"That stupid thing is back."
Iplanen, the remote pilot of the "stupid thing" in question, sighed internally. He wasn't spying. It wasn't spying when you just grabbed a Servo-skull and floated in to take a look around. Right now, he was looking at two of the pwi-Necrons lounging around outside the building. Their posture was curiously like actual humans, leaning against the wall and chatting. The only thing missing was a cigarette or a drink.
"Why do they use skulls like that? It seems rather macabre." Iplanen was realizing, more and more, that these Necrons and humans were incredibly ignorant of imperial culture. No Imperial citizen, even from the most remote feral world, would not understand the symbolism of the skulls.
"I'm told it's meant to be an honor to the dead. Only loyal citizens' skulls are used for it." That was true, although there was a bit more to it. "Also, it symbolizes service even after death, I think. A reminder of those who sacrificed before." Yes… that was closer.
"Oh, like us? You know what would be amazing?" That one was clearly not taking this seriously. "If we kept our own skulls and made them into those!" Iplanen blinked at the idea and the other Necron recoiled from his friend. "We could use our own skulls as a datapad!" That was… peculiar… to say the least…
"No! That's absolutely awful! Why would you even think of such a thing?" He rather agreed. What an utterly appalling idea. "I'm leaving!" He stalked off and his friend seemed a little hurt.
"Was it something I said…?" He asked before gazing at the floating skull for a moment. "Oh well. You know, I really love this planet, it's always so warm and sunny." Well, they called it Luminous for a reason. Deciding he'd done enough here, Iplanen directed the skull away.
On one end of the field, two Knight armor were running around. Iplanen watched them a bit before deciding they were engaging in a bit of a contest, racing and jostling each other in a friendly competition. Perhaps it was part of their training, Knight armor did require a great mental synergy with the pilot. Turning his attention to the rest of the practice field, Iplanen watched the marksmanship training and the warriors sparring with practice blades. It was all very martial and it needed to be, the orks could be truly pestiferous.
Iplanen guided the servo skull to the very large building that housed the Land Speeders that were actually called Pride tanks, and the Knight armors that were not actively in use. It was a great, hanger sized building where tech-priests did their work on any damaged machines.
Well. Calling them tech-priests was a stretch.
"What the hell is wrong with you, you fucking bitch?" That wasn't the way you should supplicate a machine spirit. A tall, rather ugly man had his hands on his hips was glaring balefully at a Knight armor. "I've checked everything and you still move like a fucking cow!" This was DEFINITELY not how you supplicated a machine spirit. "Do you need some percussive maintenance?"
"Ruin my paint job and I will ruin you," The man who was clearly the pilot, with the skull implants to facilitate the connection, said as he leaned against a wall and read a book. "We've been at this for hours, just admit defeat and get the boss." Ah, now this was interesting. Iplanen had been watching them for a while and had identified the… tech priest in charge, a man named Jan. His work was incredibly quick and skillful, his knowledge of machines extremely keen. Although he was also sadly lacking in the proper treatment of the machine spirits, they did not seem to mind, coming together quickly under his hands. The man hesitated before uttering a foul oath and going to fetch his superior. The Knight armor pilot just kept reading his book, absorbed in what appeared to be a mystery novel.
Jan, when he arrived, did not bother to check anything. Instead, he had a request.
"Can you take it out for me?" The Knight nodded, closing his book and sliding it into a pocket before quickly climbing up his armor and sliding into place. The smoothness of the movement spoke of a great deal of practice. The Knight armor powered up, straightening before lurching out. Just the gait going outside told Iplanen that something was definitely wrong with it, but he paid most of his attention to Jan.
Jan was a rather nondescript man, with dark skin, dark hair and dark eyes, but with a very expressive face. He had no talent with hiding his emotions or simply didn't care, and right now he looked thoughtful as he watched the Knight armor doing basic maneuvers. He rubbed his chin with one hand and Iplanen switched his regard to the Knight armor. Hmm, he was no expert in them but to his eye there was something wrong with the left-hand side. It seemed to be listing badly in that direction. The pilot was trying to compensate for the problem but it resulted in very clumsy motion, completely unsuitable to a real battlefield.
"Problem on the right-hand side." What? It was the left! "It's overpowered, jumping. The left-hand side is normal but it looks abnormal because of the excessive power on the right." Oh, really? Interesting. "What have you tried so far?" The less skilled underling ran through the diagnostics and explorations he'd done. "Hmm. I have a theory… bring it back!" He called and the Knight armor clumsily obeyed.
What followed was a display of great technical knowledge. Jan cracked open the armored leg of the Knight armor and began looking for something in particular. Iplanen couldn't see, which was frustrating, until he withdrew a long part.
"Here it is. It's cracked." He showed the item, some kind of servo, to his junior. The other technician was shocked as the Knight pilot looked grim.
"What? How? It shouldn't get damaged like that!" Jan ran a thumb over the part and Iplanen zoomed in. Yes, definitely a crack and if he was willing to guess, it was a factory defect.
"A factory defect." Iplanen blinked at the echoing of his thoughts. "It must have got through quality controls… ah, look, it started right here, as a tiny bit of damage. So easy to miss. This can't be repaired."
"Then my suit is down," the Knight pilot observed, but Jan shook his head in negation.
"No, Istaal's suit is also down and the Orks did a number on it, but the legs are fine. I'll steal the component we need from there." The Knight pilot opened his mouth but Jan held up his hand. "I know he'll be upset, but he can eat it. We haven't even sent the requisition for the parts we currently need, we can just add this one to the list."
"We need some backup Knight armors," the junior technician said and Jan nodded before shrugging.
"We do, but they have to take their time and make them properly. If they don't, we get this," Jan tapped the broken piece. The Knight armor pilot shook his head.
"You're daring, to risk Istaal's wrath, but you do have the rank for it. If you want to put me back in action I won't say no," he said and Jan nodded. Iplanen watched as they fetched the component they needed from another Knight armor, one that had taken very heavy damage. The accursed orcs were such a dreadful nuisance on a Civilised world, where they could find more random technical trash to build their gadgets. Taking the component, he replaced it in the Knight armor and the pilot tried it out again. The difference was night and day, as the Knight armor loped out easily, matching the two still playing on the field. A moment later it joined them, catching them both off guard and blasting between them. Iplanen mentally imagined the pilots whooping as they quickly followed, chasing their errant brother.
"Wear and tear on the equipment for no reason," the junior tech priest said disapprovingly. Jan laughed softly.
"Not for no reason. Remember, they control them via the implants. This kind of thing is good practice." Very true. "Ah no, what is wrong now?" Iplanen turned the servo skull and saw a pwi-Necron coming towards them with a… wait, was that a broken gauss flayer?
"You managed to break a gauss flayer? How?" Jan sounded quite surprised as he took the weapon from the Necron. Iplanen could see a long, vicious crack in the casing.
"Ork bit it," the pwi-Necron, a man of few words, said briefly. Iplanen was a bit flummoxed by that. How could any orc do such damage with his TEETH? Jan was also confused.
"Bit it? Were his teeth adamantium and his mouth a machine… oh. They were, weren't they." Ah. That was true, the orcs did sometimes do things like that. The Necron nodded. "I see. Well, I can tell you right now that this weapon is not safe to fire at all. It could explode and kill you, along with everyone around you." Yes… that wasn't surprising. "I'll see if I can fix it, but at my level of skill with Necron tech it might not be possible. If it's not, you should probably steal a spare from the heavies." Those were the humans who used gauss flayers.
"Alright. Let me know," the Necron said before departing. Jan ran his hand down the gauss flayer.
"Poor thing. You're very durable, that must have been a hell of a bite." Now this was closer to how you should treat a machine spirit. Curious that Jan showed such a reverence to Necron technology but not his own. Although unlike the others, he rarely disrespected his own machine spirits. He carried the gauss flayer to a work bench and Iplanen carefully followed. Maybe Jan had forgotten – "And you. Get out." Nooo! Iplanen wished he could protest as Jan turned and pointed at the servo skull. "I know you want to watch but this is not our secrets to share. Out. Now." Fine, fine. Iplanen skulked out before hovering around the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse. But the glass was cheap and dirty, he really couldn't see much. He kept trying though, zooming in with the cameras. Ah, Jan was taking apart the case…
Then a Knight pilot stalked to the door. He was a tall man with dark skin but shockingly blonde hair, probably dyed. He yanked open the door and left it open, and Iplanen seized the opportunity to slide back inside. So he got to hear a very interesting conversation.
"How dare you use my Knight armor for PARTS, you dirty serf!" Iplanen ignored that for a moment, focusing on the partly disassembled gauss flayer. Oh, this was interesting. Iplanen concentrated on recording the interior of the gauss flayer, but a bit of his mind listened to the Knight pilot – this had to be Istaal – ranting. This was exactly the kind of rant he would expect from a Noble Knight armor pilot whose armor had been used for… parts. That was a desecration of the machine spirit, if extremely practical. Then he said something interesting. "My family owns yours, you piece of shit!" And Jan suddenly had enough, stepping forward and coming close to Istaal in a way that was physically aggressive. Iplanen switched his attention to the confrontation, noting that while Jan was shorter, he was also bulkier and appeared to be stronger than the slender Knight pilot. If it came to blows, he was not sure how this confrontation would go.
"Don't think to threaten my family, Istaal. You might technically own us, but we have contacts. Your father isn't going to get in a pissing match with the Duleth's." That made the Knight flush red with anger, despite his dark skin.
"My father isn't always going to be in charge," he snarled. Iplanen thought that despite Revalt's quibbles about their technology level, this was an extremely Knight World culture. That made it fairly easy for Imperials to understand, despite all of the Hope human's alien attitudes.
"No, he isn't. But we both know that my family is a valuable technical resource and we're only serfs out of tradition. We can buy our contract out at any time." Ah, yes, Knight World culture. Serfs could normally buy out their contracts for a set amount, dictated by the Serf agreement. Most could never do it, but there were rich serf families who didn't bother out of tradition. "Also, I would like to note that I am your superior officer. I've let you say your piece but if you continue any further, I'll have you up for insubordination. Do you want me to take this to Revalt?" Istaal hesitated and Iplanen knew he was beaten.
"I won't forget this," he threatened before stalking about. Iplanen tried to hide the servo skull in a corner of the room. Hopefully Jan wouldn't notice it. Jan took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh.
"Idiot. He won't be a good House head… well, it's not my problem. And you, get out." DAMN! "I appreciate that you want to learn, but I cannot betray the trust placed in me by the Crypteks. Get out NOW." He'd actually been trained, if only a bit, by the Necron Crypteks? Iplanen reluctantly let his servo skull be herded outside, but he mentally made a vow to himself.
He needed to figure out some way to acquire Jan's trust.
Hosk-el was content with his life.
He wasn't a great hunter or a great warrior and he'd never had a chance to be one of the sky gods. But lately, things had changed for the better for him. Their people had watched the lights in the sky and murmured to each other as they wondered what was happening to the sky gods. When the skeleton gods came to the World and bade them to serve, they were afraid but prostrated themselves before their new gods.
For Hosk-el, that meant he'd been tasked to look for Blood Iron in the swamps. You found it by rooting around with a stick, digging through the thick muck and looking for the heavy black nuggets. It wasn't easy to find, you could go weeks without finding a single one, but when you found them the skeleton gods were pleased.
The gods had left them a special god that would take the nuggets and flash a light. If it was a good nugget, the light would be green and you would be given a token. Sometimes many tokens, if it was a big nugget. The tokens could be traded within the tribe for food and furs, but then when the skeleton gods came to collect the nuggets, they could be traded to them as well for fine knives, spears and pretty beads.
Hosk-el knew the skeleton gods were busy most of the time fighting in the stars, but some of them stayed on the World to fight the greenskins. Greenskins were very bad, so they were thankful to the skeleton gods for taking over from the sky gods. If they had just been left alone, the greenskins would have eaten them.
Hosk-el was good at finding nuggets, and his family was gone from rather poor to quite comfortable. The only downside was the condition of his feet. They sometimes got slimy and itched, but he could trade a token to the shaman for bags of a powder that made his feet feel better. He could also take some time off from searching for nuggets if he needed to. Hosk-el had found that if he took a week and put the powder on three times a day, he could get his feet nice and dry. Then he could go back to searching for Blood Iron and usually find plenty of nuggets before his feet got slimy again. Yes, it was a good life.
Hosk-el would never say it because many of the People missed the sky gods, but he hoped the skeleton gods never went away.
Wenzel Kaeros of the 2nd Division, the Blades, looked through his binoculars at the primitive tribesmen with a feeling of deep puzzlement.
"Weird, isn't it, seeing stone age humans?" His wife, Llonda, said to him. He turned his head to smile at her, taking in her warm brown skin and her thick black hair. It was very unusual, for a Division to bring the wives and families along with them, but for assignment to this Feral world it was deemed necessary. They would need cooks and support workers, things the planet itself could not provide.
"It's very strange. Why do they live like that?" Wenzel tapped his binoculars against his breastplate, feeling perplexed. He understood, intellectually, that some colonies decided to stay at a lower level of technology because it was more comfortable than reaching for Terran standard. But THIS low?
"They must have gotten hammered by something. There no other explanation for it," Llonda said and he nodded slowly. "There's no copper deposits anywhere near here, either." Copper? "That's the easiest metal to work when you're at this stage. Iron is harder… I really don't know Wenzel. I sometimes think we should do something, but…" They had been cautioned not to try. Apparently the superstitious natives would probably just gibber in terror.
"We need STC. STC would know what to do." The gentle voiced STC would probably know how to jolly along these people into elevating their technology a little. "Maybe when we start making them, we can set one out and let them think it's a god." Apparently, they already thought the testing units the Necrons had left were gods. It made his head hurt a little.
"That's not a bad idea. But you should come to supper." Ah, yes. Wenzel put his binoculars away and took her hand. She gave him a brilliant smile as they walked back to the mess hall and he felt so loved. Wenzel caught a few envious glances from the single men, but just smiled.
The food that night was good, a near-elk ragu over pasta. The native animals were not actually elk, of course, but something that resembled them. The flesh was safe to eat and utterly delicious if you slow cooked it. The natives liked to wrap it in wet leaves then bury it in hot coals, cooking it for a long time that way.
It was all very homey, particularly with the younger children running around and the older being schooled by some of the women. But ultimately, they were a military camp and tomorrow they would go on a mission of extermination, to root out villages of orks before they could become entrenched. Wenzel felt a bit badly about it, but only a bit.
Orks infestations could become horrible things, when they were allowed to grow and fester.
Author's Note: It's probably not going to come up, so I'll say that "Blood Iron" is transpositanium. The Imperium doesn't use it but it's absolutely priceless to the Necrons, so they're quite pleased with the nuggets. And mining it is incredibly delicate anyway, so just getting the humans to do it is practical.