This is not going well at all.
Captain Anton of the God's Hands was deeply concerned about the situation he was facing. He was commanding both his own units of God's Hands, and the full might of the 1st Division, the Gryphons. They were supplemented with extra units of Knight armor, both older pilots and a good helping of newer recruits. It was an extremely powerful force, the most that had been given to any world.
And the Hive World of Antioch needed it. Fighting orks on a Hive World was nightmarish. The outer lands around the hives were completely poisonous to humans, but orks could survive there and actually seemed to thrive on the toxins. The great junk piles outside of the cities were fertile grounds for them, resulting in a never-ending headache for the Necrons and now, the garrison of Hope. There were also orks sporing in the Hives themselves, but that was not for the garrison. They were specifically to keep the Orks outside the Hives under control, their own internal forces would handle the ones within. The gangs were doing a fairly good job as it was, without a shred of help.
That part wasn't the problem. Against the orks, Anton was well satisfied with their performance. What concerned him, deeply, was the morale of his troops. His pwi-Necrons were not a problem. It made him sad to think of it, but as part of the process of biotransference they had become largely indifferent to the conditions they lived in. They wouldn't enjoy being locked in a box of course, but as long as they had a bit of space to move around in and chat with each other, they were content.
Humans were much pickier and Anton remembered being one quite vividly, so he sympathized with their predicament. They were housed in three separate Hive cities, to provide adequate coverage against the orks and they were living in the old Guard barracks that had been vacated when Antioch had fallen to the Necrons. They were… fine… adequate anyway. They could have been better. What was really bad, though, was the surroundings and the food.
The food ranged from acceptable to appallingly bad. Anton knew it wasn't entirely the Hive World's fault. They treated soldiers roughly the same as factory workers, but with more ample rations. However, the warriors of Hope were not used to Hive World… cuisine. They had flatly refused to eat Corpse Starch and the pressed bug bars were on thin ice. The rest of the meals were extremely heavy on cheap grains and starches, which was fine, but they did need a few more vegetables and certainly more real meat. Some of the weird synth-meat actually seemed to be giving the men a rash.
Just as bad were the surroundings. The barracks did at least have some spaces where the men could play cards and exercise, but the rest of the Hive was unwelcoming in the extreme. The barracks were in a poorer part of the Hive and outside of them was a technological squalor that the men had a hard time understanding. It was also dangerous, as they had learned the hard way. They were required to travel in groups, now, and always got extremely poor service and the cold shoulder. Anton was grimly sure that if his men understood the low Gothic better, they'd have heard mumbles of "traitor" and "xenos lover".
All of this had led the men to low morale and a strong desire to go home. They were supposed to be here for five years and it had only been eight months, so that was extremely alarming. Worse yet was the conversation Anton had had with the outgoing Necron Overlord that had been managing this place. He was sure the Necron had been dead serious.
Who should he address first? His men, or the Planetary Governor and his Council? Anton decided to start with the Council. Once he got them on board, he could explain the situation to the men and ask them for patience as they got everything sorted out.
Captain Anton got in touch with the Governor's secretary, a sweet girl who made him wistfully wish he'd met her when he was still young and alive, and made the arrangements for a meeting with the full Council. They did not meet every day, as their meetings included representatives from each Hive City, but he needed them all. They all needed to understand their situation.
Three days later, Captain Anton made his way to the Council chambers. The experience of taking a private car, then walking through the highest echelons of the Hive City, was always interesting. The car had to take him all the way from the Lower Hive, where the barracks were, through the Upper Hive and into the Spires. It always made him feel like he was observing an alien species, as the surroundings went from dingy, poor and a bit dangerous to clean and beautiful and safe. Hope had wealthy and poor, of course, but nothing like this. The sheer opulent wealth of the Spire dwellers would outstrip even the King! And the destitute lives of the Under and Outer dwellers was beyond the pale. They often did not even have clean water, which was universally free on Hope.
Captain Anton shook that thought away as he walked through the lovely, manicured gardens of the central governmental hub in the Spire. He'd decided early on that he would try not to judge. Oh, he wanted to, particularly when he saw the poor servitor things but every time he felt the urge, he reminded himself. This was how the entire Imperium did things, and they'd done it for years uncounted. These people weren't at fault for doing what their great-great-great-grandpappies had done before them. Who was at fault? The Emperor? Perhaps, or perhaps it had all come about long after he'd been confined to that Golden Throne thing. Maybe everyone responsible for this was long dead.
(what WAS the Emperor? If the stories they told about him weren't just religious fluff, he couldn't be human)
Either way, he was a soldier and it wasn't his business, protecting these people was. Anton took in the beautiful white marble and golden wash, the gorgeous furniture and the lovely paintings, with a sense of wonder. He'd seen the King's palace once and it really didn't hold a candle to this.
Anton reached the great wooden doors that entered to the Council chamber and patiently waited for them to open. Two servitors, almost presentable in their red livery, if you ignored the implants, did the work of ponderously opening the doors. He entered the Council chambers and was struck by how similar, yet how different it was to Hope's. Instead of a rather cozy room with a circular table and office chairs, there was a grandious room with white marble flooring and walls, and an entire wall dedicated to an endless window. The view outside was frankly ghastly, the Hive City beneath them and the polluted wastes beyond that, but still very impressive. The table in the centre of the room was fine wood, and around it were chairs that could have doubled as thrones. Impressive yet Anton noticed with amusement that they couldn't move around, and were probably less comfortable than the office chairs. They were occupied with ten people, the representatives from all eight Hive cities, the Planetary Governor and his chief of staff. They didn't stand when he entered, but Anton had decided early on that he wouldn't require it.
"Captain Anton! I'm told you requested a meeting. How can we assist you?" The Planetary Governor said with the falsest smile Anton had seen in his life. Well, he had been bothering the man practically since they'd arrived for better food and accommodations for the men. He undoubtedly felt Anton was a damned nuisance.
Well, it was time to shake him up a little.
Anton walked to the table and set his hands on it with a solid thump, using his intimidating Necron height to his advantage as he leaned forward in a very serious posture. He gazed around the table, seeing who would meet his gaze and who looked away. Not that it meant much, aside from who found xenos more repulsive and frightening than others.
"Governor, I am going to be completely frank here. Your entire planet has one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel." Anton had checked and he knew that expression was still used in low Gothic. The Governor's fake smile wilted at the edges as everyone else stared at him or glanced at each other. "You are a hair's breath away from an Exterminatus."
"Have we offended you in some way?" The matron of the largest Hive asked in a clipped tone. Anton made a buzzing sigh.
"No, it's just that you're useless." Anton slammed his hand on the table before going into his rant. He'd prepared it ahead of time. "Look, you don't create anything of value to the Sautekh dynasty. The ore you mine out of this place is bargain basement rubbish, they can get it anywhere. You used to make fine munitions for the Astartes, but the Necrons aren't the Astartes and they just don't need them. The only thing of value you produce at all is trade goods, and they barely need that! The Stormlord is using your tithes as party favors, passing them around as free gifts to the planets who actually DO something!" The trinkets the Necrons gave to the Feral worlders came from this planet. "And anyone can make beads!"
"So when I tell you my men's morale is in the gutter, it is not a minor matter!" Anton continued, slamming a hand on the table as few people made to interrupt. He caused a crack in it, drat, but at least they closed their mouths. "It's only eight months in and they are less happy than we were fighting the drukhari. Do you understand that? We are accustomed to fighting enemies who intended to kidnap us, drag us off and torture us for years or even decades, until our bodies and souls were so broken and twisted we couldn't be resurrected anymore! And we knew that because they told us! And my men were happier fighting those creatures than they are here!" Anton paused, gazing at each of them in turn. "We need to address this problem. If my men refuse to serve here, the Stormlord isn't going to come back with a Necron garrison, he's going to come back with torpedos." Finally, they seemed to get it, from the way faces were going pale.
"If we're so completely useless, why are the xenos keeping us around at all?" Anton wasn't sure it was a serious question, he sounded angry and a bit afraid, but he decided to answer it anyway.
"Because Phaeron Imotekh is taking the long view. He wants to build his empire and Necrons don't naturally reproduce, so he'll rule other races. Someday in the future, there will be more human worlds who need your goods than just the few we have. You'll never be the kind of planet he truly desires, but you'll have a place supporting the ones that are. He doesn't particularly want to destroy you, but it's a matter of practicality. If you're more trouble than you're worth…" Anton spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness before dropping them. "May I please show you my proposed plan to address this issue?" He hadn't come just with complaints.
"Of course! We will be glad to see it," the Planetary Governor said with a falseness that was so painfully obvious, even other members of the Council gave him dirty looks. Anton just ignored it, he really didn't care, and pulled out a portable holo projector to start his presentation.
"Before we begin, let me note that we can do this in any location, not the ones my men are currently at. Also, this is just a mock up, I assume changes will need to be made. Now…" Anton pulled out a metal pointer. He'd had it made just for this, and it brought him back to his long career as a schoolteacher, after he'd retired from the military. "So this is where my men currently are." It showed a diagram of the Hive section and the part his men were in was highlighted in red. He pointed at it, gently 'tapping' the hologram. "This is what I am proposing we do." A much larger section of the Hive became highlighted in green. "I want to expand the area given to the barracks and build facilities. In particular, one thing I really want is an arboretum." The hologram shifted to the image of an indoor garden, a pleasant little place to walk. "With some herb gardens to add nice flavor to the food, maybe some hydroponics, that sort of thing." A little bit of freshness went a long way. "The second most important thing is the tavern." Anton ran through all the additions he wanted, hearing a few choking sounds behind him. They just didn't understand, they were used to dealing with the Guard and they had a problem the Guard just didn't have. "Now, I'm sure you're all wondering WHY we need this." Anton turned back to them, tapping the pointer on his hand. They were all looking at him with various emotions, ranging from disbelief to disgust. "I am proposing that we create a city within the city and the reason why is because of what you simply cannot do… you cannot make the Hive dwellers accept my men."
"You are not God – I mean, the Emperor." He corrected himself. "You cannot make the Hive dwellers welcome my men in the bars, let them walk around in peace, talk to them politely. So we need to create separation. I'm sorry, but this is the only way I see to address the problems with morale."
"Who is going to pay for this," one person mumbled and Anton turned his head to stare at that fool.
"I don't know. Who is going to pay for anything when you don't have an atmosphere anymore?" Anton asked and there was a heavy silence as they exchanged glances. Then the Hive Matron – what was her name again? She was a sensible one – spoke up.
"Captain Anton, can you please give us time alone to discuss this?" Anton flipped his pointer away before bowing.
"I'll wait outside while you talk it out." He would wait all day, if necessary. And this part would probably involve a lot of fighting and recriminations that they wouldn't want him to hear. Anton showed himself out, and began idly perusing the artwork. A lot of it seemed to be religious or martial in nature, but Anton had no idea who the giant men were or what deeds were being commemorated. They were still quite beautiful. He was particularly taken with the one who wore blue and had a golden laurel wreath, like an ancient Roman emperor.
(if Anton had the least idea the person in that picture was still alive and an enemy, he wouldn't have liked it nearly as much)