Rahkaak was actually not remotely as confident as she'd pretended to be.
Twenty ships and ten thousand eldar? That was actually a fairly significant fleet, against her weakened empire. And she wasn't going to discount those minions Manric had mentioned… how many was "uncounted", exactly? Mentally, she increased the numbers by a factor of ten. That was probably a more accurate rendition of the force they would face.
It didn't do to show her doubts to her new serfs, though. So Rahkaak put on a show of conviction. When the humans were gone, with an arrangement to begin the transfer of adamantium, she turned to her crypteks. With them, she could discuss her concerns.
"What did you think of them?" Rahkaak herself had mixed feelings. She did not precisely dislike Reinhart, and she had already gotten the impression that he was competent, but she found his presence far less pleasant than Manric. He reminded her of Overlord Sele'keth, who had managed the coreworld that had vanished. She hadn't liked Sele'keth either, but had respected his skills.
"They were disrespectful," Simokh intoned and Rahkaak sighed to herself. "They treated you far too much as an equal."
"I do not expect Overlords to bow and scrape to me, Simokh, and they are the Nobility of their people," Rahkaak said briskly before looking at Nuhkes. "What do you think?" He was still a bit silent after his earlier chastising.
"Esteemed Phaeron, I think the change in leadership among the humans is all to the good," Nuhkes said with a small bow. "While King Reinhart might be slightly abrasive, I observed the old king extensively. I assure you, you would have liked him much less. I anticipated that Manric would serve as a liaison between you, to avoid conflict. Now that will not be necessary." That was true enough. Rahkaak knew she would work with Reinhart, just like Sele'keth.
I need to think more on the matter of who will lead my armies, Rahkaak thought to herself as her crypteks bowed and departed. Kototep was absolutely out of the question. Rahkaak shuddered a bit at the thought. Itolyx could be elevated to the rank of nemesor. That was the one Immortal in her complement that she had singled out as having true potential for command. Or… Rahkaak hesitated, then completed the thought. The human General could take command. In the land war against the drukhari, Manric certainly would, but Rahkaak was thinking past that. Who would command the fleets? Once the raiders were destroyed, they would need to take the fight to the stars and strike fast and hard at the dark eldar's outpost. Neither Itolyx nor Manric have any knowledge of such things. Itolyx might know a bit more, from his time on battleships, but he'd likely spent most of it in the hold waiting to be unleashed on the enemies. Manric knew nothing at all, but could he learn? Could Itolyx learn? And who was there to teach them?
The thoughts made her head hurt, so Rahkaak put the question aside. She had years to work on the problem and see if there were any… any instructions left behind. Training modules. Surely there was something she could use!
The thought of the STC and what it might contain never crossed her mind.
hr
The surveillance scarab scuttled through the dark crevasses of the manufacturing plant. It paused at points, to monitor the process. It's tiny, mechanical mind had no idea what it was observing, it just passively passed the information on to the planetary AI. The AI itself was capable of many things, and monitoring the production line for inefficiency beyond the acceptable limits was well among them.
Today, all was progressing well. Machines were completely the grunt work of putting together Pride tanks before human artisans took over, installing delicate components, running tests and finally applying ornamentation in the colors of the regiments. The scarab moved to find a better spot –
And stopped, unable to move. Swivelling its head to look down, the scarab saw it was now standing on a piece of metal. Sensors analyzed it and found a combination of ceramite and plasteel, with a tiny bit of blast damage on one corner betraying the origin from a battlefield. The plate was sticky and the scarab attempted to free itself, lifting one leg after the other. The adhesive applied to the plate was strange, a very sticky substance yet very viscous. There was a great deal of stretch and the scarab tried, multiple times, to escape but never got very far.
"What's this?" The piece of metal was lifted up as the scarab redoubled its efforts to get away. It was futile though, the glue was incredibly strong. "I knew we didn't have rats. I'm glad that special glue I managed to get out of stores worked – hey, stop that!" The human was struggling to hold the metal steady as the scarab mindlessly attempted to flee. "I can't afford to touch this right now, I don't have the solvent. Ugh, into the box you go." The scarab and the piece of metal were put into a box. All contact with the AI was abruptly cut off, and the AI sent out several alerts, notifying its masters of the loss.
The loss or destruction of a single surveillance scarab meant nothing, of course, but it being discovered was a problem indeed.
Or was it?
hr
Nuhkes considered the loss of the scarab, and pondered what to do.
He could just ignore it. They had planned how to release the news of the alliance and subjugation of the human world as serfs to the Uhnashret Dynasty. It would be done at Reinhart's coronation as King, an ancient ritual that was widely televised. That was scheduled in just a month. So did the loss of a single surveillance scarab to an inquisitive human actually matter?
Well, it mattered to him! Phaeron Rahkaak was gentle for a Phaeron, but that had limits and Nuhkes had no desire to test them. But how to recover the scarab? The human had clearly put it in a signal scrambling compartment. That was fairly impressive, necron communications were not that easy to scramble, even a single errant scarab. Hmm. Perhaps that would be a clue… but he required assistance.
They had already established a direct communication relay between the coreworld AI and the STC. From there, the STC could access the more primitive human communication web and send messages via various means, ranging from brand new satellites (the drukhari annihilated them every visit) to direct, physical connections. It took a bit of time, but the connection was made.
Nuhkes? How can I assist you? The message was audio only.
"We seem to have misplaced a surveillance scarab," Nuhkes said, hoping Manric would help. Technically, he really didn't have to… this was Nuhkes problem and Manric was, after all, nobility. Mentally he made a note, they would really need to codify exactly who outranked who in this odd combination. It wouldn't do for the necrons to simply outrank all the humans! That would mean Kototep could give orders to the human King, and they certainly didn't want THAT!
Ah, wonderful, Manric said after an oddly long pause. Nuhkes checked and verified that it was signal lag due to the mishmash of communications methods. Where did it go missing and under what circumstances? Also, it isn't dangerous is it?
"Oh no, it's not dangerous at all." His little surveillance scarabs were a simpler, sadder version of Canoptek scarabs and completely harmless. They could only observe, unless instructed otherwise, and when cut off from the interstitial communication they simply went inert. "It was lost at this manufactory…" Nuhkes sent all the information to the STC, confident that it would change everything to a format Manric could use, wherever he was. "Also, if possible could you get the box it was put in? Something that can disrupt our communications this way is highly unusual." That was actually more interesting than losing a scarab.
This location, I almost think I might know who is responsible. Oh really?! That was more than he'd dared hope for! I'll let you know if I find it.
"I would greatly appreciate it," Nuhkes said sincerely before ending the call. Then he brightened.
He had confidence Manric would find the scarab, and hopefully he could get that box. It would be valuable to get to Simokh for an evaluation.
It never crossed his mind to ask if the STC would have the patterns for such a device.
hr
Manric smiled to himself as he tapped the butt of his spear on the ground. A few passerby's gave him odd looks, then made a wide detour. It wasn't too often you saw someone holding a weapon like that, but Nuhkes had interrupted him during a practice session and he wasn't going to leave it just lying around. He was waiting outside a shabby little one-bedroom flat, in a surprisingly decent neighborhood.But given the circumstances, it wasn't surprising.
Manric's mind went to the man he was waiting for. Yantek was a field engineer assigned to the 3rd Regiment, the Lions. Yantek's usual duties wouldn't have had him living in the barracks, along with the rest of the men. But the sudden push to make as many Knight armor as possible had created holes in the Pride lines. To compensate for that, they'd moved their best field engineers to the manufactories… of course, that caused holes in the Regiments, but the men could handle the maintenance for a while and they could move around the remaining field engineers to cover things a bit.
As part of all this, the field engineers had been quickly requisitioned apartments close to the manufactories they were assigned to. They were nothing fancy, mostly – they'd been going for the cheapest available – but they were all in extremely solid, working neighborhoods.
So Manric was waiting, watching as women and children, mostly, went about their day. There were so many children, which both pleased and saddened him. The dark eldar could take a great number of people sometimes, and kill even more. To deal with that, Hope was propagandized heavily to promote motherhood and childbearing. In really bad times, contraceptives were even disallowed. Hopefully someday, it won't be like this anymore. Although given the intense cultural pressure that had gone on for thousands of years, Manric anticipated an incredible population boom if the drukhari were truly driven off. After being taught so long that motherhood was the way, it would be a long time before it even started to change. But that was all to the good. The STC had calculated that the maximum carrying capacity of Hope, while still maintaining a very high standard of life, was roughly a billion…
Manric came out of his reverie as he noticed men and women in work clothing starting to appear in the streets. That meant the shift change was happening, and his target would soon be there. Manric wasn't the least surprised when he spotted Yantek, carrying a metal box and whistling tunelessly.
That whistle abruptly stopped as Yantek spotted him. Yantek's expression of surprise was almost comical, followed by the look of a dog who knew it had been naughty. Manric marvelled at how incredibly expressive that thin, almost malnourished face could be. If things had been different, he wondered if Yantek might have pursued a career as an actor.
"Sir?" Yantek said quietly as he walked up, his whole posture a silent apology. Manric gave him a small smile and held up a bag.
"I got this for you. When was the last time you ate?" Manric hardly knew every single warrior under his command, but Yantek was both an incredibly good field engineer and an interesting character. So he knew a bit about the man and knew he had a bad habit of skipping meals, sometimes for days.
"Uh…" Yantek had to think about it, which meant he'd definitely been forgetting. "Yesterday morning? I think?" Manric shook the bag. Yantek's eyes lit up as he registered the smell of sweet sugar.
"You really need to stop this. And let's discuss this inside." They definitely didn't want to talk about it on the street. Yantek heaved a great sigh but obeyed, stepping up to the door and pulling out his key. They had the technology for more advanced locks, but paradoxically, they were easier to play havoc with than a finely made lock and key. "So, Yantek, what's in the box?" Manric asked once they were both inside.
"Uh, a rat?" Yantek's lie was absolutely transparent and meant to be. He knew he was caught. Manric shook his head reprovingly, but couldn't help quirking his lips.
"Let's see this rat then," Manric said and Yantek sighed before setting the box on the table and opening the lid. Manric examined the box carefully but it seemed to be just a box. The metal was a bit unusual, perhaps, a dark grey color that shimmered a bit but nothing he would have noticed immediately. Yantek very carefully pulled out a plate of metal with a small scarab stuck to it. "A glue trap? What glue did you use?" Surely a glue made for animals wouldn't work on one of these. Yantek paused a moment.
"Well, sir, you know how we harvest glue from those uh, things the drukhari…?" He trailed off, sloping his shoulders as Manric's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry."
"We'll ignore that bit of theft of military resources if you tell me where you found this box." That was concerning. The STC had been trying to evaluate their new allies a bit and the communication methods they used left it completely baffled. So what was this box? Yantek looked a bit bewildered.
"It's just a faraday cage." No it wasn't. But this time, Yantek seemed to believe what he was saying. "I got it at a thrift store. It has a serial number on the bottom." Oh really? Manric picked up the box and flipped it over, examining the serial number. As he did, his eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. He recognized this kind of serial number. Glancing over, he saw Yantek was rubbing a solvent into the scarab, which was now energetically trying to free itself. So instead of immediately speaking, he just enjoyed what he held in his hands.
Living history. The past in my hands. This box had been manufactured on Terra over five thousand years ago before being packed onto the ship. What purpose had it served on the great colony ship? Manric didn't know, but he knew it wasn't meant to be a faraday cage, even if it could function as one. The STC will be able to identify it. And pull up the plans to make it, most likely. That would give them a hint about how the necron communications worked, that this could block them. Although they COULD just ask, but then their new allies would be within their rights to ask for access to the STC and Manric wasn't quite ready for that yet. He wanted to… get to know them better.
Then a scarab landed on his shoulder and Manric blinked, shaking himself out of his thoughts.
"Yantek, you've found an artefact." Yantek was putting away the solvent and almost dropped it. "I will have to take this for evaluation." Artefacts were bits and pieces of the original colony ship that had been lost. Some had been stolen, but most had just been used for various things. Had this box been used as a mere box, when the colony was young?
"Isn't there a finders fee for artefacts?" Yantek's eyes were bright now and Manric gave a soft, dry chuckle.
"Yes, up to ten thousand crowns. It won't be that much, though." That was for something with a direct military application, the holy grail of artefacts. Manric was sure the box wouldn't be worth that much. "You're probably looking at at least two thousand, though." That was the usual for a middling artefact. Yantek gave him a brilliant smile, but then it turned into a frown.
"But sir… the insect… what is it?" He peered at the little scarab, which just kept cleaning itself.
"It's something new we've come up with," Manric lied, not expecting any pushback. He was a General, after all.
"Bullshit!" Manric blinked in surprise, but his stoic mask did not fail as Yantek glared at him. "You can't just LIE to me like that, sir! I'm a field engineer! That's not ours, and it's not the drukhari's!" For a moment Manric was tempted to punish Yantek for insubordination, but only a moment. That was not his way, not when a soldier spoke the truth, no matter how inconvenient it might be.
"Yantek…" Manric adjusted his spear, thinking for a moment. How to handle this? "Let me put it this way. This is a matter of security, but you'll know the truth of it in a month." Yantek was frowning but Manric met his eyes steadily. "I swear on the honor of my House." That was not an oath taken lightly. Yantek hesitated a moment, then heaved a gusty sigh.
"Guess I have to take that sir. A month isn't too long," he said, clearly trying to convince himself of that. Manric almost laughed at the impatience of youth. "When will I know about that finders fee, sir?" Changing the subject and letting it go, good.
"A few days at the most, I'll notify you when the assessment is done," Manric said easily, tucking the box under one arm. "Keep up the good work with the Pride's." Yantek's work was always good. "Also, remember to eat those donuts. It's sinful to let them go stale."
"Oh! I forgot!" Yes, he'd thought as much. "Thank you so much sir," Yantek said with a smile and Manric nodded before showing himself out. As he walked to his waiting vehicle, he hummed softly to himself.
Today had been a rather good day.