Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 114

Something had gone wrong. Mathep didn't know what it was but an unexpected variable had been introduced that threw off all his predictions. The usurpers had been on approach, tracked inexorably on their path towards the Dyson Sphere. He had allowed them to land unmolested, why wouldn't he, they were no real threat. He had run trillions of calculations and determined every possible avenue of attack, every stratagem they could have employed. He had built simulacra based on the previous invasion and factored in their different numbers and equipment. Every theoretical scenario had ended the same way, a full-frontal assault by the invaders that ended with his victory. But then at the last second they had veered off course and disappeared.

Mathep was dissatisfied with this turn of events. No, dissatisfaction wasn't a strong enough term, he was wrathful. Were he still flesh and blood he would have been furious, filled with hormonal anger. Yet he remained undying and his wroth was expressed as a cold determination to exact punishment for this divergence from established parameters. An error had been made and someone was going to pay for it. This was not an emotion, this was a fact.

Mathep was standing aboard his personal chariot, floating over his assembled army. Below his position awaited the serried ranks of his army. Warriors by the thousand stood in silence, reinforced by Immortals and Deathmarks on the flanks. Wraiths moved serenely between the ordered ranks, disappearing into the floor only to reappear elsewhere moments later. In mathematically perfect lines Annihilation Barges and Monoliths floated, awaiting his order. Canoptek Spyders moved between them, attending to their charges, oblivious to the fact that war was imminent. At the rear Destroyers hung in the air, barrels twitching in eagerness to attack while Doom Scythe fighters circled above. Flayed Ones gathered around the perimeter, claws desperate to feel the slick tang of blood and skin. Even the Overlords stood in the ranks, cowed by the fates Mathep had doled out to his rivals. Everything was in order; this army was a force capable of obliterating any enemy in the galaxy… except they lacked an enemy to fight.

Mathep gripped his Chronostave fiercely and hissed, "Where are they?"

Tamunn stood proudly on the chariot and replied, "I do not know."

"Contact Inotep," Mathep snarled, "Tell him to find the invaders."

The vizier was absent, as was traditional and Mathep fumed with impatience. He was surprised he was still capable of experiencing such an impulse and in other times would have spent time basking in the novel motivation, but today he could not abide distraction. He looked right and saw the great tower of the Synaptic Annihilator, surrounded by the massed ranks of his army. The Necrons covered the plain for a hundred kilometres in every direction, filling the environment with latent death and that was only a fraction of the forces he had waiting in stasis-crypts throughout the Dyson Sphere. This day should have brought him a swift and certain victory; instead they stood impotently, waiting for the foe to reveal themselves.

Tamunn was in contact with the Vizier and stated, "The invaders have landed but their landing vector diverged from predictions. It will take a moment to locate their actual position."

"All the superiority of our technology and we cannot track a few hundred animals!" Mathep hissed.

Tamunn sniffed, "Nothing is perfect, not even our technology."

Mathep growled, "They should be here. Sixty-eight percent of our simulacra predicted they would attempt a landing around the Synaptic Annihilator. Ninety-five percent of the remainder confirmed they would land nearby and advance in force."

Tamunn mused, "Perhaps they seek a different target?"

"What target?" Mathep snarled, "Our living metal can repair any damage they could inflict. We could rebuild this whole Dyson Sphere, even it only a portion of it was left standing. They know this. No, they must be after my finest weapon. They have laid eyes upon it, surely they know its worth."

Tamunn countered, "I do not argue the point, but their methods differ to our predictions. They are behaving in an unexpected fashion."

Mathep snarled, "Impossible, these predictions were based upon models formed after the last invasion. Their behaviours are have been measured, quantified and categorised. How dare they diverge from our superior computations!"

It was then that another chariot rose into view. It was the Cryptek Antari, riding a dais only slightly smaller than the Phaeron's own conveyance. The Cryptek was arrayed in all his splendour, as befit his high station yet in his shadow cowered Schwift, the spy trying to go unnoticed. Mathep gave him no notice, the lowly creature was of no import.

Antari addressed them, "What are we waiting for?"

Mathep reluctantly explained, "We are seeking the enemy."

"You lost them?" Antari scoffed.

"I lost nothing," Mathep snarled, "They are behaving in unpredictable fashions. It should not be possible, our study of their previous invasion let us model their behaviour to the hundredth decimal place."

Antari was quiet for a moment then proposed, "Have you considered these ones may be different from the last breed of invader?"

"What are you saying?!" Mathep cried in confusion.

"My studies reveal these genic-gets are divided into familial groupings, separate gene-lines distinct from each other. I divine that this was a deliberate factor of their creation, various breeds fashioned for varied tasks. This has been exacerbated by generations of isolated breeding. At a genic level these new invaders are a separate breed to the first we encountered. They will inevitably behave differently."

"You!" Mathep snarled at Schwift, "You didn't tell us this!"

Schwift cowered as he cried, "You dinna ask. There's all kinds of Chapters out there, I don't know half of them."

Mathep's wroth grew but then Tamunn declared, "We've found them. They have landed among the stasis-vaults, they are… they are releasing the prisoners. They are amassing an army to oppose us."

"My specimens!" Antari cried in alarm.

Mathep's mind reeled at the prospect. None of their calculations had factored in this eventuality; against all odds the usurpers had caught him by surprise. He ran numbers swiftly and determined there were enough prisoners to constitute a significant force, one that could present an annoyingly difficult challenge. Not enough to win naturally, but the expenditure of time and effort required to eradicate them would prove most dissatisfying. Somehow these pathetic animals had managed to make themselves dangerous.

Any consideration that had he not been so inclined to collect trophies then this would not be possible were brushed aside. He was already set upon punishing someone for his troubles and this only added to the certainty of his decision. It was fortuitous that he had someone nearby to expend his hate upon, the animal Schwift.

"You, this your fault!" Mathep barked, "You betrayed us."

Schwift jumped in alarm as he cried, "No, it weren't me. I didna know what they would do."

"Then you are incompetent, either way your removal is necessary."

Schwfit looked about for somewhere to run but he was suspended hundreds of metres over the ground and could not flee. He fell to his knees and begged, "Please no, you promised me eternal youth. You swore to give me more years."

"So we did," Mathep hissed, "All the years in creation."

He lowered his Chronostave and let loose a stream of reverse entropy. A flood of time washed over Schwift and his skin began to smooth as his hair grew back in thick clumps. Time unwound around him, returning him to boyhood and then prepubescence. Chronometric manipulation was a flawed technology, the Necrontyr had known this all too well. They had measured its limits, charted the contours of its imperfections and devised precise parameters for its employment, but they had never overcome the base flaw. To use it safely was to be subject to diminishing returns, clawing seconds from entropy's unyielding grip, but to push it to the extreme was to risk everything. As with all Necrontyr technology, to unleash it without rigorous control would produce catastrophe.

As the power flowed Schwift began to de-evolve, his cells returning to latent genic sequences evolution had discarded long ago. He screamed insanely as his form became hunched and hirsute, with a thick brow and a jutting jaw. Hair grew over his form as he turned into a rude primate, with grasping hands. His shrieks became feral as he a small mammal, then a squatting amphibian. All these sequences flashed past in a handful of moments, millions of years of evolution unwritten by Necron science. Then Schwift dissolved into a puddle of amino-acids and base proteins, returning to the primordial ooze which had first spawned life billions of years earlier.

Antari stepped away from the puddle dripping off his chariot and sniffed, "Now I must select a new spy."

Mathep raised his stave and hissed, "No more spies, no more untrustworthy usurpers. We shall sweep this army from our Dyson Sphere and then go forth to conquer the stars."

"What is your will?" Tamunn asked.

Mathep steered his chariot over the waiting army and proclaimed, "Soldiers of the Hyktot Dynasty, today is a day that shall echo forever. Our race once ruled the galaxy, we were the lords of creation. Then it was all stolen from us, by our ancient enemy and the deceivers who promised us immortality. We have known betrayal, we have known deceit and defeat and when we arose from our Great Slumber we found our rightful domains infested by usurpers and inferior species. No more, today we set forth to take back what was stolen from us. Today the Hyktot takes the first step back to glory!"

It was the same speech he always made but this time he added, "Go forth and sweep my kingdom clean of invaders. March my soldiers, march!" The metal plain rang as tens of thousands of metal feet slammed down, the entire army setting forth as one. In perfect precision the Necrons marched to war, heading towards the stasis-vaults and the usurpers amassing there.

Mathep floated above them as he uttered, "This has gone on too long, I shall wipe out these invaders once and for all. No prisoners shall be taken, there shall be no more stasis for them. I shall meet them in battle and exterminate them all!"

So the Necrons went forth, bringing their full might to bear. Behind them the Synaptic Annihaltor began to shrink, left almost undefended in their wake. The Phaeron gave it no heed, consumed by his hatred. Little realising that this was exactly what the humans had planned all along.