Epilogues
Far Away
"So?"
"We have gained a valuable resource. Hereticus, Malleus and the Silent Sisters will pay nearly any price for access. Even the Culexus have been making discrete inquiries. "
"The Deathwatch report the loss of several marines. They were overstretched as was."
"The Deathwatch may not thank him for that, but it was a worthwhile trade."
"The founding of a new Chapter requires the writ of the High Lords, not to mention..."
"Are we seriously going to argue over paperwork? I can list a dozen destroyed or lost chapters, a few changes to a datastore and this becomes simply a change of name and homeworld to mark their near extinction and renewal. We have recovered enough equipment from fallen worlds that we need not trouble the High Lords with any 'administrative details'."
"And if anyone checks?"
"By the time anyone checks it will be lost in the mists of time."
"So you endorse his actions and their consequences? The mechanicus..."
"...has its own internal politics. As long as we drip feed some of the recovered artefacts and turn a blind eye to their more subtle probing they will swallow their pride. Destruction has to take precedence over study, we don't know when their fleet might return."
"The Marshal."
"He thinks she can be trusted. If he didn't he would have left the Mortiurge."
"The decree absolute."
"Forbids research into blanks. We are not researching."
"Sophistry. Besides there is him. Do you trust him?"
"Given what he is, does anyone?"
In the Pillar
There was little reason for him to be here, at least logically speaking. The orders were precise, the components sanctified and this would be the fifth time he had been present when these rituals had been observed. Still the first step of a titan on a new world was a moment to savour for any true Tech Priest and this one would serve a vital, if hidden, purpose.
There was a deep hum, that gradually increased in pitch as the vast power core cycled up, then a roar as the vox horns blared the waking war cry. The eyes of the titan glowed then ponderously its left leg lifted, moved forwards and crashed back to the ground. A thousand voices, vox amps and speaker grills joined in a binaric canticle of joy. Were he prone to emotion Yterbus would have to admit to both pride at the latest acquisition of the forge and a quiet enjoyment of the particular arrangement of the hymn of activation. An ancient piece first penned for the Magos Leibwitz by a grateful acolyte.
Further thundering steps announced the first of ten thousand basic checks and tests of the Titan's systems had been passed. But there certainly was not enough time for a Fabricator General to watch them all. He gave a brief bow towards the new moderatii, crew and the iron beast they now controlled and began the long trek towards the surface. Even now the first struts were being sanctified of the first Tetran produced Titian, maybe the next activation ceremony would be entirely the product of his own forge.
The necron road the Titan walked on had seen many changes. Weapons nests, automated sentry guns and intricate detection systems were just the first line of defence should any of the portals activate and start disgorging necron armies. A pair of vast cannons originally intended as broadside weapons for a light cruiser were being installed on massive concrete bases. Huge generators were being brought in to power the overlapping set of forcefields that protected the fixed emplacements. Anything that stepped through would almost instantly be hit by some of the most powerful weaponry the Imperium could bring to bear. And if that failed a series of thermonuclear weapons were rigged as a final failsafe. A failsafe so powerful it risked the structural integrity of the pillar itself. But then if they were used the necrons would be even more of a danger to the population of both this world and any nearby.
Bringing the Titan in was the last of the initial precautions, it had been hard, the parts disassembled and brought in to be re-assembled inside the pillar. There was no way this Titan would ever leave and Omnissia willing it would never actually engage in combat. A great sacrifice, but still...
The Fabricator stared at the dormant monolith as he passed. The Inquisition put such restrictions on what could be studied. It was frustrating. The portals were too dangerous, the energies they contained too vast to be destroyed without catastrophic consequences, even if the knowledge they represented was not too precious to risk. The vehicles while dormant held the potential for remote activation. But if attempts were made to disable or destroy them there was no guarantee they would not activate some self preservation routines and activate anyway. The painstaking agreements worked out with the Inquisition prevented the Mechanicus from doing so much. But what they could do and could learn even with the Inquisitorial interference would still be enough to advance their understanding of the necrons beyond any save Mars itself. Yterbus permitted himself a rare smile. Even if it was never recognised as a forgeworld, the power of Tetran II would only grow. He glanced at the complex to his left. And his potential new allies promised some interesting options in the future.
Nearby
The stasis crypt opened and a pair of green eyes flared into life. Before the necron could move strong arms held its shoulders down as a blade removed head from neck. For a moment the eyes glowed brightly, then faded. Four more swift cuts removed arms and legs from torso. Each was thrown without ceremony into a large container where it rattled with the clang of ancient metal. The aspirants breathed heavily and walked over to the next coffin where a tech adept was already starting the twenty minute power down sequence. When filled the containers would be loaded onto a transport and fired into the local star.
From a nearby balcony Menalis watched. A stalker pattern bolter in his hands. 4 more fully armoured marines stood watch as a pair of aspirant teams slowly worked their way down this cavern's line of crypts. Every now and again a coffin contained an immortal or lych guard. They recovered faster. The aspirants now showing the heavy muscle growth of implantation should be able to deal with it. But they were young and concentration wavered and the slow methodical disposal of necron warriors was far from the glory of battle. Though each of these aspirants would likely have dispatched more of the Emperor's enemies by the time they completed their training than some full-fledged Marines with decades of service. There had been a few incidents, one careless aspirant killed by a quickly reviving destroyer. A damaged necron teleporting to a repair facility further up the pillar. Had it started to revive its fellows it might have led a mighty counterattack. Instead the search teams had found it fully repaired and apparently waiting for orders before they destroyed it. Since then the repair facilities had a permanent guard that had swiftly dealt with similar problems on two further occasions.
A gauntlet clanged against his vambrace as Xistos came to relieve him. 8 hours of overwatch over, now 8 hours of training other aspirants, 4 hours of personal training, 4 hours to eat and sleep then repeat the process. He glanced down at his repainted armour. Still black, in the main, but the inquisitions mark had been replaced by an Imperial Aquila and the other shoulder pad now had his new chapter symbol, a red bird perched on a silver painted skull. The Phoenix Skulls. Twenty lost remnants of now extinct chapters training up a hundred new recruits who would not be ready to fight as a full chapter for decades. Maybe centuries. And before they could take the battle to the Emperor's enemies they would need to clear out this hive of them on their homeworld. Full battle was but a distant dream. Until then was just years of mechanical cleansing, years of husbanding and harvesting geneseed to build up numbers. The rare addition of another lost marine to help with training. The occasional raid and small expedition to gain a little combat experience and ensure skills were passed on. At least there would be once the pair of strike cruisers being built by Tetran II's newly enhanced dockyards were ready. Another years' long endeavour.
"How are your dreams brother?" Xistos asked as he took up his post holding out his hand for the sniper rifle. Equipment was in short supply, with so many chapters suffering on so many fronts arming a new founding so far from the battle lines was a very low priority.
"The sea rages. But now the chains hold." Menalis smiled and handed over the bolter. Service, brotherhood and a purpose. What more could he ask for?
Further Away
The stasis crypt opened and a pair of green eyes flared into life. Rychek waited a moment as memories flooded in from storage then stopped abruptly. He looked down at his arm where amidst the scrolling decals the number 23 was worked as part of the pattern. He sat up. Two more crypts were waiting and he knew that one of his first tasks would be to prepare body 26. He sent a quick interrogative to the local datanet. As usual he had been punctilious about updating his memories after a reanimation for about a century, patchy for a century after that, then had all but neglected the duty entirely. He made a mental note to do better, as he did every time. A few more queries established that his previous body had been destroyed by humans who had made their way inside a pillar and were even now systematically destroying the warriors stored there.
Rychek contemplated simply activating the remaining warriors simultaneously and cleansing the human stain in one fell swoop. But then decided against it. That overt action would doubtless draw the attention, and most likely wrath of the Phaeron. He could wait. When the last necron warriors were destroyed in a couple of centuries the humans would forget, grow bored and then he could start again using one of the other 5 pillars as a base. There was no sign the humans had realised that each pillar contained its own set of troops, or that at the centre of this world far beyond their primitive scanners or pathetic attempts at tunnelling was a highly secure command centre with the means to manufacture more.
Of course eventually those lost warriors would need to be replaced. Which, of course, would require manufacturing new bodies and finding new consciousnesses to implant. While the Phaerons had forbidden bio-transference of humans, after being reduced to the near mindless state of a necron warrior who could tell if the original mind had been human or necrontyr? The sheer numbers and stubbornness of the humans, before considering the ork and the tyranid would tax the surviving necron legions crippled and reduced by the ravages of the multi-million year hibernation. The tau and their relentless inventiveness would chip away at the technology lead the necrons currently held. Worse the warp magic of the eldar and the forces of Chaos would render that technology advantage moot on many battlefields.
Rychek knew that desperation for new forces would drive the necron rulers to approve both the creation of human/necron hybrids and the resumption of pariah creation. In time the Phaerons would come to Rychek and beg for his wisdom. Until then he was prepared to wait and play the long game.