Horosska moved sinuously through the grasses, stalking her prey.

Her prey was the strangers to their land, the silvery People who glowed with green fire. Srrenkestra had claimed they were magic and spotted her with their magic, but Horosska had her doubts. Srren, as they often called her, was a baby, a child just newly allowed to leave the pack and hunt alone. That was an honor, to be sure, but she was not an experienced hunter or warrior.

Horosska was both of those things. A veteran of hundreds of hunts, and a warrior in battle against the enemies of the Anaut, she knew how to sneak up on an enemy and slit their throat before they even knew she was there. If these strangers were not using magic, just good senses, Horosska was confident she would be able to observe them.

After a day, Horosska was sure she was right. She could not get too close – she would NEVER be able to slit their throats, even if that was possible, which she doubted – but they were not magic. They were just gifted with keen senses that could be confused if she was careful enough. She had to get very close to the ground, almost merging with it and cautiously peering between the grasses, and stay a good distance away. If she tried to get any closer, Horosska could see their body language go stiff and strange and she had to freeze before carefully edging back.

The silvery People were not always present, though. Horosska had discovered their home… a great silvery thing that looked a little like them, that was sitting on the ground on great feet. When they were gone she cautiously scouted it out, but there was no way in. The entrance only opened for them. Horosska was very cautious and after she got one good look at it, she did not come close again. It was too likely she would be caught.

Horosska had also brought plenty of dried meat, to eat while she observed. So she happened to be present when something truly remarkable happened. Well, everything about this was remarkable… but Horosska thought this was remarkable to the silver People as well.

It started with a fight. Two of the silver people started to argue, one of them argumentative and the other, from the body language Horosska could see, trying to placate him. It was very hard for her to understand most of their body language but when he lifted both hands that was a gesture she understood. Then the third silver People came out and began speaking.

His voice was abruptly cut short as the argumentative one slammed a shoulder into him and pushed into his body. Horosska hissed… so far away she could not see what was in his hand, but she knew that silver person had just been stabbed. The earlier one was frozen in shock or surprise and did not react quickly enough. He was stabbed as well and when the first tried to attack, despite his injuries, he was punched in the face.

Horosska evaluated the conflict and decided that the argumentative one had planned everything, taking the other two by surprise. But why? What was the reason behind this treachery? The winner conversed briefly with the losers, before kneeling beside one of them. Horosska hissed again as she saw the blade in his hand, a strange weapon that was almost translucent. He cut into his victim again and again, until he became unresponsive. The other one was speaking, in a way she interpreted as begging. Asking him to stop?

The one with the knife left then, going into the silver home. Then, to Horosska's shock, it withdrew its legs but floated in the air? She watched wide eyed as it flew away, defying all laws of logic. She had not guessed their home could FLY! Where was it going? Some far away land or… or the stars, in the sky? No one really knew what the stars were except the spirits of the dead and Horosska suspected that was nonsense.

When the home of the silver People was gone, the two People were left behind. Horosska hesitated before slipping out of the grass, walking up to them. They were not very intimidating right now… the less injured one had pulled himself to his friend and to Horosska's puzzlement, he had something in his arm? Attached to the other silver person, to his neck? Horosska did not understand that but she did understand how green liquid, turning into a gas, was spilled heavily on the ground. Also a different, blueish fluid… this was all blood, Horosska was sure of it.

"$***$**$" Horosska could not understand a word the less injured one was saying. His eyes were glowing brightly and as she looked down at the other one, his eyes were dim. Horosska was sure that if that light went out, the silver People would be dead.

Then the less injured one offered her a string of beads, with his free hand. Horosska hesitated before taking them… this string of beads was very different from the first, brilliant red and yellow swirls. Then he pointed to himself, and made a strange sound. He paused for a moment, then repeated it.

"Casimir," he said and Horosska tried to imitate the sound. It took her a few tries, but she managed it. "Valdar," he said, pointing to the unconscious one and Horosska repeated the name before pointing at herself.

"Horosska." It took him a few tries as well, but he said her name. Then he pointed at the string of beads and said a word… ah, wait, did he want to learn how to speak the language of the People?

"Beads," she said, pointing at the string, hoping she understood the message. He repeated the word. Then she picked up a stone from the ground. "Rock." He repeated that word as well and Horosska was sure she understood. Maybe the silver People hadn't been planning to learn to speak to them, but with their home gone, now they wanted to. And if they could speak to the silver People, perhaps they could learn about them and from them.

Horosska did not believe in magic, but she believed there were many things in the world she did not understand.

Casimir was in utter disbelief at what had happened.

He'd been very confused when Ostos had seemed to randomly pick a fight with him, slagging his work and telling him off. He'd been trying to defuse the situation, calm Ostos down, when Valdar had come out. It had been a relief to see him. Valdar was the team leader, in their team of three, so he'd get Ostos sorted out.

Then Ostos had pulled a power knife and stabbed him right in the flux. Casimir had just frozen up, his mind unable to comprehend the betrayal, and Ostos had turned like a snake and stabbed him too. Valdar was strong though and despite the green fluid that was outgassing, he tried to fight. Casimir belatedly tried to fight too, but he'd never been very good at hand to hand and they both didn't have any weapons. Why would they, when they were right under the ship?!

"Ostos, are you insane?! Stop!" Casimir tried to pry him away from Valdar, tried to grab the knife, and just got stabbed again for his efforts. It was all insane, what was even happening? Had Ostos gone mad?

When they were both beaten, though, they got to find out what was happening. And it wasn't pleasant at all.

"For twenty years, I've worked towards this moment." Wait, what? "Now that I'm far away from Hope and have a ship in my hands, I will realize my dream of becoming a pirate king." …What?

"Our ship doesn't have weapons you idiot," Valdar wheezed and Casimir cringed as Ostos made glyphs of amusement and malice before kneeling beside Valdar.

"You're both so stupid… slaves to mediocrity, locked in your roles by societal expectations. Open your mind, Valdar, and try to think. What can a single necron do with a tiny scout ship?" He… he didn't know… "Oh, I have so many plans, but you're both too trapped by the rules to even think of them. Ah, what does it matter? Because the truth is…" Ostos leaned close to Valdar and Casimir felt a sinking feeling. "I really don't like you."

Then, to Casimir's horror, Ostos stabbed Valdar again. It was a calculated flick of the knife, spilling more green flux on the ground, that quickly turned into gas. Then again, and again, and Casimir saw blue fluid now which was even worse than green. And Valdar's eyes were dimming.

"Stop! Ostos, stop, please!" What could he say to make this stop? "I don't want to be alone here! Please, stop!" Casimir said frantically and Ostos paused in his mutilation.

"Casimir, you're pathetic." Casimir flinched, memories of his time in the army flickering through his mind. He'd survived just one tour of duty and by the skin of his teeth. His sergeant had said that to him. "Thinking of yourself at a time like this? Tch tch." Well he just didn't know what to say! Ostos wasn't going to take pity on Valdar, not the way he was acting, but maybe he would take pity on him? "See if you can make yourself useful and save him. And if he dies, it's your fault isn't it?" Ostos taunted before standing up and going to the ship. Casimir ignored him as he boarded it, frantically dragging himself to Valdar as he tried to remember their lessons.

After they had been given biotransference, before they had taken up their duties, all of them had been given a course on necron 'first aid.' Casimir didn't understand how any of the technology worked, he just understood a few basic things… without recall facilities, they had to depend on their self-repair mechanisms and it was critical that the engrams not be damaged. Preventing that meant a constant supply of energy to the 'brain' was necessary. The engrams could survive a lowering of that energy for a time but if it was cut off, mental function would effectively be extinguished. Oh, a residue might survive, but the person they had been was gone.

So Casimir knew he had to connect his own flux supply, which was mostly undamaged, to Valdar so his 'brain' could survive long enough for his self-repair mechanisms to repair most of the damage and regenerate his flux and the blue fluid… was that lubricant? Casimir couldn't remember. All he knew was that as long as Valdar's engrams survived, his body would somehow regenerate it. So he needed to get this right.

Casimir desperately pulled up his records of the lessons, permanently inscribed in his mind, and followed them as best he could. He unhooked a particular hose from the depths of his upper arm, and gently disconnected a similar one from Valdar's neck before hooking them together. As he did, he mentally begged the living metal to seal them together. From his lessons, it should work!

It did work, exactly as described and Casimir felt the strength drain from him as Valdar's flickering eyes steadied. That would give his body a bit more time to repair all the damage he'd taken. If Valdar couldn't do that, they would both die, but Casimir knew that wasn't likely. Necron self-repair was scarily good, the living metal was insane. Valdar was going to be fine, they were both going to be fine. But what then?

We're stranded here. The scout ship was gone. Fortunately, they'd sent the preliminary report about the adamantium so someone WOULD be coming here to follow up, but how long would that take? A year? More than a year? Not decades, it couldn't be that long, the Sautekh Empire and Hope needed adamantium. Was it possible they could come sooner, when they didn't get the follow up reports? Casimir just didn't know.

Then the alien stepped out of the grass.

"…" Casimir just looked at her, not feeling remotely threatened. Even as badly damaged and weakened as they were, a copper knife wasn't going to do any real damage. This was the first xenos he'd seen, though, so he examined her.

She was mostly like the one Valdar had seen, but Casimir spotted some differences. She looked older, her green face spotted with tiny, darker marks. Her fronds as well, weren't as fresh and pretty, a bit tattered and dull. One looked like it had been cut off with a knife, sometime in the past, and hadn't grown back well. Her clothing was also a bit different… better made, and ornamented with little seashell beads. Casimir wasn't as good at this sort of thing as Valdar, but he could still figure out that she was older, experienced and probably ranked quite highly among her people.

Casimir had a few strings of beads tucked away, in case he met one of the xenos. So he pulled out a random string and offered it to her. She took it, glancing at it curiously and Casimir pointed to himself.

"Casimir." It took a few tries, but she managed to say his name. He pointed to his friend. "Valdar." That name seemed a bit easier for her. Then she pointed to herself.

"Horosska." Her voice was high and pleasant, with a very alien timbre. Casimir repeated the sound and it also took a few tries for him to get it right. Then they looked at each other for a moment and Casimir's gaze fell on the strand of beads. He pointed at it and said the necron word for beads, before waiting patiently. She tilted her head before seeming to understand and pointed at the beads before saying a word. Casimir repeated it, trying to commit it to memory. Then they did a rock.

Casimir was no genius with languages, but they might be here a long, long time. He might as well get started.

The trip to the Pharos took roughly six months.

That was actually incredibly good. Belisarius Cawl had the very best of Navigators on his personal ship, and the ship itself was a marvel of technology. And none of the time was wasted… the first thing Ahkaros did, when they were aboard the ship, was to supply him with a necron cogitator, displaying a work written in necron runes. Cawl felt pure joy as he read the title of it.

An introductory guide to Szarekhan Blackstone technology

by

Technomancer Ahkaros

Cawl dove into that work. He already knew a great deal about blackstone, but he had learned the hard way, through research and experimentation. That was quite a bit different from having the knowledge given to him, laid out with the attempt of helping him understand. Cawl discovered that a few things he'd thought he'd understood, he really didn't, and he had a few things wrong. A new depth of clarity and understanding was reached and when he was done, Ahkaros gave him several tests, to demonstrate his knowledge. Then Cawl was given a greater work, and hands on instruction from the great Technomancer. Cawl became very used to the rasping, mechanical tones of Ahkaros as he continued to learn.

The trip did require one stop for refueling, though. Cawl thought nothing of it… they would just stop at a friendly Forge World to collect some food and water and fuel. Nothing unusual at all.

Or so he thought.

They were allowed to dock and begin their refueling, ensuring they could not abruptly leave. Then the Master of the Forge World, accompanied by a High Inquisitor, demanded to examine his ship. Cawl tried to refuse of course – he was an Archmagos Dominus and in control of the Mechanicus, this was quite an insult – but unfortunately, he found that he could not.

"Even you are not exempt from heresy, Cawl, and you stand accused of consorting with xenos," the Inquisitor said, his expression hard and set. He was Lord Inquisitor Stanros Vork, a well-known traditionalist. "Guilliman might have consented to a treaty with the vile creatures, but that does not give them license to run freely through the Imperium." That was, alas, true. Cawl reflected on it… just as the Sautekh Empire had banned any Imperium military forces and the Inquisition from their space, the Imperium had banned true necrons. Pwi-necrons were only tolerated on certain planets and areas designated as such, while humans from the Sautekh Empire were allowed to move far more freely. Even there, though, they were banned from certain worlds, the Imperium equivalent of the Marked status.

All this meant that Ahkaros was not allowed to be here, by any measure. Cawl's eyes narrowed as he wondered who had betrayed him. Bergheim? Probably not, but he was a junior inquisitor. Cawl had thought his contacts there were reliable but perhaps he was wrong. Someone among the Mechanicus? That was, alas, far more likely and Cawl knew he would have to root around and see who had passed word to his enemies.

"As Master of the Forge, I also insist," Archmagos Pendrax Vox said, staring at him with undisguised malice. That was not a surprise at all, Pendrax was among the most traditional, dogmatic of the Mechanicus. Which was fine, for a Forge world like this one, although they'd had trouble just getting him to use the improved capacitors and ball bearings. Reassurances that they were human technology, not xenos, had fallen on deaf ears and Cawl had finally resorted to threats. It seems this was payback.

Cawl was forced to admit them on his ship and cursed internally. He hadn't put away the necron cogitator and Ahkaros entire quarters were full of xenos tech, not to mention the xenos himself! Well, if worst came to worst, Cawl was sure Ahkaros would have some solution to this. Incredibly advanced mindshackle scarabs that could eat the memories out of their minds? Some other form of brainwashing? Although Cawl felt utterly vexed at himself that such a thing would be necessary. Who had betrayed his great work?!

Fortunately, absolutely none of it was necessary. They went directly to his quarters but to Cawl's well hidden surprise, there was not the slightest hint of xenos technology there. The cogitator and works had vanished and everything was scrupulously neat. Vox was stymied, gazing over the work area with a confused air before glaring at him. Cawl just met his gaze calmly, amused by his discomfort.

"It looks like you don't work here at all. Who warned you…" he hissed and Cawl just blinked innocently. The Inquisitor snorted.

"He cannot hide the xenos. Come, let us find it." Oh, Cawl was sure the xenos could hide himself quite well.

Cawl spotted Ahkaros, of course. There was a low-level technician present who had not been there before, wearing a heavy red, Mechanicus cloak and a rebreather. They were inspecting everyone so Cawl got to watch as the Inquisitor made him turn around and examined his dark, nearly black skin and green eyes. When Ahkaros pulled his hood back, Cawl saw he was completely bald, his head nearly shiny. But he most certainly did appear to be human in every aspect.

Ahkaros' quarters were also completely clean of any xenos technology, just a few human books scattered around. Finally, they Inquisitor was forced to call a stop to it even as the Master of the Forge hissed in frustration.

"Who warned you. Someone warned you," he snarled and the Inquisitor gestured sharply to him.

"If he was warned, he was warned. There is nothing here for us. But we will be keeping an eye on you, Belisarius," he said and Cawl just nodded. He was sure they would. After they were gone, things went back to normal, after a fashion. Ahkaros did not come out of hiding for the entire refueling. Only when they were safely back in the Warp did the Technomancer reveal himself again.

"I want to apologize. That was not supposed to happen," Cawl said as Ahkaros entered his quarters. The Technomancer waved the apology away.

"I expect things to go wrong…" he rasped before pulling out a cube. In an instant, all of Cawl's workspace was back to what it had been, cogitator and all. "I have traveled among humans before. Because I travel alone, so far from any recall, I must be careful. So many ways to die…" Cawl blinked at that, but he supposed Ahkaros had not survived so long as the only remaining member of his Dynasty, without learning caution. Still.

"You do not have ways to defend yourself?" he asked and almost regretted it as Ahkaros made a rattling sound that seemed to contain all the malice in the galaxy.

"Oh, so many ways. But no starship, no Forge World… many years building what I need to leave… annoying." No Forge World? Cawl abruptly decided he didn't want to know what terrible weapons Ahkaros had hidden away. The fact that he thought he could easily obliterate the entire Forge was enough. "And even I can make mistakes. Even I can die… better to not chance it." That was a point. "Once, I was almost stranded in the Immaterium… that was bad, but I made it. I survived," Ahkaros rasped before shaking his head. "Pointless. We should get back to work." Yes, they didn't really have that much time before they reached the Pharos. Although that did sound like an interesting story. As Cawl bent over his small blackstone project, Cawl made a mental note to himself.

Perhaps in the future, when they had more time, Ahkaros would be willing to tell him some stories of his adventures.