It wriggles

Though gentle at first, the inquisitive scanning became increasingly more physical. Sec was now burying his plunger-like hand into the soil, scooping out the dirt and flinging it away. And he did it again. And again.

“Sec? What are you doing?” she called down to him.

There was no response. Just more relentless scooping; he was completely fixated.

Was there something down there that he wanted? Slimy old clothes? Certainly not. That was all that the Doctor had thrown into that hole. All she had seen. But clearly something, other than Diagoras’ suit, had enraptured him so. The Dalek was so dogged in his movements that Martha found she could not convince her feet to bring her any closer than five meters from such erratic behaviour.

“What is it?” she asked quietly, careful about disturbing him. Even when calm he could be unpredictable, but this… this was a whole new level of vehemence she had yet seen in him. He was completely blind and deaf to her.

Deeper and deeper he dug. Tirelessly pushing aside the soil with his hydraulic limb, barely slowing as the ground grew harder, more dense. For such a small tool he was making a quick dent in the earth. But Sec was an impatient creature and as the minutes ticked by an almost-noise rumbled out. It was more of a sensation than it was an audible growl; it scratched its way across her skin, causing the hairs across her body to rise. Even felt her ears popping and sinuses crackling as the air pressure suddenly changed.

It was almost as if she was on a plane, climbing up into the atmosphere. Except this was no holiday; she was not flying to some nice, sunny location. Though the dirt was rising-

Fleck by tiny fleck. Everything slowly darkened. Yet all she could really focus on was a rather unfortunate worm, golden, and twisting helplessly in the air. Everything rushing, screaming, upwards in slow motion. It was torn asunder. Blood swirling through the air as if a candle had been extinguished. She took a step back, avoiding the unearthed pebbles that were orbiting each other with ever increasing enthusiasm, and the thickening cloud of dirt that threatened to stick to her eyes.

Sec blended in with the expanding grave smog; near invisible save for the roar of his dome lights but she could sense he was tremoring; could hear it in his abrasive howling. A noise that was pure pain. Pounding against her skull.

It was impossible for her vision to cut through the dark billowing plume. Stone could not be discerned from root. Vaguely darker shadows, less rigid, almost fluid, ascended until they completely cloaked the sky, twisting, flowing around each other in a morbid dance.

-TSSSK-

All of it fell.

Everything swooned, landing with various densities of pattering; scattered by a rush of air, a violent sneeze, and a spray of green.

And through all of that, Martha could just barely make out the sight of Sec deftly catching one of the falling masses he had unearthed with such a supernatural display of willpower.

Whatever his prize was, he had bled for it. Burst an aneurysm for. Thin trails of it trickled out from the vents in his casing. Sec studied the lump; a soft round thing, covered in filth and dried slime. And as the dust settled the rancid smell assailed her nose. Rotting meat marinated in toxic chemicals pummelled her guts.

Worse still, she recognised that smell. It was that nasty radioactive jelly they had almost stepped on in the sewer in 1930s New York, not far from the Dalek’s basement laboratory. What was it doing here? And what did Sec even want a rotting wad of green flesh for?

“What is that thing?” she managed to cough out.

Sort of set in my AU series where the Cult of Skaro are living on the TARDIS, though these particular scenes haven't happened in my fanfics (yet???).

I imagine it's similar to how turtles like their shells being brushed.

Silly doodles aside, I feel like there's no way of describing a Dalek companion on the TARDIS fanfic series without making it sound like a crackfic. But it's actually more angst and whump than anything else atm. Especially once you get to the bit that confronts the dead baby in the sewers during DIM - you know - the thing nobody in the fandom ever mentions, probably because it was a baby Dalek.

A hand gently pressed against his side and he tensed further at the touch. “Shh… easy now. Go back to sleep,” the Doctor commanded. Fingers began kneading circles deep into his flesh, arguing with his muscles until they were convinced to yield under their intricate motions.

“Rrgggh…” A tiny groan partially rippled out his throat as a small amount of air burbled softly around the edges of his breathing tubes. The sound was amplified by his travel machine.

“I hope he’s gunna be alright. I still say giving him those sedatives was a bad idea...”

“Pft! That was nothing to him. Dalek blood is teeming with some nasty, potent, chemicals. Many of which counteract sedatives. It’s deliberate. Have you ever hear of anyone capturing a dalek through tranquillisers?”