Imotekh absolutely hated Chaos in every particular.
Imotekh was, by his very nature, the absolute antithesis of chaos. More organized than the most anal Imperium naval officer, superior even to Roboute Guilliman at the art of administration, Imotekh found the fundamental disorganization of Chaos utterly despicable, even as he exploited it. Chaos forces were so easy to defeat, in general. Abaddon was an absolute fool when it came to securing his supply lines and kept forgetting that humans needed to eat. The few times Chaos had moved in force towards his empire, Imotekh had given them a thorough spanking.
What was much, much worse was the seductions of Chaos in his empire. The Empire being well run and rarely suffering food shortages really did help – there was vastly less unrest than the Imperium sometimes experienced – but no matter how well things were run, inequalities would exist. That was just the way of things and Imotekh understood perfectly well that those on the bottom of the pile would reach for any way to uplift themselves. It was no different from the ancient necrontyr and even the necrons.
Imotekh handled this several ways. The primary way was simply blackstone. Any planet with links to the Warp, soft spots in reality, got Blackstone pillars similar to Cadia. Any planet close to the infernal rifts got more blackstone. Blackstone, blackstone everywhere… the C'Tan powering the blackstone forges would no doubt cry for mercy if they could. Imotekh loved that thought almost as much as the Blackstone itself.
The other primary way he handled it was his great processing power. Unlike literally anyone else, including Roboute Guilliman, Imotekh read every single report, added the information to his mind and collated it all. Like an incredibly vast supercomputer, his mind had processing power that would make even the STC look like a mere child. It was far from magic and he could not detect everything, but Imotekh often found suspicious patterns that lesser minds would miss. Then he directed his administrator lords and human Planetary Governors to investigate and root out the infection. The Planetary Governors might not be entirely thrilled with being part of a xenos empire but they were vastly less enthusiastic about Chaos so they tended to do well.
The Chaos God that Imotekh hated above all others was Tzeentch, the Lord of Change. His work was very subtle, very hard to pick up, but Imotekh detested him for more than that. He hated how Tzeentch perverted things that were truly good, to his mind. Knowledge and the seeking for it should never be a bad thing and it infuriated Imotekh that Tzeentch could make it so. It enraged him that the Imperium had to resort to sheer ignorance just to beat back the filthy bird. Ambition, intrigue, lies and treachery were also aspects of Tzeentch but Imotekh found that more forgivable. Ambition had always been a path to ruin. As a Necron Overlord, Imotekh knew that extremely well.
So when Imotekh received Manric's report, he was unpleasantly surprised.
An attempt to insinuate a Chaos agent into Hope. That was very bad, particularly an agent of Tzeentch. Hope was becoming a very important industrial hub in the Sautekh empire. Despite the distance, adamantium and other materials were shipped to Hope to make use of the incredibly advanced manufacturing. They could produce gauss flayers and Doom Scythes, and now they were beginning the production of military-grade shells equal to Immortals. And they had the capability for even more advanced shells, working with the Crypteks, Overlord grade shells. Eventually, many of their current pwi-necrons, the ones in Warrior bodies might be sent for upgrades. In addition to all that was the soul manipulation facilities and research. Imotekh felt cold trepidation at the thought of an agent of Tzeentch in that place. And while the STC and Coreworld AI would do their best, if one thing was likely to evade them, it was the cursed Lord of Change. The great advantage Hope had was that summoning demons there was next to impossible, due to the stiffness of reality. They had to come from outside… as this one nearly had.
"You almost missed this foulness?" Imotekh said, truly a bit angry at the thought. "Laaror, what is wrong with you?" He jibed at the spear, which did not react. Manric bowed, making glyphs of apology and supplication.
"We all humbly apologize for our near failure. It was truly incredibly subtle and well thought out… I will be more careful in the future," Manric said humbly. "We will all be more careful in the future." Hmph, so the spirits in the spear were chagrined at what had almost occurred. Well, disaster had been averted, if narrowly. There was no need to humiliate them further.
"Very well. But you still intend to send this female to Hope?" Imotekh was a bit dubious at that. It seemed an unnecessary risk. "What is so special about her?"
"Ah… it might be a bit hard to explain." Oh, more organic nonsense then. "She is, by Hopian standards of beauty, nearly the ideal of female attractiveness." ARGH! Although with his recollections of the Flesh Times, Imotekh DID understand better now… his third wife had been extremely lovely. His first two not as much, but they had been picked for family connections. "That is why the demon selected her… I am sure the grimoire did not fall into her hands by chance." Well, with Tzeentch you really never knew. That was the other thing that bothered Imotekh about the bird… he was also the god of change and chance, so you never knew if his so-called carefully laid plans were actually completely random. Infuriating. "With the blackstone installed in her body, she should be safe enough and it seems a shame to deprive her of the opportunities Hope will offer. Even if we took her to a world where her degree of mutation would be accepted, she would be nothing unusual. In Hope, her appearance is very rare." Was he actually discussing some random female human with one of his commanders? Imotekh suddenly saw the hilarity of this moment.
"Very well, if you are confident the matter is in hand, proceed as you will." This was really too minor a matter to deserve even a moment of his time, now that the problem of Chaos was resolved. "And you believe the pwi-necron was also influenced by Chaos?" That was vexing because they did have Blackstone protections. Manric nodded.
"Nothing less would have brought me to Luminous and that was pivotal to this plan." Yes… Imotekh considered it carefully before deciding that bolstering the blackstone protections for the regular troops would be a wasted effort. It was unfortunate that sometimes an attack got through, but there were trade offs in everything. "We will be more vigilant for aberrant behavior in the future." That was probably the best strategy.
"Good. This is acceptable, you are dismissed." Imotekh said and Manric bowed before departing. Once he was gone, Imotekh decided to take a moment from the strategic situation to go see what Osatek was up to.
His son had been quietly overjoyed to be removed from his regular duties and set to the creation of art. Imotekh hoped the boy wasn't expecting to create some kind of great masterpiece immediately… he hadn't been THAT good and sixty million years was a long time to let skills molder. Still, he was curious to see what Osatek was doing.
When he found him, he was gently sculpting the details into a stone bust. The material was alabaster, an ancient and common material. Imotekh did not recognize the subject but there were some pages nearby and he glanced at them before realizing that Osatek was trying to make a likeness of the necrontyr commoner.
"Is this meant for practice?" Imotekh asked and then winced internally as Osatek flinched and almost damaged his own work. Fortunately, the tool only caused a tiny scrape on the cheek.
"Oh, father! I am sorry, I did not know you were there." So he saw. "Yes, mostly, although it's also very hard… I don't remember what most of us looked like." Yes, that was a problem.
"Perhaps more Necron Warriors can be resouled, with time. And perhaps Rahkaak can see about having more portraits done, from the few she has." Imotekh knew that would be quite limited – it would be hard for Panaa to come up with much more, the two people she remembered most clearly were her husband and the Phaeron – but perhaps the Immortals and Warriors could recall a few others.
"Yes… and I thought about making sculptures of how we look now, but it will be more difficult. All the sharp edges and small details… organics are just easier. I did think of one thing, father." What was that? "It wouldn't be entirely the same but I could always use human images and then alter them to be nectontyr." Imotekh tilted his head, considering that. "I know that for many of us, that would taint the work but it could result in beautiful things if I select the human models correctly." Yes… he could see that.
"If you choose that route, have the AI or the STC alter the images." That would be much easier than doing it himself. "Although this is not done, it looks of good quality." Imotekh was not even being kind. He could see from looking at the picture and then the sculpture that so far, it was a good likeness. Osatek drew himself up with pride and Imotekh saw that he had chosen to paint his two-pointed headdress gold. It looked very nice, with the precious rubies that had already been inlaid there.
"Thank you father. I will do my best to make you proud," Osatek said and that made a bit of guilt twist in Imotekh's chest, although he just nodded before leaving Osatek to his work. The poor boy had always tried so hard, so hard. He had been a good warrior, fighting well, but never a leader. A poor administrator and only a decent artist… but he had always tried so very hard.
Imotekh did not appreciate art but he hoped for Osatek's sake that the others would enjoy his efforts.
When Calder arrived in Mandragora, Trazyn saw the crown of the Sautekh empire was as it always had been.
There was nothing changed at all. The poisonous atmosphere, tinted a very pleasing green. The great ziggurats and pyramids, the great floating navigation aides and platforms. The immense defensive emplacements that would annihilate any hostile foolish enough to set foot on the crown jewel of the Sautekh. It was all the same.
The only thing that was even slightly different was the bustle of activity. Mandragora was incredibly active, with an entire fleet in orbit, ships jostling gently in a way that reminded Trazyn of a convocation. When his host went down to the surface, Trazyn was able to see what was happening there and it looked like war games were being held on the great plains of Mandragora. Not unexpected, when a full fleet happened to be in orbit, but Trazyn noticed some rather oddly designed Doom Scythes in the air. What were those? Something new?
"Hey Calder, if we get a second soul does that mean we're going to heaven twice?" Loki asked brightly and Trazyn felt a moment of shock and wonder. So resouling actually WAS what it sounded like? Calder made glyphs of amusement.
"A bit optimistic to think that you'll get to heaven even once." Loki responded with a glyph poem made entirely of those norse runes. "Oh god stop that! You're not going to Valhalla either."
"Technically he can, he just has to take a ship," someone else put in and Trazyn felt like he was missing something. "Hey Loki, are you going to try those extreme water sports I heard of on Yggdrasil?" Oh, now he understood! Valhalla was a city on Yggdrasil. And it was also the 'heaven' of the mythology Loki loved so much.
"I want to try it! I've heard it feels like you're taking your life into your hands!" What are they talking about? Trazyn couldn't resist prompting his host.
"I don't actually know. It's probably nonsense." Well perhaps HE would like to know the nonsense? "Lucas, Loki, what are you babbling about?" Ah, thank you!
"Oh, a company is opening on Yggdrasil to offer watersports and tours of the Cauldron. It's an inner sea, where water from the hot and cold sides of Yggdrasil meet." Right, the planet was tidal locked. Many such planets were inhabitable and claimed by the Imperium of Man, although just as many had failed to create a true habitable band. From what Trazyn understood, Yggdrasil was much nicer than most, with a beautifully fertile goldilocks zone and constant rain. That rain was actually a great blessing for the planet, because it meant the hot and cold air was moving freely between the two sides. The way most such planets failed was a lack of air movement. "It's not hidden away in the valleys like the farming communities, so the weather is unbelievable… it's called the Cauldron for a reason. But the fishing is incredible!" Trazyn keenly wanted to know more and Calder was actually becoming interested.
"I actually think I might like to try this. What is the fishing like?" The other pwi-necron did his best to describe it and Trazyn formed the impression of something similar to, but less dangerous, then the fishing on Fenris. The Cauldron was still impressively dangerous though and you would be hunting what amounted to sea serpents. "Those things aren't endangered or anything?"
"Oh no, the biologists have studied the Cauldron thoroughly. It's pretty crazy, those sea serpents are actually just the same fish that live in the sea under the ice in the cold part. They just grow to a huge size in the hotter water and eat all the others of their kind, so none of them can take the spot. So they're not endangered at all, although for half the year no hunting is allowed to make sure they have plenty of time to spawn. You can still do the watersports though." Trying to ride a waterspout was apparently a watersport. Who knew?
Then they were entering the great palaces of the Sautekh and Trazyn knew his time with Calder was coming to an end. It would probably not be wise for his mind to be present during resouling. What would happen if he did stay? One possible outcome was that he could be permanently trapped in this body, as the soul fused him to it. Trazyn shuddered a little at the thought. He didn't mind taking his time with an acquisition but it was another thing to be stranded on an expedition.
Still, he would like to see the process. It took a while for the Crypteks to even get started on them but when they did, Trazyn made a soft suggestion to his host.
Let Loki go first. Hopefully he would get to see it.
"Yes, Loki can go first, it hardly matters," Calder said absently and Trazyn was quite pleased.
To Trazyn's even greater pleasure, Loki actually requested that Calder be present for his resouling. The level of bonding between these two was somewhat ridiculous but Trazyn still thought it was quite touching, when Calder held Loki's hand during his operation. Trazyn had to gently prompt him to look – Calder was so incurious – but he did, and Trazyn saw the Cryptek, who also seemed to be a psyker? Forcing the soul into the body by breaking the small globe of ghost wood.
"Ow… owwwww…" Loki was twitching as the Cryptek moved up and began touching his chest cartouche.
"Hush. I just have to merge the soul with your body, and the pain will ease." Interesting, so these souls had to be customized to each body. That did make sense… Trazyn knew that identical clones were not considered human and making large numbers of them was illegal, because of a strange 'bad luck' effect. It was theorized that was caused by identical souls. Theoretically, these souls could have had that problem, but Trazyn thought the customization process bypassed it. Very lucky for them really, that 'bad luck' issue took a while to become evident.
(it actually wouldn't have been a problem anyway since the genetics of the clones were randomly generated from great DNA archives)
Then it was Calder's turn and Trazyn reluctantly left his mind, returning to his own body. He wanted to experience it, more than anything, but it was just too dangerous. And as he settled back into his own body in Solemnance, Trazyn began to absorb everything he had learned.
Imotekh watched Szarekh's return message silently, as the Silent King detailed his plans.
Ibianza did well. They had managed to strike the perfect mix of reluctance and grudging interest and Szarekh had responded well to it. He was giving Imotekh a tentative timeline for his plans and one point caught the Stormlord's attention. It must all be ready in just sixteen years. That was when the Tyranids would be launching a grand assault on the galaxy.
Imotekh pondered that thoughtfully, even as he made a mental note to get Orikan to divine the exact locations in his empire that would be heavily hit, and also the places outside his empire that his forces could make an incredible difference, like Masali. While normally he would not just randomly help hostile Empires, the Tyranids were everyone's problem. But that brought him to another question. Would it benefit me to allow Szarekh to put his plan into effect, but for a shorter time? How long would it take to kill the Tyranids? Humans died of thirst from the Stilling. That took two or three days, from what Imotekh understood. They could easily take a single day of it and still survive, when the Warp was returned. And as long as the humans and others lived, the Immaterium could still be reignited.
On the other hand, trying for that might be very, very dangerous. Two or three days was really a very narrow window. And if the Tyranids could endure for longer than that, it would be truly pointless. He would have to investigate that… perhaps he could even borrow Szerakh's techniques and create much smaller Pariah Zones, to entrap and kill Tyranid fleets? Imotekh made a mental note to have his best Crypteks investigate that. But for now, he needed to put his plans into effect.
The first thing he did was send a message to Phaeron Rahkaak on Hope. It was time to send Kallathsek back to his family, with the soul in his chest and Imotekh's offer and threat. Would they report it directly to Szarekh? Perhaps, but Imotekh strongly suspected they would not. No one entirely trusted Szarekh, not anymore.
The question was how to reach out to Nihilakh. Imotekh thought about it for a moment before deciding he needed to leave that for later… he needed Charnovokh's response first. If they decided to take his offers, as he suspected they would, he would be in a much stronger position to reach out to Nihilakh. And in the meantime, while he was waiting for Charnovokh's response, he would begin rearranging his fleets to stage an attack on Craftworld Iyanden. He aimed to make those eldar submit to his Empire, even if he had to chain them to a wall and torture them a bit. It was incredibly frustrating to Imotekh, how the damned eldar did not want to surrender, but he would boot them in the face until they had no choice.
It was the form of diplomacy the Stormlord was best at.
Eldrad knew it was time to force the matter.
His prognostications were that Imotekh the Stormlord was going to move on Craftword Iyanden. Nor was he the only one… the Iyanden farseers were desperately begging the rest of them for help. Help that they wanted to give, but everyone had their own concerns. And Eldrad knew, with sad certainty, what actually needed to be done.
This is going to be incredibly difficult. There would be vicious recriminations and accusations of disloyalty. Questions of why Ulthwe was not willing to make the sacrifice. Yet they would if they could, but they couldn't… they were trapped by the Eye of Terror's gravity, unable to move and while the Stormlord did have the technology to correct that, he had no interest in exposing himself to a direct war with Chaos and the Night Lords. He wanted the broken Iyanden, because it was close to his empire and could easily be drawn into the defensive web that surrounded the Hope system and its colonies. Also, if Laaror was right, because broken things were more satisfying to fix.
The leaders of the Craftworlds were meeting to hear Iyanden's pleas. To everyone's surprise but Eldrad's, Yvraine had also arrived and she had her bodyguard with her, including a new Harlequin.
(Manric would have recognized him instantly as the extremely powerful psyker that he had fought)
She knows what must be done, Eldrad thought as he nodded to Yvraine. She nodded back, a touch distantly. Iyanden will hate this. At least they were in a very good position to dictate their own terms, if they would just listen. They were not the only ones who would hate this… Craftworld Alaitoc, in their vicious crusades against the Necrons, would also hate this. But Eldrad understood now that they had mistaken a sign of the end times with the cause. Imotekh's rising and assumption of power was only an indication of the end times, not a cause of it and the revelations of the Black Library and Cegorach's prophesies were actually indicating that he was a force standing in opposition to that ending.
"Biel-Tan can offer no aide. We are fully engaged," the representative of Biel-Tan was to the point, as was there way. "While the end of a craftworld is a tragedy, I recommend evacuation." That meant abandoning the dead and was normally an absolute last resort. Eldrad knew that if Imotekh took an empty Craftworld, he would still move it into the Hope sector but then raid an Exodite world to get inhabitants for it. Not an ideal outcome for anyone.
"Alaitoc will come to your defense," they pledged and Eldrad sighed internally. They were going to be the greatest problem, likely beyond even Iyanden. Alaitoc had come by their hatred of the necrons quite honestly… in addition to just being their ancestral enemy, Alaitoc was often conflicting with the Maynarkh Dynasty, who were considered barbaric even by their own kind. But there was a vast difference between Maynarkh and Sautekh.
Eldrad deliberately waited until last to speak, as he knew his words would throw everything into disarray.
"Ulthwe can offer no help, aside from advice," Eldrad said, looking towards the Iyanden Farseers. The great problem with looking into the future was knowing where to look and they had missed this because contemplating surrender was simply unthinkable. "I advise that you surrender." There was a short, awful silence before they erupted in protests. Eldrad lifted his staff. "Let me speak." He projected his voice and his power, enforcing a degree of silence. When all eyes were back on him, he continued. "The Stormlord desires Iyanden greatly." Eldrad was still a bit vague on why Imotekh so desperately wanted eldar subjects, despite his conversation with Laaror. But his prognostications certainly indicated it was important to him. "If you surrender, you can dictate your terms. Demand that he designates you as commoners, while your Council and Farseers are accounted Lords. Demand that he acknowledges you as equals and treat you as such." That would be an even more favorable arrangement than what Hope enjoyed. In some ways, the distinction was minor – commoners and Lords were still expected to support the Stormlord – but depending on the request, they would be given more courtesy than mere serfs. Even, sometimes, the option to refuse. "And demand that he assist us in ending She-Who-Thirsts." THAT was the primary demand that needed to be made.
"What do you mean?" The representative from Yme-Loc demanded, leaning forward in his intensity. "How can the necrons aide us in ending She-Who-Thirsts?" he asked, glancing at Yvraine. "Can the Stormlord somehow bring us the final Crone Sword?" His tone showed how likely he thought that, but nonetheless he'd asked the perfect question.
"That is precisely it," Eldrad said, glancing around the meeting. "Imotekh the Stormlord has in his command a natural soul healer, a former human named Manric Duleth." Most of the eldar hadn't heard of him, unsurprisingly. He was only a single Overlord, after all. Only his psyker gifts made him exceptional and they were not obvious. "He has the ability to create this…" Eldrad displayed his little globe of the ghost wood. "This is called ghost wood and it is capable of acting as a tiny, makeshift Infinity Circuit. Every piece can hold up to fifty souls." He couldn't demonstrate it, alas. They were meeting on Maiden World Iathgas. "We have foreseen that if he is part of the team that penetrates the Gardens of Slaanesh, there is a good chance we will acquire the Crone Sword." It was not entirely certain. But a very good chance. "If he is not part of that effort, it will fail and to get him we must bargain with Imotekh. The price to perhaps finally bring an end to She-Who-Thirsts is the loyalty of Craftworld Iyanden… not death, not destruction, but loyalty. Can we truly not pay this price?"
"Are you insane? The necrons seek to end us all! Are you not aware of what is happening in what the humans call the Pariah Nexus?" Alaitoc demanded and there were echoes of agreement. "They are trying to close the eye of Isha!" Which meant the destruction of all life. Eldrad nodded gravely.
"I am aware, but I am also aware that all necrons are not the same," he said before glancing at the Harlequin. "I am told the prophecies of Cegorach speak of metal with a soul, and the dividing of the necron race." Although the prophecy was surely tauntingly vague. The Laughing God did so love his riddles. The Harlequin nodded.
"The eye of Isha will blink, but will it close? That is the question," he said and even the thought of the eye blinking was a bit daunting, although they could survive it. It was the closing that they truly could not survive. "Our prophesies speak of metal turning on itself, the ensouled against the soulless, kin against kin. They have a part to play in this, but it is not as clear as you think."
"Why does Craftworld Ulthwe not pay this price?" Iyanden demanded and Eldrad sighed internally. He actually wished they could, if he could get Imotekh to tow Ulthwe out of the Eye of Terror and protect them from the Night Lords, everything would be so much easier.
"If only we could, but the Stormlord will not spare the resources to protect and claim Ulthwe. He wants Iyanden because of your position in the galaxy." That was definitely the primary reason. They were currently floating away from Hope, but it would be easy enough to reverse their course. "I have seen the Stormlord employing a great metal serpent, surrounding Iyanden, to increase your speed. He will have you in the same system as a human world named Yggdrasil in just five years." That was impressively fast. "That will put you in the web of protection of Hope and it's colonies." That whole area of space was becoming quite well fortified, from what he understood. It wasn't surprising, since they had shipyards and other manufacturing, of course a decent part of it would go to their own defense.
From there things dissolved into debate and Eldrad sat back, having said his piece. He was confident they would eventually come to the correct decision… the presence of Yvraine, and the Harlequin by her side, added great weight to their claims that the final Crone Sword could be recovered and Ynnead finally manifested to subdue Slaanesh and create the third dimension, for aeldari souls to reside. There was nothing that mattered as much as that, although the matter of the Pariah Nexus was a very close second.
It was fortunate that Imotekh would be helpful in that regard as well.