As Guilliman returned to Macragge, he digested everything he had learned in that meeting.

The first thing he did was spare a moment to mourn that the Imperium had not found Hope first. In their desperate need for aide, he was sure they could have been gently coaxed into abandoning their religion and joining the Imperium, surrendering the secrets of the STC voluntarily.

(he was absolutely correct in that, they would have made that devil's bargain)

(in that hypothetical future, the people of Hope could easily have been taught to hate and fear xenos. Converting them from Christianity would have been more difficult, but not too much so, given their openness to other religions. By the time they encountered the Inquisition, it would all be too late)

(Manric would have served loyally for a time before falling afoul of the Inquisition for his kindness to xenos and his quiet but steadfast refusal to worship the Emperor)

Then he contemplated Manric. It was so strange, to speak to a Necron who was modest and contemplative. They were normally arrogant as wasps and full of themselves, from the few times Guilliman had interacted with them. Yet, after speaking to Manric, he wondered if that was perhaps a mask they put on for outsiders. There had to be more to them than that, for Manric to equate them so thoroughly with humans. Then, a bit ruefully, he thought of how most Imperial citizens treated xenos. Should he be surprised that Necrons had a very different face for those they considered equals?

Manric himself reminded Guilliman strongly of several Perpetuals he had known. He carried that same air of ageless contemplation most of them had, and also a deep philosophical bent. Guilliman regarded his remarks of not being a deep thinker with utmost dubiousness… Manric undoubtedly did believe that, but he had probably given these subjects more attention than anyone but true philosophers. It almost made him wish Manric could have spoken to the Emperor, although he knew it would likely have done little good. He loved his father, but the Emperor had never gotten along with any Perpetuals, not really.

Guilliman knew it was quite unfair to think of the Hopian humans as sheltered children. They had been raped and murdered for endless generations, subjected to unspeakable horrors. Yet, he couldn't help but think of them as sheltered. Their position on the far end of the galaxy had spared them so much, and they had completely missed the greatest calamities of Galactic history. How could they understand what the rest of the Imperium had been through? They couldn't, and that colored their feelings. It only amazed Guilliman that after what they had been through, they were still so accepting of xenos.

Guilliman knew that Manric was right about AI, in some ways. The Tau were using it completely safely and the Eldar also employed it, within limits. Also, in his push to bring the Imperium back to actually advancing and creating, he and Caul were trying to carefully edge away from the extreme over-reliance on servitors and human labor. They had to be extremely cautious about it though… not only was AI dangerous, the attitudes of Imperial Citizens would have to be carefully convinced to accept basic ones. Yet, automation could not continue to be the enemy, it was just too inefficient to be endured. Still… Guilliman just didn't want to hear it from Manric. His people had not suffered as they had, they couldn't understand the forces that had shaped the Imperium.

When it came to the STC, Guilliman knew he was lying to himself. The great repository of human knowledge did not contain the secrets of replication and probably not living metals like Necron necrodermis, to be sure. Those were latter inventions of the Dark Age of Technology. But what other nuggets of precious knowledge did it contain, things he couldn't even imagine because they had been lost so thoroughly? STC fragments had given them improved combat knives and improved PAINT! It was extremely likely the STC was a treasure trove of minor improvements that could enhance the entire Imperial tech base.

Guilliman knew that, but lied to himself because he knew he couldn't have it. The Stormlord was a strategic genius with a massive fleet of technologically superior vessels at his disposal. The only victories they had achieved against him had been defensive and had required massive amounts of capital ships and firepower. Going directly into the Stormlord's grasp… Guilliman shuddered at the thought. Imotekh would exact a price so high that even if they won, they would have lost. Some of his advisors, and certainly the Mechanicus, would argue in their desperate desire for the STC that surely Imotekh would not commit his entire forces to defend a small outpost world. Guilliman knew, with absolute certainty, that they were wrong. Imotekh had given the Uhnashret Dynasty his protection and he would not let Hope fall to the Imperium any more than he would abandon Mandragora. It would be a point of pride, and there was nothing the Stormlord had more of than that.

That made it absolutely imperative to keep the Mechanicus ignorant of the STC. Guilliman could not necessarily stop them, if they chose to send a fleet to Hope in an effort to claim the STC. But without the full support of the Imperium, which he could not give, they would surely be doomed. Guilliman had no wish to see a billion souls thrown away to no purpose.

Guilliman had intended to talk more with Manric about the way they threw their bodies and souls away, taking up xenos bodies. But that had been when he'd also intended to try to woo Manric towards the Imperium, to forsake the xenos. He had abandoned both lines of conversation for the same reason: They were pointless. Guilliman could feel, just from mere conversation, that Manric's devotion to his Necron lords was absolute. Then, to find out he'd sacrificed a portion of his soul to save one… well. There was no point in discussing his loyalties.

Finding out about the divisions among the Necrons was not, in a way, that surprising. Guilliman had observed the Stormlords actions and on at least one occasion, Imperial forces had been saved by the Necrons coming into direct conflict with each other. So Guilliman had sensed there was animosity there, fractures in Necron loyalties. He hadn't imagined something as big as this, though, and it offered possibilities. If Imotekh and Szarekh came into open conflict, he could possibly try to take back the territory that had been lost to the Stormlord.

Why had MANRIC told him about this, though? Guilliman thought he knew… Manric wanted him to be open to the thought of a temporary alliance in the future. Perhaps the former-human even dreamed that he might someday contemplate a peace treaty with Imotekh. How big of an empire did the Stormlord want? Did he aim to rule the entire galaxy, or did he want something smaller? Guilliman was loathe to leave any human worlds in xenos control, but he knew from his spies that the Stormlord was a surprisingly good ruler. Harsh but fair was the perfect description for him. Was it possible to actually come to peace with him?

(a traitorous part of Guilliman's mind reminded him that the Empire of Man would be much easier to rule if it was a bit smaller)

(another part of his mind knew that if he ever did ink a peace treaty with Imotekh, and they both abided by it, the Stormlord would immediately set his sights on the Tau. They were extremely close to his empire anyway and the only reason he hadn't moved against them yet was the lunacy of fighting a war on two fronts)

(he really wanted to though)

There was still a problem, though, and Guilliman reluctantly faced it. No matter what potential cooperation existed, it was imperative to put an end to the Stormlord's recruitment. He wasn't sure he could, even with the use of the Callidus assassins, but he had to try. Aware that the mission was essentially a death sentence, Guilliman decided to dispatch just one Callidus, but one of the best and most fervent ones. Her mission would be to sabotage the biotransference operations of Hope in some way.

It was unlikely even the best Callidus could find success in such alien conditions, but they would most certainly try.

Iplanen thought he had died and gone to heaven.

After arriving on Hope with Jan, it took a bit of time and Jan pulling in some contacts – he'd actually had a conversation with General Manric, who was on the planet for the wedding – but Iplanen had been given access to the STC. Only C level access, which was read only, but that was more than sufficient. And if he asked politely, Iplanen had found that those with higher level access were often willing to download or print out hand copies for him.

As for STC herself, Iplanen was in heaven. The gentle voiced AI was as he'd expected, from Jan's descriptions, and was patiently willing to explain absolutely anything. That was incredibly valuable because while Iplanen still quite firmly believed in machine spirits, the STC was able to correct some fundamental misunderstandings he'd had. Things that had been coded into the dogma of the Mechanicus, but were simply incorrect. Iplanen had no attachment to such things and was willing to accept corrections and refine his knowledge.

Iplanen was actually deeply ashamed of himself, though, when he saw Jan again.

"Iplanen?" Iplanen looked up from the chemical composite he'd been examining, the synthetic glue based on the drukhari mixture. He was being addressed by a Necron, but one he had never seen before. He was a Cryptek with a single ocular and a sculpted beard, something that Iplanen thought was a callback to how Necrons had looked when alive. Aside from that, his body was unadorned, denoting that he had to be of fairly low status. "What are you doing? …Oh, the drukhari glue." Iplanen was puzzled by this.

"Excuse me, have we met before?" If they had, he couldn't recall it. The Cryptek made the buzzing sound that served many Necrons for a laugh.

"Iplanen, it's me, Jan." …What? Iplanen stared before suddenly scrambling.

"But your transfer wasn't scheduled for… oh. A week ago." He… he had missed it? Iplanen suddenly felt awful as he realized he had completely mislaid time, as he dove into the innards of the STC. And he'd just forgotten to set an alarm. He'd meant to do that but then something had distracted him. "I… I apologize…" But it felt like he couldn't really apologize for this. How had he been so careless?

"Oh Iplanen, don't be so downcast!" A cold metal hand touched his shoulder and Iplanen had to imagine Jan's expressive face. It was a crime, that he no longer had all that beautiful expressiveness at his disposal. "I could have told you, but you were so involved, I decided not to bother you. It's not like it's that interesting to watch anyway." He still should have been there. "I came by to ask if you're still interested in Necron technology?" Oh yes, of course! "Simokh has given permission for you to attend my lessons, if you want."

"I would very much appreciate that," Iplanen responded, although he wondered a bit why the Necrons were willing to let him attend. Fortunately Jan was more than willing to explain, as he took them from the STC to the path that led deeper into the planet, into the Tomb World.

"The Crypteks don't want to seriously train regular humans mostly because we're so short lived and don't recall." Ah. That did make sense. "But I'm told due to your implants, you should have a very long life." That was true… some like Caul were virtually immortal, although there was a cost. "The lack of recall is still a problem but if you truly want to join us, biotransference would be an option."

"You think that might be offered to me?" A fascinating idea but Iplanen hadn't brought it up since he wasn't truly an ally to the Sautekh. A slave rather than a serf, although did that distinction truly matter? It might or it might not, he was not sure. Jan tilted his head to one side.

"Well… frankly, if you take it, you are trustworthy. The Imperium would kill you on sight." Well, that was certainly true. "It's just that they don't know you yet. They're giving you a trial to see if you're worthwhile, sorry." Understandable. Although Iplanen was not sure he would want to completely abandon the organic parts of his body.

Iplanen was very curious to see a Tomb World and he was not disappointed. He was aware this was a poor Dynasty and other Necron tombs would be vastly more impressive, but he still found the xenos world quite beautiful. The Necrons favored great pyramids and statues of their ancestors, and it was bustling with activity. Warriors patrolling but also Crypteks on little drift disks and Lords and Overlords doing unfathomable things.

"It's so good to see this place active again." Eh? It hadn't been? "The first time I was here, it was literally a tomb.. Phaeron Rahkaak only had six thousand Necrons then. After Coreworld Abydos was saved, she brought almost half her subjects here." Ah, interesting. "It's still a bit sparsely populated compared to what it was, but it's been brought back to life."

"Interesting." Iplanen wondered how all those new Necrons felt about the pwi-Necrons. But then, given that their Phaeron had sanctioned it they likely kept any disagreement to themselves.

For Iplanen, this was the first time meeting Simokh. He'd already met Nuhkes, and had a discussion about the Mechanicus with him, but the head of the Crypteks was new to him. He was tall and slender, his silvery necrodermis touched lightly with gold. He wore a metal cowl and a cloak of plaques, that made a surprisingly musical sound as he moved. They almost reminded Iplanen of wind chimes.

"This is the Mechanicus tech priest," Simokh said in a way that struck Iplanen as emotionless, even for a Necron. But Jan had mentioned Simokh's inability to feel much of anything. "I am told you are curious about the workings of our gauss flayers." Ah, yes! "Jan has some skill with them. Would you like us to begin with that?"

"I would appreciate it," Iplanen said most sincerely. The mysteries of how a gauss flayer truly worked were a matter of intense speculation among the Mechanicus. Simokh had already disassembled a gauss flayer so they could see the insides, and he began teaching them, not just about the flayer itself but the more basic technology that had gone into the construction. Iplanen basked in the knowledge, soaking it up.

He wanted to learn more than anything.