Tales of the Amber Vipers 97

Mathep looked over his city and knew all was in order. His chariot floated over the silent buildings and empty boulevards, giving him a god's eye view. The Pyramids were flawless mounds of black stone, obelisks rose proudly and mausoleums lay in perfect alignment. The air was still and calm, undisturbed by wind or rain or snow. The sky overhead was an exact recreation of a planetary sky, revealing no hint of the raging stellar furnace that lay beyond. The city was untroubled by the vagaries of the universe or time, exactly as it had laid for sixty million years.

This was only one small corner of the Dyson sphere, its internal volumes several times the surface area of the average planet, but it was the nexus of his Dynasty's dominions. Far below him legions of Necron troops lay awaiting his command, countless metal bodies standing perfectly still in their tombs. Long ago this city had bustled with activity, living beings going about their daily labours and little lives. The Necrontyr had been an industrious species, inventive and creative, but condemned to eternal sorrow. Their homeworld had bathed in the radiation of a hateful star, dooming them to short lives of pain and disease. Yet while they lived they had wrought marvels.

Mathep looked over the silent city and lamented, "Once these streets teemed with life."

At his side Inotep stated flatly, "The city is as it has always been, perfectly preserved for all time."

"But for what purpose?" Mathep countered, "The city, the empire, the whole galaxy awaits our return. Yet until we live once more we cannot reclaim that which is ours. So long as we remain metal we are limited, bound to a soulless existence. I remember what it was to live and I say we must return to flesh, we must live again."

There was the slightest shift in position from the Lychguard and Mathep turned to his bodyguard and asked, "You disagree?"

Tamunn was the Phaeron's most trusted servant, free to speak his mind though he rarely did, but this once he stated, "I too remember life, I remember pain and sorrow and disease. I remember cities built not for the living but the dead, tombs and mausoleums and monuments to ancient glories in an endless parade."

Inotep turned on him and hissed, "You besmirch the glory of the past!"

But Mathep raised a hand and said, "No, my Lychguard is correct. I have no intention of repeating the agony of the past. It is pointless to return to flesh if we shall only start dying again. That is why we cannot simply clone our old bodies, they would still be wracked with diseases. We must have better bodies, flawless flesh, immortal and free of pain."

Inotep mourned, "Our science was unsurpassed, we were the lords of creation. Space and matter, energy and entropy were ours to command. We overturned suns with a mere whim. Yet for all that we could never master ourselves. Our genic codes were made only to die, no science could change that. Billions of attempts to undo our misery failed, every promise of relief came to the same futile end."

Mathep snarled, "I remember it well, generations living in agony, passing on their cursed genes to the next. And all the while our ancient enemy denied us salvation, hiding the secrets of immortality from us. Then came the deceivers, the C'tan who tricked us with false promises and hollow dreams. I should never have listened to them."

Tamunn's head tilted fractionally as he asked, "You admit to making a mistake?"

Mathep replied, "To deny an error occurred is an act of pride, it would be vanity to think oneself incapable of miscalculation. I was the last Phaeron to accept biotransference, the Hyktot held out long after all others had been converted. I knew the price was too high and I saw the lies of the Silent King and the Star Gods. But my will faltered and I gave in to desperation, seeking to save my family. It was a mistake, I can admit that. I should have seen the trap for what it was. Still, it is not too late to correct that error. We shall return to the flesh but until then we shall preserve all that the Necrontyr were."

Their conveyance had reached its destination and it descended into a yawning pit. Blackstone walls rose up around them, as they sank into the structure of the Dyson Sphere. The city disappeared, to be replaced by devices of ancient providence and arcane power. Mathep beheld energy transfer conduits and quantum entanglement generators, channelling power from solar collectors even further down. These were bound to similar devices on Tombworlds across the satellite galaxy, sending energy across thousands of lightyears via Micro-wormholes. This one Dyson Sphere could power his entire kingdom, eliminating the need for the captured C'tan shards other Phaerons relied upon. Fools and fossils, he judged them, decaying minds reliant on others for power. They had trusted the C'tan once and paid the price, they were blind if they thought they could trust them again, even in imprisonment.

Further down they passed Canoptek Spyders tending to power nodes and energy nexi, maintaining the systems that sustained the Dyson Sphere. He spied a Deathmark sniper lurking in the shadows, Synaptic Disintegrator clutched to its chest as it practised stalking as ancient neuro-engrams demanded, re-enacting routines it had once performed in life. Silver trains shuttled to and fro, riding rails made of photon streams, carrying raw materials and packed scarab-drones to distant parts of the facility. One of them plunged into a glowing green portal and disappeared, teleporting many thousands of kilometres away in an instant. Technology that would have made usurper races weep in envy utterly unremarkable to the Necrons.

At last the chariot reached a deep level, where shimmering stasis fields were laid out in orderly rows. Here they stopped descending and started moving horizontally, skimming over the square boxes of blue light. Within their confines were stacked rows of prisoners, millions of them stretching out as far as the eye could see, many of them still in their vehicles. Vermin from races across the galaxy, captured and preserved for study. Mathep was satisfied by the fruits of his labours, these creatures provided a base stock for his Cryptek's experiments, genic codes waiting to be harvested to create a perfect host body for the Necrons to transfer to.

"Another productive raid," Mathep stated, "We shall soon see what Ashtari has produced this time."

Tamunn lifted his chin and sneered, "I understand he brought back one of his spies."

"You disapprove?" Mathep queried.

"It is beneath the dignity of our race to rely on such filth," Tamunn proclaimed.

Yet Mathep countered, "It is a matter of efficiency. Our harvests would be slow and infrequent if we had to scour the galaxy world by world. Such tools allow us to find worlds and convoys wherever they roam. They even bring specimens straight to our doorstep. It is far more efficient to have the usurpers come to us, than chase them across the stars."

Tamunn scorned, "They turn on their own kind once, how do we know they won't do so again?"

Yet Inotep argued, "It is traditional. Treachery and betrayal were time-honoured customs among the Necrontyr. The Hyktot Dynasty rose to dominance only thanks to a traitor in the ranks of the Kyerer Dynasty."

Silence fell as they descended to a small black pyramid, squatting among the rows of stasis-vaults like an island rising out of an ocean. The chariot stopped and Mathep alighted, striding within swiftly with his followers. He passed through a tunnel of black stone, lit from within by strange green sparks that ran through the stone. Soon he emerged into a high-vaulted chamber, filled with strange machines. Quantum-cogitators lined the black walls and alchemical cauldrons bubbled in corners while bioform manipulators stood proud of the floor. Fractal surgical tools were laid out on elegant slabs and hovering Scarabs floated over tissue samples, examining them at a subatomic level as they sketched genic codes into the air with columns of glowing green light. And the walls bore upright sarcophagi, filled with test subjects waiting to be vivisected.

In the centre of the room was an organic being, laid out on a slab of black stone. It had been sliced open to reveal internal organs and blood ran down the slab, being swallowed by microscopic scarabs covering the floor. Mathep noted it was one of the unusual specimens he had captured on his raid, obviously still alive when it had been ripped open. Hunched over the subject Ashtari examined the creature's innards, consumed by his work as his four hands extracted organs and placed them in glowing genic readers. In a corner lurked the spy Schwift, seemingly uncomfortable with the sight but unable to leave without permission.

Mathep gave it no mind as he proclaimed, "Cryptek, we have come."

Ashtari's head came up and his one eye refocussed as he declared, "Dread Lord, I have the most fascinating news!"

Mathep approached and questioned, "These ones have revealed their secrets?"

Ashtari quickly elaborated, "I have only examined one so far but the results are intriguing. I first thought this was some sub-species of the genic-gets but my study reveals surprising truths. These are not a separate order of being but offshoots of the main genus. A divergent strain, unlooked for and unintended."

Inotep sniffed, "Why does that matter?"

Ashtari explained, "I spoke of the first iteration of genic-gets, how their secrets were hidden from me. There was something in them that defied categorisation, something of the Warp. These ones have it in even greater quantities, a river of change where the others had a trickle. The physical alterations are symptoms of something greater, something I have never seen before."

"You understand it?" Mathep asked.

"Almost," Ashtari stated, "It is almost within my grasp, I am on the verge of quantifying it. I need more though, many more. I predict this is the missing element in my design, the one thing I am lacking to make a perfect, immortal host body."

Mathep turned on the spy and snarled, "You! Why did you not bring us this before?!"

Schwift started in shock and spluttered, "Wha? You never said you wanted mutants."

"Mut-ants?" Mathep hissed turning over the unfamiliar word, "What are Mut-ants?"

Schwift shrugged, "Mutants, you know. Twists, the warp-touched, aberrants and malforms. Those born wrong. Every Imperial world has them."

"They are common?" Ashtari pressed.

Schwift stuck his hands in his pockets and sniffed, "Common as muck. I mean, I've never heard of Astartes having them but human worlds are rife with the buggers. Can't kill them off quickly enough and there's always more breeding."

"You hid this from us," Mathep hissed, "You held out on our bargain!"

He lowered his Chronostave and unleashed a blast of low-level entropy. Schwift screamed as he fell to his knees, skin withering and ragged hair falling out. His eyes greyed over and his bones creaked as he pleaded, "No please… I didn't. You said you wanted good subjects, the best of the best. I gave you convoys, armies, colonies. I led you to world after world but you never said you wanted mutants, can't blame me for that!"

The vermin resembled a living skeleton now and a few more seconds would see him collapse into dust. Yet Ashtari intervened, "I must have more subjects, more mut-ants. I need him to lead us to more of these creatures."

Mathep snapped off his Chronostave and growled, "You will lead us to more worlds with these mut-ants."

The living cadaver nodded pathetically from the floor and whispered, "Course… I will… but I need more time… more years… like we agreed…"

Mathep held himself aloft for a moment, then deigned to lower his stave once more. Chronometric energies played around the tip but of a different order. Waves of inverse time swept over Schwift, drawing entropy from his cells and undoing the ravages of age. His eyes cleared and his bones strengthened as muscle was added to his frame. His skin became smoother and spots disappeared, shrinking in seconds. Hair grew on his head, becoming thick and speckled with black threads. His fingers turned from skeletal claws into firm, strong hands that were steady in their grip. In moments Schwift the old man was gone, replaced by a middle-aged being with decades of life left in him.

Schwift laughed as his youth was restored and he climbed to his feet in joy. Mathep ceased his twisting of time as he reflected how deluded the vermin was. Chronometric manipulation had been a tool of the Necrontyr, another attempt to grasp immortality, another failure. The laws of entropy could be bent but not broken; the universe was not so kind or forgiving. Years could be added to a life but the science always produced diminishing returns, each cycle bringing fewer years than the last. The first time Schwift had been returned to a young boy, now he could only reach middle-age. Worse the technology could not undo disease, bringing no relief from the Necrontyr's agony. The living race had abandoned the experiment as a failure but usurper races naturally enjoyed more years than the Necrontyr had and the science benefitted them in a way it never did for its makers. It had proved an irresistible lure for Schwift and those like him.

Mathep turned from the spy and addressed his Cryptek, "You can complete your labours with more subjects?"

Ashtari replied, "I am so close to making a perfect host and I long ago mastered the art of biotransferance. I will require more mut-ants. Millions more, billions even."

"Then I shall bring you more," Mathep declared, "Continue your labours, I shall summon my vassal overlords and send forth my full might."

Inotep stepped closer and whispered, "Dread Lord is that wise? The overlords are treacherous and untrustworthy. They seek to claim your position."

"They are no threat to me," Mathep declared, "They shall obey my will."

Yet Tamunn argued, "A galaxy is a vast place and our armies are not limitless. Mighty battles shall rage if we pursue this course."

Mathep nodded in acceptance but turned to Ashtari and asked, "Do you require your subjects to be alive?"

Ashtari replied, "No, so long as their genic codes are intact I can find what I need."

Mathep drew himself up and declared, "Then I shall unleash my greatest weapons. First the Usurper fleet lurking on my doorstep, then out into the galaxy itself. Open the deepest vaults and bring forth my greatest weapon: let all races fear the power of the Synaptic Annihilator!"