When Manric got back on his ship to head to Mandragora, he felt that he was facing a choice.

The Uhnashret Dynasty contained roughly a billion Necron Warriors, almost entirely from Coreworld Abydos. Given how incredibly difficult it was to resoul and awaken them, that was utterly impractical. And there were even worse considerations, that might render it completely impractical except in the very long term. Manric knew that and hated it, but accepted it with dull resignation. He would explain his full reasoning to Imotekh on Mandragora.

For now, though, he had a ship full of ghost wood, stuffed with souls, all meant for the Sautekh nobility and crypteks. And yet… he could use just one. He could, and he knew exactly who he could give it to.

"Firing solutions?" Manric touched that warriors' shoulder before speaking gently.

"No firing solutions. Please hold still," Manric said before beginning attaching the ghost wood. This Necron Warrior could speak, which was very rare, even if it was essentially limited to one phrase and a bit of repetition. Manric had also picked up a small flicker of emotion from him. He didn't know if the warrior would have an easy time of this, but he knew he wasn't suffering from locked in syndrome. This would result in a sane and functional necron. Manric also strongly suspected, given the specialized nature of the duties, that this warrior might even be exactly what he was… a naval gunner.

He attached the ghost wood before forcing the soul into the body. The Warrior twitched and stuttered before Manric moved up, gently touching his chest cartouche. The process was the same as resouling a sentient necron, as far as he could see and Manric spread the soul through the body as the warrior held still, just twitching a little.

"Firing solutions… firing…?" He said and there was no chaos, just a deep sense of confusion. "Firing…" he lapsed into a silence then, as Manric worked on his soul. When he felt that he was done, Manric reached out.

"What is your name?" He asked with words but also his mind, gently touching the Necron Warrior. There was so much confusion there, as he was registering that something had happened but not what. The question though, the question got his attention and tugged him out of the confusion that had been setting him adrift for a brief time.

"I am Sehenna," he said after a moment, to Manric's relief. Although, that name sounded like it could be female. It was a bit hard for him to tell with necrons but he'd noticed that female names tended to end in the ah sound. Not all of them, of course, but he rarely saw males with names ending that way. "Sir? What happened?" He… she? Held out a hand and looked at it. "Oh…" A small exclamation and a deep sense of shock. Manric moved on instinct and took her – he was sure this was a her, now – hand.

"There is a lot to explain. I will do my best, but we should do this under transit." Sehenna could do her job while they spoke, on the bridge of the ship. Manric had taken her to his quarters for this but the ship did need to get underway. Sehenna nodded.

"Yes commander." The way she said that, Manric was sure she was and had always been naval crew.

He had no idea how right he was. On the bridge of the ship, as they began going back to Mandragora, Manric introduced Sehenna to the rest of the crew, who took it well. (or not at all, for the non-sentient Warriors) Manric explained the situation to her silently, via interstitial messaging, in case she wanted to ask him questions she would not want everyone else to hear. And as they spoke, Manric learned something truly fascinating about the ancient necrontyr, when he asked about her background.

Well sir, I come from a special caste devoted to the breeding, raising and training of naval crew. There had been a caste devoted entirely to that? We lived on space habitats, we never set foot on actual worlds. …Really? Males who did not pass the tests to be naval crew would be sent as slaves to the planets. From what Panaa had said, that was likely a death sentence. Females would be kept for breeding if we failed. Although sometimes, we would be kept for that anyway… I am glad I was judged to be exceptional at finding firing solutions. I earned my place aboard this ship.

You were always excellent, Manric said sincerely. He'd never found fault with this warriors' firing solutions, they had always been perfect. She glanced up at him and from her emotions, Manric knew she wanted to smile.

Thank you sir. Sir… everything you told me was strangely familiar. I think I was a bit awake the whole time, but it was like a dream. She had no idea how lucky she was. A bit more aware and she would likely have gone insane. It did not surprise me at all to hear that you are not necrontyr. Yes, Manric had detected that.

As they chatted Manric formed the impression of a sweet, uncomplicated female who took a fierce pride in her work and accomplishments. Sehenna also felt quite young to him, something she confirmed.

I was twenty-one when I walked through the Furnace. So fully an adult but to Manric, she felt almost like a child. When had he started feeling so old? How old are you, sir? You seem very old to me. Oh, sting!

I honestly don't know my age anymore. I stopped counting. Although Artur was in his forties which did date him, if Manric cared to think about it closely. He really didn't want to. At least sixty. Ah, that was a lie, it was probably seventy. Sehenna started though and turned to stare at him.

"Sixty?!" She squeaked and the entire crew looked at her, suddenly aware a conversation had been going on. "You are sixty years old? That is so old!" Uh well.

"Oh, that's a lie, he must be at least seventy." One of the pwi-necrons put in and Manric winced internally. "I remember when he told us around the planet, when we were trying to use those drukhari ships, that he was forty-eight." Dear lord it all felt so long ago. "He could be eighty."

"Oh I couldn't possibly!" Manric snapped. That was going too far! "And for our species, sixty is old but not excessively so. We routinely live into our seventies… it's not unusual for humans to live into their eighties. Ninety and up is truly ancient for us."

"That is incredible… we only lived to forty and that was if we were lucky. Fifty was very old and sixty was ancient." Yes, he knew about that. Manric sometimes wondered what might have happened if the Old Ones had refused the necrontyr immortality, but tried to help them to fix their diseased bodies and lengthen their lifespan. They had been under no obligation to help of course, but perhaps a gesture of charity would have been well received.

(the spirits of the spear could have told him that the Old Ones had observed the nature and culture of the necrontyr and judged them unworthy of any help at all)

(harsh, perhaps, but not unwarranted)

Manric stepped back from the conversation then, as the other pwi-necrons began engaging Sehenna in conversation. They were all quite interested in her and she returned the feeling, as they minded their tasks. Manric felt quietly pleased with himself.

He'd taken a chance and could have ruined a warrior, but it had worked out well.

Orikan gazed into the stars, trying to find an answer to a very important question.

He'd foreseen from the beginning that the project of returning souls to the necron race would bear fruit. Since then, he'd been trying to find a conclusive answer to a very important question. Would this interfere with his own goals? Orikan's goal was to transform the necron race into beings of pure light and energy. Would this change bind them to their bodies?

Finding the answer had been slow going, mostly because Orikan had not been able to admit what he was up to. Imotekh simply wouldn't care about his plans… understandably enough, as the Stormlord was thinking about the Flayer virus. Also, Orikan's efforts were much further away from success than the soul program. THEY were going to be done in a matter of years. HE was looking at millennia of patient work. Even by necron standards, Orikan's efforts would take a long time. He could not expect Imotekh to wait that long.

But that was a huge problem because if the souls would interfere with his plan, what would he do? Switch his allegiance to Szarekh? The thought made Orikan queasy because he was, in the end, Sautekh. That was his family and he knew, vaguely, that he had blood ties to members of the Dynasty. Also, just like Imotekh, Orikan did not forgive Szarekh for selling them to the C'Tan. The thought of allying with him was sickening on many levels.

Fortunately, with Manric's success and Imotekh's current distraction, Orikan now had time to pursue his own questions. He'd tried a few methods to answer his question but the simplest seemed to be to tease out the strands of his own future. If he took a soul for himself, would he still be able to achieve his form of pure energy? And if he did… would the soul actually help? Orikan remembered, with a bit of existential horror, the thing he had turned into defeating the C'Tan shard with Trazyn. Would a soul keep him more rational during his transformation?

It took time and effort, to tease out the strands of fate but Orikan managed it. And to his pure relief, the answer was positive in nature. A soul would not prevent him from assuming that shape of pure energy, the soul would just melt into it, taking it as a kind of body. Souls were quite malleable, it seemed.

(Szeras would have been able to tell him, of course. But only for a price)

(Zivok could have as well, for that matter, although his would have been an informed estimate rather than a matter of certainty)

Orikan was just incredibly relieved that he would not have to choose between his plans for the necron race and his loyalty to Sautekh. Leaving aside his personal feelings on the matter, in a battle between the Silent King and Imotekh, Orikan was sure the scales of fate would favor Imotekh. And he planned to lay his finger on those scales to tip them as much as he could.

One way or the other, the Stormlord would win.

Before the re-souling process began, Manric gave a report of the entire process. Not just to Imotekh, but to the highest of his court, the great nemesors like Zahndrekh, the highest Crypteks and the powerful administrators. With that report came his recommendations.

"Unfortunately, the re-souling of the Necron Warriors cannot be recommended at this time, and possibly never." This hurt so much to say. "The reason is manyfold… firstly, the C'Tan had no regard for their welfare and while we have re-souled only five, one of them was suffering what humans call 'locked in syndrome'. That is when the mind is fully awake and aware, but unable to take any action, trapped in a body that will not respond." What a horror it was. "That Necron Warrior was irredeemably insane and had to be destroyed. Researcher Zivok believes this will be a reasonably common issue." How many of their forces would be lost that way? Ten percent? Whatever it was, it would be heavy losses.

"The next issue is that many of the Necron Warriors are actually civilians. Fully half of them are females." And from what he understood of the necron culture, female warriors were a rarity. Panaa had confirmed that like humans, they had sexual dimorphism and females were vastly less physically strong than males. That did not fully preclude military service, particularly in the space navy, but it was not a common career for them. It also did not help that with the necrontyr's endless wars and short lives, it made more sense for their females to have children as their contribution to society. "If we are to re-soul them, as many as half of the Necron Warriors will go from functional infantry to terrified civilians." That was just too much and Manric was sure Imotekh would agree.

"That is unacceptable," Imotekh rumbled and Manric nodded. The Sautekh empire could not take such losses.

"Can't you just order them to fight?" One of the administrator Lords said and Manric hoped he was good at his job because he should never command soldiers. Fortunately he didn't have to say anything, the other Overlords did it for him.

"I can't remember necrontyr civilians, but I've seen how the human ones behave when we take one of their worlds. I am not going to try commanding THAT! I already have problems sometimes with the Warriors because they are stupid. I will not deal with stupid AND panicked," Overlord Naszar said and Manric nodded.

"The final problem with re-souling the Necron Warriors is the fact that it requires intensive intervention from a powerful psyker and we only have one, myself," Manric stated. This was why he thought they might never re-soul them. "Zelda did her best but only managed to awaken one. It was quick for me to awaken the others, after all the work she had done, but I fear that this is just completely impractical." There were literally trillions of Necron Warriors. "We are looking into nurturing more psychically aware souls, so psykers can be created, but it is a long way off and we probably need DNA samples from the Imperium of Man." They were just further along in that area, likely due to evolutionary pressures.

"You know, the drukhari do practice cloning. It's how they keep their numbers up, despite the way they murder each other. Would souls from aeldari clones be feasible?" One of the Crypteks asked and that was a very interesting question. However, Manric knew quite a bit about the Eldar, mostly from his spear and he knew the problem with that.

"Unless we have volunteers who understand the fate that awaits them, I cannot recommend that… you must understand. With human souls, there is a great uncertainty what awaits them on death. Some believe we go to God, others believe we are torn apart by demons if we are insufficiently virtuous. Some believe that all human souls merely vanish, the energies that made them reclaimed." Manric preferred that, although he knew it might not be true. "What is known, however, is that the souls of those sworn to the Chaos Gods go to them, for sustenance or eternal torment. And all aeldari souls, due to the birth of Slaanesh, are sworn to her hands." Manric paused, trying to emphasis the gravity of it. "Anyone who takes such a soul will be doomed to eternal torment on death. There is no other outcome."

"Ah… yes, that's true isn't it. My apologies, I did know that about them," the Cryptek said, clearly a bit daunted at the thought. There were nods from some of the other crypteks and a feeling of discomfort from many of the Overlords. Manric could tell they were very unaccustomed to contemplating an afterlife. But then, it had been a long time since the thought had been anything but something for lesser races. Imotekh just felt thoughtful, as though he was adding this to his store of information.

"What of the Immortals?" Imotekh asked and Manric was glad to leave the Necron Warriors behind.

"They are all warriors and should not have locked in syndrome. They do require intensive work, just like the Necron Warriors, so re-souling them will be a long-term project. The main issue we might have is trauma… of the two Immortals that have been re-souled so far, one had lost his entire family. But if that issue can be managed, I believe awakening them will actually increase their combat capabilities." The great weakness the Immortals had right now was their complete lack of creativity. Returning their minds would address that.

That led to a discussion among the necrons on the time frames they would be expecting and the feasibility of creating Necron Psykers. Also, an interesting discussion on a new rank for them as a special form of Cryptek.

Overall, at the end of the discussion it was decided that Manric would re-soul all of the Lords, Overlords and most of the Crypteks. Next would come the pwi-necrons who did not have souls. Only when all of that was done, would they look towards the Immortals. By then, hopefully, Manric would have some help… Zivok was still teaching Semephren to use his new gifts. A few of the crypteks would remain un-souled, so they could hopefully be given specially grown, psychically active souls. Getting the DNA of psykers from the Imperium was given high priority, but Imotekh had come up with an excellent and effective plan for that… they would look towards the Navigators and other psykers within his captured worlds. Manric had not thought of the Navigators at all and they might be perfect for the project, which was a great relief. They might not be happy about the thought of giving up their DNA for clones, but they would not be given a choice in the matter. Given that it was very easy for them to be replaced with technology, they had very little clout within the Sautekh empire.

It was all a fairly solid plan, although Manric resigned himself to a lot of work and emotional baggage. He wouldn't have his grandchildren here, but he could spend time sparring with the other Overlords, which was almost as good.

One way or the other, he would get this done.

The first Necron in Mandragora to receive a soul was Imotekh.

It was just the two of them, in Imotekh's quarters, as Manric performed the re-souling operation. It went smoothly enough, as Manric had plenty of experience. Imotekh took the pain of it stoically, as Manric would have expected. When he was done he stood back and waited. Imotekh looked at him with burning eyes and Manric could sense his derision.

"Now, let us see what foolishness you were babbling about, Laaror." Imotekh locked his joints and went still then and Manric braced himself for some form of explosion of rage.

That did not happen. What happened instead shook Manric to the core, as he sensed deep, loving emotions followed by a growing, painful grief. The sorrow was so deep and full, it felt like he was drowning in it and Manric had to fight with himself not to mirror the emotion and project it, like this was a psychic attack. The spear helped him, supporting his mind and keeping him from starting a dangerous emotional feedback loop. Imotekh came out of his fugue and dropped his head for a moment, his chin resting on his chest. Then he looked up and Manric sensed he wanted to be angry, but couldn't find it under the weight of his sorrow.

"Does it please you Laaror? Does it please you to finally see me brought low?" Imotekh asked and Manric shook his head.

"No, it doesn't please him. Not like this," Manric said quietly. If Imotekh had been enraged and cursing, that would have pleased Laaror greatly. This just dismayed him and recalled his own pains. "He once lost a child… he does not enjoy seeing you like this." Imotekh just stared at him for a moment before looking away.

"Go, leave me. I wish to be alone." Manric bowed deeply before showing himself out. If it had been anyone else, he might have worried they might do something very foolish, but this was Imotekh the Stormlord. He would suffer his grief, his regrets, and eventually it would pass.

Then, his rage would be terrifying to see.