Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 110

Mathep was not satisfied. It was a troubling prospect for any Necron, the nagging understanding that his expectations had not been met. He had laid out the parameters of how events would unfold but reality had produced novel variables, throwing off his projections. Among living beings such a state would produce an emotional response, anger, frustration and rage, but for the Phaeron it merely redoubled his resolve to achieve his aims. He had not ruled the Hyktot for an eternity by allowing setbacks to deter him, he would adapt his strategies and intensify his efforts, it was inevitable. He would also punish those responsible for the errors, that was inevitable too.

The Phaeron turned to his advisors and commanded, "Tell me how they evaded our defences."

Inotep was incapable of facial expressions but his feet shifted a degree, indicating a reluctance to speak, yet he obeyed, "A lone transorbital vehicle intercepted the escapees and retrieved them. They were projecting a malicious info-cipher into our operating systems, it blinded us momentarily and allowed them to approach unobserved."

Mathep's grip tightened on his Chronostave as he barked, "How could lowly Usurpers affect our superior science?!"

Inotep shuffled slightly as he said, "The cipher was fluidic in nature, rewriting itself at a rate no organic mind can match. I suspect the involvement of a synthetic consciousness. But I must reiterate the interference was brief, we overcame its effects and blocked it. The prisoners did not escape, their craft was destroyed as it fled."

"So You suspect," Mathep hissed, "I am not convinced."

Tamunn stiffened at the rebuke and asked, "You think they escaped?"

"I have learned not to underestimate this breed's resourcefulness," Mathep stated, "Irritating vermin that they are, they have proved capable of brief resistance to our might."

The pair fell silent as Mathep turned his back on them and began pacing back and forth across his throne room. The same chamber where he had awoken, unchanged in the slightest degree. His small pyramid loomed over the space and the blank walls gleamed with reflected green light. His array of warriors and Immortals stood in precise rows, unmoved since he had awoken. Not a single one of them would so much as twitch without this order. There was not enough of their minds left to act on their own initiative.

Mathep spoke aloud, "Zathoem was expected to either succeed and bring them back alive or fail and be disgraced. In no projection were the prisoners predicted to receive reinforcements, and not ever was it foreseen that they would reach the Synaptic Annihilator."

Inotep interjected, "Dread Lord, they inflicted no damage to the weapon. The preparations continue apace…"

But Mathep spun about and barked, "The Synaptic Annihilator! My dynasty's most precious asset. We are not talking about some lowly warrior form or a vehicle. That weapon is unique, the time and labour spent on its fashioning consumed three generations of Necrontyr. Prized beyond measure, even awakening it demands staggering resources and exacting calculation. If it is damaged I will reduce you to atoms."

Inotep cowered but then Tamunn interjected, "Dread Lord, the weapon was not damaged and Zathoem's disgrace is complete. Your most dangerous rival is laid low."

Mathep paused then and said, "My Loyal Lychguard, you speak wisely as ever. Yes, some of my preliminary objectives have been completed; I shall take that as progress. As for the rest…"

He waved his arm and the floor oozed upwards, forming a flattened mirror. The surface rippled for a moment then became a projection of Antari's laboritorum. The Cryptek was hunched over a decaying body, one of the prisoner's remains laid out on a slab. The projection was perfect, without wavering lines or unfocused edges. Antari could have been in the room with them.

The Cryptek laid down a tool and said, "For what reason do you interrupt me?"

Only the Cryptek could be so brusque and Mathep replied, "I require information."

Antari gestured at the corpse and said, "I close upon the secrets I require. I would progress faster had more subjects been returned to me."

"Rest assured you shall have subjects beyond counting when we lay waste to the galaxy," Mathep soothed, "But I need to speak to your spy."

Antari paused then and looked aside, before waving another figure into the field. The animal Schwift looked restored thanks to the Necron science but his expression was worried. He had good reason to be, never had he been kept for so long by his masters, normally he was sent straight back to the stars to bring them more subjects. His apprehension was evident as he wrung his hands and said, "You want somethin'?"

Mathep looked upon the wretch and commanded, "You shall tell me what the Usurpers shall do next."

Schwift swallowed and then said, "I dunno, those are Space Marines we're talking about. They ain't known for running away, all the legends are about heroic charges and stubborn last stands. They won't let this pass, it's not how Imperials think. Yeah, that's it. They'll come at you all guns blazing, shouting stupid things about victory or death.

Mathep hissed, "If you play me false I shall inflict torments upon you that shall make you long for death."

But Schwift raised his hands and said, "I wouldn't lie to you. I wanna live, live forever. Those Space Marines will come, its how they think, see. Don't understand that attitude myself but its always worked for them before."

Mathep glared for a moment then cut the link, letting the pedestal dissolve back into the floor as he said, "It fits the established pattern. The Usurpers shall come at us again, only this time we shall be ready. This shall not be a repeat of the last invasion."

Tamunn's head tilted as he queried, "Dread Lord?"

Mathep glanced at him and said, "Of course, it must shame you. To think that a Usurper defeated you. It was an unexpected display, fighting without weapons or tools. With his bare hands the leader of their forces broke your guard, his fists moving so fast they blurred even to our perceptions. I recall how he ripped one of your arms off and stove in your chest, before tearing your head off."

Tamunn said, "I do not…"

"I do not blame you," Mathep assured him, "I may have, had I not faced that one myself. The Dyson Sphere aflame with their crude weapons, the ground shaking from violent explosions as their primitive tanks duelled with our Monoliths. They were dying in droves yet they would not break. I recall how he came at me, armour shining and fists blurring. He laid his hands upon me, a lowly usurper daring to touch my body. Yet it was a dazzling display of martial prowess, to deny that would be the act of a bruised ego. One hundred and fifty punches he landed… one hundred and fifty! I was almost overwhelmed by his onslaught, before I calculated the pattern of his attack and broke his arm. I followed up with a blow that shattered his helmet but he in turn went for my heart, thinking to rip it out. I held him at bay but then he headbutted me, cracking my metal face with his simple bones. A remarkable feat, but he failed to end me. One sweep of my Chronostave and he was dust, less than dust. A most brusque conclusion, one that still disagrees with me. My victory was never in doubt but he robbed me of any satisfaction in the deed. Yet he almost matched me and I shall never forget that."

Tamunn was silent for a long moment then whispered, "I… I have no memories of that encounter."

The Phaeron stared at his Lychgaurd and hissed, "None?!"

Tamunn shook his head and said, "I remember the Usurper invasion, their amber armour gleaming and crude tanks grinding along followed by millions of lesser animals… then nothing. There is a hole in my mind."

Mathep was taken aback and said, "Surely you remember the duel."

Yet Tamunn whispered, "No, the memories are absent."

Mathep was still for a moment then scoffed, "You were damaged and phasing out. The memory engrams never formed in your mind. It is of no concern, do not dwell on the matter."

Tamunn nodded, "Thank you, Dread Lord."

"Let us turn to other matters," Mathep stated, "Go bring me Zathoem."

The Lychguard bowed and then strode out of the throne room, head held high. The pair watched him go and when he was out of earshot Inotep spat, "He is starting to forget… that is always the first sign."

"Neural decay," Mathep concurred, "I thought Tamunn was above such things, as are we."

Inotep shook his head and said, "None are free of the danger. First we start to forget: names, places, events and faces. Then comes the madness, slowly and stealthily, erratic behaviours becoming more severe until we devolve into Destroyers and Flayed Ones. Finally the loss of identity and purpose, reduced to mindless husks like a common warrior."

Mathep's hands clenched as he said, "Our minds are all that is left of us, to lose that... No, I shall not suffer such a fate, I won't allow it. We must redouble our efforts to return to the flesh. We must live again, while there is enough of us left to make the transfer."

Inotep nodded, "Yes Dread Lord… but first your Nemesor must be dealt with."

It was then that Tamunn returned, dragging Zathoem behind him. The Nemesor was cowering, shuffling long in chains cast of living metal. His gait was deflated, his head low and his chest was bubbling, where his form struggled to rebuild itself. Whatever weapon was employed to inflict such a wound must have been potent indeed if the Living metal had not yet erased the marks.

The Lychguard threw Zathoem at Mathep's feet and the Phaeron hissed, "You dare return to me in failure!"

Zathoem looked up from the floor and pleaded, "Dread Lord…"

Mathep held up a hand and said, "Spare me your clever lies and excuses. We both know how this ends, with your head being separated from your neck."

Zathoem was silent for a moment then determined the truth of that statement and threw caution aside as he snapped, "So be it, but know that your vassals despise you. You are a fool and a tyrant, just one more mad Phaeron chasing insane dreams. You hold yourself better than your peers because you remember what it was to live, but they laugh at you. All the other Dynasties sneer at the Hyktot."

Mathep declared, "I care not for their opinions, with the Synaptic Annihilator I shall conquer the galaxy. Fleets and armies and worlds shall fall before my power and I shall drag the secrets of the mut-ants from their cold corpses. The Necrontyr shall live again!"

Zathoem hissed, "Your reign will fall before you take a single breath. Your vassals' plot even now to remove you!"

"They shall plot no more when they behold your fate," Mathep crowed, "Tamunn…"

The Lychguard's axe blurred and the Nemesor's head was cleaved off. The body collapsed and lay still, the light fading from the eyes. After a moment it phased out, returning to the distant Tomb world it had been fashioned in. Yet Mathep wasn't finished. He turned to his pyramid and strode up the steps, coming to stand before the upright coffin set atop it. Within that coffin was a warrior form, not a special lord or honoured Cryptek but a common soldier, indistinguishable from any other.

The body quivered slightly then the eyes glowed faintly and voice issued forth, "What's happening?!"

Mathep looked down on the soldier and said, "Zathoem, welcome to your new body."

The warrior was still and unmoving but the voice issued, "What have you done?!"

Mathep explained, "I intercepted your memory engrams and locked your mind into this lowly body. I am afraid there shall be no more careful memory retrievals for you, no more quantum buffers and triple-reinforced neural caches. From now on you live and resurrect as a common soldier."

"Why can't I move?" Zathoem hissed.

"Because I haven't ordered you too," Mathep stated, "Your obedience protocols are suborned to my commands."

"Why did you do this?!" Zathoem hissed.

"Because I no longer care why I kept you alive," Mathep explained, "As a living being your jealousy fed my ego. As an undying Necron protocol protected you. No longer, now the Overlords shall see your fate and grow cautious. They shall see your intellect falling apart neuron by neuron, your mind decaying as did all our lowest servant's. I shall be closely monitoring your decay and I find myself curious as to how long your mind can endure in so crude a body. How many millennia you can last. It does not matter though, sooner or later your memories shall be gone and your identity with them. The being known as Zathoem shall be no more, this is as close to death as you shall ever get."

"No..." Zathoem screamed, "No, no, no. You can't do this to me!"

"Go join your new comrades," Mathep commanded, "Like the commoner you are."

The warrior body took up a Gauss rifle and marched away, heading down the steps to join the ranks of silent soldiers below. It would have no one to speak to or interact with, it would stand still for millennia until Mathep gave it another order. No mind could endure such loneliness for eternity, not even a Necron and the torment it would suffer would be all-consuming. Zathoem's mind would fall apart and the Phaeron would find satisfaction in watching it happen.

The Phaeron left Zathoem to his doom and lifted his head to declare, "One problem is dealt with, now we attend to the next. Ready my armies for war and unlock our arsenals. The Usurpers will come and we shall obliterate them utterly. It will be a good way to begin our conquest of the galaxy."