For Imotekh, the civil war of the Nihilakh ended in almost the worst possible outcome.
It was not the absolute worst outcome. That would have been Krispekh clearly in the ascendance, and Imotekh being forced to violate the rules of war to save his own contenders. That was a very unenviable position to be in… reputation really did matter among the necrons and it could have moved other Dynasties to support Szarekh over him.
The reverse was true and with only three months left on the timer before Imotekh and Szarekh could both intervene, the writing was on the wall. Krispekh was still a contender but not winning at all, Overlord Inerqa had bowed out and thrown her support behind Overlord Kesemekht. So Szarekh had done the logical thing and called Krispekh home.
Imotekh wanted to bang his head against a wall as he heard that Krispekh was abandoning all of Nihilakh space and retreating into the Pariah Nexus with a large force still intact. It was precisely what he would have done in this situation, a wise move that deprived the Stormlord of a chance to savage Szarekh in battle and thus, it was incredibly frustrating. Not unexpected though… no, Imotekh had been glumly predicting this outcome for some time, if Krispekh appeared to be genuinely losing. It was just a good move for Szarekh.
Of course, part of it depended on Krispekh swallowing his pride and becoming a Phaeron in exile. He had just barely managed to do that, and largely because of a very stinging defeat handed to him by Odano the Valorous. That had convinced him the situation was untenable and he needed to retreat.
All of this meant that Szarekh's forces in the Pariah Nexus were now swelled by a force roughly half the strength of one of Imotekh's wings. In combination with the Maynarkh forces, who WOULD get there, eventually, and the already existing forces of the Szarekhan Dynasty, Imotekh was significantly outnumbered. They would churn out what ships they could and biotransfer who they could, but that wasn't going to change too much in such a short period.
Fortunately, they were working hand in glove with the Imperium of Man now. The Blackstone forges were being dedicated entirely to the new, positively charged blackstone ships. Crude, primitive things compared to pillars like the ones in Cadia, they would get the job done. Although the Sautekh Dynasty in general was no master of blackstone technology… when they planted negatively charged blackstone pillars, they were also rather crude. Unable to be manipulated at all, they were brute force devices, also not like the glorious pillars of Cadia. Those had been built by the true masters of Blackstone… the Szarekhan Dynasty.
Nor were the Imperium the only ones involved. The aeldari desperately wanted to stop the closing of the Eye of Isha and would certainly join into the assault. The only question was how many forces they could spare… Ulthwe, in particular, would not be sending anyone. While Chaos in general had gone quiet, the Night Lords were not technically Chaos corrupted and were embarking on their crusade, the Ruinous Powers be damned. The orks briefly crossed Imotekh's mind, but then he dismissed them. He would never work with the fungi and if they wanted to get involved, that was on their heads. He would not count on them or include them in his calculations.
The Tau could have been included in the calculations, but Imotekh had discovered that Guilliman also deeply distrusted them. Given that all the Primarchs had Warp entities fused with them, that was concerning. So instead of approaching the Tau Empire to see if they wished to contribute, Imotekh set them completely aside. They were the least significant power in any case.
As for the Nihilakh Dynasty, Imotekh personally went to greet the new Phaeron Kesemekht and accept his oaths of fealty. The most important part of this visit was to solidify the new relationship between Sautekh and Nihilakh. For a moment, Imotekh truly regretted that they were no longer flesh. In that long ago time, he would have likely offered Kesemekht one of his granddaughters in marriage.
With that option no longer available, Imotekh took a more diplomatic approach. He was not Krispekh, he was the Stormlord, but he would acknowledge that the Nihilakh had the right to govern themselves as they chose. But for one particular thing, and that was the humans of the Nihilakh Empire.
As Imotekh had suspected, the Nihilakh had not actually eradicated the humans from the worlds they had conquered. Instead they had kept them as trophies, as pets, as sources of hatred and adoration. In keeping with that, they had demanded harsh tributes from the human worlds, for the glory of the Nihilakh Empire. Which was fine, but Imotekh knew they weren't actually doing much with a large part of the tribute. The metals and minerals, the oils and unguents, even the textiles and perfumes… they might have a use for that, but the food? So many varieties of food, ranging from simple agri planet rations to very strange things that Imotekh presumed were delicacies. What was a Mung Vase? It looks like some kind of funereal vase but it was recorded as an edible and considered insanely valuable?
"Now that I think about it, this is actually embarrassing," Kesemekht admitted with a surprising degree of humility. "Krispekh's avarice knew no bounds." Imotekh took that with a grain of salt the size of his starship. It was so convenient to blame everything on Krispekh, wasn't it? "How would you prefer we govern the humans?" At least that meant he would likely comply with Imotekh's dictates. But how should he handle this?
"I will take the time to visit each human world myself, except the Feral ones. Note those as requiring no tribute," Imotekh said after a moment's thought. In his Empire, not even the Feral World with the transpositanium deposits paid tithe… there was simply no need, when all they required for trade were beads and knives. "When I am done compiling the information, I will send you updated tribute levels." They would be something the human worlds could actually manage. How bad were things here?
The answer was, very bad. The first planet he visited was a Hive World and it was in absolute ruins, half the population starved to death and most of the rest reduced to cannibalistic mutants. All that survived was a single, utterly vicious Hive City that was living almost entirely on corpse starch taken from the mutants. Imotekh did not expect them to greet him with anything but hatred and he was correct. They stayed very polite, as he spoke to the remaining authorities, but he could see the absolute loathing they felt for him.
"I am Imotekh the Stormlord. The Nihilakh have sworn themselves to me as a vassal Dynasty. Provide me your production records." Imotekh rumbled and the humans glanced at each other before one of them bowed deeply.
"Forgive me, that will take some time to compile," he said apologetically and Imotekh had little patience. Humans had no understanding of time.
"I can wait." He was sure 'some time' would only be a few hours. For a necron, that was the blink of an eye. Imotekh simply waited patiently as several of the humans rushed off to accomplish his dictates. The others waited with him and after a time, began quietly conversing among themselves. That was perhaps a touch disrespectful but Imotekh let it pass. The difference in time sense also meant that for the humans, a few hours was a long time to simply stand and stare at someone in silence.
In what was, for Imotekh, a short time indeed a human came back with the full production records of the planet. He took the data pad and scrolled through it, analyzing the records. The human had thoughtfully included a few years beneath the Imperium and Imotekh internally sighed as he saw how the overall production dipped precipitously as soon as the Nihilakh took over. Starving the population to death by taking all their production caused the production to drop, what a shock!
Imotekh could see that Nihilakh had required roughly eighty percent of production. The humans had immediately started cooking the books, desperate to save themselves with creative accounting, but it hadn't been enough. They had kept it to more like sixty percent, but that had still been utterly ruinous. This Hive World, like most, had been completely dependant on food imports and not only had they no longer had the wherewithal to purchase them, those agri worlds had also been giving THEIR production as tribute. The Nihilakhs' demands had sucked all the oxygen out of the fires of interstellar trade.
Imotekh followed the lines of production and saw more creative accounting, but let it pass. There was probably also some simple falsification, things unreported, but it hardly mattered now. They could audit the place much, much later, when it had recovered somewhat. Right now, recovery was needed.
Imotekh recalculated the tributes with that in mind and handed the data pad back with the new requirements. The human in charge examined it a moment and didn't seem to understand what he was looking at. Then, after a pause, he finally spoke.
"You are… lowering our tribute requirements?" His utter disbelief was plain. "This… appears to be only ten percent of production." The other humans also seemed frozen in disbelief.
"Indeed. The state of your planet is horrendous," Imotekh replied, feeling impatient with the whole thing. Was it not obvious that he prized order, unity and obedience beyond all things? It was not orderly to allow the realm to fall into ruin. But then, they did not know him or the way he did things… they were used to Nihilakh. So he forced himself to patience. "You are still beneath Nihilakh, but you are also part of the Sautekh Empire now. Things have changed. As a sign of that…" Imotekh gestured and the things he'd hidden from the humans were suddenly revealed.
Great pallets of food, taken from the stores of the Nihilakh, were waiting for them. Mostly common rations from the agri-worlds, sealed in packets to ensure longevity, the Nihilakh had kept it all frozen in time. Also preserved vegetables and fruits, jarred, tinned and even frozen. Again, preserved in time, all of them fresh. And great bags of salts, a fundamental ingredient for the preparation of corpse starch. No delicacies of any kind, just the basic things needed to fuel the population of a Hive World.
"Use these well. I have no patience for failure," Imotekh warned. He did not want them to think he was some kind of savior… he would have his own demands, and they would be for competence above all else. Incompetent Governors did not last long under his rule.
(it is worth noting that like Khorne did not care how the blood flowed, only that it did flow, Imotekh did not care how competence was achieved. So if a Governor was excellent at delegation, or had competent minions or family covering for him, it was fine)
(the result was all that mattered)
The male humans were glancing between each other, trying to take this in, while the lone female began leaking water from her eyes. Crying, yes, he knew what that was… for a male necrontyr such an action was disgraceful but females were more emotional by nature. Imotekh ignored it.
That completed, he left as he'd come and hopefully things would be a bit more orderly in his wake. The next world on his list was a Civilized world and Imotekh assumed it would be doing much better, but still in a state of decay. Trade was just so important to the health of human worlds. It had been that way for the ancient necrontyr and was even true of the necrons, to a lesser extent.
Hopefully these planets could be nursed back to health and usefulness.
Imperial House Brandt of Hive Martinet had not been the most powerful house of Hive World Humboldt. The contrary, they had been a relatively minor house, in possession of the smallest Hive on the planet.
But because they were not a great power, they were not dull and complacent. The contrary, they were still sharp and hungry, longing for better things. The House Head of Brandt was a vicious and ambitious man. So when the Nihilakh had taken their planet and imposed their punishing tribute requirements, they had taken decisive action.
While the other Hive Cities were squabbling and meeting, Brandt had seized control of the orbitals. With control of that, they had taken all the incoming food shipments, the last that would be coming for a while. By the time the rest of the Hives realized their perfidy, it was too late. And House Brandt had one great, great advantage… it had previously hosted an Imperial Fist chapter who recruited from it. The gangs were particularly vicious and Brandt used them as auxiliaries. They had looted the remaining equipment from the abandoned Astartes facilities and used it to arm their personal soldiers, passing on the lesser gear to the gangs.
It took a while for everything to descend into chaos and anarchy, but descend it did. Hive Martinet came out the winner, holding strong in the face of the chaos and repelling the other desperate Hives at the point of a bolter. Yet their win came with the taste of ashes, because they had won only their survival. The poisoned world of Humboldt had fresh water, but no capacity for food production. Incoming shipments were just a trickle and they had little to pay for it, mostly trading clothing for some bits of food. The vast majority of the Hive survived on corpse starch and algae loaf while House Brandt had bread, preserved vegetables and perhaps a bit of meat and sweets. A shocking downturn in their fortunes, compared to the lavish feasts they'd indulged in before.
Domina Brandt could not remember that time. They had been under the control of the Nihilakh for almost fifty years, and she had been born only twenty-one years ago. She had never existed in a world where food was abundant and water wasn't rationed. Despite being so young, her father thought highly of her so she had been included in the small group of nobles that went to greet their 'masters'. Just her father, her brother and herself, along with a group of aides.
Imotekh the Stormlord had been a frightening figure, beyond any necron Domina had seen in her life. He felt cold to her, like a winter wind and his body was ornamented in a terrifying way… not the gems that dripped from the Nihilakh, but the cold augmentations of war. He carried a deeply intimidating presence and his eyes glowed with an eldritch fire. When he'd looked at them Domina felt like he was seeing into their very souls.
Domina was not a psyker and had no gifts, but she was keenly aware of Necron body language. That was a vital skill, since their hated 'masters' were unpredictable and dangerous. Imotekh was very difficult to read, as he scrolled through the data pad, but the way his eyes flared seemed to indicate anger? Some kind of negative emotion. Then he tapped on the data pad a bit before handing it back to her father.
"You are… lowering our tribute requirements?" Domina froze. He was what?! "This… appears to be only ten percent of production." Ten percent?! Domina couldn't believe it. Was he serious?
Then the food was revealed and Domina couldn't help but cry a little as she saw it. As a scion of the highest nobility, she was well fed, but the state of the world was so bad that it affected even them. All her friends had talked about corpse starch and how gross it was, when she was a child, and how lucky she was to not have to eat it. That was among the highest children of the planet. How bad were things in the Underhive? Domina had heard rumors that people were selected to make the corpse starch… as ingredients.
Imotekh left as abruptly as he'd come, after dumping them a packet of information about the Sautekh Dynasty and their trade treaties. Domina dried her eyes a bit as they looked over the food supplies, her father taking charge.
"Let's get this under lock and key immediately. Riker, call in the transports. Moetek, scramble the guard, quickly." Domina understood why… there could be riots over this food. It needed to be put away, then dolled out to the correct people. Most of it would go to the upper and middle ranks of the hive, as a slow drip of supplies, but that would help the lower and underhivers… they would have more corpse starch. And the gangs would get a nice portion of it, both for themselves to eat and also to act as bribes and trade goods in the Underhive. They were a very important power block now, almost adjuncts to the planetary guard, and they seemed to be quite loyal. Domina knew her father didn't trust them, but he trusted his ability to keep them in line. "Domina, see about getting these salts to the manufactories." Oh, yes, she could do that. Domina quickly pulled out her own datapad and began making the arrangements. As she did though, she wondered.
They were still under the control of the xenos, but could things actually change?
Elsewhere in the galaxy, Eldrad was contemplating suicide.
Not seriously, but he was getting absolutely nowhere in trying to plot a course for Ulthwe. The Night Lords were due to begin their assault in roughly six months, time was flowing like sand through their fingers. The Imperium of Man in general might be willing to help, after a fashion, but he could see that the local commanders were extremely xenophobic and unreliable in the extreme. And for good reason. Eldrad wanted to curse Biel Tan. Yes, it had been a Maiden World but had that been necessary?!
They could go it alone. The Night Lords would not destroy Ulthwe, but they would bleed them severely, weakening them badly before passing by and into the Imperium of Man. It was looking more and more like they might have to but in desperation, Eldrad turned his attention to the local Necron Dynasties, any within reach. Would any of THEM be willing to help Ulthwe against the Night Lords?
It took dogged determination and a great deal of sorting through possible futures, but Eldrad found one avenue to success. Although the handle on which it rested was odd in the extreme.
"Where did we get these?" Eldrad asked as he held up a plate. It was a ceremonial plate, that the Ulthwe aeldari only brought out for special occasions and it was quite old. The edges of the plates were twisted in tight, beautiful geometric patterns that, now that he thought of it, were not typical of his own species. The plate itself was made of an alloy of multiple metals, shining with both hints of gold and the purple of adamantium. The dinner set was truly gorgeous in bright light.
"Ah well, no one knows for sure, but it's said they were looted from a museum before we left." The young male who had brought him to the stores responded. There had been a lot of that going on… with doom descending, artefacts of their people had been simply taken, with no care for legality. They had been looking for things to help them, though, not just historical pieces… Manric's spear was a perfect example of something useful that had been in a museum. "Unfortunately, we didn't take any information on them." Quite unfortunate.
"Is it possible that these are the work of the ancient necrontyr?" Eldrad asked, still examining the geometric patterns. They WOULD seem to be more typical of the necrons then the eldar.
"Anything is possible. They could be spoils of war, I suppose." Hmm… but knowing necrons as he did, Eldrad would have expected a crest on them then, some sign of the Dynasty that owned them. There was nothing like that. Were they something stranger?
With permission from the rest of the Council, Eldrad followed this thin thread of possible success. After teasing out multiple futures, he knew exactly where he needed to contact the necrons of the Thokt Dynasty. There was only one option… a necron fleet stopping at a dying star to refuel, on their way to a battle with the Mechanicus. He had to time it perfectly, to catch them while they were refueling. The reason it had to be this fleet at this time was because the Overlord commanding it, for whatever reason, would not immediately fire on them and would be willing to speak.
Eldrad timed it perfectly. His single ship dropped out of the Warp right beside several of the necron vessels and while he was lit with targeting solutions, they did not fire. Eldrad hailed then and the hail was answered.
Are you suicidal, aeldari ship? A powerful necron Overlord inquired. Eldrad wondered a bit himself.
"No, only desperate. We come to you with an offer of trade, in return for military assistance," he said evenly and the necron seemed intrigued, from his body language. "We have artefacts that we believe were created by the ancient necrontyr."
Really? Interesting. I am Overlord Mekebi. Who are you, and can you show me these artefacts?
"I am Eldrad Ulthwen, Farseer of Craftworld Ulthwe. These are the artefacts…" Eldrad transmitted images of them, close ups of the entire set and also the matching cutlery. It included a full set of water tumblers and wine glasses, although those had been reworked several times… the crystal in them did not last millions of years, unlike the metals.
Fascinating. That is definitely necrontyr work, a fine feast set of the nobility. Yet, there are no Dynasty marks. Yes, he'd thought that was very odd as well. That might make it more valuable. But what you are asking for… I cannot make such a decision. It will be a bit awkward, but let me bring the Phaeron onto this communication. Eldrad nodded.
"I will wait." He was sure it would take the necrons a bit of time to arrange that. It took several hours, as the flagship had to engage several other ships to support and provide energy to complete the two-way FTL communication at such a distance. As they worked on that, Eldrad hoped beyond hope that this ploy would be successful.
If it wasn't, he was completely out of options.
Elsewhere, in the Hyrakii depths, Onryx was in a rare and deep rage.
The wretched Mechanicus humans were very clever and when he'd calmed down a little, he would appreciate it more. For now, he was raging over the permanent deaths of over fifty thousand warriors, three Lords, five Overlords and ten… ten Crypteks. It was the last that had Onryx close to chewing the furniture, if he could have… they were not minor Crypteks, either. Six combat Technomancers, specializing in mending all sorts of things on the fly. A combat Psychomancer, a Plasmancer and two Ethermancers. The Lords and Overlords were easy to replace – there were always more noble caste who could be promoted – but the Crypteks were irreplaceable!
How had they done it? Onryx hated it but also admired it, in a way. How had they created an EMP bomb strong enough to destroy recall facilities? And how had they managed to get it INTO the recall facility before detonating it? And because of the nature of the thing, the triumphant bastard who'd pulled it off had likely survived, just waltzing out of the ruins he'd created. If a Mechanicus had been in front of him at that moment, Onryx wouldn't have known if he should congratulate them or strangle them.
(he actually would have done both, congratulating them AS he strangled them)
A two-way FTL communication chose that inauspicious moment to flit into the room. Onryx hand snapped out to grab it.
"WHAT?!" he snarled right into it, even as it formed into an image of Overlord Mekebi. He actually took a step back.
Forgive me, Phaeron. Is this a bad time? Onryx struggled to control his temper, realizing even as he did that he shouldn't have accepted the communication. He should have let it wait, until he was calmer. But with Mekebi in front of him he forced his mind to something resembling calm and responded.
"We have suffered a setback. It is nothing. What is it?" A two-way communication from Mekebi indicated something very odd must have occurred. Onryx knew from his internal timelines that his forces should not have even reached their target yet.
I was refueling my fleet at a red dwarf when an aeldari vessel appeared and approached us. …What? I was curious so I allowed them to speak. They wish to trade us ancient relics of the necrontyr in return for assistance in protecting their Craftworld from a force of humans called the Night Lords. Wait, what?
"That is…" Onryx fell silent. He wanted to say that is insane but was it really? They were ancestral enemies but in terms of galactic forces, the Craftworlders were almost insignificant. The drukhari were more dangerous, with their greater numbers. If they were willing to overlook the events of sixty million years ago, was it that insane to think they could come to some agreements?
And necrontyr artefacts? Onryx knew that the Stormlord was collecting them, now. He'd quietly put out a call for them and was willing to trade all manner of things, from simple gold and gems to other artefacts with less historical significance but more raw power. But would he trade something else entirely? Would he trade Onryx some Crypteks?
Trading Crypteks between Dynasties was a bit of an odd thing, because they were highly respected and, in many ways, an unofficial nobility. One could 'poach' powerful Crypteks from another Dynasty, but that was considered a hostile act. The main exception was incredible luminaries like Orikan, who were in some ways free agents. Someone like Orikan would not act directly against the good of their parent Dynasty, but they could take commissions from other Dynasties.
So Imotekh could actually order some of his lesser Crypteks to go to the Thokt Dynasty. They were commoners beneath his control and had no option to refuse such an order. For the more powerful, he could give Onryx permission to make offers to a certain number of them. Imotekh could even suggest to a few of them that he would look favorably upon such a change, and give them a few offers to leave. It was all very diplomatic, but to get it started Onryx needed something to offer Imotekh and he wanted necrontyr artefacts. The eldar were offering necrontyr artefacts. Could this all fit together?
"Do you believe these artefacts have value?" Onryx finally said, coming out of his internal thoughts to focus on Mekebi. He fancied himself an amateur xenologist and actively enjoyed interacting with lesser races. It was… probably not a coincidence at all, that the eldar had approached him in particular. Not that they would know anything about Mekebi, but they had their own version of Chronomancers that would find them the correct path.
Indeed, they are the strangest things I have ever seen. Oh? Onryx tilted his head. They are feast platters of the ancient necrontyr, perfectly matching the set we have in storage, but they are lacking any Dynasty mark. Onryx knew those plates. He wasn't willing to trade them, they were a treasure of the Dynasty and trading away such things was considered a mark of absolute desperation and would cost them great honor. The marks were not removed, they were simply never cast in the first place. I am only an amateur at such things, but I believe these may have been gifts intended for the Old Ones.
"…Really?" That sounded incredible but Onryx did know that the necrontyr's history with the Old Ones did predate the War in Heaven. Each Dynasty tended to do what it liked, while still heeding the Silent King. Was it impossible that a Dynasty had engaged in some diplomacy with the Old Ones and given them a handsome gift?
Yes. Such a gift would have great meaning to the necrontyr, since only our nobility owned such sets. An acknowledgement of the receiver as equals. Ah, very true, such plates were incredibly expensive and time consuming to make. They actually had a fine lattice woven into them, making them utterly immune to any degradation, both with use and time. And they are so beautiful that likely even the Old Ones appreciated them. However, this is only a theory. The aeldari do not have the history of the items. A bit unfortunate but it could not be helped. The very fact that the eldar had it would also indicate it might have been in the hands of the Old Ones.
Onryx considered it a moment. A set of such plates from a dead, but well-known Dynasty would likely be valuable enough to trade crypteks for in and of itself. One without markings, in the hands of aeldari, with such an intriguing possible history, should be worth even more. Hmm.
"What kind of forces do the aeldari desire? What is the size of the threat against them?"
Let me allow the aeldari in question to speak to you. His name is Eldrad. Very well.
This is what we know of the Night Lord's forces. Eldrad did his best to describe the forces they were facing and the tactics the Night Lords favored. Hit and run guerrilla tactics, mostly, and they were also recruiting some other Chaos bands to act more as shock troopers, giving them the meatier side that they tended to lack. This was a very serious incursion into Imperial space and Ulthwe was considered the first leaf to be swept away. Eldrad believed that if they put up a stiff enough resistance, at certain points, the Night Lords would decide they were too much trouble and glide past them, deep into the Imperium of Man. Given his recent setbacks at the hands of the Mechanicus, that was an appealing thought for Onryx.
(Eldrad didn't like it as much but given that the humans weren't willing to help and the Night Lords were actually THEIR ancestral enemy, well. Tough shit.)
Onryx pulled up his tactical map and consulted it. Many different factors came into his equations, as he plotted out the great course of battle and how it might be altered to suit these demands. He considered the supply lines, the distilled essence of the Hyrakii depths, everything… he wasn't a genius on the level of Imotekh but to be a Phaeron of such a powerful Dynasty, he was very good indeed. Then, when everything was factored together, he came to a decision.
"Mekebi, take your fleet with them. There is not much time." Six months was not long at all, to get something like this in motion. "I will arrange the supply line for you." The issue was the energies of the Hyrakii depths. Fortunately, he had a very large stockpile although this would make a significant dent in it. Well, it was to a good cause. Mekebi's original mission could be abandoned for now, they would take that up later. "I will also send you some reinforcements." Mekebi's fleet could be a bit bigger, for this. Then Onryx focused on the eldar. "We accept this offer. You may give payment when the service is completed." Onryx was confident they would hold to their word. Craftworld Ulthwe was locked in place by the gravities of the Eye of Terror, they would be idiots to incite a powerful Necron Dynasty to launch a war against them.
Thank you, we appreciate it.
I will do as you command, Phaeron. The communication came to an end and Onryx felt invigorated, his bad humor a thing of the past. After finishing the arrangements to support Mekebi, he would start planning on how to punish the Mechanicus for their effrontery.
It was good to have a plan.