As he ran through yet another collapsing building, Anrakyr the Traveler had to admit that he should really have planned the excursion better this time. Though he had at least secured almost all of his objectives.
Except for, thus far, survival. Rather important, that.
"Do you have the gate's precise coordinates?" Srequi Lantrane inquired, running at his side, a half-step behind.
"Yes," Anrakyr said as they rounded a batch of metal boxes, "but they predate this complex." As Lantrane should really have realized. Well, Anrakyr supposed she was still adapting to her new body.
Lantrane had been a surprise. Anrakyr had taken her along because companions tended to make travel more interesting, but her behavior with respect to the Mag'ladroth shard… that had been unexpected. Its outcome, moreso.
Anrakyr's circuits still burned with fury at what the Dragon of Mars had done. He recognized, though, that Lantrane did not feel the same. Bereft of context, bereft of betrayal, he supposed the transformation could indeed be interpreted as a blessing. Of course, that was not to say he would forgive the C'tan for what they had done.
Nor that it would affect his actions much if he did, considering the star-gods' nature as devourers of worlds.
Still, Lantrane was a Necron now – the equivalent for her own race, that is, but the same thing in all relevant ways – and he had an unexpected apprentice. Anrakyr found he rather liked humans, when compared to most of the races now inhabiting the galaxy. Young, yes, but determined, rational, self-modifying, and… well, how many other species would be willing to fight their own god-emperor for their moral qualities?
And though Anrakyr's loyalties were ever with his own species, he knew the humans had a critical role to play in this last war. What that role was, of course, was a different matter. They did not share the Necrontyr's homeworld, after all, but rather that of their ancient enemies. Not that such omens mattered except with respect to the Warp, as homeworlds could spawn quite… diverse sapients.
"There!" Lantrane exclaimed, causing Anrakyr to swivel his head for a fraction of a second, before realizing that Lantrane's vantage point was allowing her to see something he did not. Therefore, the gate was… down.
Without thinking much, Anrakyr used his momentum to grab onto the catwalk's handrails and jump over the edge, onto the metallic floor far below. Lantrane hesitated, still subconsciously assuming she would break something – or correcting for uncertainty about her new body, more charitably.
She jumped a few seconds later, as Anrakyr landed in a roll, sending clanging sounds through the factory complex. Now he saw the portal, even blocked as it was by the empty command throne. Lantrane landed seconds after, as the forge complex tilted with the aftereffects of the explosion. Both stayed on their feet, though Anrakyr saw that for Lantrane it was not without difficulty.
"It's closed!" Lantrane yelled, running towards the portal.
Disappointing, again. Though it was a high-stress situation, and Lantrane would be used to chemical impediments in context – and then, confirmation bias. Or a psychological quirk. It was hard to know, since Anrakyr had far too little information on the transformation, what with the original one being simultaneous.
"Not to us," Anrakyr said back, without screaming but loudly enough for Lantrane to easily hear over their footsteps.
They came up to the Dolmen gate together, a ceramic circle built into the rock, with seemingly more sandy rock within it. Anrakyr stepped first as if through air, as the floor slanted dramatically in the other direction, and then he was himself barely on his feet, standing half on the Webway fragment and half in empty space. Lantrane did not have that, dropping towards the lava lake below –
Her fingers closed around his, and Anrakyr pulled Srequi Lantrane into the Dolmen gate, which flickered permanently shut behind them.
"Apologies and thanks," Lantrane said. She looked around, in genuine awe, if Anrakyr's interpretation of human facial expressions was correct. "So this is what Zeth was hiding."
"I suppose," Anrakyr admitted. "But only the least fraction of the Dolmen paths, which were itself far lesser than the Old Ones' Webway."
Lantrane nodded, as they walked along the unchanging corridor. At the first closed gate, Lantrane stared into its unlit depths and nodded.
"My map is current," she said. "Though these paths have changed from your time, no?"
"They have," Anrakyr admitted. That the Dragon had fresh data was, indeed, disturbing, if not unexpected. "Should we change to binary?"
Lantrane turned and stared, for long seconds, down the open path. Towards her past species' rebellion, towards her friend Zeth, towards the life she could have had. Anrakyr supposed she was deliberating leaving him. Not unreasonable, and if she transferred him the coordinates he would allow it. It would take long minutes to decide, anyhow, for one such as her. Anrakyr supposed he would spend the time deciding how to best phrase his response. Not to Lantrane, but rather to the Silent King. He did not like going to the pinnacle first, he would have preferred to assist in awakening Tomb Worlds himself and building up a negotiating platform, but there was far too little time. After far too much. How much of this had been planned? And by whom?
Four and a half seconds after Anrakyr's question, Srequi Lantrane stepped through the locked gate with her left foot, and turned her head towards the Phaeron of Pyrrhia.
"Let's go," she transmitted in Necron binary.
Four and a half seconds, to leave her born identity behind. For Anrakyr sixty million years had not been entirely sufficient.
Well, he supposed that was evidence he, too, had room for improvement.
Throwing his cloak around his shoulders as he had mantled himself with eternity, Anrakyr of Pyrrhia followed Srequi Lantrane of Mars into the pulsating darkness.