Resouling Zahndrekh took over a day.
It was not the soul itself that took so long, it was the inevitable chaos afterwards. Everyone had expected it though and Manric spent that time deeply immersed in Zahndrekh's pain, trying to help him find acceptance. It was every bit as bad as Obyron and Ahmakeph had feared and they did their best to help as well, but there was only so much they could do. Manric amplified their words, helping them reach Zahndrekh even when he was lost in his own mind. Ironically, it was Ahmakeph finally losing his temper and telling Zahndrekh to get out of his own ass and come back to lead them that finally worked and brought him back to coherency. He was still badly damaged by what he'd endured, but Manric was confident he would recover.
What brought the entire resouling process to a halt for three days, and nearly sent Manric for recall, though, was something completely unexpected.
Manric knew next to nothing about Overlord Hotehyt. He only knew that he was a very highly ranked administrator, managing an entire sector of Imotekh's empire very well. Manric felt nothing and suspected nothing, as he completed the resouling operation. It went completely smoothly and he expected Hotehyt to leave and return to the impromptu convocation that this seemed to be turning into.
He did not expect Hotehyt to pick up his Staff of Light and viciously strike him in the chest.
?! Manric was flung across the room, his chest almost caved in. Red warnings blazed as he slid down the wall, leaving behind a sticky trail of lubricant as his flux outgassed. Emergency repairs kicked in, sealing some of the damage but Manric was unable to move as Hotehyt screamed. It was a sound unlike anything he'd heard before and would have raised the hair on his arms, if he'd still had that. And with that scream came something much worse for Manric, a sense of mental agony so fierce that it stabbed at his mind like a psychic attack.
The Staff came at him a second time and Manric jerked his head to the side, avoiding a blow that would have caved in his skull. He grabbed the staff just beneath the head and held on for dear life, as Hotehyt tried to hit him again. He succeeded after a fashion, pinning Manric down and sending more warnings blazing through his mind as something crunched in his lower abdomen. His own spear was leaned against the wall and might as well have been a thousand miles away.
Then two other Overlords rushed into the room and tried to restrain Hotehyt. He fought like a mad thing, still screaming and they had to fight hard to subdue him. A Psychomancer was finally required, to come shock him into the necron equivalent of unconsciousness. Manric himself was falling in and out of awareness, as his body struggled to deal with the tremendous amount of damage he'd just taken. He came back to a bit of awareness to look into Imotekh's face.
"What went wrong?" The Stormlord asked and Manric struggled to answer the question.
"I don't know." As far as he could tell, nothing had gone wrong until Hotehyt had gone insane. A Technomancer bent over him as Imtokh stared at him, eyes flaring.
"Find out." Manric nodded. That was imperative, to understand what had just happened.
It took Manric the next three days, using his empathic telepathy and working with the Psychomancers, to fully understand what had happened. When the ugly truth was revealed, he immediately asked Imotekh for a full meeting of the high court. That was necessary, because they would have to decide what would be done about what he had discovered. This was not a decision Imotekh would even want to make himself, with such a powerful Overlord involved.
"Manric will report to us all, now. What flaw is there in the resouling process?" Imotekh rumbled and Manric bowed slightly before beginning.
"There is no flaw in the resouling process. It went exactly as planned. Unfortunately, what we did not anticipate was that someone might have an extremely negative reaction to it." Manric paused a moment before going directly into it. "We all know that the memories the C'Tan gave you, of rebelling against them and being dragged through the Furnace in chains, are largely false." Not entirely so. Imotekh and Obyron had both gone through in chains. But Ahmakeph had just been dragged through and there were numerous other minor differences, when they recalled the past. "Many of you walked through the fires for power, but were betrayed even so, because you did not know about the children." That was the great thing that led them to forgive themselves, when they realized they'd walked through voluntarily. They hadn't known, they had believed the C'Tan's promises. It was painful, but they could forgive themselves. "However, there is much worse."
"Hotehyt made a Judas' bargain," Manric said and immediately caught his mistake, cursing himself. "My apologies… in the religion of my people, Judas is the name of a notorious traitor, so notorious that his name is synonymous with betrayal. The Judas' bargain specifically refers to the price paid to a traitor… Hotehyt's price was his rank. He was only a minor Lord, before the time of biotransference. For his allegiance and help, he was promised the rank of high Overlord and that false memories of a relationship to the Phaeron would be implanted in your minds." The silence in the room was thick, as they stared at him. "He knew about the children. He prepared the area that was used to sacrifice them, disguising it as a pavilion for the C'Tan." The silence now was absolutely ghastly. Then, it was broken with a soft hiss.
"Kill him." Manric had never heard such loathing and other voices raised, all calling for Hotehyt's death. Imotekh's eyes were blazing but he raised his hand for silence.
"Finish your report," he said and Manric nodded.
"I think that Hotehyt always knew he had been artificially elevated, but the C'Tan wiped away the exact reason why. For sixty million years, though, a seed of doubt has wormed through his mind, eating him with a trace of guilt. To have the memories returned has crushed his mind," Manric said, glancing around the meeting. "I also recommend death, although for a slightly different reason… What little is left of his mind is endlessly looping, re-living the moment that his self-image was utterly destroyed. It is a rare form of torture and while he does not deserve it, for his crimes against you, I think we should give him mercy." The silence that followed was leaden before Imotekh broke it with glyphs indicating the darkest of amusement.
"You almost convince me to let him live, but he will meet his end like the traitorous dog he is. Lord Itotek, prepare the high execution." Manric had not seen that yet but from what he understood, that was a full ritual, reserved for the darkest of traitors and vilest of enemies. "It is good to know there is no flaw with the resouling process and this filth will be removed from our ranks. Hopefully he is the only one to have transgressed so." From the way Imotekh said that, Manric could tell he wasn't sure. Manric wasn't sure either and he could tell the court had some doubts, with how they glanced at each other. Manric suspected that some of them might be consulting ancient records, trying to verify their own lineage. "Continue with the resouling. I will let you all know when the execution is scheduled." Manric bowed, along with much of the court, taking their dismissal. There were a few glances at him and Manric knew they would be wary of the resouling for a while after this disaster. Well, he could work on the lesser Lords for a while if needed.
There were plenty of necrons who still needed to be resouled who were too low ranked to be such profound traitors to the necron race.
Overlord Kallathsek absolutely hated his life.
Tadutep and Semephren had both turned traitor to the Charnovokh, as expected. They were far from the only ones… all the other Crypteks had turned, but that was not really surprising. Crypteks were considered special for their technical knowledge and Dynasties were normally willing to give captive ones a chance. That meant that traditionally, they were more willing to change allegiances and there was less stigma attached to it. If a Phaeron wanted his Crypteks back, it was his obligation to go get them, not theirs to win free.
For Overlords like Kallathsek it was a different matter. Tadutep had turned, but he was scarcely attached to the Charnovokh in the first place, a mere mercenary in their service during the Flesh Times. But what had dismayed Kallathsek to the extreme was the two other Overlords who had defected. Both nobles of the Charnovokh, the allure of the souls they had been given and what Sautekh was building had sucked them in. He cursed them bitterly for it and cursed Imotekh even more for taking their loyalty. That left just himself and two others as the holdouts, still loyal to their Dynasty. Kallathsek was honestly expecting to be executed and resigned himself to death.
Instead, he was given a strange and irritating reprieve.
The Stormlord himself spoke to him, via a canned message. There was no need for anything more, as he was simply dictating how the future would be to his prisoner.
Overlord Kallathsek, I respect your loyalty to the Charnovokh. Wonderful. That was exactly the kind of thing you said before you executed someone. As a token of that respect, I will tell you what the future holds for you. You will be sent to the Hopian asteroid belts, to provide menial labor, for a time. Wait, WHAT?! That was INSULTING! He should be executed like the warrior he was, not turned into a – a slave! But only for a time. When I am ready to move against Charnovokh, I will send you and your fellow Overlords home with my demands. For two solar years, as our traditions dictate, they will be able to mull over my demands and come to a decision. This was still insulting! If you wish to engage in any futile attempts to escape you may, but reflect on this: I only need one of you to carry my message. The message ended and Kallathsek glared at the air.
"Rust off!" Damn Imotekh to a thousand deaths! What an utter disgrace, to put them to hard labor. Kallathsek stewed on it, well aware he'd been given a warning to behave, or else. Well, he would see… if he saw a good opportunity to escape he would take it. But from what little he knew, such an asteroid belt mining operation would likely be very hard to escape.
Overlord Kallathsek sincerely resented being used for manual labor and if that had been his only fate, he would have chosen death. But if there was a chance to return home, perhaps he would bear it for a time.
Sehenna hovered at the door to Manric's quarters, caught in a mental quandary.
Being awakened from the endless dream was strange for her, because she remembered everything. Most of it was just endless years of finding new firing solutions, exercising her skill in an infinite dance of death. But sometimes, there was something more. She remembered several Overlords before Manric, most who had treated her and the others like – like furniture. Things to be used and tossed aside when they were broken. Sehenna knew that was only logical, they really HAD been nothing but things, but with her mind back she held resentment towards all of those Overlords.
And then there was Manric. He was kind and polite to all of them, even if they couldn't respond. He even had tried to reassure her, when everyone else would have told him it was pointless. And Sehenna remembered watching him with the others, the pwi-necrons who could speak. The easy camaraderie and the sense of deep kindness she had from him, the loyalty the others gave him.
Manric was special. Manric was so special, and Sehenna put her hands together as she thought about it. It was so foolish to have feelings like this but Sehenna felt a deep longing in her core, that mimicked her heart. For a necrontyr, Sehenna was mature but no more than that. A capable adult but still a bit young, she had thought she would serve perhaps five more years in the navy and if she was still alive, request a transfer back to the space habitats to have her children. She had been serving since she was fifteen, ten years was a good career for a female.
But that was when she had had flesh. Sehenna looked down at her own hands with a feeling of deep regret. What was she doing? Sadness smote her heart and she sighed heavily before turning away. There was no point –
"Sehenna?" AH! She almost jumped, turning back to see that Manric had opened the door and was looking at her in puzzlement. "I felt you… are you well?" Oh, his psyker gifts, he had felt her emotions. That was a bit embarrassing.
"I am fine… I wondered if I could speak to you?" Now that he was in front of her she so wanted to. Manric tilted his head slightly but then nodded.
"I would not mind," he said before opening the door fully and letting her in. "Are you doing well here?" That question made her hesitate.
"Well enough," Sehenna said, a touch evasively. Most of the real necrons immediately mistook her for a normal Necron Warrior. Understandable, but they were very taken aback when she responded as a real person. Some of them expected her to behave in a way she was not trained to… as a naval rating, born and raised, Sehenna's training in etiquette was different from a landbound commoner. It was uncomfortable for her as she tried to understand what they wanted. She had started shunning her own kind and spending more time with the pwi-necrons who expected nothing of her. "Manric, I…" Sehenna almost lost her courage. Almost, but then she looked into his face. The face of a machine with glowing green eyes, but she knew what lay beneath.
Sehenna moved and their chests hit together with a clang as she tried to embrace him. It wasn't the same, there were no soft curves meeting harder male lines, but her warrior body was smaller and slighter than his Overlord frame. It took imagination but she made it fit and pressed her face against his. Their cheeks scraped together with a sound of metal on metal but Sehenna did not care. She felt uplifted, filled with admiration and a passionate desire.
"Sehenna," Manric's voice was out of tone as his hands slid over her body, trailing down her spine. Sehenna shivered and moaned softly, not caring that her voice was a machine's cry as her emotions seemed to grow stronger. That desire that lay between them was burning her up and she wanted more. Oh, she wanted more!
There was more and it never seemed to end as they explored each other, hands tracing harsh metal lines in a parody of lovemaking. Both of them were too caught up in what they were doing to see the aeldari spear, in the weapons rack, flaring with pale light.
Ahmakeph was sparring with Obyron when it happened.
What 'it' was, was a strange feeling of tugging. His soul was separate from Manric's in a very important way, and it belonged to Ahmakeph now. But it was still originally a piece of Manric's soul and had a strange affinity to him. Ahmakeph preferred to not be around Manric sometimes, when he was invoking his greater psyker gifts. Particularly when he was suffering a psychic attack, it caused Ahmakeph's chest to twinge.
Ahmakeph smoothly signalled an end to the bout and Obyron obeyed, tilting his head questioningly. Ahmakeph ignored that for a moment, trying to isolate what was wrong. Then he felt that tug again and rubbed his chest. Was that what he though it was?
"Manric's spear?" Ahmakeph said distractedly. The aeldari spirits in the spear were vastly better with such things than Manric, mostly from long experience of existing as souls. They had been warriors in life and not necessarily trained in such things, from what he understood of the eldar. Still, that was vastly better than what any other race had. "…" The tug came again and this time it was accompanied by a twinge. "Is he under psychic attack?"
"In Mandragora? That is impossible… isn't it?" Zahndrekh said. He was a bit more subdued than he had been before, but he was recovering. Ahmakeph was starting to feel very unnerved, as another twinge came through his chest.
"Something is wrong… I must go," he said before abruptly bolting out of the training room. Ahmakeph was vaguely aware of Obyron and Zahndrekh following, curious and concerned about what was happening. It didn't matter though, he needed to reach Manric.
Manric's door was closed but not locked and Ahmakeph let himself in to an utterly bizarre scene. Manric appeared to be… Ahmakeph struggled to even find the words for it and finally had to reach for the Flesh Times. Engaging in heavy petting? A prelude to sexual engagement? But with a Necron Warrior. They were both making soft cries that he swore were a form of lust, as bizarre as it seemed, and the aeldari spear was glowing like a sun.
"Stop it the both of you! Stop it now!" Ahmakeph snapped as he grabbed the warrior and attempted to pry it out of Manric's grip. He had no idea why this was dangerous, it just looked like a perversion, but the spear wouldn't be glowing that way if things were fine. Then Obyron was there and he took care of Manric, prying away his hands as Ahmakeph yanked back the warrior female.
(at least, he assumed this was a female. If not, they were going the next level on their perversity)
(Ahmakeph didn't mind such things, exactly, but he'd always held them in a bit of disdain)
"No, don't make it stop, it was so good," the warrior said and she sounded like she had been taking pemina paste. "Why did you make it stop? Please, it was so good!" Fortunately, Manric was a bit more coherent, where he was being held against the wall by Obyron.
"Oh god. I didn't know that could happen. I swear, I had no idea." What? "I always knew… with empathy, you have to be so careful not to let negative emotions overwhelm you. You can reflect them back, amplify them, cause a feedback loop." That sounded reasonable, although Ahmakeph knew nothing of psyker powers. "I didn't know a positive feedback loop was possible. She overwhelmed me with her emotions and I mirrored them back, increasing them, and she kept feeding them back… thank you. Thank you for stopping it, that could have killed us both." Manric sounded shocked and overwhelmed by his experience.
"Do you need to see the Crypteks?" Both the Technomancers and the Psychomancers could help, if Manric had damaged himself. The Necron Warrior was still quietly whining about her lost pleasures. "Shut up!" Ahmakeph snarled at her and she stopped, her head turning to look at him. Ahmakeph had the feeling that she was only really registering his presence for the first time.
"Who are you… what happened…" She sounded more coherent now, and confused. Obyron let go of Manric and he tried to take a step before almost collapsing. Obyron caught him before he could fall.
"Yes, I should see the crypteks. We both should, I think. Sehenna, can you walk?" So her name was Sehenna. She tried to take a step and proved she couldn't, nearly folding up. "I am so sorry, this is my fault for letting my psyker abilities get away from me." …Hmph. Ahmakeph grunted, flashing glyphs of skepticism and disagreement. He had a feeling the female was every bit as much at fault here, even if she hadn't known what she was starting. "Ah… I can't argue about it, not right now. Obyron, I'm sorry, do you mind helping me?"
"Of course not," Obyron rumbled and half-carried Manric out the door. Ahmakeph followed with the female and Zahndrekh trailed behind. He had been watching the whole thing with an air of fascination and Ahmakeph felt that there might be some terrible jokes, when Manric was recovered enough to appreciate them. Well, that was all to the good.
Terrible jokes meant Zahndrekh was recovering.