Zivok was an extremely weak, but also extremely rare form of psyker.

Such oddities were not unknown among the Imperium of Man. Some of the greatest of the Grey Knights had the same gift as Zivok, but vastly enhanced by the sheer power of their minds. Psyker mimicks, they were able to observe the powers of others and mimick them, if often in an inferior form. Grey Knights with this ability were noted for having an incredible variety of psyker abilities and often, no one really understood how. Including themselves.

Zivok understood his own nature perfectly. Despite being terribly weak, merely an Iota or perhaps a weak Theta, he was in complete control of his abilities. He could do anything. He could lift a pepper shaker with his mind, he could see a tiny bit into the future, he could pry into a mind, he could light a fire. None of it was remotely impressive but there was not a single psyker ability that he could NOT do, if he saw it demonstrated.

He was also capable of being an empathic telepath, if a very bad one. So while he could not use his abilities to really help with the therapy of Agatef, he was employing them for one simple thing… to tell when he was lying. And right now, he was detecting the whiff of untruth.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I know when you are lying?" Zivok said, honestly a bit irritated. Agatef twitched. Around his waist was a pleasant woolen scarf, with a bright red and black pattern. It actually looked rather good on him.

I am not lying. I… did not mean to lie… it is tolerable. Agatef said and that was more honest than his earlier 'this is fine'. Zivok focused all his abilities and evaluated his emotional state.

"You're very uncomfortable with it. Which is admittedly a great amount of progress, but I'm not sure it's enough. That fabric might be organic in nature, but it is fundamentally just a dead item. Do you think you will be able to restrain yourself when confronted by something that is breathing?" Zivok said skeptically. Agatef actually thought about it.

I think I could probably restrain myself long enough to get away from them. If I had to remain in their presence, I would likely kill them, he finally said and Zivok felt that was completely honest. The thought of breathing, of hearing the blood pumping… you are right, it is much worse than this dead thing.

"Well, that is getting very close," Zivok allowed. "The real danger is relapses…" They needed to do more testing to make sure Agatef's mind was completely stable and wouldn't degenerate back into the full Destroyer virus under stress. "I'm afraid the testing won't be pleasant." Agatef's eyes flared with irritation.

Pah. Label it what it is, torture, he growled and Zivok shrugged. Then Zaphokh entered the testing chamber.

"I heard that… it is NOT torture. Torture is done with no purpose behind it but causing pain or extracting information. We are experimenting and testing," he chided Agatef, who growled back.

What difference does that make to me? Zivok nodded. There was some justice in that way of thinking.

"Admittedly, not much, although we do have a goal in mind. Speaking of which, let us continue to refine this further… no testing for today I think." Zivok wanted to wait a bit longer, hopefully get Agatef more used to the scarf, before he subjected the Destroyer to the Psychomancer induced image of a human being in close proximity. It would be nothing but a hallucination but his reaction would be extremely useful. Still, doing it too soon could derail much of Agatef's progress. They had no desire to have his mind revert completely to its' old pattern.

This was a slow and laborious process and Zivok thought it would never be anything else, but that was acceptable if they could achieve true success.

Possibly a bit earlier.

"I think my father is smarter than any of us gave him credit for." Iplanen turned his head to look at Jan. They were both on a transport bound for Luminous, along with all the gear to set up the biotransference stations. They had no shells but those were custom made, done to order, and he was sure that very soon the orders would be pouring in. There was already a waiting list, although those with terminal conditions could opt for an extremely basic shell as an interim measure and jump to the front of the line that way.

"The business of your mother?" Iplanen had heard of it. Apparently, Jan's father had allowed himself to reach the point of ill health that he'd suffered a heart attack. Despite the best efforts of Hope's medical establishment, they estimated he could not live more than another ten years. Utterly frustrated, the University dean had virtually demanded Boris take a shell and he had calmly responded that he would only take one if his wife was given one as well. It had gone up to the King himself and he had consented to giving them both free shells as long as Boris agreed to Cryptek training and going to Mandragora. His wife would be staying in Hope with the children and grandchildren. They planned to be reunited after the entire business of the Pariah Nexus was resolved and Boris could be spared to return to his work with bionics.

"Yes… it's quite a bold move, blackmailing them with his own ill health, but it worked." Jan seemed troubled to Iplanen though and he made a glyph of questioning. "There seems to be a developing problem of sexual imbalance in our shells. Although, there does seem to be a plan to address it."

"It is much easier for men to achieve the wealth or skill needed for a shell," Iplanen said. He'd noticed the problem as well… the vast majority of Cryptek candidates from Hope were male. The few female ones had specifically had the qualification for children relaxed, but had been required to donate their ovaries to an egg bank before the transference. As for the military shells, they were all male. Hope did not allow females in their armed forces.

"The real problem is the wealth… it's understandable that most women don't want to go into the hard sciences. But it's horribly unfair that they must devote twenty years of their lives to child rearing and depend entirely on their husband to buy them a shell when the time comes." Iplanen nodded. "There was at least one incident where a man could only afford a shell for himself and his outraged wife took the matter to the courts. Fortunately, the publicity allowed them to crowdfund enough for her shell as well… he genuinely did not have the money." Jan shook his head. "But that is no kind of solution."

"What is the solution, so far?" Jan had mentioned a plan to deal with the issue.

"Well… we have recently managed to achieve rejuvenation." Ahhh, excellent! "And with that, STC has returned the perfected version from ancient Terra. Our current goal is to make the process extremely efficient and as cheap as possible, possibly with some subsidies or credits. If a woman has a hundred years, giving up her youth to raise children is a great sacrifice. But if she has four hundred years, most of which are youthful and strong, matters are quite different."

"I see, that does make sense," Iplanen said, thinking about it. It still wasn't entirely fair, particularly that women were barred from the military. Hmm. "Jan, will your people ever consider adding women to your military forces?" They were able to serve in the Imperium of Man although Iplanen knew the situation there was quite different. Due to the vast Hive cities, the insane spread of humanity, they had human lives to spare and the Hope system and its' colonies just didn't. They had three colonies now… Yggdrasil was the primary one but that desert world of the Charnovokh had been ideal for terraforming and was now inhabited. The last colony was actually deep in the Sautekh Empire, a world gifted to them by the Stormlord. Iplanen knew little about it but had heard it was an ocean world and the Hopians had brought another new STC with them to help them colonize it. Still, minimal as they were, all of these colonization efforts were a drain on the population.

"Not for a very long time," Jan said, echoing his thoughts. "And honestly, military shells just aren't like civilian ones. 'We all live to serve' was the motto of Hope, when the drukhari were attacking us. It's changed for the civilians but for the military, it's all the same… they never retire. When you take a military shell, you have committed yourself to that way of life." Jan shook his head. "I doubt most women will ever want that." True, that was a very masculine thing to do. "When we have lives to spare, though, we might form an all-female legion similar to the Sisters of Battle. Given our religion, mixing of the sexes on the battlefield will never be acceptable."

"If we are speaking of our concerns, I wonder how society in the former Imperial worlds will react to the introduction of shells," Iplanen said, reflecting on it. Despite still having slave status, in recognition of the fact that they were making the shells, the wealthy of Hive Antioch were being allowed access to them. The Stormlord had also indicated that after a hundred years of good behavior, he would allow them to be upgraded to Serf. Luminous was considered to be fundamentally more loyal, which was why they had gotten the offer much sooner. A few other planets were also being considered. "Rumors will be spreading all through known space, now." Hive Antioch was cut off from contact but Luminous wasn't at all. "Given the amounts of money involved and the potential for immortality, there will surely be attempts to bribe officials at Luminous to be granted citizenship and gain access to a shell." Emerard would see that coming though, and put safeguards in place against it or perhaps to manage it. Would immigration to Luminous for the sake of shells be allowed in some cases?

"Yes indeed… immortality is quite a draw, particularly for those close to the end of rejuvenation. And they are normally extremely wealthy." Yes indeed, getting multiple rejuvenation treatments was not cheap. "I am sure the Stormlord thought of all this and the Overlord governing that sector is prepared." Iplanen nodded. He'd met Udjemka several times and she was extremely competent.

Iplanen did not mention it, but he also wondered if there would be attempts to secure the technology from individuals inside the Imperium of Man. Immortality was such a lure that there was still a trade in Halo devices. Iplanen had once been privileged to examine one of those rare items, and he knew about their dreadful side effects. Among those who traded such things it was well known, yet still humans donned them, in the hopes that they would find the rare one that had no ill effects. If they were willing to do THAT, what barrier was it to take a shell? The only difficulty was that unlike a Halo device, the change was immediately obvious. Still, the obscenely wealthy could find ways to get around that.

And would the Stormlord be willing to use that? Iplanen hadn't met Imotekh but knew more about him now and he thought that he might fully anticipate this. It would be fine blackmail material, any noble to take such a thing would be placing themselves in the Stormlord's grasp. Fascinating really, particularly since Iplanen was sure some would do it anyway, fully aware of the risks. When you were almost four hundred years old and facing the terror of knowing you were NOT going to the Emperor's Heaven, things became possible that might otherwise have been unthinkable.

Still, that was not his problem, getting things set up in Luminous were. After that, he and Jan would be going Mandragora to join a training program on recall technology. Only the very finest of the new Crypteks were being inducted into it and Iplanen felt honored that he had been chosen. After that, they would go to the worlds close to the Pariah Nexus and under the watchful eye of the Stormlord's fleets, begin preparations for the great war.

This was a matter of the future of all humanity so Iplanen intended to give it his all.

The induction of fifty Imperial worlds into the Sautekh Empire did not go entirely smoothly.

Fortunately, no one expected it would. Guilliman had frankly told Imotekh that there were sure to be holdouts, units of Astartes and Sisters of Battle who would refuse to recognize any peace treaty with the xenos. Certain rogue elements of the Inquisition would likely stay and become a damned nuisance. Guilliman did not have the power to stop any of that, no matter how much he might wish to.

So when Naszar moved in to take control of the planets, lay the FTL connections and leave behind garrisons, he wasn't surprised when one of the planets told him to go fuck himself. He was highly amused by the way it happened though.

"Get out of our system, xenos filth!" Naszar gently patted his father's shoulder as he responded to the hostility, bristling. Sekemekh wasn't what he'd used to be and probably never would be again, but he had adapted to the crew of the ship and was joining him in battle. He still preferred to move on all fours, though, and usually stayed by Naszar's side like a very odd pet. As he gently soothed his father, Naszar paid attention to the screen.

Displayed in front of him was a Sister of Battle. She had once been beautiful but time and the rigors of combat had aged and damaged her. Half her face was a machine, fine bionic implants and an eye of glowing red. The other half was weathered and rugged, deeply lined and tanned. Behind her was a helpless looking man who Naszar identified as the actual Planetary Governor, from his finery.

"Let me guess. You held a bolter to that man's head and took over his authority, against the direct orders of your superiors, in some addled idea that you are following the true will of the Emperor," Naszar said and had the pleasure of seeing her flush beet red with rage. The man behind her looked down. "I can assure you that the Emperor would not approve of your foolishness." The end of all organic life would include him, after all.

"How dare you even utter the Emperor's name, foul xenos!" He was fundamentally wasting his time talking to her, but Naszar found he was having fun. Also, he'd already developed a plan and had it approved by Imotekh for religious holdouts like this woman and any Astartes they happened to find. Most of them would be killed of course – Naszar would not be taking any chances – but any survivors would be Mindshackled and then shipped to Yggdrasil for later. They would be able to apologize to Guilliman himself and make it up in battle against the hordes of Slaanesh. Hopefully at that point, they would realize the error of their ways.

The woman was still babbling though, demanding that he vacate the system. Naszar wondered what she thought she'd have accomplished if he did. This system was in a rather sorry state from what he could see and the records Guilliman had given Imotekh indicated it was chronically shorting the tithes, but in a way that indicated desperation rather than recalcitrance. The planet itself did not look very nice, an ugly grey orb encircled with endless storms. Despite technically being a Civilized world, this planet was a food importer and would have an insanely rough time without the support of the Imperium OR the Sautekh Empire. Then Naszar realized the woman had finally run out of insults and was staring at him challengingly.

"Uh? My apologies, I wasn't paying attention," he said, which was true but also meant to needle her. It worked very effectively as she went beet red again. Naszar remembered… back in the times of the ancient necrontyr they'd done something similar, but with more of a purple hue. "Well, let's get on with it, shall we?" He said before ending the connection. "Commence bombardment."

It was a bit rough on the civilians of the planet, but Naszar had already targeted the fixed installations and they were quickly blown up. Then the drop ships went in, carrying Necron Immortals and Warriors. Naszar went down himself, to direct things and also to give his father some fun. He might not be a Flayer anymore but he loved fighting and tearing apart a few warriors would please him greatly.

The Sisters of Battle put up a good fight but without the support of the Guard, it was rather sad and doomed. There were perhaps five hundred sisters at the start and when the butchery was over, only a hundred were left, all of them badly injured. Naszar would give them this much… they were very courageous. Idiots, but courageous.

Some of the ships in his fleet were the hybrid Hopian ones, brought for exactly this eventuality and stocked to the brim with food from the agri-world they had hit up before starting out. When the remaining Sisters were stabilized and given their scarabs, they were sent back to the ships, along with loads of water to replenish those stores. This planet had water to spare, if not food.

All of that being done, Naszar was able to actually speak to the Planetary Governor. Without the Sister of Battle violently intimidating him, he was far more self-assured and impressive. A tall human male with red hair peppered with grey, he seemed old and tired to Naszar. There were dark circles under his eyes and an air of exhaustion, likely from the trials he'd recently been facing. Despite that, he made the case of his people eloquently.

"I deeply apologize for this. If we had been able to stop it, we would have." Yes, he believed that. Naszar nodded and the man took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I know we are severely behind in our tithes but please sir, we need to have them lowered. The planetary food production goes down every year, we seem to be in an ice age and we need the money from our mineral salts just to feed the population. I am terribly sorry, if the great Primarch Guilliman wishes us to serve you we will, but we are in a very poor state and beg most humbly for your mercy." Naszar was impressed by the presentation. Still, he didn't necessarily believe any of it.

"Perhaps. Have your scribes compile all of your production records and they will be sent to the Stormlord." Would they be accurate though? That was the question and Imotekh would probably get the newly appointed Overlord in charge of this sector to thoroughly investigate. "Before I go, show me these mineral salt facilities." The salt mined from this planet was considered extremely high quality. Naszar was vague on how salt was used among the necrons but he knew for humans, it was vital for health and food preservation. Hive worlds like Antioch devoured amazing amounts of it, using it for the health of their citizens and the production of Corpse Starch.

Naszar and Sekemekh went together to view the salt mining operations. The humans were using deep shaft mining, crushing the salt and bringing it to the surface. The mine itself seemed efficient enough, but there was an odd portion of the production were humans and servitors manually picked through the salt, removing small pellets of some other substance.

"What is that, that they are taking out?" Naszar asked and the Governor shrugged.

"Just a rather odd waste product. It's a peculiar substance that seems to have no use, although I've heard it's extremely rare. The Mechanicus takes samples of it sometimes." Oh really? Naszar moved towards one of the conveyor belts and looked through the salt before plucking out a pellet and holding it up. It was deeply crusted with salt but it was still easy enough to scan it. And for a moment, Naszar almost went into shock. Transpositanium. Naszar let the little bead shift to the palm of his hand, cradling it like a precious thing.

Transpositanium was an incredibly strange and mysterious substance. They suspected it was somehow associated with the entities of the Ghoul Stars… planets that held too much of it tended to be odd and unsettling places. Naszar suddenly wondered if this planet had that air… the grey appearance, the endless storms and the ice age might all indicate it. Transpositanium was also notorious for appearing out of thin air, in places that previously had NOT contained it. Planets that were entirely mined out, asteroid belts long discarded as useless, would be re-checked and found to suddenly have deposits of the precious metal. Wars could be fought over it, particularly when a new deposit materialized. And for the humans of this planet… oh, the humans of this planet were about to discover what this mineral meant.

"A waste product. A waste product!" Naszar laughed, the scream of a machine. The Governor backed away but Sekemekh looked up with a questioning chirp, understanding he was hearing mirth. Naszar handed his father the pellet and he held it delicately in his claws before chirping again, this time in an 'ah-ha' way as he understood. Naszar was so pleased with his father's progress… Sekemekh was still non-verbal but it was clear he was understanding much of what happened around him. "This waste product is very valuable, Governor. I think your fortunes are about to undergo a dramatic reversal." The Governor stared at him in a skeptical way, like he could not believe what he was hearing. "Gather it up, gather as much of it as you can. I think I know what the Stormlord's tithe will be." Also, now Naszar needed to leave a strong garrison for this planet. It could not be left uncovered for even a moment, other necrons would raid it in a heartbeat when they knew and word of this sort of thing always seemed to get out. Naszar took back the little bead of transpositanium from his father before handing it to the Governor. He took it, still with a puzzled air but suddenly hopeful. He had no idea… Imotekh was incredibly fair and while he would take a portion of this for the tithe, he would pay for the rest.

If there was as much here as Naszar suspected, these humans were about to become very wealthy indeed.

When the Lion had said that the necrons were all the same xenos and would unite against outsiders, he was fundamentally incorrect.

The necrons did not have that kind of unity on any level. The greatest enemy to a Necron Dynasty would always be other Dynasties. They were a seething mass of blood feuds and ancient grudges, ambitions and treachery. If a Dynasty happened to be ripped apart by outside forces, the others would feast on its' bones.

The Lion might have said that was a sign of the necron's inferiority to humans, but he would also have been incorrect. If the central government of the Imperium of Man were to collapse, humans would become something extremely similar. Great Star Empires struggling against each other and allying with or employing the xenos as just another weapon. There would be no unity in race, as new feuds were started and ancient ones rekindled. The Lion would be shocked by that, but Guilliman would grimly predict it… in some ways, he knew their own people much better than his brother. But then, he was the one who sometimes had to diplomatically resolve issues between entire planets.

The necrons had possessed unity once, although it had been a brutally enforced unity of the sword, held in place by the triarch and the Silent King. That was long since past and because of that, the astropaths of the Sautekh Empire were in an enviable position indeed. Unlike the Navigators, who were inferior to necron technology in every respect, astropaths had a crucial advantage… they were very difficult to block for necrons. Not impossible, such things had been done in the War in Heaven, but it normally required very specialized equipment and full control over the Warp conduits. It was the kind of thing a great necrontyr or necron army did, as they moved to annihilate entire planets.

It wasn't the kind of thing smaller forces did and because of that, the astropaths were considered a critical military resource. This gave them an incredibly good life, as their normal functions were taken over by FTL tech but they were still paid and well kept. Required to keep their minds strong and vital, they sent two test messages a month, to make sure no one was slacking. Other than that, they just waited for the time to come to sing a song of distress.

Szarekh and his allies completely missed that, in their first movements against Imotekh. It was foolish but perhaps understandable… the humans were, by and large, slaves and slaves did not normally cooperate with their masters. Despite that title, though, they were being governed well and no one in the Sautekh empire wanted to be taken by other necrons who might prefer to exterminate them. They would resist invasion to the best of their abilities, with everything they had.

So when a series of raids came on the Sautekh Empire, the astropaths were ready.

Hosk-El and his family were with the tribe by the fire, feasting on a great elk, when the message abruptly came. It was the magic of the skeleton gods and it went to the leader of the tribe, who reached out to touch it to activate the magic.

Raiders have come upon this world and fire lights the skies. The great skeleton god that ruled them said and Hosk-El felt atavistic dread as he looked up. This was what the Sky Gods had said, before the skeleton gods had driven them away. Other skeleton gods, they may harm you. Retreat to your shelters as the shamans send word to Mimipek. That was the name of another World of their people.

Hosk-El and everyone in the tribe knew what to do, they had been drilled in it many times. As the largest tribe on the World, they had been chosen to host the Blind Ones, the great Shamans who had gone to see the Emperor. Mortal eyes could not bear his light and it blinded them, but brought them back stronger than ever before. They had an old Blind One and a young Blind One, who would organize the lesser shamans, those who had not seen the Emperor. As they worked, the women brewed the herbs and mushrooms into the drink they would need to free their minds. Hosk-El could see the fires in the heavens, now, as the light continued to dim. The skeleton gods were fighting.

Preparations could not be rushed. If you hurried, demons would eat your message and the other Blind Ones would not hear. When all was ready, the two great Blind Ones drank their elixir, and the rest of the shamans followed suit. Then they began to chant, almost a song.

/Help we need/
/Bring help/
/Attacked by alien skeleton gods/
/Send help/

It was a very simple message but Hosk-El and the others did not have the understanding for more. They repeated the message three times, three being a good number, before coming to a close. That done, the entire tribe packed up and went to go to the hidden place. It was a place made for them by the Sky Gods and still used now under the Skeleton Gods. As they went, Hosk-El saw some shadowy figures and hurried his steps.

When times like this came, they could do nothing but hide.