Written for the Happyfest III prompt: Doctor Who ; Dalek Caan ; Cake. So obviously I had to write it and, you know, this be crack.
Vague spoilers for The Stolen Earth/Journey's End.
With oodles of thanks and love to hobbit_feets, euclase, and shutterbug_12 [who braved the scary sci-fi for me!] for the fantastic beta. I go all-out for crack fic, man.
Let Them Eat Cake
The Supreme Dalek was displeased. The Crucible completed and the plan to power the Reality Bomb conceived—soon the might of the Dalek Race would be realized. The final phase of the plan was at hand. Twenty out of twenty-seven planets had been gathered from various corners of the universe. Only the last seven planets awaited collection before the Z-Neutrino energy could be harnessed. Yet Davros persisted to permit the whims of Dalek Caan; the plan could not progress if they did not obey the visions to each exact specification.
The majority of the fleet gathered in the Vault; Davros waited unseen amongst them. The Supreme Dalek proceeded through the shadows, inspecting the new changes. It was not what the Supreme Dalek wanted. The Crucible had been designed for ultimate supremacy and victory; thin strips of material hung over the grating and small bits of colourful paper served as mere distractions. But Dalek Caan cackled gleefully in the ruined nest of his casing, proving the aberration necessary.
Davros emerged from the rear, flying Daleks skirting their Creator as they continued the preparation. The Supreme Dalek rolled forward to intercept the path. "Is it ready?"
"Yes," Davros answered. "The preparation is nearly complete. The prophesy will be revealed as Dalek Caan foretold. It is almost time."
In the distance, Dalek Caan giggled. "The time will come... The time will..." His tentacles jerked in the air. "It is coming! It is—it is..."
"Preparations complete!" a Dalek announced. "Commencement in twenty rels!"
Around the Vault, the fleet began to chant in unison: "Twenty—nineteen—eighteen—seventeen—!"
The Supreme Dalek spun to face Dalek Caan, awaiting the revelation. Davros laughed lowly. "So you see, Supreme Dalek. So you will now see the ultimate culmination of Dalek supremacy."
"Ten rels until commencement! Eight—seven—six—five—four—!" the fleet chanted. The Vault fell into silence as the last three rels elevated the manic expectation of the fleet. Then an eruption of alarms blared, members of the fleet spinning in place; others ejected streams of colourful material from their outlets while more began a new chant.
"This is it!" Davros shouted. "The true unification of the Daleks!"
A group of Daleks rolled forth from the shadows of the Vault. Carried between them was a tablet, holding a large square food substance. White and blue decoration was spread over the top and sides. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DALEK CAAN was inscribed across the centre in vibrant pink.
The Supreme Dalek had seen the children of lesser races produce and ingest this substance in times of high emotion. Daleks did not require such nourishment; they would not stoop so low! "This is a disgrace! Disgrace!" the Supreme Dalek shouted. "All Daleks terminate frivolity immediately!"
"Withhold your judgment," Davros ordered, attention focused on Dalek Caan.
The fleet did not listen. They continued to approach Dalek Caan, presenting the table before him. A glittery ball lowered from the ceiling. Sound erupted from the communications system, a lower bass beat filtered through the echo of treble and symphonic notes. "DANCE PAR-TY! DANCE PAR-TY!" the fleet chanted. Several spun in place. "Cel-a-brate! Good times! Come on!"
From his nest, Dalek Caan flailed, flicking frosting to the corners of the room. "The time... The time has come...From the wilds and the winds and the sound of space!" In a melodic rhapsody, he crooned, "Happy birthday to me... Happy birthday... to me-ee-hee... Hap-py birth-day to me-hee-hee... Happy birthday to me."
Wax torches were acquired and ignited; the table tipped towards Dalek Caan, the flames gleaming softly off the lubrication on his form and the wild, wicked glint in his eye. The Dalek fleet paused in sync, turning to watch Dalek Caan in his moment of depravity. Silence descended, suspended, and then broke as the fleet joined together in chorus.
Dalek Caan leaned close to the food substance, the gathered Daleks edging close in return. The Supreme Dalek could not endure such humiliation any longer. "This is corruption! Dalek Caan is no longer pure! He suffers from emotion and is given to profanity. The Crucible must remain sacred!"
Davros twitched besides the Supreme Dalek, appendage raking over the edge of the casing, the scrape of metal on metal. "That is not for you to decide." Davros spoke softly, the hint of threat beneath the words. "Dalek Caan graces us with his knowledge of time. He is the one who shall bring us the Doctor and the eventual destruction of the universe itself. It is not your place to question him, Supreme Dalek, nor the actions of the fleet."
"I am the leader of the fleet! The Crucible is mine! I built the Z-Neutrino engines and gathered the planets," the Supreme Dalek protested. Davros had been necessary; the Creator was still needed to forge a greater fleet and to ensure the survival of the Dalek Race. But that did not mean the Supreme Dalek had to obey every command.
"But the plan was mine," Davros corrected. "Dalek Caan may have his tribute. It is how the prophesy progresses. You are excused if you cannot participate in the might of the Daleks."
The Supreme Dalek was not allowed to answer; Davros moved away without delay, rolling towards the heart of the assembled Daleks where Dalek Caan cooed and burbled, singing, "Ice cream and cake... Ice cream and cake..." and splattered the casings of the Daleks surrounding him with food and wax.
As the Vault descended into madness, the Supreme Dalek returned to the bridge. No more work would be completed tonight. Tomorrow: tomorrow the ruination of the universe would proceed again. Until then, the Supreme Dalek would rest and prepare—and clean the small bits of confetti out the crevices of its casing.