Guilliman would have found Imotekh's priorities to be extremely strange, although he would have understood if they were explained.

Hive Worlds were the engines of the Imperium, the producers of massive amounts of consumer goods that allowed the Imperium to function. In particular, they produced the masses of military equipment that was required for the endless war that was the 40th Millennium. They were very important.

For Imotekh the Stormlord, they just weren't. The consumer goods had some value, for the other planets in his sphere, but the military equipment was inferior and geared towards humans. It wasn't even useful for his new Serf humans. They preferred their own equipment and it was arguably better than most of what was produced. Some Hive Worlds had valuable mining, but many didn't. They were just giant manufactories, taking in the raw products of other worlds.

Civilised Worlds were a mixed bag, but genuinely better than Hive Worlds. Most of them produced something useful: Luminous, for instance, produced fine adamantium ore from the fourth planet in the system. And Civilised Worlds had the great advantage of being able to maintain themselves. Unlike the Hive Worlds, which were highly dependant on Agri Worlds, Civilised Worlds could maintain themselves with no outside support for some time. Because of that, Imotekh favored them greatly.

Agri Worlds again, had no direct use to Imotekh, except to feed the rest of his human empire. But given the smaller size of what he had taken from the Imperium, some of them produced an excess that could be traded to outside powers like the Tau for useful things. Some of it even got back to the Imperium, by very backdoor channels.

Inside the empire the Phaeron was building were also Feudal, Feral and Pleasure Worlds. Imotekh found them all rather annoying and was more than willing to reshape them to his will. Feral worlds were generally too much of a nuisance, but if there was a valuable resource that required intensive mining, he had no qualms about making the natives do it or bringing in the equipment for it. Feudal worlds tried his patience, because he considered them larval Civilised Worlds that for some reason were refusing to advance. One particular Feudal World in his empire, Scaramy, was undergoing a forced technological evolution. The resources there were too precious to remain unused.

Pleasure Worlds were not, for the Necrons, pleasurable. The necrontyr homeworld had been a desert planet and those were the conditions they were evolved to both tolerate and love. Necrons took that to an extreme past their fleshy ancestors. The ancient necrontyr had found a great love for semi-arid, fertile plains, considering them to be near to paradise. Necrons preferred the harshest deserts possible, as long as they didn't have too much wind.

So for the former Imperial Pleasure Worlds, their place and function was completely irrelevant. Most of them were being converted to Civilised Worlds, easily Imotekh's favorite type. The people living there largely didn't mind, as they were suddenly given the freedom to have more children, something that had been strictly controlled by the Imperium before. Eventually they might mind the degradation in quality of life but that would take many, many generations.

At this point, Guilliman might have asked: Why do this at all? What was the point? And he would have thought it was foolish, but understood the answer: An Empire with no subjects is not an Empire at all. As annoying and stupid as Imotekh often found his human slaves, they were alive, unpredictable and therefore, interesting. Their adoration or hatred had meaning. The blank stares of Necron warriors had no value, and his Lords and Overlords required their own subjects. They would have denied it but Imotekh knew that a decent amount of the friction and general malcontent he had to deal with was directly related to the lack of commoners to idolize them and serve their whims. Right now they were still expanding but someday, he would be gifting Lords and Overlords their own private fiefs with human subjects. Most of them didn't even know they wanted subjects and would likely deny it, but Imotekh knew what they craved.

(to be fair, it would also depend how you put the question to them. If they were asked, 'if necrontyr commoners could magically be returned would you be pleased?' most would say yes)

So ultimately, while the Necrons might be dead, Imotekh wanted an empire populated by the living. That made the Tyranids his sworn foe, because they would strip away everything that gave his afterlife meaning. And once in a while, that could lead to very strange alliances indeed.

Imotekh glared at the star map in front of him, contemplating what to do.

Orikan had given him word of a new Tyranid intrusion, a large Hive Fleet. It was going to come up from beneath the galaxy, stabbing upwards and into the Realm of Ultramar. Theoretically, the Stormlord didn't have to do anything. Humans could take care of themselves. But…

What if they can't? The Tyranids grew stronger with every victory and their fleets could easily start to break apart, spilling out like rivers of pus. If that happened, if they got a few feasts and split, they would likely go after the Tau, the Exodites, and start spilling into the Segmentum Ultima, the heart of his domain. Imotekh glanced at Orikan's prognostications, snorting internally at one point. Apparently Solemnance could be in danger. Oh no, how tragic.

Orikan's recommendation was that he act, and spearhead the defense at an agri planet named Masali. That was critical because this Hive Fleet was half starved from coming in under the galaxy, a path that took heavy energy expenditures but evaded most detection, stabbing up like a knife in the belly. But that meant they needed a quick victory or they were going to be in serious trouble. Not fully defeated, not at all, but severely weakened.

That made Imotekh's intervention critical because while the Ultramarines were tough, they had nothing like Orikan. They would get there after the Fleet had half-digested the planet and was feeling frisky. Only the Stormlord had the ability to get there in time.

While Imotekh made his own decisions, it was foolish to disregard Orikan the Diviner's direct advice. Also, there was solid logic behind it so he made his decision. Zahndrekh's forces were available and waiting for orders. Imotekh considered how to explain it to his mildly brain damaged nemesor before summoning an orb. This would not be a full conversation, just a canned message.

"Zahndrekh, we have a stubborn dynasty facing a greater threat, one that can easily become ours. A kind of organic plague," this was difficult, Zahndrekh would be confused. He'd run into Tyranids before but always had trouble reconciling them with his dream. "Go to them and offer our help. Coordinates…" Imotekh quickly related the star position of Masali. "Let Manric speak to them, he can speak their language and will have better success." Imotekh was sure of that. He could, and would, utilize his empathic telepathy to be as persuasive as possible. Imotekh snorted to himself.

Manric was nearly as hobbled by honor and ethics as Zahndrekh, but it was for the best, after all.

Manric leaned against his spear, not really looking forward to what was about to happen.

Firstly, he wasn't really looking forward to reasoning with the Astartes commander in charge of Masasli. They were among the most loyal of the Imperium's followers and the most likely to shout things like "Heresy!" and "Die vile xenos!" Also, Manric found the Space Marine's physical alterations repulsive. They were so big and ungainly. Ironic, perhaps, coming from an eight-foot metallic skeleton but agility was Manric's stock in trade. He doubted any Astartes could dance.

(it was a very Eldar point of view)

The other thing he wasn't looking forward to was just the task ahead of them. Fighting Tyranids was uniquely weird and messy. At once completely organized via the Hive Mind, and completely disorganized as they fought like rabid beasts, the actions of the Tyranids were not easy to predict. They could even give Zahndrekh trouble. And even for Necrons, fighting them was flat out unpleasant, as they weaponized the planet to make the situation worse. Manric could only imagine how bad it was for regular humans and even Astartes.

Manric was a bit amused at the reaction of the ships surrounding Masali as their Necron fleet came out of FTL and dropped into the system. Some very clearly civilian ships bolted in terror, frantically getting their warp generators online. Good, they could take word to nearby systems. As for the few military ships in orbit… could a ship flinch? They certainly didn't know what to do. This was a small force, a mere picket. And now it was abruptly facing the might of a full wing of the Stormlord's armada.

"Let's see if they will talk," Zahndrekh said with cheer that was a bit forced. Manric was sure many of his attempts at talk had been abruptly refused. But in the mistaken belief that he was dealing with other necrontyr, he kept trying.

"If they don't, they are lunatics." Manric said, although he knew lunacy did seem to infest the Imperium. Still, if a fleet of this strength dropped into your system and indicated the desire to TALK, any commander would be wise to listen.

So it proved.

"This is the territory of the Ultramarines, beneath the Imperium of Man. Remove yourselves, xenos filth!" Well, not unexpected. Although Manric could easily detect that this was bluster overlaying fear.

(they liked to claim Astartes didn't feel fear, but that was bluster too)

(it did take a lot to make them feel fear)

"We can do that," Manric agreed, catching the Ultramarine commander off guard. "Of course, if we DO do that, you'll all be dead in a week. The Tyranid Hive Fleet is scheduled to arrive then." Manric leaned forward to the screen, fixing the Ultramarine commander with what he hoped was a sincere posture. He didn't have many facial expressions to work with. "Are you sure you don't want us to stay for a while?"

"I… what Tyranid fleet? There have been no reports," the Ultramarine said, trying to get his balance. Manric could tell he didn't actually disbelieve them. This planet had been hit before and was on the edge of the galaxy so what they were saying was completely plausible.

"It's coming up from under the galaxy. It's a new tactic they have been using," Manric said and he sensed grim belief from the Ultramarine. Ah, they'd already been encountering that. "And that is why we're here."

"Explain further, xenos scum. Why would you offer your strength to defend the Holy Empire of Man?" Well, he could do without the insults, but the question itself was rational. Manric would take it.

"We have those who can reach into the future, albeit imperfectly." Orikan would sniff in outrage at that, but Manric didn't want them to think the Necrons were actually good at it. "Our prognostications are that this Hive Fleet is very, very hungry. If we can prevent them from taking this world, a good half of their Fleet could starve to death." Bizarre to say in regards to actual spaceships, but the Tyranids were bizarre. "We have a rare opportunity to break their strength before they can gain any traction. If we fail to do that, this world will refresh them and they will begin to split their fleet. From there, our prognostications strongly indicate they will enter the Sautekh empire." Manric paused for a moment. "You are not remotely our friends, but the Tyranids are anathema. I am sure you understand that some xenos are worse than others."

"We must discuss this among ourselves. Please wait." Fair enough. The connection closed, but no hostile actions were taken and Manric sensed Zahndrekh's relief.

"They will make the right decision now, I am sure of it," Zahndrekh said and Manric agreed. If they refused him, he would be quite surprised. The only question was how long it would take before they had an answer.

Not too long, as it turned out. Barely an hour.

"Very well, for the sake of breaking the Tyranid threat, we will accept your aide," the Ultramarine said and Manric was sure very little else could make him cooperate with Necrons. But the Tyranids were truly horrendous. "Will you bring forces to the planet?"

"Yes, with your consent. No matter how well we fight in the sky, the Tyranid spores will get through." That was just a fact of life. "We will need to station them in your domes." That was only logical, the Tyranids would go right for them. Manric could sense the Ultramarine absolutely hated it, but he nodded anyway.

"Bring your shuttles down. By my word, they will not be fired upon and the domes will open for them." Manric felt his sincerity and nodded back. Then Zahndrekh began giving the orders and Manric hesitated. "Should I go with them?"

"No, stay with me in case we need to speak to this stubborn dynasty again. You are having more success than I ever have!" Understandable, since Manric was cheating without shame, exercising his empathic telepathy to make himself more persuasive. Manric nodded, staying put on the bridge of the Yama. He was confident his men could get along without him for now, although when the battle with the Tyranids began he would go to join the ground battle. Zahndrekh and certain other Overlords with intense naval acumen would handle the battle in the stars. Manric wasn't bad at such things, not at all, but his psyker powers would make him more valuable on the ground. In particular, his powers could be used to counter the energies of a Hive Tyrant. Their psychic powers intersected with his in a grotesque way and often, Manric would be radiating courage and hope while a Hive Tyrant was radiating terror. It was quite a conflict. Manric hated it, but with the Tyranids, he hated everything.

It was the one thing that nearly everyone in the galaxy would agree on.