley and see if The Doctor is still there. In general, it would be a good idea to curb my pride for time and somehow adapt to the Predator to ease the tension. Now we need to trust each other to successfully complete the mission. I know he won't shoot me in the back. But he's not sure in me yet. So, darling, you need to correct the situation.       After finished my business, I find a bottle of strawberry yogurt for myself in the fridge, and make some sandwiches for this jerk. According to the information I have, he has a very strange taste, so I dump everything on the bread, from pineapple with condensed milk to smoked salmon and sun-dried tomatoes. He can decide for himself what to throw out and what to eat. Finally, I make a cup of a liquid product called “tea”. A heavy dose of tannin will not hurt to someone with an extra heart. I unload the nourishment for The Doctor on a tray, grab it with the manipulator hand and drag it towards the ladder upstairs. Since I didn't break my signal lights on some force field, The Doctor is there and probably heard me dancing around the fridge.       He is. The first thing I see, going up to the console, is my worst enemy, dangling upside down on the handrail and staring at me. His face, full of hostility, is slowly changing to some bewilderment.       ‘Are you going to eat all this?’       A nice greeting. He could have just said hello.       ‘It’s you who will eat all this. I already took my nourishment.’ I lick my yogurt. Yummy. ‘You said you might be hungry. I suppose, that you would be even hungrier after a while. I calculated the formula of your activity, your passion for the battletask and your powerful metabolism, ninety-seven point three five one percent that you forgot to eat something. The nourishment is not poisoned or irradiated.’       The Doctor falls down, no doubt from surprise. I put the tray on the first available surface and move off to stay still and lick my yogurt. Let’s try to tame the Predator with food, darling.       ‘Sun-dried tomatoes with condensed milk?’ The Doctor scrapes himself out from deck and approaches the tray. His face shows some disgust. ‘I thought I was the biggest weirdo in the Universe.’       Correct, it’s him. That's why I don't argue and eat my breakfast in silence. And this jerk cuts circles with his two fingers around the tray, imitating walking legs.       ‘Definitely, canned peach with mustard is outside my stomach. Did you deliberately waste food? To kill me without poison?’       Meanwhile, he still decides to take one sandwich and shoves it into his mouth with a look of a martyr. Than he begins to chew. After a long pause he washes it down with tea and greedily bites into the sandwich again.       ‘Listen, it's delicious…’       By Mother Radiation, when you're hungry, everything tastes good, no matter what you get. Especially with such a metabolism.       ‘Is the route ready?’ I ask as harsh as possible. ‘Because there's no more strawberry yogurt in the fridge. You have enough of associates who live in a time when they already fabricate strawberry yogurt.’       He immediately becomes indignant, ‘Hey, that was MY stash!’       I retort, ‘Objection is not accepted, it wasn't written on it.’       If he doesn't want his supplies touched, he has to draw a state border in the fridge.       ‘Next time I'll label it,’ he promises, taking a second sandwich. ‘Okay, I'll finish it and then we'll go hunting. We're still hanging out at the old coordinates. As far as I remember, there's a supermarket nearby... Wait, there's a better store at the third point on the route.’       I snort into my yogurt.       ‘You mean I should work off the supplies first? Do not worry, I already made my own falce card.’       ‘Irradiated, of course?’       I grunt with fun inaudibly. You guessed it, jerk…       The Doctor intently looks at me for a long time, then spits out the bitten part and starts picking something out of the second sandwich.       ‘We'll go to the ATM. And… Wildy. This sandwitch. It will be better without pineapples, okay?’