In the next ten years, things progressed nicely.

The beginning stages of the industrialization of Hope were traumatic. The human population of the world wanted to believe the drukhari were gone, the threats were over and they could finally go back to being a simple agrarian colony in the fringes of the universe. Hearing that they were expected to become the new Terra was, by and large, not welcome news. Documentaries and other educational tools were made, to make the populace understand all the threats they were facing, but how could they truly comprehend? Reinhart was wearing his crown constantly, due to the ever-present threat of assassination attempts.

Then, four years in, the universe provided something awful that was, nonetheless, exactly what they needed.

A flashing attack, just as I predicted, Manric felt completely calm as his ships engaged the drukhari. Itolyx's fleet was busy fending off attacks to the asteroid belt, the mining facilities there. Our goal is to keep them from the planet. That was clearly what the drukhari were going for. To Manric's eyes, three of the ships attacking him were probably unmanned, moving in a way that suggested AI control. The last one, though, was a much higher class of ship than the ones they'd seized from the drukhari. It moved with a predatory grace that put his captured ships to shame and Manric tapped his fingers on the bulkhead as he realized he might not be able to keep it away from Hope.

So it proved. Despite his best efforts, the ship got close enough to the planet for a very quick, hurried salvo. His ships vaporized most of the nukes before they could enter the atmosphere but at least one or two got through. Then they made the drukhari ship pay for their effrontery, savaging their flanks with disruptor fire. The ship lurched away and then blazed for an escape, mission completed, as the guarding ships went on suicidal runs against his fleet. Manric hated it, but let the main ship go. The two AI drones could easily drop their own nukes if he let them. One of them had already been destroyed.

They destroyed the two remaining ships and Manric checked Itolyx's progress in the asteroid battle. To his relief, it was actually going much better than his own efforts. They'd put in a few fixed defenses on some of the larger asteroids and Itolyx had successfully lured the drukhari into a bit of a trap. They'd lost the fixed defense, but the drukhari had lost two ships and now they were breaking off?

So they did just want to make a statement. Just a little "fuck you" to salvage their pride. Leaving the ships on high alert – it was possible this was a false retreat – Manric opened a channel to the planet.

"Status report," he said, unaware that in his new, mechanical voice, it sounded particularly chilling.

One of the nukes landed in the ocean, sir. STC will have to evaluate but it's likely not a problem, came the quick response. The other nuke though, it hit at the base of the Dragon's Teeth mountains. That was a particularly high, brutal series of mountains. But it was also a very large mountain range so that didn't tell him much. Far too close to Hope's Landing for comfort. Ugh. It WOULD have landed on THAT end of the mountains. We're currently evacuating the area due to fallout. It seems to have been a very dirty bomb. STC is evaluating but I can already say that agricultural production will be affected.

"Not great, but expected. Please send my apologies to King Reinhart for letting those two get through." Manric would have to review the records after and try to determine if he could have handled it better, maybe roleplay the scenario with Itolyx.

For the next several years, things were a bit tight as agricultural production took a very significant hit. Farmers from the area had to be relocated to completely new, unsettled lands that while fruitful, would require time to build up. STC's evaluations indicated that most of the farmland affected by the bomb would not be useful for five hundred years, or until they could build radiation scrubbers capable of cleansing the land. The land that had been closest to the impact would not be useful at all, so badly contaminated that it should just be abandoned.

However, socially, the drukhari attack was exactly what they needed. The citizens of Hope were reminded, forcefully and pointedly, that the threats against them were real. And after yet another drukhari attack, they were more willing to watch the documentaries and take the other threats seriously. That led to a sense of fear in the population, but it was a measured, watchful fear that made them work harder at their duties. The riots and death threats towards Reinhart died down into a kind of grim acceptance. Manric had no delusions – there would be protests in the future, as the hyper industrialization caused social chaos – but this was still a good shift in public opinion.

Then, roughly five years in, something very stupid yet also extremely concerning happened.

"Thank you for this audience, Phaeron," Manric said, wishing he didn't have to do this. But he couldn't think of any other solution for this problem. Rahkaak tilted her head slightly to one side.

"It is nothing. But what is wrong, and why did you request Simokh?" The Technomancer was there, patient and still as a statue. This would actually involve him far more than Rahkaak, but Manric thought she would need to approve it.

"I want to request that one of my warriors be accepted as an apprentice Cryptek, if that would be possible," Manric stated and there was a pause. He was sure some private messages were passing between the Phaeron and her chief cryptek.

"How would a mere warrior be suitable for such a thing?" Simokh asked and Manric explained.

"His name is Yantek, and he's a former field engineer. Our field engineers are able warriors, but their primary duty is the maintenance and quick repairs of equipment. When a Pride tank is damaged but not destroyed, it's the field engineer's duty to jury rig something to get it back into the fray. And of all the field engineers, Yantek was the best." Manric paused for a moment, thinking of how to explain. "I would still keep him as a warrior if I could. That kind of intelligence can be a huge asset on the battlefield. However, there was recently an incident involving Kototep." Rahkaak immediately formed a glyph of frustration.

"I told him to leave your men alone. What has he done?"

"Completely disregarded your instructions and gave some of my men a lecture on the superiority of Necron culture," Manric responded and Rahkaak gave a buzzing sigh along with a few disgust glyphs. "Unfortunately, he happened to pick the Death Seekers. They were trying to be patient but I'm told there was about to be an unceremonious murder before Yantek stepped in. He diffused the situation by way of effusive flattery." This part was rather amusing. "It was SO effusive that the Death Seekers stopped being homicidal, and became morbidly curious to see when Kototep would realize he was being mocked and deck Yantek. But he never did."

"In our culture, sycophantic adulation is considered a perk of rank. With someone like Kototep, it is impossible to, as I believe your people would say, 'lay it on too thick'." Simokh observed and Manric flashed a rather clumsy amusement glyph. They were very useful for indicating emotions, when your face was frozen in place, but a bit difficult to get the hang of.

"Well, I'm told he laid it on very thick indeed. But now Kototep keeps trying to steal him and I'm afraid he's going to officially take him as a Second. And that's an absolutely awful idea in so many ways. Yantek is very creative, but his plans normally are wildly optimistic and need to be brought down to earth. Kototep is also prone to optimistic thinking, from what I can see," Manric said a bit carefully. He didn't want to point out that Kototep was also just not very smart. "And since he commands three thousand of your warriors, that would give Yantek the resources to put his plans into effect. I strongly recommend we keep them separated and the best way to do that, without giving offense, is to put him somewhere Kototep can't reach."

"You do not suspect them of disloyalty?" Rahkaak asked and Manric immediately shook his head.

"Oh no! Yantek is completely loyal and I really think Kototep is too. It's far more likely they would hatch a scheme to impress you that would go horrible wrong. And we would be left cleaning up the pieces as Kototep blames Yantek and Yantek composes endless glyph poems of apology and supplication." Yantek was getting very good with glyphs. Rahkaak flashed a glyph of amusement at the thought.

"I see. Simokh, what do you think?" There was a pause as he mulled it over.

"For the sake of the Dynasty, I will accept this duty personally," Simokh said and Manric was greatly relieved. He thought that Simokh's dry, serious personality would be as positive a match with Yantek's over expressive energy as Kototep's personality would be a negative match.

"Thank you very much, I appreciate it," Manric said with a small bow. "I will let him know and send him to you." Yantek would probably be overjoyed at the opportunity. Linguistics was his secondary passion, behind machines, so the chance to master Necron technology would deeply appeal to him.

As it turned out, Manric underestimated his reaction.

"Really sir?! Thank you SO MUCH!" Manric was not expecting to be HUGGED. It was the strangest thing in the world, their metal bodies clanging together as Yantek vigorously hugged him. It was strange enough that a few real Necrons paused to watch as Manric extricated himself.

"Yantek, please, I don't think we do that for a reason," he said as sternly as he could manage.

"Sorry sir! I'm just so happy!" Yes, he could see that. Then Yantek flashed a series of glyphs and Manric just gave up on deciphering them. It was too much, too long, and he just wasn't fluent enough yet to figure them out without a great deal of study.

"I presume that's some kind of poetic thanks… you're welcome. Now, go report to Simokh," Yantek immediately headed off and Manric shook his head, a bit bemused. It was going to be rather odd, seeing an Immortal chassis among the ranks of the Crypteks. Would they remodel him? Probably not though since in many ways, an Immortal body was superior to what crypteks usually had. Perhaps they would just give him a few flourishes, once he was officially a cryptek.

Manric did not believe for even a moment that Yantek would fail. The only question was how long it would take before he was a fully fledged Technomancer.

I need more. I need more.

Ahmakeph was very dissatisfied with his own performance. He could not shake the feeling that something was wrong with his body, despite running numerous diagnostics. He felt too slow, not quite fitting in his own necrodermis. The feeling seemed to be getting worse, not better, and he had no idea how to fix it. The only thing that seemed to help in any way was sparring, so he did that. He still felt too slow but the thrill of battle settled him, made him feel more a part of himself.

Today, he had challenged a group of the humans-turned-Necrons called the "Death Seekers". Ahmakeph remember Manric mentioning them as one of his irreplacable units and after watching them a while, he understood why. Vicious, cunning and with no regard for their own lives, they were worthwhile sparring partners, particularly in groups. Their teamwork was beyond reproach, easily as good as the Immortal bodies they now inhabited.

So now he was taking on three of them. They were using live weapons, as the Death Seekers disdained anything else, but no gauss flayers. His Staff of Light, being employed as a power weapon, and their long knives, also power weapons. The threat of real damage added an intriguing edge to the melee.

Ahmakeph enjoyed every moment, particularly when a knife raked his side like a claw, bringing up warnings as the damage came close to his core. He whirled with blinding speed, smashing away the warrior who had managed to get past his guard and hearing metal squeal. Despite the damage he'd just taken the Death Seeker was far from done and the three of them circled him, reminding him of the hunting animals of the ancient necrontyr. Their eyes were bright and Ahmakeph could almost taste their bloodlust. It made him respond in kind and it was a heady feeling.

The rushed him all at once and Ahmakeph slammed one in the face before hitting another in the ribs, but there was a method to their madness. With a squeal of metal on metal, something wet exploded over him and then he was slammed to the floor. There was no damage, but Ahmakeph heard the cheers of his opponents, to his intense irritation. He would –

Then he realized he couldn't. He was stuck to the floor. The all too familiar feel of restraining glue sent a blazing panic through his engrams that he couldn't stop. The cheers of his enemies became distant and seemed to change, becoming the taunting laughter of organics. Alert after alert rose through the buffers, building too fast to be cleared, as he struggled to free himself. He had to get free. He had to get free. He had to –

Then his mind was abruptly overwhelmed. The world snapped back into focus and Ahmakeph was looking into the face of a Cryptek, single ocular glowing with power. Vaguely, he recognized the trappings and staff of a Psychomancer. All emotion was dispelled, his engrams forcibly stilled and Ahmakeph recognized, with a deep sense of shame, that they had needed to call this cryptek to calm him.

"He will be fine now," the Cryptek said, straightening and to his further shame, Ahmakeph saw that Manric was by his side. How long had he been trapped in that hell of remembrance? How many of his fellow Necrons had seen him in that state? How many of the HUMANS?

"We are going to free you. Please remain still," Manric said and Ahmakeph's shame turned to rage. He knew it was bizarre and unfair but he still flung a series of insult glyphs at the other Overlord. Manric made a soft sound simulating a sigh and shame twisted in his chest again.

"I did not need help. I am fine," Ahmakeph said harshly as two unfamiliar warriors began removing the glue with a solvent. The Death Seekers were gone which was just as well, he'd have been tempted to kill them. Green eyes glowed brightly as Manric bent over him.

"Please don't lie. Ahmakeph, what you're experiencing is called dissociation," Manric's voice was quiet and Ahmakeph wanted to curse him. He was not some weak organic! "It happens when the mind tries to retreat from pain by breaking the links to the body. It's a good survival strategy at the time, but it has long term effects. You've been complaining about being too slow… discomfort and unfamiliarity with your own body is a clear sign of it. What happened today was a reality break."

"Shut up. Just shut up. I don't need your help," Ahmakeph grated out and to his surprise, Manric gave him a glyph of acknowledgement.

"I accept that. You are very strong, to recover this quickly and this well. But if you ever need help, do not hesitate to ask." Ahmakeph made another series of insult glyphs, but they were weaker as he registered the genuine nature of the offer. He hated it, but he knew the former human meant well. Manric ignored the insults and silently left as the glue was removed from his body. When he could, Ahmakeph stood and wished he remembered the names of those Death Seekers. Not to kill them, not now, but he had an intense desire to thrash them to an inch of their lives.

More than anything, he hated his own weakness.