"A turtle." Not something he'd used to describe a Dalek before, but with only the domed 'head' above the balls....

Yes, a Dalek. He'd suspected from the moment he first had enough of his wits about him to piece together the hints provided by his altered voice and tendency to roll rather than walk, but Daine's description clinches it. Taking a deep breath -- which he doesn't need, to his dismay -- he tries to draw his consciousness inward. From the start, he's acted and reacted like the shell is his body, which implies that it's connected to his brain like it would be for a true Dalek, but maybe, just maybe, he can pull his focus back to his own body within the machine, and he'll find himself hunched over, back no doubt aching and perfectly humanoid body all sweaty from the experience.

He finds nothing of the sort. Within the casing, the Dalek's single eye blinks open and stares about at the glowing secondary controls. He reaches up to touch a blinking button, and recoils in disgust as a slimy tentacle enters his field of vision. "No," he whispers in horror. "No, that can't -- I can't be!"

But he can. There are ways, he knows, and he's not the first to face this fate.