Jared Wenzos of the 2nd Division, the Blades, was grimly ready to defend the Feral World of Kanak.
All of the Blades were ready. Necrons would of course be infinitely worse than feral orks, but they had a solid core of necrons of their own, a contingent from the God's Hands. In addition to that, their picket had quickly sent down a few shuttles of Immortals and Warriors when they had realized what was going on.
What was going on was a raid on the world for the precious metals of the swamps. Jared knew they went into all kinds of necron technology, primarily the precious and deadly Veil of Darkness and the arcane Tesseracts used to imprison C'Tan. Not to mention a host of other things, most of which he had not even heard of. Many of the necrons greatest military marvels needed at least a tiny bit of the odd substance. So these raiders intended to take what they could and blow up the swamp, depriving the Sautekh of this source of it. The Blades, the God's Hands and the defending necrons aimed to stop them. The defenders had the advantage of fortifications and fixed emplacements, but the attackers had the advantage of numbers.
For Jared and his unit, seriously fighting against necrons was a new experience. Fortunately, the feral orks had prepared them somewhat… despite being completely feral and locked at primitive technology level, they could be impressively nasty. Where they excelled was at throwing off their own version of shamans and tapping into the Warp, blasting the human forces with sorcery. Jared distinctly remembered seeing a friend getting hit by a bolt and turned into something that had looked like a very large chicken, before going insane and attacking everyone before being put down. On his list of bad ways to die, that was still somewhere near the top but distinctly below the defecating squig incident.
Compared to the bizarre antics of the orks, fighting necrons was clean but deadly. Hordes of Canoptek scarabs came towards them but were met with their own, countering horde. Gauss flayer blasts were traded back and forth and Jared concentrated on his own duty, ignoring the overall battlefield. He fired and ducked, fired and ducked. At least one of his blasts connected squarely, shredding a necron Warrior.
After perhaps an hour of intense fighting, when many of the enemy had been reduced to scrap but several of their emplacements had been shredded, Jared got to experience one of the most frustrating things about necrons.
On the other side was a powerful Overlord, a Szarekhan noble and he had been hanging back and directing the battle, not confronting them directly. The reason why was made clear when he lifted a hand holding an orb, and all the shattered Necron Warriors came back together. Jared swore, but he wasn't surprised… he'd noticed the bits and pieces were not phasing out for recall and that meant they were either too far away for their own recall functions, or were being deliberately delayed. Narrowing his eyes, he began to fire on the resurrected warriors, aware that they were in dire danger of being massacred now.
Fall back to point Tetra, came a cool order and Jared moved smoothly with the remainders of his squad, abandoning the fortifications and tossing dazzling sensor grenades to cover the retreat. The Canoptek scarabs spent themselves, also buying them a bit of confusion and time to move to their new position. Jared could see why… the pounding of their enemies had reduced many of their current positions to nothing but trash.
The secondary positions were deeper in the swamp and they were giving up a great deal. Jared knew that the enemy necrons wouldn't bother with humans using their feet, they would immediately dispatch machines to just tear apart the swamp to find the precious transpositanium. They would probably destroy most of it, but from their perspective that was also a win. The defenders dug in at the new position, still gamely trying to defend the majority of the swamp. Hopefully the looting would distract the attackers for a bit.
Fortunately it did and the pressure eased up on them for a bit. Everyone was able to take a moment, eat a bit, drink some water and in some cases, mutter about the swamp. Fortunately point Tetra had platforms that kept them out of the muck. The swamp soil on them was cold and clammy, clinging to the skin and drying in a rather disgusting way. Jared ignored it, concentrating on the swamp. The enemies would be attacking again soon.
Sure enough, metal skeletons began coming through the filthy swamp. More scarabs but those were mostly done. The battle started again and Jared concentrated on firing and ducking, firing and ducking… a gauss flayer blast almost hit him, but almost wasn't good enough and he killed the Warrior who'd fired it. A group of Immortals tried to rush their position but were beaten back by their own Immortals, countering with the same tactics.
Then the pressure suddenly eased and Jared blinked.
"They're pulling back!" Someone yelled and Jared kept firing, but it did definitely seem like the enemies were disengaging. Why? "Reinforcements have arrived!" Ahhhh. Yes, that must be it.
As Jared and the other defenders had intuited, a small attack group from Mimipek had just arrived to assist in the naval battle that was still ongoing. While they were a mere three ships and largely meaningless, that let the raiders know that they had a huge problem on their hands. The nemesor in charge of the raiders assumed their FTL blocking had failed, although he did not know how… he would figure out the actual mechanism later, when he thought about it a bit more. But for now, this small squad was a sign of something much worse on the way. If he wanted to get out, he needed to do it now.
The forces on the planet were recalled, leaving behind the scrap of some Warriors and Immortals but bringing with them a nice basket of transpositanium. They deliberately detonated the swamp they'd taken as they left, reducing it to utter ruins and destroying the remaining deposits. That left a good three quarters of the swamp intact but was still a great blow to the planet and the Sautekh Empire as a whole. The defenders were angry but not remotely surprised at the damage… they had known it would be this way.
So for the Silent King's forces, the raid was not entirely a success but not a dismal failure either. Losses were acceptable for what they had acquired, although it could have been better. For the defenders it was much the same… they had taken painful losses, particularly among the humans who could not recall, but they had saved most of the swamp. It could have been better but it could have been infinitely worse.
When it was all over, Jared looked over what was left of the Blades and realized they had lost perhaps a quarter of their forces. Faces were missing, friends he'd known for so long and with the nature of the gauss flayers, they would not even recover the bodies. Married men, who were not going home to their families tonight. Jared took a deep breath, centering himself. This was what they were here for, this was how things had to be.
They lived to serve.
Manric wasn't exactly enjoying his time on Djenakht's ship.
It wasn't any fault of the hospitality; it was just that he was missing his friends. Sehenna, most of all. Itolyx and Ahmakeph, Zahndrekh and Obyron, all the Captains and his son Artur. The other men he knew by name, the pwi-necrons and Immortals now too. Manric started making new friends among the Immortals on Djenakht's ship but it was a bit difficult. They had no innate connection to him, no shared culture and while in Zahndrekh's wing the Immortals had been slowly awakened and bonded with the pwi-necrons, Djenakht's Immortals had no real experience with Hopian culture.
Worse yet, the main experience they had with human ways was Kakkophet's work as a Prophet. Kakkophet had heard of Manric's meeting with an Angel and considered him holy because of it. It was all incredibly awkward but due to the absolute necessity of preventing Khornite influence, Manric did his best to answer questions and lead the Immortals to the right path. He was the softer, saner voice beside Kakkophet's passionate sermons. Together, they made a strangely powerful team. Manric consoled himself with the fact that he was doing what was best for them.
Manric ended up spending a great deal of time with Djenakht himself. The nemesor of the fleet was quiet and a bit odd, but Manric sensed he was just introverted by nature. A quiet genius of strategy, not quite at Zahndrekh's level but close, he was willing to play board games and actually pleased to find a new partner. He also held larger games, with up to six participants, where they engaged in a multi-sided war.
Djenakht's Overlords did not care for Manric much. It took a bit of effort but he came to understand the dislike… it was directed not at Manric himself, but at Zahndrekh and the fact that Manric served beneath the form King of Gidrim. They felt that their wing of the Stormlord's forces was overshadowed by him. Djenakht did not mind – he regarded it as a simple reality – but the Overlords under him minded very much. When the great Convocations were held, they all held slightly lower ranks than similar Overlords beneath Zahndrekh. Still, despite that dislike they tolerated him and would play games with him. Yet overall, Manric would be glad to get back to his own wing.
Fortunately, as interstellar distances went, Perdita was not that far away. Closer to the main Sautekh Empire than Hope, it was solidly inside the area claimed by the Imperium of Man, but they did not claim the necron Tomb Worlds of Mephrit. Interstellar territory was always rather fluid… it was far from unusual for there to be little cysts of relatively far away empires, ensconced within the territory of a greater Empire. Manric reflected on it for a moment… because of how Warp travel worked, it was possible for an Imperial ship to 'travel through' an entire ork or necron empire without the slightest issue. Matters were slightly more difficult for necron FTL tech, but only slightly. So was it any wonder that interstellar space was an impressively odd patchwork quilt?
Whatever the case might be, the Imperium was fully aware of the Mephrit Dynasty and just leaving them alone. They had bigger fish to fry and from what Manric had heard, the Mephrit had employed their technology once to help the Imperium against the Tyranids. Would that ever change? Probably not, unless the Mephrit became expansionistic. They were an incredibly tough nut for the Imperium to crack but if they started expanding, Guilliman might have no choice.
Manric brushed all those thoughts aside. He was here for one purpose, and one purpose alone… to secure an alliance with Zarathusa and help put him on the Phaeron's throne. It was unlikely Mephrit's technology would be useful in the Pariah Nexus, but they would deprive the Silent King of any possibility of acquiring it. The distances did matter and Mephrit's solar arrays were in striking distance of Sautekh, from what Manric understood.
Perdita, when they reached it, was actually a shockingly beautiful world. Surrounded by a powerful necron fleet, loyal to Zarathusa, the planet itself looked like it could be a Pleasure World. Oceans and white clouds and beautiful green continents. Manric wondered if the organic life pleased Zarathusa. He could certainly have gotten rid of it. He wondered about that aloud and Djenakht answered.
"It's said he very much enjoys the arid plains of this world, like our ancestors and ordered that life be preserved." Ah, interesting. "But as a consequence, when Zarathusa woke from the Great Sleep this planet was completely infested by humans… he had them removed." Oh. "You might see signs of it." Ah… so this was a warning.
"I understand," Manric said, resigned. The universe was most unfair and for any human settlement on a Tomb World, things tended to go badly indeed. If the drukhari had not destroyed Rahkaak's realm so thoroughly the same might have befallen Hope. Manric doubted it – Rahkaak was not remotely bloodthirsty – but she would still likely have enslaved them. Slaves were very much part of necron culture.
The necron fleet surrounding Perdita greeted them warily. They were both powerful forces. Djenakht introduced himself and they were soon granted an audience with Zarathusa the Ineffable. Manric thought that title was extremely amusing, mainly because despite having a good necron vocabulary, he'd been required to ask what it meant. If was a very little used word.
Djenakht and Manric both went to the surface of the planet with an honor guard of Lychguard. To Manric's relief, there was no sign of former human habitation on Perdita. It had all been wiped away and replaced with the structures of the necrons. They were situated on a great, arid plain.
"Ah, this is…" Manric glanced at Djenakht questioningly. He paused for a moment before continuing. "He is remaking the past, in a way. The great ziggurats and temples, the manses of the nobility, even some living quarters for commoners… I have seen this before, Nihilakh has also done this, but I do not like it. I prefer to forget." Ah.
"That's probably why he kept the organic life on this planet." Without it, it would not be possible to create a facsimile of the past. Djenakht nodded and Manric admired it a bit, as they were escorted through the city. It was essentially fake… the necron Warriors and Immortals patrolling it had no use for any of it… but it was beautiful. Zarathusa had been devoting some time and energy to replicating ancient statuary and art, but translated into a more modern style. The great statues of a powerful necrons were extremely impressive although Manric noticed they seemed to be portraying the same individual, over and over again. Djenakht muttered something and Manric hesitated as he felt displeasure? "I'm sorry?"
"I said, I hope you can return Zarathusa to sanity if only so he can be embarrassed at what he has done." What? "These statues are him." Wait… what?
"Oh." That… wasn't good. With that knowledge Manric looked at the statues in a completely new light and saw them as a sign of severe megalomania. They were still stunning and beautiful but also utterly disturbing. "Hopefully they can be remodeled a bit." If Zarathusa were returned to sanity, perhaps a few of them could be modified to appear to be other necrons, ancient heroes or simply fanciful depictions. One of them, the best, could still be kept as it was but this repetition was definitely disturbing.
"If we cannot awaken him from this, we should leave Mephrit to their fate." Yes. Imotekh had given them freedom to decide if Zarathusa was too deranged to work with.
They were escorted to Zarathusa's throne room and it was utterly gorgeous. Manric's optics were dazzled by the golden washed walls, worked into beautiful frescos depicting armies of necrons and huge circles that were surrounded by solar rays. The ancient sun manipulation this Dynasty was famous for, displayed in visual form. Arrayed against those walls were the Lychguard, thirteen in total. Behind Zarathusa's throne was an even greater tribute to the sun, a gloriously gilded and bejeweled solar display that Manric noticed was designed to highlight the throne itself, making it look like the one sitting in the throne was the centre of the sun. To Manric's utter shock, to either side of the throne were human females. Dressed in nothing but beads, they were not nearly Hopian dark, but dark skinned for the Imperium. Long hair flowed behind them, pooling on the ground and as Manric watched, one of them reached for a brush and began to groom it. They were quite lovely but they both had a strange expression, heavy lidded and dazed.
They are both Mindshackled, Djenakht said. In a very particular way, to cause constant euphoria. Ah, that was right, Manric had heard that Mindshackle Scarabs could do that. It normally wasn't done since it rendered the host almost useless, but that clearly wasn't a concern here.
They are 'concubines' taken in battle, Manric said, sure that was what they represented, not that Zarathusa could really do anything with them. Djenakht nodded and they said nothing more as they arrived in front of the throne.
Zarathusa really was a very imposing necron Overlord. His flux was an orange shade, with a matching jewel set in his forehead, glowing with internal fire. His body was washed with gold and arrayed around him was a great cloak of golden plaques, worked with intricate glyphs and set with fire opals. He wore a matching headdress, glowing with more precious fire opals and diamonds. An ostentatious display of wealth but also in relatively good taste. He rose from his throne as they approached.
"Overlord Djenakht, it has been a long time since I saw you. Who is this?" Zarathusa asked, looking at Manric curiously. In particular, his gaze lingered on the aeldari spear.
"This is Overlord Manrikh. He is originally from the Uhnashret Dynasty so you would not know him," Djenakht said, giving his name a slight necron spin in pronunciation. Zarathusa tilted his head to one side, thinking a moment before using glyphs of amusement.
"That tiny Dynasty? They survived the Great Sleep? I am shocked, or perhaps not so shocked. Nothing happens in the far end of the galaxy, does it?" That was actually a question as Zarathusa looked at him. Manric bowed slightly before responding.
"The Uhnashret Dynasty was almost destroyed, both by the vagaries of fortune and the actions of the drukhari. Fortunately we have recovered and are now sworn to the Sautekh as a vassal dynasty." That satisfied Zarathusa and he nodded. "We are here to offer our services and request alliance, if you are willing to accept the conditions." Zarathusa did not seem particularly insane to Manric. The contrary, he seemed calm and happy at the moment, but Manric was well aware that 'at the moment' might be the key.
"Conditions?" Zarathusa's mood started to shift towards unhappiness. "You mean to dictate terms to Zarathusa the Ineffable?"
"Imotekh the Stormlord may not be ineffable, but that is because his power is easy to describe, not because his power is less," Manric said very firmly, staring into Zarathusa's eyes. "He currently holds the Charnovokh as a vassal. Yes, he will dictate terms to you, so that you may gain the Phaeron's throne and be indebted to him." Imotekh had been right, just humoring Zarathusa's delusions would not help them in the slightest. Oh, they could easily put him on the throne but he would regard it as his due rather than a service.
"Hmph. What are these terms?" Zarathusa asked and Djenakht took over the explanation.
"We are currently at war with the Silent King." Zarathusa's eyes flared and Manric sensed that pleased him greatly. "In a short time, we will go to war with him over the Pariah Nexus. Then the fate of all organic life in the galaxy will be decided… if Szarekh has his way, all life will end."
"What? But that is madness! If all life comes to an end, so will he!" Zarathusa and Djenakht came to a sharp halt. Manric glanced at him and met his glance as they both knew. This is the true shape of his madness. Zarathusa was fallen into a delusion of the past and believed he was still flesh. That had also edged into megalomania, but this was the overarching problem. It's going to be virtually impossible to explain like this. Just like Zahndrekh had filtered the world through the prism of his disorder, so would Zarathusa. "Has Szarekh lost his mind?"
I am going to try something, Manric said privately to Djenakht before opening his mind. He carefully lowered his barriers and concentrated on Zarathusa, reaching out to him. As he did, he extended a hand, palm out. Please take my hand. Physical contact enhanced his powers considerably. If he could convince Zarathusa to take his hand…
Overlord Zarathusa reached out like he was in a trance and took Manric's hand. For a brief moment, Manric saw the world through his eyes… he saw himself as a young and vital necrontyr, and Djenakht as a grizzled old male. The Lychguard on the walls were all alive, wearing their ancient and powerful armor and when Zarathusa turned his head, Manric caught a glimpse of one of the women. In his vision, she was a beautiful necrontyr.
Then Manric deliberately forced Zarathusa to see reality. The women changed, just a bit, their skin lightening and faces changing. Zarathusa's gaze went back to him and he saw the cold steel, the glowing green eyes and the finery of the necrons. Djenakht, immortal and unchanging. The mechanical Lychguard, guarding eternally. Manric felt Zarathusa's horror, then his rejection.
Why are you showing me this? Zarathusa's thought was not entirely a thought, it was also an interstitial message. So Manric could hear it clearly, even though he usually communicated largely by emotions, not thoughts. Why are you showing me this lie?
It is not a lie, it is the painful truth. You know it is. Manric said with assurance and Zarathusa's hand tightened around his as he tried to keep denying. But it was so hard for him, when Manric's mind was touching his and singing with the truth. But it does not have to be cause for despair. A good life can be found here, in the land of the real.
"But there is a cost," Manric said aloud, moving out of that intense connection. Zarathusa's eyes fixed onto his. "We can provide you a soul. It will make this body of metal feel alive, and make this reality so much easier to bear… but if Szarekh wins and the Pariah Nexus is activated, you will die, as we all will die. Is that acceptable?" Manric expected Zarathusa to think about it. Instead, he flashed glyphs that formed a poem that was a story of mourning, of bitterness and eternal pain.
"If Szarekh wins, I have no interest in living," he said and Manric felt sure that part of his madness was an agony of memory. Was this also a defense mechanism, just like Zahndrekh? What had happened to Zarathusa?
Manric did not ask. Instead, he let go of Zarathusa's hand and moved quickly. If they waited any length of time this moment of clarity would fade, they needed to give him a soul quickly. Zarathusa held still through the procedure, although Manric sensed a few of the higher functioning Lychguard turning their heads to look, curious and disturbed by what was happening. With no sign of true distress from Zarathusa, though, they took no action.
Manric attached the ghost wood and quickly pushed the soul into Zarathusa's body. That done, he quickly spread it and customized it, with a smoothness few other psykers could manage. When the operation as done, Manric was relieved as he felt Zarathusa sliding smoothly into his new mindset, throwing aside his delusions. As he did, though, he glanced around.
"…What have I been doing…" He said after a moment, staring at the two women. One of them giggled softly, gazing at him with limpid eyes as the other set aside her brush and leaned against the throne. They both had cushions to rest on, Manric noticed. And Manric felt a great qualm… Zarathusa wasn't going to kill them, was he? Although Djenakht's fleet was unsuitable to humans, they would have to remain here for now. "…Ahthap…!" Zarathusa's voice rose to a roar. "Starsworn, present yourself before me!" Manric could sense nothing, he wasn't part of Zarathusa's interstitial network, but he was sure someone was being summoned.
Ahthap the Starsworn is a great luminary of the Plasmancers. He is a technomandrite of the highest caliber and partly responsible for the creation of the Mephrit's sun manipulation technology, Djenakht supplied and Manric wondered why Zarathusa would be so upset at his Plasmancer.
Ahthop, when he arrived, was easily the most beautiful necron that Manric had ever seen. He was delicate in a way that recalled Phaeron Rahkaak, almost feminine, and gloriously washed with rose gold. His shoulders were enamelled with jade green and the edges glittered with diamonds, with a matching loin covering of jade and gold plaques. His whole body was crusted with precious stones, but in surprisingly tasteful and elegant ways. Manric was particularly impressed by the emeralds that had been placed near his core, so they would catch the light of his flux and glitter like captured stars. His face was typical of a necron, but even there, little emeralds had been embedded in his cheeks, catching the light of his eyes. Ahthop also wore a great headdress, with a rose gold semi-circle that was meant to represent the sun. It had five points, each capped with a cabochon emerald. Hanging from his arms were plaques, attached to jade armbands and Manric could see the signs of extremely high rank. He leaned against a customized Eldritch Lance and the sight of it put Manric immediately on guard. It looked like a work of art, elegantly jeweled and engraved, but Manric was sure being hit with that would be an invitation to oblivion.
"Yes, my Phaeron?" Ahthop said in a way that struck Manric as disingenuous. He knew exactly why Zarathusa might be upset.
"What have you done? What have we been doing? And don't pretend to misunderstand me!" Zarathusa said and Ahthop tilted his head to one side.
"I just did what you requested, Phaeron. I admit, I was rather pleased with your request," he said and Manric felt he was missing something. He looked at Djenakht but he was equally puzzled. "It was quite a challenge, even for me! I had to engage the Psychomancers to help me fulfill it but we managed it in the end. Are you not pleased?"
"You… you… you…" Zarathusa seemed completely at a loss. Then he found his words. "I copulated with them!" Wait, WHAT? "I copulated with YOU! What have we been doing?!"
"Copulating?" Ahthop said which made Zarathusa whistle like a tea kettle. Manric took a step back as he began to comprehend what had surely happened here.
In his delusion that he was alive, he sought help from Ahthop when he was unable to perform. He'd probably thought it was a medical issue. And he… fixed that. How exactly? There had to be a new 'organ' under their loin coverings. That was actually the easy part though, necrodermis could handle it, accessing the old instincts and replicating the sensations would be more difficult.
Perversion, Djenakht observed, but perfectly calmly. They should trade the designs to Trazyn. They actually SHOULD, they might get something good out of him. Manric watched a bit as Zarathusa got it out of his system. Ahthop was patiently waiting as well, as his Overlord had a minor fit. When Zarathusa calmed down a little, Manric stepped in.
"Forgive me, what do you plan to do with these women?" That question was very much on his mind. Zarathusa didn't seem like he wanted them anymore, he was clearly appalled by his actions. Zarathusa turned, looking at him intently.
"Odd that your mind goes there first…" Manric realized he'd slightly revealed himself there. But then Zarathusa ignored it, looking at the women. "Ahthop. You have clearly been enjoying this alteration. Please accept them as your personal concubines." Oh good, that was practical. Ahthop seemed quite pleased.
"Thank you Phaeron! Come here darlings, the Phaeron would like some time alone…" One of the women went to him and snuggled against him as he gently patted her backside. The other pouted – she had no place to snuggle up – but then followed as they went out. Manric noticed they both stumbled a bit as they walked. Those Mindshackle Scarabs were doing quite a number on their mental functioning. Manric put it out of mind – they were alive and not in pain – and looked at Zarathusa. He immediately took charge.
"I am still Zarathusa the Ineffable and I will make the rest of Mephrit bow to me. Now, let us discuss how we shall make this a reality." That was a relief and Manric let Djenakht take over.
Zarathusa was still extremely egotistical but more or less sane. It should be enough.